The Break

         Silently they emerged from the forest edge into a huge expanse of open field. Five travelers; three men, an elf, and a woman, traversed the waist-high grasses and weeds colored a light brown by a mid-autumn climate that made their breath appear before them as tiny clouds of vapor which quickly dissipated in the crisp morning air. Already the smell of rot from the mounting carpet of leaves gathering on the forest floor, having gone from a lush green to a golden yellow to vibrant oranges and reds and eventually to the unmistakable brown of death, was fading rapidly as the ensemble moved further out onto the plain. Once they cleared the narrow shadow cast by the forest trees, the sunlight streamed over each of them and bathed them in comforting warmth, taking away the early day chill.
         The field itself went out for several miles and it sloped downwards slightly until it reached a dark streak snaking through the wispy tall grass, easily seen in some places while barely visible in others. The ranger explained that the streak was probably a river or maybe just a dry river bed as no water could be seen from this distance. Small stands of trees, maple, elm, birch, and willow, dotted the landscape as well as occasional, solitary apple trees loaded with ripe fruit this time of year.
         Beyond the streak the land gently rose again giving the entire field a subtle concave anatomy, only to end in a dark narrow line that was the continuing forest on the other side. To the east and west the field stretched beyond the horizons where the dying grass met with the brilliant blue sky. 
         “Welcome to the ‘Break’.” said the ranger quietly.
         No one seemed very impressed. The ranger rolled his eyes, sighed, and told everyone to be still and stay quiet. He pointed out into the Break and soon they could all see the deer. Several different herds roamed separate locations all across the field. Some were grazing on what little living green grass was left on the ground and they could only be seen when their heads came up to swallow or to have a look around, perhaps in search of predators. Others were eating apples from the trees where they could reach them, or from the ground where they could not and the ripened fruits had fallen, filling the air with their savory aroma. Overhead a few scattered puffy white clouds and a dozen or so starlings assisted in perfecting the tranquil atmosphere.
         The only blemish to be found was what the ranger saw in the sky far to the south, the direction they were heading. A small, dark cloud was hovering just above the distant trees, perhaps ten miles away. He thought there was something odd about the cloud, but dismissed it in favor of planning a strategy to take down one of the magnificent bucks. Fresh venison out here would be a wonderful treat.
         He gathered the group together and gestured for them to crouch down in the grass, out of sight of their prey. In a patch of dry, sandy dirt he scratched a map of the Break using little X’s to represent the each of them, and small pebbles to mark a deer herd about a half-a-mile away to the south. Without speaking, he explained by dragging a twig through the sand, how he wanted them all to circle around and slowly approach the deer, keeping themselves visible so the deer could see them. Boron, the larger, and dumber, of the two warriors in the group, gave a questioning look and motioned with his hands as to why the ranger wanted the deer to see them coming. Before he could answer, Kathlyn the healer drew another line from the X depicting the ranger around to the west side of the crude map and, as she brushed her long brown hair out of her equally brown eyes, poked the spot at the end of the line indicating that the ranger would be waiting at that point when the deer became nervous and began drifting westward. As the attention of the deer would be focused on the intruding band, the ranger should be able to creep within a few yards of the animals for a nice, clean and hopefully, successful shot. The warrior looked at the drawing for a moment before his dull expression slowly morphed into a nod of comprehension. 
         After the others acknowledged their understanding they put their plan into action. The group split and the ranger waited at the map site for several minutes to allow the rest of them to maneuver into position to the east. The two warriors Boron and Lore, Kathlyn the healer and Jarak the elf, whose talent for the magical arts was, while often visually stunning, not very impressive in terms of desired results, shuffled towards the deer. When he felt enough time had passed the ranger began to move towards his planned ambush in a crouched slink with such stealth that the dry amber grass remained undisturbed as he slipped along.   
         As he stalked through the weed he thought to himself how much he was enjoying the moment. It had been so long since he’d been able to hunt. How long? He couldn’t remember. He had spent so much time in the city preparing for this journey. How much time planning had they put into this quest? Two weeks? Three weeks? A month? No, longer than that. And then traveling for at least two more weeks with these people, each carrying more than enough provisions for the trip. They hadn’t needed to hunt for food. Of course, that was a good thing since all along their path they had seen very few animals worth catching.   
         ”That was odd.” he thought.   
         Two weeks in the wild and the largest creature he could remember seeing was an irritating squirrel that kept chattering at them for hours just days ago. No raccoons, no possums, no pheasants and certainly no deer. Now they had reached the edge of this field, the Break as it was known, and it was teeming with wildlife; everything from chipmunks and squirrels to a large variety of birds to whole herds of deer.   
         Then something else struck him as unusual. Where were the predators? They hadn’t seen any big cats, coyotes, wolves, or bear. And while it was true that most people wouldn’t see these animals if they tripped over them, if they didn’t want to be seen, his trained eyes should have at least found some signs of their presence. Some tracks, or spoor, or a den or something. There was no trace of any of these. He let the thought drift away for future consideration. Right now he had a more important task to tend.   
         Ever so slowly he lifted his head above the grass line to see the progress of his companions. They had reached the point of their initial assault and had begun fanning out in semi-circle formation to help contain the direction of retreat for the deer.   
         ”Smart idea.” thought the ranger and he knocked his arrow against the bow string.   
         The two warriors started whooping and barking like dogs to keep the attention of the deer. They began moving in a quick trot heading right for the waiting ranger.
         The ranger, his bow semi-drawn, stared breathlessly.   
         ”A little closer.” he thought.   
         He brought the bow up very slowly in his left hand and fully ex-tended the same arm out in front of him. At the precise time he drew the string and arrow back to his clenched jaw with his right arm and aimed. A tiny curl appeared at the corners of his mouth.   
         Suddenly there was an explosion of feathers right in front of his face as the quail he failed to see burst forth from its nest trying to escape from a false predator. The rangers left arm jerked upwards in surprise and the string of the bow slipped from his fingers and the arrow sailed harmlessly away into the deep blue sky. The ranger cursed out loud, and as he watched the arrow fade off, something else in the sky grabbed his attention. The dark cloud he had seen earlier way off to the south was now very close and moving quickly northward, towards them.
         The odd thought he’d had before about this cloud suddenly dawned in his mind. This cloud is moving south to north. The other puffy white clouds were moving west to east, as these types of cloud usually do. He looked back to the dark cloud and gazed, transfixed. He thought he saw a tiny piece of the cloud break off and fall towards the ground. He blinked in disbelief.   
         ”What? No.” he said. ”Couldn’t have.”   
         Then another tiny piece broke away. And another, followed by several more, all falling downwards to the ground like big black raindrops. With a shudder he realized that it wasn’t a cloud at all but a flock of birds.   
         ”No, not birds, but something.” he thought.   
         The others were running in his direction yelling something he couldn’t make out and they were pointing at the sky. All along the ground to the south he could see deer running in all different directions in panic. His eyes returned to the sky and surprisingly, the flock was much closer. It was also much larger than he had assumed. It was difficult to tell from where he was, not knowing what the flock was made up of, but he guessed that it must have been nearly half-a-mile wide.   
         ”Half-a-mile.” he gasped in astonishment. ”If it is birds then they must be gigantic.” he said to himself.   
         Just then another broke away to fall to the ground and he could finally see what one looked like and identify these “birds”. It was black; as black as a thousand midnights in a moonless swamp. So black was the animal that no great details could be ascertained at any distance. It was diving at the ground at breakneck speed and he could see a sleek, almost snake-like head followed by a long slender neck that ended at the huge muscular torso. The creatures large leathery wings were swept back to allow for minimal wind resistance and maximum speed as it raced towards the ground. Behind the body trailed a long thick tail that pointed straight as an arrow upwards to the sky. He couldn’t see the legs until the creature suddenly spread its wings outwards and began a slow, spiraling descent less than fifty feet from the plain. His eyes went wide as he realized with a shock what the creature was and finally heard what the others had been screaming to him.   
         ”DRAGONS!!!”   
         Small black dragons, ten to twelve feet in length with wingspans of around twenty feet, made up the entire flock.   
         He stared in complete denial and thought, “My god, there must be dozens, no, hundreds of them.”   
         The flock was descending into the field chasing down deer and other animals worthy of eating. Pheasants and quail by the score spooked and tried to escape by flight only to be snatched out of the air by claw and by mouth. Some of the beasts spotted the group of travelers standing there, mouths agape. They advanced on the party. The troops noses were assaulted by a sweet yet acrid smell and their ears were filled with the roars of dragons, the death cries of animals and the ringing of steel as the two warriors drew swords.   
         ”Run!” screamed Lore as he charged the brutes.
         Jarak and Kathlyn obeyed instantly and bolted in different directions, the elf back towards the forest and the healer to the west in unmatched terror. The ranger stood, frozen in place and watched in horror as one of the black wyrms lunged and caught Kathlyn by her left leg. Her screams could be heard over all the other noise as the dragon lifted her up into the air by its mouth, the jaws clamped firmly around her thigh. Blood poured from the wound and soaked her light blue dress. She kept screaming. Out of nowhere another, smaller dragon snaked its head around the first ones neck and, with its jaws, grabbed Kathlyn at both shoulders and violently shook its head. The screaming stopped as her body came apart like a dry-rotted rag doll. In an instant she was gone.   
         The ranger snapped back to his senses and yelled, “NO!” as he let loose with an arrow that struck the smaller beast in the throat, piercing the scaly, leathery hide drawing bright green blood from the wound. The little dragon staggered. Almost instantly, the sight and scent of the dragon’s blood brought six more of the fiends and they pounced on the wounded creature, tearing it apart as easily as they had Kathlyn.   

         Jarak was running at full speed back towards the forest they had emerged from earlier when three dragons landed in front of him blocking his way. Jarak, now breathing heavily from running as well as from fear, froze in his tracks. Their green eyes penetrated into his soul as they stared at him. His only chance, he thought, was his magic. Almost instinctively he began speaking an incantation and making gestures with his arms and hands. With each syllable he became more and more confident. With each word his fear was slowly melting away. The dragons watched him curiously, one cocking its head like a confused dog. The elf’s voice was growing louder and louder, as he chanted the recipe for his spell, until it was booming across the Break.   
         Everything and everyone seemed to stop what they were doing, having been captured by the sound of a mighty wizards spell being cast. The wind began to swirl and the ground began to shake and it seemed for a moment that the world would split open and swallow everything in sight. The elf’s face was bright red with the power and rage of his magic, and as he screamed the final words of his summoning, he thrust his arms forward, pointing with his hands at the ferocious monsters. From his right hand shot forth a trail of sparkling glitter that streaked to the dragons and swirled all around the three of them until it slowly spiraled upwards into the sky like an inverted tornado and was gone. The dragons had all turned blue. Their scales, eyes, teeth and claws were all the color of the sky. The elf’s left hand began to glow brightly and everyone watched with great anticipation for a ball of flame, or maybe a cascade of lightning bolts to burst forth and vanquish the three, now blue, dragons. Instead though, a stream of very colorful butterflies sprang from his fingertips and slammed harmlessly into the dragons massive chests.   
         Instantly the winds stopped swirling and the ground ceased to shake. While Jarak’s eyes went wide in the eerie silence, the front of his robes, just below the waist, darkened and the distinct smell of elven urine engulfed him. He turned to run and stepped right into the waiting mouth of another dragon. Jarak never had a chance to scream. The sounds of bone snapping and flesh tearing were the only noises for a brief moment, until the melee began again.

         Lore and Boron had maneuvered to rougher terrain and stood back to back while slowly rotating with each other, holding their green blood-stained swords out in front of them. On the ground around them lay the shredded and oozing carcasses of five black dragons. Another nine, however, stood in a circle, surrounding the two exhausted warriors. The dragons growled menacingly, baring their razor sharp teeth and occasion-ally flapping their wings or snapping their tails, but keeping their distance.
         The two fighters were trying to edge their way back to the forest when there came a sudden whoosh from above. Boron fell over backwards when the weight of Lore abruptly disappeared as he was lifted into the sky in the stabbing grasp of a dragon and was carried off toward the forest they were so desperate to reach; only his left arm, severed at the elbow and still clutching his sword remained.   
         On the ground one of the dragons snapped at Boron as he scurried backwards on his backside, kicking up dust as he went. He could feel and smell the sweet acrid breath as the jaws slammed shut, just missing his flailing legs. Still backing furiously, he bumped into a tree.
         Not daring to take his eyes off the advancing dragon, he reached out with his free hand to prop himself up against the tree. He’d expected to feel the rough bark but instead, he felt soft warm leather. He realized with a start that he hadn’t bumped a tree at all. It was one of the black beasts. He spun around to strike at the dragon. Before his sword could find its mark, the creature’s tremendous front paw, with claws as sharp as freshly forged daggers, smashed into him, shredding his chain mail armor and slashing the flesh of his chest, driving the wind from his lungs.   
         The force of the blow sent Boron sailing through the air. When he landed, with a gruesome thud, back first on a large pointed boulder, fiery, excruciating pain shot through every nerve of his entire body. The pain faded rapidly to numbness and, eventually, to nothing as his spinal cord was severed. He lay there bent backwards over the jagged stone; his eyes bulged, staring straight up into the sky while his mouth hung wide open in mute protest. He couldn’t draw a breath despite his body’s desperate need for oxygen. His lungs simply wouldn’t function. In fact, the only parts of his broken body that did function at all were his ears, which could hear the sounds of large animals in a distant feeding frenzy, and his nose, which could smell blood, sweet acid, and feces.
         As he lay there, unable to move despite being fully awake and aware, fear and hopelessness consumed him. All he could do was yearn for death to come swiftly and take away the fear and end this madness. He was sure the dragons would come for him at any moment. They didn’t. Tears filled his eyes and ran down the side of his face to his ears as he began to realize death was not coming swiftly. Instead, it would linger just out of reach in order to extract as much agony as possible. For agony was what death fed upon. He could not end it himself. His arms didn’t work anymore.   
         ”Why won’t those bastards come for me?” Boron agonized. The world began a sickening spin. He couldn’t even scream.
 
         The ranger had managed to reach one of the lone apple trees in the Break and, using it for cover; he had taken down three of the black winged creatures. From this spot, with his skill, he could fire an arrow and then, in one smooth motion, pivot, draw, knock, and fire another arrow. So far he had been able to keep the small wyrms at bay. All the apples and foliage on the lower branches of the tree had been eaten away by the deer herds leaving behind a thick tangle of sticks that was difficult for jaw or claw to penetrate. But the tiny gaps between and throughout the tangle afforded enough space for arrows to be let fly.
         The ranger’s biggest problem at the moment was his dwindling supply of ammunition. As he glanced into his quiver he counted only seven arrows left. There were still dozens and dozens of dragons that he could see, and countless others he could not. While he stared at the seven remaining arrows, trying to devise some kind of plan for escape, there came several loud cracks to his right.
         When he shot his head up to look at what had made the noise, he was face to face with one of the dragons. He jumped back in surprise and slammed his head right into the tree. He briefly saw stars as his skull bounced off the unforgiving trunk. He shook his head to clear his vision and saw the dragon’s face was still there; it’s jaws and teeth snapping, unable to reach him.   
         “He’s stuck.” thought the ranger as he carefully picked up his bow and knocked an arrow.
         He brought the stringed weapon up to his face and aimed right between the dragon’s eyes. As he watched, about to launch his arrow, the dragon’s cheeks puffed up like a bullfrog ready to croak. The ranger’s eyes shot wide open and he shouted as the dragon spit a large glob of thick, green, pasty liquid that hit the ranger square in his face.
         That was the last thing the ranger would ever see. He instantly felt a searing burn on his skin and the strange sensation of his eyeballs melting as most of his face and head were enveloped in the acidic slime. When he opened his mouth to scream his tongue exploded in fiery pain as the acid flowed in. The tremendous shock of all the agony made him gasp involuntarily, and when he did, the toxic vapors infiltrated his lungs and cauterized his esophagus. Breathing was now impossible and he felt as if his entire body was spontaneously combusting as the acid spit did its job.
         So consumed by the burning pain, the ranger never really felt the chunks of flesh being torn from him as the dragon claimed its prize and feasted. His last thoughts before death mercifully took him were of extreme regret for ever even thinking of volunteering for this quest, and that despite, weeks of careful planning, training, and warnings of the dangers involved, things had somehow gone terribly wrong.
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         The figure stood at the edge of the forest, like a statue, watching out over the Break to the north and the events taking place there. The normal eye would not have seen anything unusual, as the massacre at hand was happening some six-and-a-half miles away. But these eyes were not normal. At least not right now. The magic dancing in them allowed things far away to be seen as if they were within reach, if the figure so desired. That much gory detail, however, was not necessary, for the outcome of the last few minutes was obvious. No one would cross the Break this day, at least not from the north.
         The figure had known they would be coming for days now, and had been waiting here since early the last night, planning a strategy to prevent their advance. It was when a huge brood of black dragons had flown overhead that the plan resolved itself. The figure had decided, almost instantly, to let the simple-minded, yet fierce creatures, do the task instead. They had not disappointed.
         With a wave of a hand and a few archaic words, the dragons had changed direction, heading out over the Break; heading towards them. Another enemy comes to take everything away. Not a powerful enemy by any means, but an enemy nonetheless.  The figure watched as the cloud of dragons crossed the Break and, just before the forest opposite him, descended rapidly.
         He was about to turn and leave when he noticed a small, distant, yet bright, spiral of sparkles ascend skywards from where the dragons had landed.
         “Magic.” he glared and decided he needed a better look at these intruders.
         Placing one hand over each eye, covering them, and speaking the proper incantation he was able to look right into the field of battle and watch, with gruesome detail, the expressions of terror on each face as they were destroyed by the black dragons. He was deeply disappointed by the spell casting elf, for not only had his magic failed him miserably, but he had soiled himself in the process.
         “An unforgivable sin, to allow fear to corrupt one’s magic.” thought the figure.
         When the slaughter had ended, the figure dispelled his visual enhancement. He was again about to leave when a large black form dropped to the ground, with a mighty roar, in front of him. The figure raised an eyebrow and pursed his lips in unconcerned annoyance. As the terrible monster charged at him he raised his right arm, held his hand up, palm out, and spoke a single word.   
         “Submit.” he said quickly snapping his fingers.
         Instantly the dragon stopped charging, reared up and then lay as flat on its belly as its girth would allow. Its ferocity gone, the fiend put its massive head on the ground as well and tucked its tail between its hind legs. The once magnificent beast was now whimpering as it crawled to the figure and rolled onto its back in a gesture of surrender.
         With his palm up, the figure raised his hand and spoke.
         “Rise” he commanded, “I have a use for you.”
         The dragon scrambled to its feet, still whimpering.
         “And relax. Everything will be alright.” he added.
         The dragon whined once and then was silent. The figure turned and walked towards the woods.
         “Come along now. We have a long journey ahead of us.”
         Just as he reached the forests edge a large shimmering silvery void opened like a door in front of him. Without hesitation, he walked into the shiny opening. The dragon followed, head down, ears tucked back against its scalp. When the dragon’s tail finally passed into the gateway there was a quick bright flash and the void, the figure, and the dragon were gone.
         In the distance, to the north, the brood of satiated dragons had taken to the sky, returning to their previous course. Once again, all was quiet in the Break.