This is the first short paragraph for my story....
any critism is valued, but please bear in mind this is only the first draft, I will write it properly when the whole book is written
The vast vale of the ancient realm of Torin basked in the radiance that followed the setting of the sun, its spires and fortifications stabbing upwards into the deep blue of the western sky where the velvet of night threatened. The Wandering Star, the bright herald of dusk, glimmered silently low on the red and gold horizon. The daily bustle of the city was beginning to quiet and the torches were being lit along the main avenues and along the bluestone fountain in the centre of the main plaza. The pink hue in the sky was reflected in the restless waters and the Wandering Star was echoed, dancing on the wavelets.
Frael, lieutenant of the Guard, cupped his hands and drew some of the water over his brow, disturbing the fountain pool so that the reflection of the sinking sun was a mass of dancing and brilliant diamonds. A noise behind him caused him to turn and, replacing his helm, he watched in quiet interest as a tall woman scrambled frantically through the twisting, tree lined avenues of the city towards him. Several people she passed at a dead run gave a pause to stare curiously at the dark-haired woman running with such haste through the cobbled streets. She reached the top of the street and hesitated, turning back to stare across the valley, past the gold-stained city walls and turrets into the shimmering, winding river beyond. In the light of the dying sunset, the fertile green valley glowed orange and the distant snow-topped mountains were capped in scarlet fire.
Turning away from the stunning view, she caught sight of Frael and started slightly. He stiffened, coming to attention with the barest flick of his head and twich of his heels. Meeting her eyes he froze awaiting reprimand, but the gaze broke and she veered sharply to the right and continued at a blistering pace past tall, ivy-covered structures until she reached the aged wooden doorway of the Blacksmith’s. She barged in and the door closed with a sharp snap behind her.
Frael relaxed slightly and breathed out in relief. Without looking back, he began to walk nonchalantly away from the fountain, he would post himself elsewhere this night.
Inside the hot, dim smithy, a small child flung himself against his mother with a cry of joy. Raiya tensely returned his grip with tears in her eyes and then sent a meaningful look at the dark figure awaiting her silently in the shadows.
The silhouette rose with a smooth, smoke-like motion and came forward silently into the light. His eyes shone with an amber malevolence beneath a dark hood, but he placed a finely formed hand upon the boy’s shoulder and called almost tenderly to him. The boy drew back fearfully from his mother, but then embraced the strange figure in farewell, before departing from the room.
Raiya watched her child leave with concern showing through the premature lines on her face and her brown eyes glanced toward the dark shadow. She placed a reassuring hand upon his shoulder which he shook off irritably. Raiya hesitated a moment with her hand still outstretched, opened her mouth to apologise but was silenced by an impatient nod of acknowledgment from the figure. She glanced fearfully at the door then moved closer and spoke in a hoarse whisper...
“We were betrayed, they are coming for you.”
The amber eyes flashed again in anger and perhaps, a hint of concern. She turned her face away from the penetrating stare and clutched at the gre y medallion in her hand. The tall figure moved forward with snake-like speed and grasped her hand with such force that the edge cut into her hand causing her to gasp in pain. He wrenched her fingers open exposing the image of a rampant steel dragon to the fading light. Those fearsome eyes locked onto her own, and he spoke in a voice which was barely more than a callous hiss in the dark;
“Argon?”
She looked away to hide the fear in her eyes at the mention of the grey knight, but he dragged her watery gaze back.
“Gone...” she said quietly “He saved me from them.”
For a moment he did not respond, but then he pushed her away and let out an unearthly, inhuman cry into the velvety darkness, slamming both his fists into the rough wooden table, which shattered under a force no man should be able to weald. For a moment, his form seemed to waver like a black and opaque smoke and something else, another shape was visible... but the moment passed, and he was solid, composed and quiet.
He moved to the fallen Raiya and pulled her to her feet. Yet again the eyes locked, but this time Raiya perceived something else, not anger or a fierce front, but pity, sadness and an empty hollow where hope should have been. He did not speak, nor apologise for his lack of composure, his outburst, but he meant it, and she understood. For an instant, they were back to when Raiya was a child, when the sinister and ancient figure beside her had laughed, before he had fallen into the darkness, standing upon the golden battlement, speaking silently, heart to heart.
Several days later, Raiya stood upon the parapet watching the fires from the armies camped on the plateau before the bronze city gates. The red dragon emblazoned across the mighty doors roaring in silent defiance at those who dared intrude. Behind her the mighty town bells tolled the warning and called eerily for aid. She gazed southward for any suggestion of the familiar form against the sky, but there was none. Surely this ominous absence only confirmed that the Lord Avyron had been destroyed and they were on their own. Her thoughts turned to her son and to protecting him from the ravages of the marauders. Noiselessly, and without hope, she descended the worn stone stairway and headed back to her home.
That evening, a soft rain rustled gently across the earth, and pattered like tears upon the faces of the fallen. Raiya lay cold amongst the smouldering remains of the city of Torin; her body abandoned to the elements and carrion birds. Her distraught orphaned son was fleeing amongst a group of charred refugees on their way to the barren Jyan scrublands to seek refuge, a grey medallion on his chest. The once prosperous city and peoples of Torin was no more...