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Deviant for 4 Years
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Auras flow overhead as I march through the snow and hum my village's warrior tune to myself. Upon my back rests my knapsack that now carries little food. The fur that trims my robes are tipped with ice and whisk gently when the frozen gusts whip my cheeks. I grip the gnarled staffed that I carry much tighter than before. The cracking leather on my gloves reveal a journey that has cursed me with much struggle. Behind my furred mask my golden eyes sparkle and look to the starry sky above me to watch the flowing ribbons of ethereal light persist in their hypnotic dance. The lights mesmerize me for mere moments before my task returns to my mind more vivid that ever. The falling snow seems to whisk sharply by me and the howl on the wind echoes across the Nightfrost Mountains. To the untrained ear it would sound like the wind picking up its ferocity, yet I knew the cry of the dragon that lay injured upon the crest of the ridge.

The sword that dangled from its leather strap on my hip was broken halfway along the iron blade and fresh blood dripped from the fractured metal. Runes in my people's language adorned the blade and its hilt; blessings for my journey and wishes of sureness for when I must clash my blade against others. The fur and leather robes I wear have been seared black from fires of battles past and a quest as forsaken as the souls who caused it, flow and weigh heavily upon my body as I increase my pace up the ridge. My pointed ears flick as I hear the snarls and war howls on the wind behind me and my legs feel to carry me faster. Trepidation and anger well up in my veins and I feel the blood flowing in them begin to heat, nearing its boiling point. I fear for the dragon that rests in pain and the thought of it drives me faster. From behind an arrow, blazing with fire, flashes past me and into a snowbank. Spinning as I move, I wave my staff and unleash the wind around me and the snow beneath me towards my stalkers. My lungs cry out the spell of the Blizzard in an attempt to blow my foes from the mountain.

I seem to have some success as I see flashes of green and black metallic metal erupt into the air and over the side of the ridge. My determination set, I quicken my pace further! Their anger stoked like the fires of the Sacred Forge of my home, my anxiety increases exponentially. Finally, I crest the ridge and before me lies my goal. Upon the edge of the ridge lies an immaculate drake, draped in scales of blue ice and diamond snow. Her wings drape her strong body, attempting to shield her belly from those that would bring her harm. White and leathery flesh spans spaces between the scaled appendages of her wings and one section reveals a blood tear where a greatsword is impaled in her side. Her neck is raised and blood trickles from the jaw of the mighty dragon. Her sloped head was dignified by eyes of purest silver and darkest pupils tightened into dagger-like slits. The crest on the back of her skull unique to her as each snowflake is unique to themselves. No other dragon has her crest and her's is like no other's. Her brow is furrowed with fear and anger and her scales shine in the aurora overhead. Her maw opens and she unleashes a ball of blazing ice magic...but not at me; at our stalkers! As the draconic spell strikes true and explodes, scattering our enemies, I rush to her side and place my hands on her neck. Her form is massive and the span of my arms is no where near enough to wrap around her neck to embrace her like I wished to.

Her wings move and she gives my a clear gaze at the wound inflicted on her: the blade of the greatsword is embedded deep into her side and under her scales. Her blood flows from the wound and my fists clench my staff even harder that, if it weren't for the wind and noise from the stalkers, I would hear wood crack. I feel her trust embrace my heart, the bond we share is strong and this quest has taken its strain on that...but our bond is forged here, even stronger than ever! I climb onto her side and grip the hilt of the savage sword. Its blackened hilt and grip are marked with claw rips, a signature of its orcish craftsman. The blade was as dark as its hilt but forged with a serrated edge. It hurt me to know that removing it would hurt my friend even more...but I would not let her suffer like this.

The blade comes out with a struggle and its coated with her blood. Casting it aside I place the tip of my staff to her wound. Her mouth opens once more and unleashes a torrent of ice and snow at our pursuers to fend them off. My lips move as I silently channel my magic into her, willing her wound to heal. After a few tense moments, the injury begins to close and her blood begins to clean. Relief washes into my heart and I know she feels it for she looks to me and her eyes seem to smile. Sliding off her side, I move up to her and she brings her face down to me. Resting my hand  on her snout, I nod with a smile and turn my attention to those that are after us. They have caught up after their long hunt and now they believe to have caught their prize.

The dragon's eyes alight with her draconic fury as the green and black armor of the orcs shine against the snow. I draw my broken blade from my side and spread my feet in the snow to steady myself. My staff blazes with a ferocious light. No words are needed as the enemies rush us. They believe they've won. They believe their hunt is over and they will return with the hide of a dragon and her elven rider. They are wrong!

The snowfall around us intensifies and the wind pitches into a howling speed. My robes flow around me and her eyes continue to blaze and now, our souls touch. I wave my staff and unleash the snowstorm in full force, like throwing a mountain, at the orcish enemies and her roar brings about the power within the spell. Our quest is not over; not here, not now. My feet carry me into the blizzard and my blade finds true the heart of an enemy. His howl of death, I know, strikes fear into his blade brothers. The Snowblaze dragon stampedes into the fray, her claws swiping in massive arcs, but never hitting me.

This was hardly a battle as the last of the orcs soar from the ridge and into oblivion below. At long last, the snowstorm settles and I wrap the small wound I gained from the encounter in a cloth bandage. My arm now adorned with a new scar, I reach up to stroke the side of my dearest friend. Despite her ice dragon nature, she felt warm to me, and I felt her affection within me. Our journey would not end here, and it will not end for a long era...but we will reach the peak of our quest one day...together.

For now, we chose to simply enjoy the aurora.
Soul of the Snowblaze Dragon
Short Story by The Masked Mage


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ZephaniaWrites Featured By Owner Jun 2, 2015  Professional Photographer
My writing profile.  Going to start adding my million stories here.
Zephania Featured By Owner May 6, 2015  Professional Photographer
<3 <3 <3
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