Chapter 1

It was a cold, blustery day as a beautiful woman wandered through the snow-capped Boothjour Mountains. The woman shivered as the cold wind cut through her thin cloak. She had not intended to come this way, but she had no choice. The Duke of Brakenpine, Sir Oswald, had sent bounty hunters after her as she fled his keep. The woman had a head full of long, brown hair flecked with blonde streaks. Her skin, while soft and supple, was darkened from exposure to the sun. She had the appearance of being well-tended, her hips and breasts were round and curvy. Her arms and legs were strong, but still feminine. Her body would give one the impression that she was from a line of nobility, even though her clothing said otherwise.

Tirana was the daughter of Throm the dragon-tamer. Her mother, Cassandra, was King Dannet’s healer. Throm and Cassandra were married and shortly after that Tirana was born. When Tirana was 7, Cassandra became gravely ill after healing the king’s mortal wounds from a battle. Tirana only had a few moments to say her goodbyes before Cassandra had passed into the void.

After Cassandra passed, Throm secluded himself from Tirana, and pushed his parental duties off onto the servants of the king’s castle. They made sure Tirana attended her classes for healing, magic use, and the magic language. She quickly surpassed the other students in the classes. This earned her the attention of the king. He wanted to turn her into a commander in his army, but Throm refused to entertain the thought. He wanted her to become a demon hunter to lead expeditions, but Tirana refused to attend the lessons on demonology. She did attend the lessons on tracking and killing as she thought those would be useful no matter where she ended up. Years had passed and Tirana entered adulthood. On her 18th birthday, Throm began instructing Tirana himself on the skills of dragon taming. She enjoyed the time with her father, but he didn’t seem to be anything more than a teacher to her.

Once Tirana had tamed her first dragon for the king’s army on her own, Throm had decided that it was time for her to be away from the castle. She was sold to Sir Oswald, who lived across the kingdom of Druel away from the king’s castle. It took nearly a week for Tirana and her guard to travel across the kingdom to Brakenpine Keep. Once Tirana was there, she knew it would be a miserable life. Sir Oswald was a harsh man with high expectations of those who served him. Tirana was given living space at the top of the guards’ tower, overlooking the gate into the keep. Her job was to heal all the guards when they went to battle. She accompanied Sir Oswald and the guards to all battles. While they were on the battlefield, Tirana was expected to consistently heal the guards as well as block attacks and be on the attack with her magic. She barely survived most battles, and the guards had to carry her back to Oswald Keep. Sometimes it would lake her a week to fully regain the strength that she put out. This continued for 15 years. Tirana learned more and more about magic and dragon taming. She tamed several wild dragons, but told them to stay hidden in the wildness of the highlands. She did not want Sir Oswald to have dragons in his grasp. She feared what he may do with that amount of power.

The day before Tirana fled, Sir Oswald had asked the unthinkable of her. Sir Oswald was planning to march upon the king himself. The duke told Tirana that she would have to kill Throm.

“I cannot!” she shrieked at Oswald.

“You will if you are commanded to do so, slave.” Oswald growled back at her.

Tirana stepped back and bowed her head, “Yes, sir. May I be excused?” Oswald nodded, his attention back on the battle plans. Tirana ran back to her tower and looked around her paltry quarters. There was a flimsy cot in one corner with a moth-eaten blanket covering the canvas. She threw her few belongings into a rucksack: her magic books and scrolls, some crystals that held excess power, her few changes of clothes, and a few momentos she had collected over the past 15 years. Tirana cast a longing look at her battle armor.

This set of armor has a rounded helm with a rounded, v-shaped opening leaving the eyes, nose and mouth exposed. Attached to its side are two leather ornament pieces crafted into the shape of demon wings.

The shoulders are rounded, very long and huge. They’re decorated with a crafted leather dragonwing on each side, curved to the sides. The upper arms are protected by chainmail rerebraces which sit well under the shoulderplates. The lower arms are covered by vambraces which have a hook attached to the outer side, usable in combat. The breastplate is made from many diagonal layers of leather and fur with pointed edges and decorational pieces. It covers everything from the neck down and ending at the groin.

The upper legs are covered by a skirt of vertical layers of leather and fur reaching below the groin. The front is open. The lower legs are protected by leather greaves which have rows upon rows of small leather pieces, mimicking fish scales. Thick fur pants are worn beneath this all.It pained her to leave it behind, but she grabbed her sword and placed her dagger in the scabbard on her thigh under her skirt.

It pained Tirana to leave the hand-crafted armor behind, but she knew it would be illogical to bring it with her. She was trying to travel lightly so she could cover large spans of distance without needing to pause to rest. The only way this was possible was to leave large items like her armor behind.

A few hours later, Tirana slipped down the stairs of the guards’ tower. She knew the gaps in the patrols of the keep wall. She was able to slip among the shadows unnoticed and ran the moment she was out of the reaches of the torchlight that surrounded the keep. Tirana ran for what felt like days. She ran through the night and well into the next day. At midday, Tirana reached a strange forest. Tirana slowed to a walk, searching for a secluded and well protected place to sleep. After another hour of searching, Tirana found a place to sleep. It wasn’t but a few moments after laying her head down that she was sleeping. She slept through the night and well into the next morning.

Tirana woke with a start. She had not meant to sleep as long as she had. If Sir Oswald had sent men after her as she fled, they would not be far behind. Tirana took off in what she thought would take her to the sea. If she was caught, she would claim to be heading to the sea to live with her aging aunt. Several hours later, Tirana was completely lost in the forest. She felt uneasy as she walked. It had been many hours since she had last seen a person walking through. The temperature had dropped significantly in the past few minutes and dark was quickly approaching.

Tirana whispered, “werelight” into the darkness around her. Suddenly, there was a dim light all around the forest. It looked like twinkling fireflies in the darkness. The lights followed her as she walked. Soon, Tirana was walking up a steep slope and the trees began to change. They were changing from massive oaks to slender pines as she continued up the mountain. A few minutes later, Tirana had reached a sign along the path. It read: “Danger, do not continue. Boothjour Mountains are treacherous to all who enter.” While Tirana was reading the sign, she heard voices behind her. Startled, she jumped behind a pair of large boulders nearby.

Soon, a pair of bounty hunters were within her range of vision. “That witch can’t have made it this far. It would be impossible,” one of the bounty hunters said. The other laughed harshly, “Yes, it would be for a normal human. That witch isn’t normal. If she’s in the Boothjours, she is a goner.” They turned around and headed back down the mountain. Tirana waited until she could no longer hear their voices before sneaking out from behind the boulders. She slipped past the sign and made her way into the mountains, away from her captors.

The wind in the mountains grew steadily stronger. Tirana was beginning to shiver and she could hear something following her. She quickened her pace and followed a less-used path that cut between two peaks. The noises behind her quickly stopped. Tirana kept walking briskly to find a place to hunker down for the night.

Out of the shadows, a large castle blossomed into view. Nine lean, round towers dwarf everything below them and are connected by giant, vast walls made of dark brown stone. Ornate windows are scattered here and there around the walls in seemingly perfect symmetry, along with huge crenelations for archers. There were lanterns hanging in every window, making for a very inviting glow. A moderate gate with huge metal doors, a regular bridge and archer holes guards the only passage into the castle built upon a mountain top and it’s the only way in, if you can make it that is.

Remnants of broken siege engines, swords and shields litter the fields outside, a painful reminder of a past war. This castle has clearly stood the test of time, the rocks of the walls are aged and vines and plants grow inside the cracks, but this castle will last for ages to come. Tirana rushed to the door and banged the large silver knocker against it several times.

Tirana was shocked when a dark haired and skinned man opened the door. “Yes?” he asked in a dull, lifeless voice. “What brings you to Castle Arda at this hour?”

Tirana opened her mouth, but quickly closed it, thinking about what she would say. “I-i have no business here, but am seeking refuge from the blizzard that is coming.”

From inside the castle, Tirana heard a booming voice, “Let her in!” The butler slowly moved to the side in the same dull fashion that he spoke in.

“Come down the grand hall and into the room at the end,” the same loud voice boomed down the hall. Tirana felt compelled to run, but remained calm and proceeded into the castle’s atrium. As she stepped in, the air instantly warmed her chilled body. Looking around, Tirana was surprised to see many different species of plants growing in planters all around the atrium, creating a kind of jungle effect. Some of the plants were tall, forming a canopy far above. Tirana guessed it was probably 20 feet from the floor to the base of the canopy above.

The booming voice echoed again, “Come!” Tirana continued down the hall from the atrium. She could tell there were paintings and sculptures lining the hall, but she could not see them. The hall was becoming progressively darker the farther she walked. Just as she was about to reach out for the handle on the door, it swung open. Tirana was shocked to find that there was no one standing at the door who had opened it. The only being in the room was a man who was not quite a man sitting on a throne 30 feet away from the door.

Tirana stopped just inside the door and stared in awe at the being on the throne. His skin was a glimmering bronze with subtle scars shining lighter. His hair was jet black and slightly scruffy-looking with uneven ends. His body ... Tirana could not take her eyes off the rippling muscles of his arms and neck. His long sleeved, hide jacket covers him to well above his groin and is half buttoned up at the left side. The sleeves of his jacket are a loose fit and reach down to just above his hands, they’re decorated with a single thread lining and a decorative band and is worn with a long cloth belt, which is held together by an ornate pin. The cloth belt is purely an ornate addition. His pants are simple and quite wide and reach down to his furred shoes. The shoes are made from a pretty unique fur, but are otherwise not that special. Under his half-buttoned jacket, his chest is bare.

“Who are you?” the booming voice was still loud, but not as loud as before.

Tirana trembled and spoke, “I am Tirana.”

The man spoke, “I am Arda. This is my home. Why are you here?”

“I-i got lost fleeing from beasts in the forest surrounding your castle. I knocked on your door in hopes for sanctuary tonight.”

“I see...” Arda stopped, contemplating. He looked her over from head to toe. Tirana was suddenly aware that she was wearing the horrid witch’s gown that Oswald forced her to wear at all times. Gown may have been a bit of a stretch. The skirt was a black sheet that did not wrap all the way around her curvy hips, the only thing keeping the whole thing up was the corners that barely met at the waist, leaving her entire left leg exposed from ankle to hip. She usually wore thin trousers underneath, but had forgotten to put them on in her rush to leave Brakenpine Keep. The top part of the “gown” was crafted from a combination of bones and animal pelts. The sleeves and neck were cut from warm and supple bear pelts sewn together. The front part that covered her voluminous breasts was made from bear paw bones fused together so that her areolas were covered. It was not an outfit that a noble woman would wear, but it ensured Sir Oswald that he would always be able to find her.