Men and women held their hands high as they danced around bonfire, with two women standing outside of the circle, one speaking in a deep, gutteral tone. The language was an unnatural one, an extinct one. As the chant got louder, the people dancing around the fire moved faster, and with them, the flames grew. They grew until it reached well above the trees, with a heat no less impressive.
Barely audible over the chant, an arrow whistled through the air.
The chant ended in a sickening gag, a spurt of blood, and the sound of one of the chanters hitting their knees.
"Blessed!" One of the dancers yelled, breaking the circle and turning on his heels.
Green and gold trickled from the forest, circling the clearing. A man on a horse trotted past the line, stopping only feet from the enemies. "Dragon Priests," he said, clearing his throat, "by the authority of the Goddess and God, I order you to surrender or die."
One of the priests spit at Quinn's feet.
"So be it."
The pounding of shields and feet quickly filled the clearing. The Blessed were warrior priests by trade, each one having earned his or her blessing by the God himself. Their ultimate duty was the defend the name of the Goddess and to stop the spread of the Dark Gods.
Quinn didn't bother fighting the people who had surrounded the fire, except for the passing few that had the unfortunate fate of losing their head to his blade. To minimize casulaties on both sides, he was going straight for their leader.
The leader was crouched over the body of her fellow priest, trying to stop the bleeding. Quinn only got a glimpse of dark brown hair coming from her robe, but it meant nothing.
He stopped behind the priestess, pressing the blade of his sword against the back of her neck. "Surrender or die," he said.
The priestess flicked her hand, as if to dismiss Quinn. His horse whinnied and collapsed, the temedous beat in it's chest silenced, causing both Quinn and the horse to fall to the ground. Before Quinn could stand, the priestess was on top of him, a dagger pressed to his throat. Quinn chuckled. "I hoped that would be your answer."
Struggling to roll over, Quinn quickly found out that the priestess was much stronger than he had expected.
"Damn," he muttered, trying to think of how he would get out before she finally decided to slit his throat.
Wiggling one of his arms free, he grabbed her throat, causing her to take a sharp breath and loosen her grip.
With a push, he was back on his feet. He unlatched his shield from his back, standing at the ready and waiting for her next move.
The priest charged him, her dagger at the ready. "Strong, but not a good swordsman," he said to himself, noting her mistake already. With a quick lash of his shield, the dagger flew out of her hand and she stumbled to the side.
His sword quickly found the soft flesh of her neck.
He pulled the sword from the priestess' neck, leaving a much deeper mark than he had expected to. Blood poured from the wound, and the priest was quick to her knees. "I know it takes more than that to kill a Dragon Priest," he paused, "the best way is to cut the head clean off." He pressed his blood-soaked blade against her neck. "Mercy was already offered, and I doubt that you would take it no matter how I offered it."
He pushed the priestess' hood off with his blade, and almost stumbled backward.
Despite the blood that ran from her neck and covered half her face, she was remarkably beautiful. In fact- Quinn couldn't remember any woman that he had ever saw that rivaled the beauty before him. She had dark, chestnut brown hair and matching eyes. Her face was hard with pain and anger, but he could tell that it wouldn't normally look like that. "Bastard." She said, raising her hand.
The remainder of the flames flickered, swirling and growing, almost as if it was dancing to a tune all it's own. It grew and grew, forming a head. The head was that of a dragon, which almost seemed fitting since these were Dragon Priests. The dragon shot out of the fire, leaving a trail of fire behind it, and making enough of a scene to stop either side from fighting the other.
As both sides watched in awe, the dragon darted over to the priestess, who was struggling to stand up.
She got to her feet, and the dragon flickered behind her waiting for her command.
"Blessed!" Quinn shouted, knowing exactly what was going to happen next. The Blessed reponded without question, running to stand side by side. Shields locked together, forming a blood-stained green and gold wall.
With a scream, the dragon rushed forward, slamming into the wall full force. Flames surrounded the Blessed, creating a scene that was unholy yet beautiful. The blast rocked the shields, and causing the ones nearest the blast to glow bright red, and the ones even closer glowed white.
Quinn looked down at his shield arm, which he had lost feeling in. Flames danced on his arm, having caught the layer of leather under his armor on fire. "Fuck," he said, finally regaining feeling in his arm. He felt himself grow weak as pain washed over his body, he felt himself losing consciousness.
As he gave into the black, he watched as the priestess passed out as well.
