Table of Contents
Chapter One
The morning sun streamed through one of the small windows that occupied a space on the wall of a small mud brick house. It illuminated the little room in which a single figure sat, small sleeping child wrapped to her back as she faced the grand old weaving loom. Which no doubt had remained in the family since its very creation. Her hands rhythmically worked, throwing the shuttle one way and catching it before she pulled down the beater, pushing the thread into place with it. Pressing the levers beneath her feet she changed the split of threads that lay before her on the loom and then threw the shuttle once again, this time in the opposite direction to which she had thrown before. Once again the beater came down and she repeated the same process over and over again. Before long one could see the faded colours of the yarn come to life as it was woven together. This was a skill that had been passed down from generation to the next of women and it appeared that this young woman sound solace in the repetitive work she was doing. As was evident by the gentle curving smile that lay upon her lips. Around her outside the village began slowly brimming with activity, most work was done early in the morning or late at night to avoid the heat of the desert in which they lived. Unbeknownst to them in their little village, War was beginning to brew on the desert borders they occupied.
Far across the desert and into the mountainous country of Altara, a different scene arose. On the borders of the capital Avoca there lay a sprawling manor. Within this manor resided three brothers of a most infamous family line. The Blackthorne name preceded them in almost every way, in history and reputation. For the eldest brother that name saw him rise to great renown amongst the people of Altara.
His name was Marcus Anthony Edward Blackthorne, Squadron Leader of the Altaran Gryphons and partner to the magnificent Taliesin; the Gryphon with the shining crest of antique gold. Alongside the other Squadron Leaders and their Commander they had been slowly preparing for the imminent war with the Souther Nation of Khalan. Tension was running high, especially on the border where small skirmishes had been becoming more and more frequent. Even with their tentative alignment with Cypria and their dragons in the East, the Khalese were still stronger. A fact partially owed to their larger claim of the Continent. The Wyverns of Khalan were also a formidable opponent, larger than even the largest Cyprian Dragons and towering over the Altaran Gryphons; they did not need strength in numbers to be superior in battle.
However the Wyverns were not the only dangers to behold in the world known as Kotan, they were just the ones more commonly encountered in that time. As such extra border patrols had been put into place and on this day Marcus was to lead one of them. The flight to the border and their outpost to relieve it’s current patrolling squad would be a relatively short one. That is compared to the travel it would take by foot or on horse back. For them, being partnered with Gryphons meant there would only be one night of rest required for this journey. Marcus was just loading up his gear onto Taliesin’s harness when he was joined by his younger brother Lucas.
“I’ve been assigned to your squad this time, the higher ups are getting concerned about the frequency of raids and attacks.” Lucas explained quickly, as Marcus resumed packing his bags. Lucas was not a man of many words unless an explanation for something was lengthy and required such so as to convey the correct information in context. Marcus merely grinned at the serious expression on Lucas’ face and clapped him on the shoulder, “You have nothing to worry about brother, nor do they. You will see.” Marcus replied as he affixed the final bag and mounted Taliesin, signalling for Lucas to do the same.
Mounting his Gryphon partner Glaw, Lucas merely shook his head, “Famous last words brother” he muttered under his breath as he followed his brother’s signal and took flight with him and the rest of the Squadron.
Chapter Two
The desert sand shifted beneath their talons and paws as the squadron of Marcus’ Gryphons landed at their designated sweep point. It would be here that camp would be set up and from there branch out in pairs performing timed sweeps across the border to survey for any raiding parties of Wyverns. One could only be thankful for the telepathic connection that all Gryphons; and Dragons included, shared with one another and their human partners. For it made reporting back on changes far more efficient than the usual method and at the slightest hint for trouble back up could easily be called. It didn’t take long for camp to be established and without incident, nor did it take long for the first of the sweep pairs to be sent out on their sweep run. All but those marked for later sweeps remained in camp, including Marcus who lay back on the woven, reed stuffed mattress that was his bed for the desert excursion, a billowy white tent much like the others around him was erected above him. For now this would be their home until word was received requesting their return to the capital.
Lucas also remained behind with Marcus and the other sweep riders, however he was more on edge than his brother and less quick to relax, let alone lay down as many of the others, including his brother had done. Of course no one could have predicted the events that would follow but the feeling that Lucas was getting, was a very bad one indeed. A feeling that was only further validated by the sudden keening cry that split through the shared mind of Gryphon and partner. In a flash everyone shot to their feet, the last lingering cry to retreat was still fresh in their mind as they were abruptly cut off from the one who had reached out and made contact.
Run the voice had said for the love of everything sacred, run! and then it was gone. It just abruptly stopped almost as soon as it had started. The voice was gone and so were they, camp was to be abandoned, there had not been a death to Wyverns for some years now, some hundreds of years. Yes there had been many serious injuries and encounters but none had died, not since the last uprising had occurred, and the great Wyvern Commander Lysander and his Wyvern partner Kratos had lead them to what had almost been their certain victory. That fate would have been so if they had not been defeated and Lysander’s sword sealed some place thought safe were it not for a Blackthorne himself. Thomas Eugene Edmund Blackthorne, youngest son of Richard and Theodora Blackthorne. Partnered to the Hummingbird crested Rhian, together they overpowered Lysander and Kratos, slaying them and then sealing Lysander’s accursed sword away, instead of destroying it as it should have been by him. Were it destroyed it the sword would not have gone missing, a shame the Blackthorne name has carried for to this very day.
At camp it didn’t take long for the others to scramble in reaction to the terror, it took all of Marcus’ will to keep a hold of himself and make sure everyone else was in flight and fleeing home. A coward move it may have seemed like but Marcus knew he could not hold them there against the sheer unknown horror that was to come. Soon there were only two of them left and Marcus turned to Lucas, his brother, for it fell to them to make sure everyone living got out first. “I’m going to find them” Marcus announced suddenly and without hesitation to his brother, as he mounted Taliesin. “Marcus! It’s suicide. You cannot!” Lucas protested back with worry, only to be met with the hard wall of Marcus’ determination. “Lucas, I order you, take the others back. Make sure they all return safe and sound. Please, I must do this.” Marcus pleaded with his brother, the fire of determination in his eyes dimmed by the pain he felt at the words he had just said to his brother. Lucas was not one to disobey orders and though he did not agree with his brother. He was, at that moment his superior officer and thus he had no choice but to obey. “Be safe brother, may the wind always be at your back” was all Lucas could say as he mounted Glaw and swung around, taking off to follow after the others. Lucas knew there was nothing at that moment he could say or do that could change his brother’s mind once it had been made up. He also knew that Marcus had detested ordering him to go, but it was the only way he knew he would.
Marcus was now almost alone, only Taliesin remaining by his side. “Are you sure you do not wish to follow the others?” His Gryphon partner inquired as he moved to stand beside his rider. Turning back to Taliesin, Marcus inclined his head slightly; “It is for the best, we need to find out what happened.” He mounted his partner and patted his neck affectionately in the brief moment they were still. For in only a few running steps they were airborne and flying in the direction the distress call had come from.