History's Shadow I: Legends Born (Tahir Edition) #Wattys2014

Chapter Two - Nightmare (1/2)

That same night, while the villagers slept and the new day was silently sneaking in, so was Netiro. He soared high, letting the wind carry him over the meager huts and crops that was Nephram. His sulfur eyes swept back and forth. Despite the darkness and altitude, he could see everything. He quickly planned his attack and then spiraled down toward his first target.

They will all suffer for making me hunt for my own food! His eyes glowed and his nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply, giving strength to the inferno of gases rising within him. Fire erupted from his mouth; straw roofs ignited instantly. In a single breath he swept over a wheat field, setting the entire crop ablaze. With a roar he circled again to observe how the fire spread. He had to be careful not to destroy everything; these people and their food were necessary.

* * * * *

Hours before the curse fell upon the village; Demetrius lay awake in his bed. He didn’t know what kept him awake. He didn’t know what he should be ready for, or even how to prepare for it. All he knew was that he should be ready. He rubbed his eyes; the headache was coming back. He rolled over and fingered the stitching of his blanket. His mother made it years ago. He used to be able to count each thread; trace each loving stitch. Now the blanket was a blur of muted color. He’d never told his parents about the headaches or his eyes; he didn’t want them to worry. But it worried him. This night however, he was unable to think about anything except his need to be ready.

As his parents slept, he dressed and sat alert in the dark. He heard nothing but his father’s snores and the sounds of livestock moving about in the grass. After hours of waiting he started to feel a little silly. He lay down and closed his eyes, trying to relax his mind. Suddenly he smelled smoke. He heard the crackle of fire and the animals stampeding. He sprinted outside and was the first to witness the dragon’s fury.

Within moments the village was screaming. Men ran to fill buckets of water. The trees lining the path to the stream were ablaze, making it nearly impossible to safely traverse. Many fled into the woods to keep out of sight. Some stayed in their homes, praying that their hut would be spared. Still others ran around in a panic.

Demetrius felt his fingers tingling and knew he could easily put out the fires. He weighed the consequences of revealing his secret. If Netiro already knew and was after him, why should everyone else suffer? The magic coursed through his body. The wind shifted and the sky darkened. His father’s strong hand jerked him from his spell and pulled him and his mother away. The forming rain cloud quickly dissipated, undetected.

“Hurry! Stay down low.” Nehemiah ushered them into the thick shrubbery nearby. “Keep quiet and watch for him. He seems to be targeting fields and structures. You should be safe here, but if he comes this way, run into the woods as fast as you can and stay low!”

Ezria grabbed his arm. “Where are you going?” she shouted in a panicked whisper. “I can’t see him in this darkness.”

“I have to see to Mettal’s family. Their home is on fire. I have to help them!”

“What about your family?” she cried.

“You’ll be fine if you do as I say. Now let me go, I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Nehemiah pulled away from his wife. As he turned to leave, he met Demetrius’s eyes. “Keep the secret boy.” Then he disappeared into the chaos.

Ezria held onto her son and rocked him. Screams of pain, panic and terror bit into her heart and tears drenched her face. She cried for her husband. She cried for her friends out there suffering. She cried because her whole village was being destroyed and there was no way to stop it. She cried for her life’s work all gone in a matter of moments. Most of all, she cried because she felt responsible for the night’s tragedy.