Age of Magic

The boy opened his eyes as a shadow flew across him, blocking out the sun. Enormous leathery wings beat against the air as the dragon climbed and turned. He stared in amazement as the huge creature flew overhead. Never had he seen one so near. They had always been faint specks, far in the distance. Another flew overhead, and another. Five in total, arrayed in formation as they flew across the slopes and headed out across plains. The red banner cracked and whipped in the wind, trailing behind the lead rider, so tiny upon the back of the great beast. It let out a great screech and the boy covered his ears against the terrible noise, scrambling belatedly for cover among the rocks.
By the time his head rose from his hiding place, the dragons and their riders were far past him, ignoring him. He watched as they wheeled out across the plains and dived, one at a time, swooping low and climbing again into formation. He watched as they breathed forth flame and fire, waves of heat blowing across the fields, burning and blackening crops. It took a moment to register what was happening. His village was being attacked! It did not make any sense. The village was small, insignificant. What possible reason could there be to attack it?
Slowly his thoughts formed as he watched from his rocky perch, the dragons swooping before him. The Overlord’s banners were blue and silver. The red and gold these dragons bore were not his colours. These were dragons from a neighbouring territory; raiding, plundering and destroying for their masters.
With another screech, they climbed and wheeled away, moving further out across the plains. The boy watched as they flew away, waiting until they were dark specks before he ventured down from the mountain slopes. The smoke stung his eyes as he neared the edge of the village, lingering hot and acrid in the air. People ran back and forth from the fields, carrying buckets, tools and small children, crying in the heat and confusion. A few men carried weapons, swords and axes as they ran. Some shouted orders, gesturing urgently while others called out the names of family and friends.
The boy picked his way through the chaos towards his home. The village itself appeared mostly untouched by the flames, although fires still raged in the surrounding fields and could easily spread if not soon brought under control.
“Jaden!”
The boy turned at the sound of his name as his brother appeared behind him. He smiled, pleased to see his elder brother unhurt, and then gasped as his brother grabbed him roughly by the arm.
“Where have you been?” his brother demanded. “Father is going to skin you alive for running off again. Don’t you know how dangerous it is at the moment?”
The boy, Jaden looked guilty, mumbling an apology.
“Come on, they were worried sick. Janna thought you had been fried to a crisp.”
“I saw them!” Jaden suddenly exclaimed. “Real close. I could almost touch them. They flew right over me!”
His brother looked down disapprovingly and Jaden looked down in turn at his worn boots. His big toe was sticking out of a hole in his left boot. He wiggled it.
“Do not tell Father or Janna that,” his brother admonished. “You are like to cause their death from worry as it is.”
“Was anybody hurt?” Jaden asked. “I saw them breathing fire onto the fields. I hid in the rocks.”
“Good, you did that right at least. Yes, people were hurt. A few died in the fields when the dragons came. And the fires are fierce, many others have burns.”
“Why did they attack us, Jacen?”
“I do not know,” his brother admitted, shaking his head sadly. They continued in silence, keeping close to the buildings as others hurried back and forth around them.
“There you are!” his father’s voice called out to them from the crowd. “Thank you, Jacen. Jaden, we were worried sick. Where did you run off to?”
“I was up the trail. I saw the dragons come. I hid,” Jaden said, keeping to facts that would not get him in too much trouble.
“It is not safe to do that any more, Jaden,” his father told him. “We talked about this. You cannot leave the village on your own.”
“Sorry, father,” Jaden replied miserably. His father seemed about to continue when he stopped, looking over Jaden’s shoulder, his eyes growing wide.
“By the God’s…” he whispered.
Jaden and Jacen turned and they both stared.
It hung in the air, impossibly huge, like a mountain turned on its head. Crafted walls and towers gleamed, rising from the rocky mass. Banners and pennants flew from their spires, flapping redly in the rising wind. Silently, it came, drifting nearer, a city of earth and air.
It had cleared the mountains, descending down the slopes to the plains. As he watched, Jaden saw several small dots move away, descending quickly, dwarfed by the city’s sheer impossible size.
All around him people stood, staring in awe and amazement. Someone screamed, people started to run. His father grabbed him by the arm and pulled him in the direction of the hills.
“Quickly!” his father called. “Make for the hills!”
But it was too late. Soldiers were streaming into the village from all sides, cutting off their escape, cutting down any who resisted. They were herded together.
His father’s grip was torn from his arm and he stumbled, crying out.
“Jaden! Run! Hide!” his father called, in the grip of a soldier. Jaden ran. He could not see his brother. He ran and dodged, slipped under reaching hands, past blocking legs. More soldiers appeared, blocking the route to the hills, driving him back. Back to his home he ran, the sounds of pursuit behind him. Jaden dived and slid, wriggling on his belly, crawling through a gap in the stonework and under the floorboards. A man cursed, his face appearing in the opening then vanishing again. Another man laughed, the sound rich and good humoured. Jaden lay still, listening, hoping they would leave. Where was his brother? Where had they taken his father?
The heat was oppressive under the house, the dust tickling his nose and throat. He tried to blow it clear and scratched at his nose with a grubby hand. The heat was getting worse, the crackle of flames suddenly loud above him. The soldiers had set fire to the house. He looked around and wriggled closer to another opening. Jaden squirmed free and tensed to run.
A rough hand clamped down on his shoulder, hauling him to his feet. Jaden found himself spun around, a hand gripping him under the chin, turning his head left and right as the man studied him.
“You’ll do,” the man declared, apparently satisfied, pushing him towards another soldier. He stumbled before being firmly seized and dragged back over to the others.
The city hovered over the village, blocking out the sun.

- Excerpt from Book One of the Age of Magic