To Ride a Wind

A layered fantasy account of the battle of the mountain side, which is disturbed by a water dragon.

To Ride a Wind ( First Draft)

A NOTE ON ELVI

The writer of this tale is of the race of Elvi , pronounced EL-VEE. Not to be mistaken as Elves, our distant cousins. Here I will briefly explain some of our traits that are vital in order to understand my account.

Our resting place is in the colonised Mountains, next to the KUVLEE FOREST. This is were I remained for the entirety of this tale. Secondly, we know thoughts. You see, us Elvi can hear the thoughts of others, though not always �" only thoughts that are of some profound importance, or a revelation of some kind. This will become apparent in the latter of my account.

CHAPTER I

A light film of snow was unbroken, save for where the broad paws of the Asch-Ra had scuffled the earth during the colossal brawl with the Diminune warriors.

It had been a hearty snow, which had been met with praise across the continent, though with varied intent; For, where some had danced in its incline, others had dissected its meaning, treating the snowfall as an ill-omen.

Regardless, the nation had witnessed its spilling and its brush against the earth, accompanied by a noise not unlike the shallow exhalation of a beast caught in slumber. Conflict was in eruption where the snow was disturbed.

* * *

CHAPTER II

The crimson cloaks of the Asch-Ra forces swayed and whirled in battle, unscathed by the swinging axes held in their enemies grasp.

Diminune warriors were clad in wide armour, adjusted to fit their inadequate height. They were red of face and green of eyes, and veteran in their traditional art of Nuz-Hal (meaning “combat energy”) , an attack made in quarrels. A Diminune warrior would build up a green translucent energy ball they call “Chi”, and launch it at their oppressor, resulting in a shrieking explosion of earth and dust.

In this case, Asch-Ra priests were demolished entirely by this Chi Energy. All that remained were their crimson facades, falling slowly to the ground in folds and ringlets. Where the Diminune were more clumsy in their battle tactics, the Asch-Ra paced the sea of corpses in synchronized steps, never faltering, though never hesitant to swipe the face from a Diminune warrior with a mammoth paw. The Asch-Ra faces were clear in the morning light. Thick, pallid skin like that of a fish peered from the hood of their attire. They held no expression, as their eyes were huge and bulbous, every ring of their iris visible as if their eyeballs were twitching planets with intense depth. These eyes portrayed every expression the Asch-Ra required with such definitiveness that any mortal that gazed through them became lost in their magnificence. Unsettling to anyone in range of them, dozens of ancient runes were tattooed a swamp-green into the flesh of the Asch-Ra.

CHAPTER III : A NOTE ON HISTORY

The Feud between the two armies arose in times of need, when the Dominune were in famine, and life was scarce among them. The Asch-Ra feed on mortal flesh, and they satisfied their hunger by pillaging the poverty-stricken Dominune villages. This tale is eons old, however the conflict between the two breeds persists even today.

The Narrative I share with you now is my account of the battle on the mountain side, of the wind rider, and the broken snow.

* * *

CHAPTER IV

The Diminunes and the Asch-Ra plundered each others forces without modesty, unafraid of scattering black, steaming blood onto the crippled blanket of snow. Heavy paws mangled the faces of the roaring dwarfs. The Asch-Ra towered high above their scattering enemies like rose pillars in a morgue. Periodically, Nuz-Hal would crumble the silent pillars, while the Diminune gladiators spun with heavy grace, wielding axes that slashed at the slender figures of the Asch-Ra, a stream of blood darkening their crimson robes.

Mountain Peaks surrounded them, their furious war cries bouncing off the snow ridden slate into the hearing of my Folk.

We watched, bows raised, with supremity. Our race is Elvi , distant cousins to the Elves, and close kin to the Asch-Ra.

The Asch cities are forbidden to us, for the reason that we are plant consumers and riders of the forest animals. Moreover, we do not approve of the Asch ways of life, nor their custom of open slavery. Unknown to most, the nameless warriors of the

Asch-Ra (“Ra” meaning War Priests) are in fact mostly slaves, mutilated by the Asch and used in battle like insignificant pawns.

Nevertheless, the jousting on the mountain side rendered the Diminune terrified, with fearful adrenaline.

CHAPTER V

Chop,chop,cut,clash. Never stopping, relentless the action waged, cornered by black rock and pooled gore.

In the spur of moment, the war froze.

Foes disentangled from one and other and studied the Eastern blue. Stomachs coiled like serpents filled with dread. Kin and enemy stood alike, awaiting their impending doom. Men muttered through frosty beards, hesitant to believe what everybody was thinking.

The reason for the abrupt surge of fear was a cry. A groan, a monstrous creaking like the slow tearing of steel, an Arctic screech that would inspire Hell itself.

Our arrows fired in its direction, rising higher, higher, lower and lower now,burying their selves in the numbing snow. Pitiful.

CHAPTER VI

Waves of huge volume flew from the sky and flooded the pit below the mountain side. The Asch-Ra stared down at the blood at their feet, watching it curdle in the milk-white snow. The current of water curled upon itself again and again until it reached the mountain side where the battle now paused.

Before the torrent of deathly sapphire lapped their bodies, a black shadow crossed the weary faces of the Asch-Ra and the Diminune.

* * *

The Dragon boomed against the mountain side. A blast of snow scattered the fleeing foes as a turquoise light filled the scaled chamber of the Dragon's neck. When this glow reached her sharp jaw, the winged beast tore upon her mouth, and a second tsunami was unleashed upon the men. Her mighty shoulders rose and fell as she barked horrid howls and stumbled forward, destructive. Her long neck curled, crashing into slate rocks while webbed wings thrashed. Enormous limbs rushed among the running water that raced from her gaping jaws. Her eyes were a pale pink, and she seemed of ill health. Salt water mingled with snow and became clouded with blood.

Bodies bobbed and flowed from the mountain into the newly-formed sea below.

CHAPTER VII

An air of silence hung in those long moments, like the reserved instant between sleep and wake, We watched the onslaught of the beautiful Water Dragon as she thrashed, stabbed and danced her way through the broken snow with her crown of icicles held high.

We saw the thoughts of the dead men: they pondered how meaningless their war was, now that a greater evil took the air from their lungs.

My folk had seen this often; the way that dead men think. As if Death had ironically granted them that moment of clarity which they had longed for during their existence.

The Dragon beat her wings and soared high amongst the clouds, reaching higher and higher until she was lost in their smoky wisps.

“ Oh what it is to ride a wind” She mused.

And the dead men thought

“Oh what it is to ride a wave”

Author's Note

Is my lore believable? Is the history and story clear? anything you think needs changing please let me know. All feedback is appreciated.