by Cooluser1615 » Sun Jan 11, 2015 9:37 am
A narrow, lonely road of dirt and pebbles wove its way through the desolate, vast plain of grassland between the city of Zmakia and a tributary of the Armgara River. There was not a town or village for many miles in every direction. Only a few groups of nomadic animal-herders lived here, and even they had driven their herds of cattle and goats further south, for it was late in the season of autumn and the blizzards of winter would soon be blowing in from the North. Now, a bay mare, one of the many feral horses that roamed the huge plain, wandered onto the road to nibble at the feeble green shoots that had sprung up between the pebbles due to lack of use. Suddenly the horse stopped munching on the plants. She raised her Roman-nosed head and her eyes widened in fear. The mare dashed off onto the plains, much in the way a housecat might flee a tiger, or a lapdog a wolf. Hoofbeats resonated off the barren road in a rather eerie fashion, like a steady funeral drum. The road crossed a small hill on its winding route across the grassland, and it was over the crest of this hill that two dermflen and their riders emerged.
The first dermflan bore a strong, solid appearance. His coat was iron-grey, but his long mane and tail were as pink as the feathers of a flamingo. The dermflan's wings, muzzle and lower legs also faded into a gentle pink hue. Like all dermflen, he was ridden bareback, for how could one fit a saddle onto a creature who, most of the time, had large wings folded against his sides? The stallion wore no tack but a snaffle bridle. It matched the colour of his mane, tail and wings perfectly. The dermflan moved with a proud, majestic bearing, even in the middle of nowhere. It wasn't as if he saw any shame in being a bit pink, he was a dermflan after all. Among their culture, colours were not really associated with any particular feeling or expression, save for white, the colour of death. The dermflan carried a human on his back. She was obviously his rider, for dermflen did not allow themselves to be ridden by simply anyone. The woman wore a shirt, trousers and boots. All her articles of clothing were a light shade of grey. The rider's long hair was held back in a simple plait, and was pink, for her hair had changed to the colour of her dermflan's mane over time. She was a tall human of regular complexion. Even though she was no older than thirty, her body bore a weathered look, on account of being so exposed to the elements. It was inevitable, after all, since she was duty bound to deliver messages, regardless of the weather or season. The human wore armour of a strange silver metal, inscribed with a design of a dermflan and wings, the symbols of the Dermflan-Rider Messenger force. Strangely, by her left thigh, where most travellers of lonely roads would hang their sword or another weapon, there hung a flute made of the same silvery metal as her armour. It was a pretty instrument, but that was not why the rider carried it. In her hands, the flute was a weapon far more dangerous than a sword.
Suddenly the woman felt her dermflan halt without warning. "What is it, Zemfir?" she asked the stallion, wariness creeping into her telepathic voice. "Listen to the wind, Naina." Zemfir answered. His words were sharp and commanding, like most phrases dermflen came out with. Naina raised her head and listened. She had gained an acute connection with weather after becoming Zemfir's rider. Naina heard lone words on the wind. "Danger... Blood... Sky... White..." the wind hissed in her ears. The rider's heart began to thump harder from fear, for never had the wind told her a lie. Naina took a small grey bag off her back and gave it to the teenage girl and young dermflan who had been accompanying Zemfir and Naina during the journey. Naina was the girl's mentor, and Zemfir was the mentor of the young dermflan. "Erganey, this is a letter for the dermflen clanns of the North. You are going to carry it." The teenager opened her mouth to protest, but Naina stopped her. "Nobody suspects the novice of carrying the message." the older rider said. Zemfir snorted and, unbidden by Naina, began to trot down the lonely road once more.
As the hours passed without any sights of tragedy or dramatic events, Naina began to relax a little. She cursed herself for being so superstitious in the first place. Still, for some reason the rider refused to allow herself to take back the letter in the grey bag. Zemfir began to tire of the constant trotting, as did Naina. The experienced pair both wanted to add a little more speed to their ride. "Shall we canter?" Naina asked longingly. "Why not? The younglings are capable of catching up and it's becoming a pain to keep to this monotonous trot." Zemfir replied. "Catch us up whenever you're ready, Tembrlen." the stallion added, addressing the young dermflan. Erganey and Tembrlen nodded their heads simultaneously; their mentors had ridden ahead of them many times before. The young pair watched as Zemfir and Naina raced off, having no inkling of the horror that was about to befall them.
After a few minutes had passed, Tembrlen sped into a canter of her own. The black-coated mare was larger than most dermflen; her youth simply meant that she had yet to reach the peak of her strength. Erganey was a pale-skinned human teenager, of average height and weight, yet appearing smaller than she actually was due to the grand scale of Tembrlen. As Erganey raised her head, her long, loose hair streamed out behind her. Only a hint of the teenager's original hair colour remained; a few flecks of black at its very roots. The rest of her mane of hair faded into fiery shades of red, then orange, and finally into yellow at its very tips. Erganey's hair was the same colour as Tembrlen's mane, tail, lower legs, muzzle and wings. Tembrlen's wings remained folded by her sides, trapping Erganey's legs and so preventing her from falling off as they rushed forward. Gradually a few trees began coming into view, for Tembrlen and Erganey were nearing the tributary of the Armgara River which marked the end of the plains. Tembrlen's nostrils flared. "Can you smell it? There is a smell of blood in the air." she said. Erganey, with her human nose, might not have been able to discern such subtle scents, but an icy shiver ran down her spine all the same. Tembrlen slowed to a trot, about to enter the thick of the woods, when something stopped them. It was the music of a flute.
Erganey had listened to Naina play her flute before, but the music had never resembled what she now heard. She'd heard Naina play gentle tunes, to coax either light rainfall or fair skies. However, the music now sounded wild, furious and incredibly heartbreaking. The volume of it was louder than Erganey had ever heard from flute music. The weather was quickly affected by the music. Above Erganey and Tembrlen, the azure-blue sky darkened to grey. The winds howled and rain began to pour down from the many rainclouds up above. Yet Erganey and Tembrlen could still hear the angry, heartbreaking melody, right up until the second it abruptly ended. The pair froze, knowing that the music had been killed by killing the musician. A bellow thundered from the depths of the woods, audible despite the cascades of rainwater and the roaring wind. "The message, you idiots! She hasn't got the message!" came the deep-voiced yell. Upon hearing the voice, Tembrlen and Erganey did not waste a moment. They turned and leapt into the air, eventually vanishing into the soaking wet safety provided by the clouds.
