The cold, wet, worn horses raced through the mush, the damp grass slogging against their hooves. Loseph hung low, firmly gripping the steed’s neck. Hanar slouched, but the giant could only minimize himself so much. The wind howled and hurled, matting their beards to their skin.
Loseph hated ill weather, but at least it wasn’t snowing. Nothing worse than a hunt in the snow. In the more desolate parts of Novera, tundra wolves used the snow as cover—the beasts loved the taste of a frost-covered man.
The hunters sped through the marsh and the valley, along the ridge of a canyon, and up the steep hill that separated Bagsrad from the long creek. The creek stretched from the dim mountain in the distance, past the Blue Poppy field, bent around the caves, and flowed into a river capped by a waterfall.
For Loseph, waiting for daybreak wasn't an option. The price upon the Runaway Sorceress's head would surely attract more bounty hunters. Blighted bastards must already be huntin’. The dwarf didn’t know why Essie was wanted—many tales surrounded the mysterious woman—but the reward would be paid all the same.
The storm in the heavens raged as the hunters' blazed into the night. Drunkards coulda lied; better not’ve. The town’ll pay.
Lightning cracked the sky, illuminating their shoddy path. Thunder echoed in his ears, whispering terrors of the night to all brave enough to endure the grim atmosphere. He’d hunted under the gaze of storms before—never a pleasant endeavor.
A maddening roar, a screech from the depths of hell, broke the air. For men of lesser determination, the clamoring terror would be enough to end any hunts, but for Loseph the Cunning—and his ferocious partner Hanar the Mighty—the price upon the Damned’s head was too enticing to warrant caution.
A furious gust of wind blasted the riding hunters as another flash of lightning brightened the sky. For a moment, the foreboding silhouette of a winged beast painted the heavens. Loseph squinted, the image fading like an apparition that was never there. He glanced at Hanar, but the brute’s head was buried into the mane of his steed.
His horse neighed and snorted in fear, abruptly kicked up its front legs, then bucked Loseph from his saddle. The dwarf caught his breath and wiped the mud from his face.
He spied Hanar roll through his impact and pop to his knees with vigor and unseemly speed. The Blue Poppy field was behind them, the caves just around the bend, and the creek was still to their west— the hissing of flowing water muted by never-ending droplets of hell.
The horses had disappeared. Loseph called to Hanar, but the giant’s rock-solid frame didn’t budge.
Lightning ripped the sky, spewing over the dark above like a pang of webbed pain. The sinister outline of the winged beast smacked Loseph’s ocular orbs once more. He glanced back at Hanar; the brute stared at the illuminated sky in awe.
A second ghastly howl rumbled. A jolt of flame screamed across the heavens, irradiating the stormy night; a great ring of fire burst into reality, bringing an unwelcoming figure into view.
High above the hunters, a bipedal shadow loomed, perfectly centered inside the scorching circle, bringing to mind a charm hanging from a necklace. A cascade of blazing fire rained upon the land, persisting through the downpour—stars spewing tears of fury and anger.
Loseph withdrew his sword, his long hair sticking to his face. "Hanar!" he screamed. "At the ready, ye big bastard!"
"Aye!" Hanar said. "The Damned girl be upon us!"
Gushes of wind purged the fire from around them, snuffing it out as quickly as it came. The rain spun in a tornadic haze, gathering dirt and mush and flinging it across their bodies. Another deafening howl shook them; a foul aroma struck the dwarf’s nostrils. The third howl came from ahead, near the ground.
A glorious image of dread and ruin poured from but paces ahead—a stream of fire shot to the sky. The fire erupted into a ball and cascaded, giving their vision a sight to lock onto—the dragon hadn’t been an apparition. Loseph knew of dragons; they flew in some lands but kept away from man.
The stream of red terror blazed into the sky, washing over the burning circle above and bathing the figure in crimson, searing horror.
Them bastards…
The stream of inferno crackled, illuminating the bend behind the dragon, allowing the creek to be viewed again and bringing greenery into sight. Embers mixed with rain, ash peppered the soggy earth, and the roaring conflagration brightened the land as though the sun had risen early.
The dragon bellowed through the firestorm, intensifying the surging, purgatorial inferno. The dragon's chest expanded, a powerful snort of breath careened, and the purging of flames subsided. Smoke and mist emanated from the dragon's heaving body. The beast's wings slouched, disappearing behind its massive frame.
Loseph had never abandoned a chase—hunting bored deep into his veins—but the sight of a dragon gave the dwarf pause.
The circular wheel of fire pulsed with fury; flames spread from the edges into the center, creating a giant orb of blazing light and heat, and ceased the rainfall. The figure descended from the perplexing circle, gliding to the dirt as a stray feather would from the wing of a falcon.
Loseph blinked and rubbed his eyes, searching for clarity, for an explanation for the unfathomable events. Hanar’s mouth hung agape; his sword sagged to the soil.
The dwarf slapped his giant companion on the shoulder. "Ready yerself!" he said, his hands shaking."We came for a reward, an' a reward we shall have."
Hanar shook his head and raised his sword. "Aye, ye old bastard." His shoulders sunk into the ready. "A simple slash o' the sword brings any man down, much less a frail girl."
Essie's toes touched dirt first, her feet slinking into the ground like a dancer into form-fitting shoes. Her long, raven-colored hair hung over her shoulders, running over her breasts and spilling down her back.
The clouds engulfing her eyes dissipated, revealing stark orange irises and pupils as empty as a void. Her loose white blouse draped over her slender figure, reaching nearly to her knees. The Sorceress's pale legs were only a shade darker than her blouse. Her feet sank into the dirt, but the mush didn’t dare dirty her bare feet.
She looked at the dragon and wiggled her fingers. The dragon snarled. Her brow furrowed, head tilting. Loseph couldn’t reconcile with the scene before him. Such magic wasn’t real, couldn’t be. He’d hunted for decades and had never come across such an irregularity. Some claimed to have seen cursed magic, blood magic; some even claimed to have experienced it—but Loseph always saw the stories for what they were, balderdash.
Essie wiggled her fingers again, and once more, the dragon protested. A puff of flame shot into the sky; then, the beast relented and lay prone on the soggy ground.
Hanar screamed a blood-curdling and raucous shriek, held his sword high, and charged at the frail girl no more than ten paces away. The Flame of Novera raised her hand—her fingers straight—then pushed her palm out. A force of invisible wind blasted Loseph, knocking him off his feet and planting him on his bottom. The curious gust laved over Hanar, halting his momentum and bringing his body to a stiff, immobile stall.
Loseph planted his hands, but he couldn’t break from the mush. His face turned red, and he cursed. The blighted girl done anchored me!
The dragon squirmed, placing its feet under itself. The Runaway Sorceress smiled at the dragon, and the beast ceased its movement. Finally, the Fire Starter in the East turned away from the beast and set her full attention on the bounty hunters.
"You have come to kill me?" the Damned asked.
Hanar's mouth opened, but no words followed. His eyes darted left to right, the only part that seemed mobile. Loseph struggled again, scooting his backside and straining with all his might, but it was to no avail. He huffed and pounded the dirt.
"Aye!" he screamed. "We have come to collect a bounty upon yer head!"
The Damned’s gaze wandered over the greenery. "This was not wise.”
Loseph snarled. "Listen to me, girl—"
"I am not a girl; I am a woman of twenty-six years.”
"Girl, woman, whatever ye be, there a bounty of kings upon yer head."
She regarded the dwarf, tilting her head. "Why?"
Loseph’s eyes narrowed. He thought for a moment but knew an answer wouldn’t come. He and Hanar never asked why; they only looked for payment. "How would me know that?"
"You did not inquire?" Essie replied.
"A bounty be a bounty."
"You would hunt and kill those who have done no wrong? Those of mistaken identity, those that are victims of petty jealousy or cruel rage?"
"A reward be a reward, girl!"
"I am not a girl, maybe not even a woman, I am”—her fingers grazed her cheek, eyes wandering over the landscape—"something else now."
"Yer a bounty walkin' is what ye be!"
She giggled. "Yes, a bounty." She dropped her hand, eyeing Loseph again. "That, I have heard before."
"Release me!" Loseph shouted. He struggled, but the only return was a cramp he couldn’t abate. The Damned’ll taste me sword tonight! He screamed into the night, blood vessels rupturing in his eyes.
The Flame of Novera waved her hand, and the insolent dwarf's screeching halted. He grasped his mouth. The tavern keep’s face flashed in his mind, and he was glad he’d killed him.
"Tell me," she said. "Will you cease this endeavor to kill me?"
Loseph opened his mouth, but no words spilled.
"Ah, yes," she said, grinning. "You may speak one word, but only one, so choose it wisely."
Loseph frowned. His dilated pupils raced as he gritted his teeth. He wanted to say many things to the girl, most of them curses. Some foolery was about; he and Hanar didn’t know this land. The tavern keep must’ve put something in the ale. When his full range returned, he’d slay the annoying girl.
"No," he said. He suspected she wouldn’t believe any courtesy or kindness, and he wanted to know he’d end her.
"I do not want to kill you," she said. "So, I ask you again, will you cease this endeavor to kill me?"
The girl tired him. He’d split her with his sword as he did the old man and leave her nothing but a stain to be cleaned by another pathetic, useless townie. "No," he said, showing her a grin of his own.
"You sadden me." Her eyes hazed, wetness trickling onto her cheeks. "I have given you the choice of life or death, and you have chosen death."
No, ye damned blight, ye have chosen death.
The Sorceress turned to the dragon, and it rose. The beast thrashed its tale and pushed off the ground. As it lifted to its hind legs, its wings stretched.
"Come, Selin,” Essie said. “Once more, we are disturbed."
Loseph tried to scream again, but muted gasps of hair were all he could conjure. He knew that once the trickery wore off, he and Hanar would hunt this damn girl. Nothing would stop his sword from chopping her down.
The dragon lowered its head. The Sorceress grabbed the protruding horn on the dragon's snout and swung herself onto the creature’s neck. She looked down, regarding the frozen bounty hunters.
"Farewell, misguided souls." She looked at the illuminated sky. "I hope damnation is kind to you."
She weaved her hands together—above her head—and uttered a phrase foreign to Loseph. The dragon flapped its wings, then kicked into the air. A moment later, the Damned was high above the lands; her thighs gripped tightly around the dragon's neck, her hands placed gently on its rough skin. They soared across the brightly lit night sky. She uttered another phrase, and the ball of whirling inferno snapped out of existence. Finally, the heavens returned to dim starlight, the torched corpses of the wayward bounty hunters the only embers left burning.