The Seeker

Chapter One

A cloud of vapour exploded before him, rising from Bryna's nostrils. Leaning forward, Doran patted his mare's neck.

"Easy girl. Almost done."

He had ridden her hard, perhaps harder than he ought to have, and she was tired. Gods help him, he was tired too. But he had his duty, and it would not do to lose vigilance now.

"We're not going down there?"

The rider behind him had spoken, the words muffled by a mask across their lower face. The pair had been travelling together for long enough now that Doran barely noticed it anymore.

"No, we are not."

          He returned his attention to the valley below, eyes fixed on the fire howling its way across woodwork and stone.

Timber walls collapsed before the biting flames, the inferno engulfing every house and store in its path. Doran did not know the town's name. Not that it mattered anyway. Tonight, it died.

Dark figures weaved through the buildings, torching anything not already alight. A raid, perhaps? Or were these the first stirrings of war? Whatever the case, it was far from his concern. Better that they skirt this place.

Bryna hoofed impatiently at the ground, dislodging a few loose stones that clattered away down the rocky outcrop. Doran patted her again.

"I know girl."

          His eyes scanned the valley, looking for a path that might guide them around such death. The wan moonlight cast the world in stark shadows, making it difficult to pick out details. Finally, his keen eyes settled upon a route.

"We go that way."

He spoke to his companion, who grunted in response.

"There will be other towns," he reasoned, "Away from trouble."

"But I'm tired," the voice whined.

"We both are!" Doran snapped, "But you really want to face that?"

He waved his hand absently towards the flickering flames.

"Fighting turns most men to madness, the kind we could do without."

"You've seen it?"

"I've seen it," Doran agreed darkly.

"Been part of it too?" his companion spat acidly.

          Growling in frustration, Doran tugged firmly on the anchor, the tether of energy that tied the other rider to him. The shifting vine of yellow-white light tightened, jerking his companion forward violently. There was a groan of pain and Doran snorted with amusement.

"How about you keep your mouth shut from now on?"

Pressing heels to his mare's flanks, Doran started Bryna forward. The second rider did the same, and the two horses stepped cautiously down the uneven rock face.

All through the descent, the riders stared forlornly at the burning town, watching the dancing firelight and the showers of sparks that lurched into the air with every collapsing beam. Before long, the first sounds of screaming echoed across the valley, piercing the evening quiet. With it came the stench of smoke, thick and choking, and a sicklier reek that Doran tried to ignore. 

         Unfortunately, his companion had other ideas.

"What's that smell?"

"What did I say about talking?" Doran hissed.