The Phoenix King #1 Bed of Ashes

Prologue: Thunder and Scales

Prologue: Thunder and Scales

Sir Taren trudged slowly through the muck, his boots sinking into the soft ground with each step. The sounds of the bog, a quiet but persistent slurping and sucking, filled the air as he made his way through the trees. Despite the treacherous terrain, Taren, driven by his purpose, pressed on.

"So much for stealth," a calm voice spoke deep in Taren's mind.

"Who needs stealth, Thorven? I'm the strongest rider in all the lands, and you are the mighty thunderbird of Elekest," Sir Taren said in a hushed voice.

"You may very well be the only rider in these lands," Thorven responded.

Thorven was a massive Phoenix, with topaz-colored feathers adorning her head and neck. Her wings, as long as a tower, were tucked close to her golden body. Large eyes, the color of the night sky during a thunderstorm, sat to the front of her head, a head that ended in a long-hooked beak. Her feathers crackled softly with lightning as she poked one claw at a time into and out of the muck just behind Taren.

Taren's lantern crackled with a similar yellow lightning, but Thorven lit their way plenty. Taren addressed Thorven, "Well, if that's the case, then we are all that stands between Elekest and Nervag."

Nervag, the great black dragon was the target of Thorven, and Taren's hunt this time around. The pair had hunted and chased dragons for as long as they'd known each other. Taren had even forced a blue dragon to breathe life into Thorven's egg. Hunting dragons was all Thorven knew in this life, while Taren's dream was to finally slay every dragon, to honor his ancestors, the Giants.

Thorven's goal in this life was to help Taren's wish come true, though even she knew that it was impossible for one man to slay every dragon, even with a Phoenix at his side. Nevertheless, she fought for him until she was born anew.

"We've killed a great many dragons, but Nervag may prove too much for us," Thorven lamented.

"Nervag is just one more skull to mount on the wall of my master's keep," Taren retorted.

Thorven bent her head to the ground. "Nervag is the oldest and largest dragon we will have faced. I fear that I'm not strong enough to withstand his attacks," she warned. But Taren continued his march.

Taren spoke firmly, "No dragon is beyond our power. I am Sir Taren Vastel, Dragon Slayer, rider of Thorven the Thunderbird. This 'Great' dragon threatens the lives of the people of Sylvith, nay the people of Elekest as a whole. I refuse to sit back and grow old as this monster tears its way through these beautiful lands." Taren raised his leg, but his boot stayed planted in the mud. "Nine hells!" he hissed.

"Are you sure these 'beautiful lands' are worth the effort?" mocked Thorven. Taren leaned down to pull his boot from the muck, and Thorven outstretched her neck to let him lean on her. He all but sat on her neck, sliding his boot back onto his foot and tightening the leather straps that held it to him.

"Thank you, Thor," Thorven used her neck to lift him back onto his feet.

Taren was a tall, mountain of a man, because of his giants blood, he stood nearly three heads taller than most men. With shaggy blonde hair and piercing blue eyes that shone like storm clouds. He bore the scars of many battles, some inflicted by dragons and others by the swords of men. Along with the scars from battle, Taren also bore the mark of a blue dragon's lightning breath. His cloak, made of shimmering blue dragon scales, flowed behind him as he walked, a testament to his status as a skilled dragon slayer. Taren's armor was adorned with pelts from various beasts, and he carried a crackling axe that served as both a weapon and a source of light in the dim swamp. Despite the weight of his armor and the burden of his mission, Taren carried himself with an air of confidence, but Taren was approaching his fiftieth year, the decades of dragon slaying had begun to show they're effects on his body.