In a December post, I asked anyone to comment with a first sentence and I would turn it into something...a paragraph, a page, whatever struck me at the time.
I'll be posting my answers over the next day or two. If you missed a chance to offer up a first sentence, comment with one in this post and I'll use it too. =)
He stepped on a crumpled leaf and the eye opened, looking directly at him. He had a brief moment of surprised relief at the brilliant gem of green gazing at him - an Archimedon so far from the plains? - but then streaks of rust and black shot from the pupil and billowed across the surface, swirling into a compelling whirlpool of shadows and hate.
A Hessyan. Perfect.
He gripped the pommel of his grandfather's sword and it slid free with a kiss of blade to scabbard.
Not that Hessyans were afraid of swords but it was either bluff it out with a show of force or run for his life and Hessyans were notoriously impossible to outrun.
Besides, Lysander Valkryies, third-born son of a de-throned king and ninth grandchild to a disgraced Wizard, never ran.
The rusty red and black swirling in the dragon's eye suddenly shifted and he saw an image of a slain body - his body - bleeding against the brilliant carpet of golden autumn leaves strewn across the forest floor.
Mind games. A Hessyan favorite.
Ignoring the high probability that the Hessyan was merely fortelling his immediate future, Lysander took another step forward. The eye was directly in front of him, a mere six feet away, but he couldn't yet make out the body. Most dragons were adept at camouflaging themselves within their chosen environments but a practiced eye could spot small discrepencies in the tree line that gave away the size and heft of the beast.
Unfortunately, turning away from the Hessyan to examine the forest would be tantamount to inviting death. He took another step forward and felt the ground beneath him sink slightly, sliding the toe of his boot against something with a sharp, metallic click.
He risked a quick glance at his feet and saw the pile of autumn gold leaves coalesce into diamond-hard scales.
He was standing on a Hessyan.
He had a mere second to consider the sheer stupidity of such a blunder before the dragon lunged, whipping its neck toward him, jagged teeth tearing at his throat.
He ducked, slashing out with his sword as he fell forward onto the dragon's back and then cursed his luck as the beast shot straight through the canopy of trees. Branches slapped at him as he clung to the golden scales, willing himself not to look down as the dragon burst into the twilight sky, a rippling scream of Hessyan rage echoing in its wake.
Would nothing about this infernal quest go right?