Beautiful the land was, but it was deceptive. The beauty hid dangers that one could claim were the most deadly anywhere in the large world of Mizahar. Worms that swam through the ground like whales through the sea, predatory birds with beaks that pierced through steel and legs that carried them at speeds well, well in excess of fifty miles an hour. Only the foolish, the brave, and the Drykas entered the Sea of Grass. Luke was most certainly the first. Grass tickled his legs, wind whipping against his face, biting through his clothes, chilling him to the very bone. The inexperienced Rider could feel his horse shifting uneasily beneath him. More in-tune with nature than he was, there was no doubt something that was setting the horse off. Something that should be worrying *him* too. A feeling of fear gnawed at Luke's gut as his eyes scanned the horizon. Nothing. Just more grass. That was a sight he would quickly become accustomed to.
After an hour of travel, the sun was high in the sky, placing the hour of the of the day sometime around noon. Its rays provided no extra warmth to the man, making him feel no more welcomed in the neverending plains than he had before. All the sun provided him was blinding glare whenever he checked off one of his sides. Thankfully, for him, the first thing that could be considered a threat was not smart enough to use this to their advantage. Eventually, he eyes began to sense movement far ahead, movement by something tall enough to peak out over the grass, which was a feat, considering the size of most animals Luke had seen in the world. One moving silhouette turned out to be two, and those two turned out to be four, until finally, a total of eight of the figures rode out at Luke, moving faster than anything he had ever seen moving on the ground to date. It seemed like the winds of Zulrav were carrying them towards him, and they cut across the ground like birds cut through the air. Thirty seconds and they were close enough to Luke for him to make out individual details. They were six men and two women on horseback, riding hard, wearing armor made of boiled leather. As they came closer and closer, Luke couldn't help but feel a feeling a dread in his gut. He was trespassing in the ancestral homes of those who had lived there for over five hundred years.
One more minute and they were upon him. Fiery eyes watched him as they circled him, horses moving at speeds that Luke hadn't even thought were physically possible. Nothing bound to the ground could move that fast! Five drew composite shortbows, notching arrows but not yet pulling back the strings. Two more drew a javelin, gripping it in their right hand, tip pointed towards the ground as cautious eyes watched the man they had just surrounded. The eighth, a woman, remained weaponless, even as the circle tightened. When the circle tightened to the point that all of the men and women were withing fifteen yards of Luke, she broke free of the circle, slowing her steed from its gallop to a trot, guiding it silently towards Luke. Green eyes watched him as strawberry blond hair whipped in the wind that chilled him to the bone. Despite the cold, she seemed unaffected, wearing nothing more than her leather armor and a thin hide cloak pulled around her shoulders. Even though most of her body was hidden, he could sense the muscle-bound body beneath. Her beauty was as deceptive as the beauty of the land around them.
His eyes then drifted down to her horse. A beautiful buckskin horse, with a mane and tail of black hair, highlighted by beautiful streaks of buckskin. The horse's muscles rippled under its skin even as it stood there, swinging its head and tail back and forth. Silently, the rider stroked its neck, whispering something in a harsh language the Luke could not understand. It seemed to still the horse, as when she sat back up, the mare stood entirely still, save for the movement of its breathing and its blinking.
She was a trained killer, and the bond with her horse was unlike anything Luke had ever seen before. The two separate entities seemed to be one, bound by some sort of ethereal chain. He could sense that. His studious eyes found tattoos on the calloused hands that lovingly tangled itself in the horse's mane, a beautiful pattern of lightning bolts flowing from each knuckle up her hands, to her wrist, and then presumably all the way up her arm. Finally, after a palpable silence, the woman spoke to Luke, her voice calm and level, yet lilting and enticingly beautiful, despite that fact its message was harsh.
"You are not of the Drykas. Your entrance into the Sea of Grass has shaken the land, alerted all. We heard you. Felt you. Now we come to protect our home. Tell me, foreigner, why have you come to the ancestral home of the Drykas, the lands that have been ours for as long as any living being can remember? We have owned these lands since your grandfather's grandfather's grandfather was still a babe. These lands were given to us by the Gods themselves, the Sea healed when Zintilla crashed to the ground, sacrificing herself the seal the gaping wounds Ivak opened upon her Mother Semele in the Valterrian. Tell me now, foreigner, who are you, and what brings you to Cyphrus? Mean you harm to our home? Know you the paths of these lands? Speak quickly, so that I may render judgment and alert the land," the lilting voice of the beautiful blonde held a slight accent to it, one that Luke couldn't put his finger on. Her dazzling green eyes never left him, but despite her entrancing beauty, the sparkling sword on her hip and lance upon her horse's side never became less apparent. |
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