Armalina

Armalina looked at the smouldering debris of her home. Somewhere beneath the glowing ash was her family, dead. Father, mother, sister; all gone forever. Her eyes burned as she looked on, wet with tears; from sadness or the smoke, she wasn’t sure. The land around her was scorched, black beneath the bright sunlight.

From her small copse in the forest she had watched—feeling utterly helpless—as dragons ravaged her home, a place she had lived all of her eighteen years. So many memories lived within the charred skeleton of her home, now living only in her mind. Of the many spells she knew, none of them could repair the damage in front of her.

She kicked the remnants of her destroyed home, relishing the feeling of heat through her leather boots. Even though it hurt, it was a distraction from the pain of losing her family. Before today, life had been good; she thought she had it all.

And now she had nothing.

No family. No home.

Only the scorched heap behind her. Moving to her pile, she took stock of her belongings: a dagger in its sheath, a half-full water skin, two rabbits and a snare. Plus the few spells she knew.

Not much, but enough to survive. Wiping away her tears, Armalina walked away, leaving her old world behind. A new world lay through the dark woods in front of her. If she didn’t leave now, she would stay there forever, hoping the ghosts of her past would materialise into being.

Her father had regaled her with tales of large kingdoms while he whittled the wood he lopped into useful items. Furniture, crockery, toys, and the occasional sculpture. Armalina loved her dad’s stories, filled with an infectious energy.

This destruction was exactly what her father was trying to avoid, choosing to live with his family in a life of solitude, away from scheming nobles, prying peasants and bloodthirsty vagabonds. A life away from his previous position in the king’s army.

If anyone came to cause them trouble, her family had their magic spells and her father’s skill with weapons to ward them off. Each weapon was carefully sharpened each day.

It hadn’t worked to stop dragons. The creatures hadn’t been known in the world for centuries, and had become a distant myth. Until they had rained from the sky in a shower of fire and stone, razing her home. Their descent had rumbled the ground, like thunder in a summer storm, vibrations rattling every molecule of their bodies. Their house had shivered, as if the rain of fiery dragon eggs were freezing cold.

She sobbed as she thought of Isalina, her sister, who had perished. The roars of the dragons had devoured all other sound, and Armalina wondered—hoped—her family hadn’t suffered. She imagined their final moments, horror hammering her chest. Visions of them cowering together, burning as they screamed in pain. What had they been thinking in their final moments? Had they suffered, or was their death mercifully quick?

Her home was nestled in a large clearing of the forest, a small but swift-flowing creek provided water. They had kept a garden to grow fruit and vegetables, enough for their family.

All that was left now was a dry creek bed and burnt vegetation. No extra food to fill her belly on the journey.

Her father had shown her the direction of the kingdom of Emilica, so she knew the general course she needed to head.

Without having seen a map, she couldn’t be sure if she was heading the right way, instead needing to rely on instinct and natural pathways.

Night began to fall as she traipsed through the forest, shadows growing longer, darker. Her mood matched the murky darkness around her. Armalina had never been in the forest at night-time without her father, and even then, they had not travelled more than one hundred metres or so through the trees. There were too many dangerous creatures lurking to eat unsuspecting prey.

Armalina didn’t want to be that prey.

Daytime wasn’t much safer, though at least she could see around her.

Her mother had taught her the spells she had learned in her youth as an apprentice witch, but they were few and nowhere near enough to guarantee her safety.

Her mother had only been taught domestic spells to help her become a good little wife, but not much more. Armalina knew spells that could light a fire, clean a house, entrance an animal to kill for food, or help their garden grow. She was sure there were more spells to learn, but she knew nothing of their existence.

Her mother had tried to teach her potions, but she could never master the art. Following instructions was not her strong suit. Isalina was the potions prodigy, and had learned their mother’s potion recipe book by heart. Armalina was sure she had heard her sister reciting potion recipes in her sleep, late at night when she lay restless, listening to the forest’s night noises around them.

The moon’s soft light dappled through the canopy of trees, white fingers searching through the darkness, unable to bring much more than a dim illumination to the path ahead of Armalina. She could hear animals moving about around her, shrieks and calls sharing secrets she could not decipher.

There were unspeakable monsters hiding from view, waiting for full darkness to make their move. Armalina’s father had told her stories of the Dathgol, described them in detail to prevent her from exploring further in the forests.

The Dathgol’s long fingers ending in sharp claws had always chilled Armalina, and she always shivered like her back was being stroked. Thin lips barely covered their razor sharp teeth, a forked tongue tasting the air as it flicked out like a snake’s. It towered over humans, as tall as a house, staring with orange eyes that lit up in the darkness. Translucent skin stretched tight over their bodies, covered in coarse hair, rough enough to graze skin into a bloody pulp.

No, she hoped she wouldn’t come face to ugly face with a Dathgol.

The Achlonakai were not much better. With bodies like a large tiger, and the head of a dog, they were fearsome beasts. Their ability to think and talk made them incredibly clever, travelling in packs to help them hunt. One Achlonakel could slaughter a grown man in ten seconds. If it chose to, of course. Together, they were ruthless.

Armalina came to a clearing, the moon shimmering on the dew-tipped grass. Clouds rolled slowly across the sky, glowing as it approached the moon and bringing dark patches to the world below. Her eyes were heavy and burdened with tiredness, and she felt sluggish. Alone and lost, she stopped to make camp, looking around for immediate danger. Apart from the animal noises that had become part of the background, Armalina could neither see nor hear anything of interest. After weighing up her options, she decided to light a fire, wanting to ward off the cold. She hoped it wouldn’t attract any dangerous creatures to her. With only her dagger, spells and fighting spirit, she would find it difficult to fight them off.

She gathered some twigs and bracken from the ground nearby, piling them up in the centre of the clearing.

“Lithueen hothuam,” she muttered, touching the sticks gently with her fingers. A small fire jumped from the sticks. She took a step back, letting the smoke rise from the crackling wood. Warmth made its way towards her, seeping through her cold clothes.

As the flames built, she prepared the rabbit she had caught, gutting it and placing it on a makeshift spit.

When the fire was hot enough, she placed the rabbit above the coals and waited for it to cook. She sipped the last of her water, enjoying the feeling as the cool liquid soothed her dry throat. She would need to find more tomorrow.

The fire brought unhappy memories of her family’s murder inside their home and, wiping away tears, she stared into the fire, allowing it to consume her thoughts.

A snapping twig outside the clearing broke her away from her thoughts, and she peered into the darkness. She thought she could see a multitude of eyes peering out at her, and she shivered, feeling her pulse quicken. Her hand moved to the hilt of her dagger, ready to bring it out at a moment’s notice.

Dark clouds filled the sky above, shrouding the stars and moon. The eyes remained, blinking, staring. Unnerving. As long as they stayed there out of sight, Armalina would be content.

The smell of the rabbit cooking made her stomach clench with hunger. Its juices hissed as they fell to the hot wood beneath.

Deciding she could wait no longer, Armalina removed the rabbit from the fire, burning her fingertips. She gasped as the oil burned her mouth, but continued to swallow her first mouthful. Although the meat was tough and chewy, it was enough to put a dent on her hunger and stop the pangs. Had she been at home, the rabbit would have been prepared with herbs and fresh vegetables, cooked slowly to tenderise the meat. The skin would have been useful to make clothes; instead it was wasted.

Burnt, like her family and home.

She felt a huge gaping cavern in her chest, like invisible hands had reached in and wrenched out her insides. Her body ached and she was tired. Overwhelmingly tired.

Cracking twigs approaching the clearing made Armalina stop chewing her last mouthful, wiping her mouth with her sleeve as she peered into the darkness. Again, her hand moved instinctively to the hilt of her dagger. A hulking silhouette crept from behind a tree, moving slowly towards Armalina. She stood up, drawing out her dagger and holding it in front of her. A quick glance around her showed no other movement in the clearing.

Focussing back on the approaching figure, she called out. “Who are you? Declare yourself!” Armalina tried to keep her voice steady and firm, but she heard a small tremble that matched her outstretched arm.

The figure remained silent, continued moving closer.

“Who are you? Declare yourself or I will be forced to attack.” The tremble was still there, encouraged by her ragged breaths.

The figure stopped, as if it was staring.

Continuing forwards, it cackled before speaking, its voice high and croaky. “Don’t worry, child. I am but an old man travelling through the forest.” He came into view and Armalina looked, sizing him up. He wore a traveller’s cloak, with shaggy, unkempt hair flowing out above the collar. A long beard showered down his chest. His eyes glittered from the shadows of his cloak.

“I saw you by the fire and watched. I wanted to be sure, doubly sure, that you were friendly.” He smiled, revealing gaps in his teeth. “I could see and smell something tasty, and wanted to join you for my evening meal.”

“But I have nothing le—” Armalina began.

“Nonsense. I can see you have no more food. I was going to offer you some of my provisions,” the man croaked, standing on the opposite side of the fire. “I don’t have much, but you’re welcome to share.”

He reached into a satchel hanging on his back and pulled out some dried meat, two apples, and a loaf of bread.

Armalina watched warily. Her father had warned them about accepting anything from strangers who might happen to pass through, especially food.

But the rabbit had been small and she was hungry. Surely an apple couldn’t hurt.

“Thank you,” she said, reaching out for an apple. She raised it to her nose. It smelt normal and, as she bit into the crunchy flesh, juices ran down her chin. “Where are you headed anyway?” she asked the man.

“Away from the dragons, of course! Far away. I saw them fighting over yonder.” He gave a half-hearted wave. “And you. I sense some sadness in you, young’un. Dragons been plaguin’ you, too?”

Armalina sighed, staring at the crackling fire. Would it hurt to tell this man—this stranger—what had happened to her family? Would that make her look more vulnerable? Or more like a woman with nothing left to lose?

She needed help, but could she trust this man?

“A dragon destroyed my home and family. I’m off to seek vengeance. Any dragon that I see will feel my wrath,” Armalina said, deciding the truth would be less complicated. Although she still didn’t trust the man, he had shared some food with her, even though she would only accept the apple. What animal had the jerky been made from?

The man chuckled. He drank from his bottle, rivulets of liquid running down his beard.

“Now that’s a fight I’d enjoy seeing,” he said between cackles. “I’m sorry, lovey, but I would put my gold on the dragon to win.” He saw Armalina’s glare. “No offence. But if that dagger is all you have, then it won’t be much help against a dragon. Tell me, did you see the dragon that destroyed your home and family?”

She nodded grimly. “Yes. I saw each claw the size of daggers. Each tooth in a mouth that spewed fire. Each wing as it beat gales to fan the fire. I know all about the power of the dragon I saw. But maybe I’m more powerful than I appear. That dragon should fear me,” she added, bravado lining her words. She didn’t feel as courageous as she said she was.

“Good on you,” the man said, condescending. “That might be... if there were just one dragon. I counted four beasts before I left.” He paused, chewing on a strip of meat, the sound of the fire embracing them. “But best of luck all the same.”

Armalina yawned, sleep beginning to wash powerfully over her. She couldn’t sleep, not with the man close by. Her father had warned her about moments like these. What men were capable of doing.

“Perhaps you should get some sleep. You’ll need to be well-rested if you’re to fight those dragons,” the man said. “I will stay awake some more and watch this fire die into embers. I’m usually late to bed, mind. I can add some wood before I turn in.”

Armalina lay down near the fire, her head resting on an outstretched arm. She watched the flames jumping through heavy-lidded eyes, beginning to dream of quenching the fire from the dragons forever.

She had just dozed off when she startled awake, fear gripping her body. Something wasn’t right. The fire had died to glowing embers.

The stench of rotting meat and human waste made her crinkle her nose. Jolting upright she searched the clearing. The man had moved from his position. Where was he?

Armalina stood up and swivelled around, reaching for her dagger.

It was gone!

“Looking for this, lovey?” a deep voice asked, sing-song and taunting. The cloak lay crumpled in the grass and, instead of the hunched figure of the man, stood a towering body of terror. It seemed to be as tall as the trees around them.

A Dathgol.

Her dagger was held between long fingers, their claws the size of the dagger itself. Armalina froze in fear, unable to take her eyes off the Dathgol’s own orange ones, as if they reflected the embers of the dying fire. A tail whipped through the air behind it, like a cat’s.

Coming to her senses, Armalina glanced around, searching for an escape route.

“There’s no use trying to run, girl,” the Dathgol rasped. “I will catch you in an instant, though I would enjoy the brief moment of exercise.” It began to laugh and threw the dagger into the woods behind it.

It was so close now, bending forwards, stiletto teeth protruding from its thin lips. The Dathgol was close enough to see the dark lines of its blood pulsing beneath its translucent skin. Armalina took a step back, before remembering the spell she used to stun larger animals to kill.

In the past she had only ever used it on deer and one cow. She had no idea whether it worked on creatures of evil like the Dathgol.

But she had to try. It was all she had left to defend herself. She didn’t think she had much time.

Staring at the Dathgol, she whispered: “Starum bladius.”

It continued bending forward, the cloying stench making her feel sick, her stomach roiling within her.

“Starum bladius!” Her voice trembled.

Its fingers now began to stroke her hair, her clothes. She shivered like she had when her father had told her tales in her youth.

The thought of her father gave her courage, steeling her muscles.

She tried again, putting her energy into imagining the Dathgol as a statue. Its mouth was open above her, hot breath blowing down from between rows of sharp teeth.

“Starum bladius!” Her voice was loud and clear as she held her hands out above her, palms facing away.

The Dathgol stopped moving. Its breaths were soft, like a night breeze in the spring, though it still reeked.

For a few seconds, Armalina was also stunned, surprised the spell had worked. She wished her father had told her the Dathgol were shapeshifters. Perhaps he didn’t know.

Perhaps nobody had managed to make it away from one alive.

The Dathgol in front of her began to move its fingers, wriggling them as if only just learning how to control them. Those burning orange eyes stared beading down at her, unblinking, focussed only on Armalina.

She needed that dagger before the spell wore off. There was no way she would be able to outrun the Dathgol. Armalina’s mother had taught her what she had named “the lazy spell”, which could summon a nearby object into her hands. Armalina had only ever practised in the kitchen when she had forgotten to pick something from the garden. There was no use wasting magic when you had the use of arms and legs. It was a difficult spell to master, mainly due to lack of practice, but eventually she had made it work.

She needed it to work now.

Ignoring the moving Dathgol in front of her, Armalina concentrated on the dagger her father had given her to help her hunt.

With arms held out towards the forest, she chanted the spell, hoping to get the pronunciation correct. “Fyndamuth steffendo dagger. Fyndamuth steffendo dagger. She heard a rustle in the leaf litter of the forest floor.

Whether it was her dagger moving or some kind of creature, she wasn’t sure.

The Dathgol moved its arms, reaching out towards Armalina.

“Fyndamuth steffendo dagger. Fyndamuth steffendo dagger!” There was a whistling sound as the dagger came flying towards her. Faith in her magical ability kept her steady and unflinching, the hilt slapping the palm of her hand.

As quickly as she could, Armalina slashed at the Dathgol’s arms, cutting them above the elbow. They fell to the ground where they wriggled like senseless snakes in the dim light. The claws dug into the ground, inching towards her.

Grunting with exertion, she slashed at the spindly legs, the torso dropping into a puddle of dark slush, more liquid spurting from its wounds. It gave a high-pitched squeal that made Armalina’s muscles contract, her jaw clenched. Resisting the urge to cover her ears, she stabbed the dagger into the Dathgol’s eyes, extinguishing the orange glow. Still the squeal crashed through the air with its dangerous cacophony.

With a cry, Armalina stabbed up into the Dathgol’s open mouth, ending the monster’s shrieks as it slumped to the grass. Echoing silence replaced the discordant noise, until Armalina became aware of her panting breaths. She looked down at the dismembered body on the ground. A throbbing pain began to pulse in her arm and, as she looked down, she saw blood oozing from gashes in her skin.

The Dathgol’s teeth had got her, its last action before it died.

Armalina felt a lightness in her head, her body heavy. The pain began to spread towards her shoulder. She collapsed, her eyes looking at her defeated enemy.

All alone again. And dying. She was sure of it. Death would bring a bittersweet absence of pain.

Overwhelmed by tiredness and intensifying pain, she just wanted sleep. If she never woke again, she didn’t care. She had lost everything. What else did she have to live for, but for revenge? Against dragons, what hope did she have? She snorted once, the laugh stealing energy she needed.

Suddenly, she heard the patter of many footsteps and, as she saw what was approaching, she felt fear once more.

Achlonakai.

Armalina counted at least six of the fearsome beasts. She fought her heavy eyes, urging them to stay open. Her brain could barely keep track of events, working extra hard to hear what was happening and understand the data. Her hands rested weakly on the hilt of her dagger.

“She’s been bitten,” a gruff voice declared. “Prepare the healing herbs.”

Armalina tried to speak but her lips felt numb and clumsy.

“Don’t strain, girl. You’ve been mortally wounded.” The coarse voice was talking once more. “This poultice should help heal your wounds, but there can be no guarantees. The bite of the Dathgol is poison to all creatures. This might sting some.”

Armalina felt the pulsing pain in her arm begin to sting as the Achlonakel rubbed the paste into her wound. The stinging sensation coursed through her body until blackness consumed her senses.

*  *  *

ARMALINA WOKE GRADUALLY, the clearing around her lit by morning’s dull grey light. The pain in her arm had devolved into a dull throb. She flexed her elbow, testing it, feeling much better. The Dathgol’s body had been removed and, as she looked towards the fire, Armalina saw the Achlonakai whispering and eating long shanks of meat.

She was surprised to find them different to how they had been described. In the cold light of day, she could see they had a pair of human-like arms on a hairy human torso, with a human head. They stood on four tiger paws, making them a strange six-limbed creature. They wiped away the juices dripping down their bearded chins with their hands. Long hair framed rectangular skulls. Their tails swished softly behind them, relaxed and sleepy.

As she watched, she noticed two Achlonakai prowling the perimeter of the clearing, their tails held rigidly in the air as they walked. Each sentry held a sword and shield, like the knights in her father’s stories. Occasionally they would sniff the air and pause, triangular ears pointing upwards, before continuing on.

Armalina tried sitting up. Her head was dizzy and she felt woozy, falling back into the soft grass.

“The girl warrior awakens,” one of the Achlonakai growled. The pack turned, their pointed faces peering inquisitively as she tried sitting up once more. Some of the group had bows and arrows, while others had sheathed swords strapped around their bodies.

“Good morning, girl. I must say I’ve seen prettier than you, but considering the circumstances...” The largest Achlonakel, who Armalina assumed was their leader, guffawed at his own joke.

“When your quest is to seek revenge, then beauty is of no issue,” Armalina said, her voice sounding braver than she felt. They had saved her life, but she didn’t know her position with these beasts yet. Her lack of chains was a positive sign, even considering her weakness and number of opponents.

“And with whom do you seek for revenge, pray tell?” the leader said, stalking closer to her. She had managed to sit up and was now trying to stand while she kept her gaze on the approaching Achlonakel. Her head swayed, her legs threatening to collapse beneath her.

“Any being who had a part in killing my family. And anyone who stands in my way will fall before me,” she said through gritted teeth. Her short black hair was matted to her head, steely blue eyes challenging, determined.

“Are we part of that list?” the leader asked, looking around at his peers, arms stretched out wide. A sneer contorted his face, revealing sharp teeth.

“Only if you’re friendly with dragons, or the Dathgol. Or try to stop me leaving,” Armalina said.

“We saw you kill the Dathgol. That was very courageous of you. Of course, we would have joined in to help but...” He looked around guiltily at his herd. “Anyway, I am Brutellus. I am the leader of our clan.” He held out his human hand to shake. Armalina saw thick, coarse hairs covering the back.

“Armalina.” She had no reason to lie about her name.

“Well, Armalina. Come enjoy some roast mutton with us. You must be famished.”

Her stomach rumbled, clenching together in rolling waves. “Yes, thank you.” She moved over to the fire to join the others.

“Each of us has many roles within our clan. I am our leader. I am responsible for our safety as we migrate through the lands. Whatever we do, we have no alliances outside our clan.” Brutellus passed Armalina a shank of meat.

“The Dathgol and the dragons provide many dangers to us. Anybody who can defeat them is our ally. Unless they go against us.”

Armalina bit into the tender flesh, feeling the juice dribble down her chin. She wiped it away with her hand, before hungrily licking the smear.

“Only problem is,” she said when she had swallowed the morsel, “I have no idea where I am, or where to go. I’ve no idea where to find the dragons.”

Brutellus watched, his eyes inquisitive. “So what’s your plan, girl? Just wander around and hope you stumble upon them?” Brutellus sneered as his herd sniggered sycophantically. “Those dragons fell to the world in flames, and now they’re going to burn us all. We will be nothing but ashes. What makes you think you will do any better than all the soldiers we watched die in battle yesterday?” Scorn dripped from his words.

Armalina fought back tears, her eyes burning as she stared into the flames. What did she have that could destroy dragons?

“A burning desire for revenge. My dagger. Some spells. A willingness to die in battle, if it comes to it.” Her words came out steady and firm.

“Such a massive arsenal,” one of the Achlonakai said.

Armalina turned and glared at the speaker. “My father once said that the world needed the small players in a game. While the strong are distracted by their peers, it is those they perceive as weak who sneak through in stealth and light the fires that topple the very foundations they fought to build.” She felt herself getting breathless as she recited her father’s words. “I’m small enough to sneak into the cracks. Once there I can grow like a weed and break apart stone. I’m not stopping until I have destroyed my target, or died trying.”

She stood up, dropped the shank of mutton onto the ground and pulled out her dagger. “Come let me prove it to you,” she said to the Achlonakel. “What’s your name?”

“It’s okay, Armalina. Zcharielus meant no offence,” Brutellus said, holding up his palm, placating and calm.

“Well, Zcharielus.” She stared into his black eyes. “Starum bladius.” She watched as the Achlonakel stood, unmoving, his eyes wavering in fear as if looking for an escape. She walked up to him, circling him as she spoke. “There you stand, under my command. I could have killed you by now, if I desired it. But I won’t. As your leader said, you have a very specific role which I am sure is irreplaceable. My father’s honour declares I owe you my life for healing my wound, however, don’t be naive to think I won’t defend myself.” Moving away, she relaxed her mind, releasing him from the trance. Her shoulders slumped as she breathed out deeply.

Zcharielus pulled out his sword and stalked towards her, stiletto teeth bared. Life coursed through her body, ready to use her weapon or cast another spell.

“Leave it, Zcharielus!” Brutellus warned. “Very nice trick, Armalina.” His voice softened. “We would like to help you before you leave us. Can you read a map?”

She shook her head, embarrassed. “Never seen one,” Armalina admitted.

“Thought so. It’s surprisingly common outside of castles. Cidrellus, bring a map please.”

The Achlonakel grabbed some parchment from a satchel on its back. “Cidrellus is our cartographer and navigator. Amazing sense of direction,” Brutellus said as Cidrellus approached.

“Thank you, Cidrellus. Please stay and help our new friend read a map.”

Cidrellus smiled, unable to hold her gaze. He kept his eyes focused on the map as he pointed out the landmarks around them, explaining how to gauge direction.

Armalina picked up the meat she had been gnawing on and ate hungrily as she listened, trying not to let the juices smear her chin.

“Do you understand all that?” Cidrellus asked as she threw the bone into the fire.

She nodded, swallowing the meat in her mouth. Her tongue fiddled with some strands of meat stuck between her teeth.

“Reading a map seems incredibly easy,” she admitted.

Cidrellus smiled. “Yes, but not for some of us.” He looked pointedly at some of his clan. “This map is yours to keep.” He rolled it up, shoved it inside a metal ring, and held it out to her. It was only slightly wider than her hand, sticking out either end of her fist.

Brutellus held a leather satchel towards her. “The Dathgol had haunted these grounds for a long time, making it unsafe for us in these parts. Please take these gifts as a token of our appreciation. It may not be much, but it should help you on your journey to defeat the dragons.”

Armalina looked inside and saw food, a travelling cloak and some healing herbs.

“Thank you, Brutellus, to you and your clan. I promise not to stop until the dragons have been destroyed. I must say, you’re nothing like what I expected.”

Brutellus grinned. “Nothing ever is. You can have that advice for free. We have lived a nomadic lifestyle for many years, and our wisdom has been passed down through generations. The biggest lesson I can pass on is this: Things will never be as they appear. Always look beyond the surface if you wish to find the truth. We must leave. We wish you well,” Brutellus said, placing his hand on her shoulder.

“Remember, walk that way for what’s left of today, and you should reach the kingdom of Emilica. That is where we saw the dragons battling,” Cidrellus said. “Remember to watch for landmarks so you don’t get lost.”

“Thank you, Cidrellus. I hope we can meet after this is all over,” Armalina said, slinging the satchel over her shoulder. She turned to walk away.

“Wait up,” a croaky voice called out. She turned around and was surprised to see Zcharielus pounding quickly towards her. Placing a hand on her dagger hilt, she prepared to defend herself. Zcharielus slowed his pace and laughed. “I mean you no harm. I have a spare sword and shield, and would like to gift them to you for... for teaching me a few things about duelling.”

“These gifts are too much,” Armalina mumbled.

“Please take them,” Zcharielus said. “These weapons will be more effective than your dagger.” He glanced at the weapon at her hip.

“It is more powerful than you think then,” she spat defensively. The smile on the Achlonakel’s face inflamed her fury.

“You misunderstand me,” Zcharielus began. “I agree daggers have their place in battle, especially when there’s a need to remain stealthy. But when you see the size of the dragons, you may see my meaning. You will need something bigger. Before we left, we saw a boy who rode a dragon into battle. Perhaps he might be able to help you on your quest, though maybe he might try to stop you. I have faith that you will know what to do.” Zcharielus looked at his departing herd. “Goodbye, Armalina.” Zcharielus turned and ran off, leaving Armalina standing in the quiet glade, a small wind blowing the hair across her face.

Armalina walked in the direction Cidrellus had pointed, her scalp itchy in the hot sun.

Finally, as the sun was beginning to drop behind the mountains on the horizon, Armalina came to the edge of the forest. She could see scorched land before a towering stone castle.

Flying high in the darkening sky was a dragon, larger than she could have imagined. Riding on its back was the hunched silhouette of a young man.

Armalina had a lot of work ahead of her. After readjusting her satchel, she set off, burning with desire to avenge her family.

She was going to set the world on fire.