The Fantasy Prologue: Chapter One

Chapter One:

“Your arrogance will get you killed.”

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley.

A curt huff from its snout signaled disdain, only to be calmed by the scarred hand running along its smooth back, the rainbow of feathers only visible with the scorching sun.

Beads of sweat simmered into her skin as she inhaled the moist air, transitioning from jungle to salty sea. The feathered serpent’s wings brushed against the clouds, his sharp talons tearing the grey mist, forcing it to dance for them.

“Almost there,” she whispered, loosening her grip on his neck to rummage through her sack for a tattered pouch containing dried yucca flower. She glanced at the lowering sun, calculating how much time they had before kneading a fistful thrice in her left hand, her breath allowing the plant to circle their bodies, becoming hidden to outsiders.

She touched her broad nose to the dragon’s neck, signaling to descend. The hazy clouds cooled her face, the gulf and its residents threatening to expose them if they flew too low. Although they were temporarily invisible, they weren’t silent–and dragon wings would cause a scene.

Atziri frowned, adding creases to her bronze skin, her thick jet black hair sticking to her dragon’s feathers. Her warrior’s ponytail remained tight, the lower half of locks flowing with the breeze. The copper paint on her face not only protected her from the sun’s sharp rays but from harm, along with the cotton chest piece and jade necklace. All were charmed by the craftsmen who created them, either adding protection or doubling as weapons.

“Of course they’re celebrating,” she scoffed, eyeing the crowd below them, dancing in costume and drinking pulque–a drink made from fermented sap from the maguey plant, its intoxicating effects enhanced with magic. They stumbled onto one another, shooting flames into the sky, making them dance for giggling children.

Atziri’s jaw clenched, swallowing fragments of enamel. She rummaged through her pouch once more, producing an orange nasturtium flower. She chewed the rounded edges, allowing the flower’s essence to guide her into victory. She inhaled deeply, caressing the side of her dragon’s neck as his snout sniffed the unfamiliar air. The metzli people had suffered for a generation at the hands of the kimi, and now that they had the power of the mythical feathered serpents they were in a unique position to win the war.

The dragon jerked left and right, nearly knocking Atziri off balance. “Hey now, K’in!” she said with a laugh. “I promise I’m almost done, alright?” The dragon grunted, earning him a friendly pat. She retrieved a fistful of bright red begonias, leaving a trail to rain down below them, leading their targets into the jungle.

Throngs of children reached up to grab the beautiful flowers, sharing them with each other and running deeper into the jungle as she anticipated. Her heart panged at the similar features they shared with her and her siblings, now passed. After several long moments the children had gathered in a clearing, enchanted with each other and oblivious to what would become of their own families. She muttered a spell of protection, creating an invisible barrier between the children and the battlefield. The metzli are warriors, but not barbarians.

K’in ascended once more above the clouds, cutting through the milky mist. Atziri’s heart accelerated as half a dozen pairs of colored wings jetted towards them, braking just above the layer of condensation with their companions.

“Are we all set?” a baritone voice asked, his jaguar loincloth swaying in the breeze.

“Yes,” she responded, the other warriors nodding their excitement. “The children are out of sight. They won’t hear or see a thing.”

“I still don’t understand why you thought that necessary,” Mitnal scoffed. “They’re kimi all in the same. They’ll grow up to be killers.”

“We won’t stoop to their level,” Yaotl cut in, his matching jaguar skin spear and club on his side. “Need I remind you who’s in charge here?”

“The king’s finest warriors.” Mitnal raised his palms in mocking defeat. “That’s why you two have the animal skins and jade.”

“If you’re uncomfortable you’re free to go,” Atziri said cooly. “Since you’re mostly here as a reserve in case Yaotl and I need it.”

Mitnal’s dark brows raised in anger, but fell flat, his copper skin beaded in sweat from the lowering sun. “Forgive me,” he said in a low voice. “It’s an honor to be here.”

Atziri nodded, pointing her lips to the broad-shouldered Yaotl. “Everyone knows their role. Let’s go.”

K’in and the dragons dispersed with their human companions, spreading to the corners of the coastal city. The emerald green landscape rippled towards the ocean, a great pyramid with stone steps basking in the sunset, a narrow crevice at the top casting a long shadow to the citizens below. Jets of flames eroded the earth, forcing a perimeter around the unsuspecting adults screaming in horror. The music screeched into silence, replaced with echoing cries.

Atziri guided the beast towards the pyramid, its contents spewing out in attempts to escape their fates. K’in slithered around the top of the temple, his wings sending a gust of wind as he threw his head back, an earth-shattering roar cracking from his mouth and shooting out a thick burst of flames. Atziri took in a deep breath, already tasting victory. She spotted a man fleeing the temple and heading towards the ocean, tossing aside his feathered headdress and royal cape weighing him down. K’in’s golden eyes narrowed, his tail unwinding from the stone building before he propelled them to the cowardly man.

“Don’t,” she demanded when K’in snarled, leveling them with the runaway king shooting spells their way. “Come back on my signal. I don’t want you to get hurt.” With a snap of her fingers, three obsidian knives emerged from her bag, encircling her torso as she let her body slip off K’in’s back.

The rush of hot air sent her heart into a frenzy, her feet forming puffs of dust from thudding against the earth. K’in’s screech echoed in the distance, her surroundings drenched in chaos: she anticipated every attack against her, redirecting them with ease all the while searching for her target amongst the scorched scene. His escape attempt to the ocean would be in vain, but he didn’t know that quite yet. She raised her left hand with a grin, locking her eyes on the runaway man. The obsidian knives quivered as her pointer finger snapped down, shooting one of the knives like an arrow. The poison-dipped weapon wove through the battlefield, nicking his heel and forcing him to tumble face-first into the earth.

“Atziri!”

A blast of fire forced her to look up at Yaotl, his club swaying as his brow furrowed. “Your arrogance is going to get you killed.”

“I almost have him!” she spat, triggering the second knife with her middle finger to stun the man, no longer able to crawl towards freedom.

Yaotl’s weight knocked into her chest, his large hand clenching her fingers shut as she glared at him with dark crimson eyes. “What did I tell you about using that kind of magic? It changes you.”

“It helps me,” she growled, struggling against his grip as his dark eyes softened upon meeting hers. “It helps us.”

“It’s temporary.” He glowered down at her, his lips forming a thin line. “And if the rumors are true it comes with a price.”

Atziri’s glare faltered, her breath hitching as her mind raced. She sucked in a deep breath, her fist burning so hot Yaotl jerked his hand away. She released herself from his grip, sprinting to where the green merged with the beige, praying that he didn’t try to stop her. She sprinted until her legs began to shake, spotting a growing crowd around the man. With her arms parallel to her face, she gripped the air and tore outwards, tossing the crowd into the air with their screams and back into the battlefield, the trio of knives encircling her once more.

The stunned man remained seated in the dirt, trembling at the warrior stalking her prey. He raised his arms in defeat, unable to defend himself with magic. “Who are you?” he asked, her thick legs striding before him.

A beam of purple light hit Atziri in the shoulder, blood trickling down her arm. She glared in annoyance at her attacker, a lowly warrior without weapons. She glanced at a surviving patch of grass, extracting its life force with a breath and using that power to knock the warrior defenseless.

“I was sent here to take you back home. Dead or alive.”

“P-please,” he stammered, his dark skin drenched in fear. “You’ll regret it.”

“I never regret.”

Her sandaled feet approached the king, her arm raising for the third and final knife. The king reached out, his smooth fingers gripping her wrist. His dark eyes found hers, begging for mercy. “They wouldn’t want this.”

His words echoed into her chest, lingering like a whisper. “What did you say?”

“Yaotl’s right and you know it,” he whispered, the locution sending a chill through her bloodstream, accelerating her heart rate and rooting her feet to the ground.

“Get out–get out of my head!” she screeched, unable to fight the fog clouding her mind. “It should’ve stunned you powerless–” Atziri blinked back tears, biting her tongue in defiance, creating a stormcloud of rain thundering above them while her lungs struggled to keep her alive.

The king grinned, revealing a jade jaguar necklace of protection. “You’re not the only one who’s been practicing the forbidden arts.” He stood, his eyes leveling with hers, jerking her by the chest piece so he was two breaths from her face, the warrior feeling the life leaving her lungs.

“Your arrogance will get you killed,” he repeated, the cacao and pulque fresh on his tongue. “You’re on the wrong side, Atziri.”

As her world faded to black, a fraction of her soul knew that he was right.