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Here's the prologue to The Dark

He stood on the rim and looked out at the world, and the world was desert! As far as the eye could see, an unbroken plain of salt and sand stretched away to the horizon and beyond. The desert was colored in brown and white and yellow. A few cactus looking plants hugged the rim wall, beyond which nothing grew. The heat; even here at the edge of the desert, was stifling. Wave upon wave of heat shimmered from the sand, and played tricks on the eyes. Below, a dust devil spun and made lazy circles off to his right. It was the only sign of movement, the only sign of life. An odor of sulfur, and of salt, tore at his nostrils while he considered his fate.

There could be no turning back, to do so meant a sure and painful death. Even now he could hear the howls of the tracking beasts, as they made their way across the valley behind him. An hour behind, maybe two, but as sure as the sun; that never set in the sky, they would soon be upon him. His mind raced to find an exit, some way out but there was none. To die in the desert, or to be torn apart, for the amusement of the Emperor and the Imperial Court, was his only choice. At least the desert was clean!

He checked his supplies, two maybe three days rations of food, a weeks worth of water and one full and one half empty charge for the laser rifle. And the one reason he kept running from them, the reason he was still alive, the reason he would never give up, the last remaining clutch of Dragon eggs. He closed up his pack, took a deep breath, and began running down the hill and into the desert.

When he reached the bottom of the hill he turned left, away from the storm and took a heading on the twin peaks of the Dragon Horns mountains, some 50 miles away. From above, the desert had looked flat but after an hour or so he came upon a gully; an ancient river, and ran into it's cooling shade. Tired and out of breath he rested in the cool and taking off his pack, inspected it's precious cargo.

Nestled in his spare shirt were twelve gems all a different color. Hard as diamonds yet glowing each from deep inside. The last clutch from the last of the great Wyrms. Now no bigger than ostrich eggs, yet when fully grown they would sport a 80 ft wing span and weigh in at 5 tons. A dragon could fly many weeks at 300 mph with out stopping to land. Teeth that could crunch and eat a flyer and claws that could rip open a tank. Scales as hard as diamonds and their hot breath could melt any known metal. Not really fire but a combination of several highly corrosive acids spit from an orifice under the dragons tongue. But what made them really dangerous, was their intelligence.

He closed the pack, took out his water jug and took a long deep draw. He was bone tired, hadn't slept in many cycles. He had run about 150 miles since his flyer had been hit in his mad dash to escape. He knew he would have to sleep soon but to stop would mean his death. He took another sip of the precious liquid and as he did he saw a reflection of light on top of the rim from where he had come. He shaded his eyes from the blinding sun and looked again. He could see them in their colorful uniforms, pretty colors he thought. Made for parading not for hunting. At least he would know where they were. He also saw the dust devil spinning at the base of the hill. That just might confuse the beasts for a while he thought, as he capped the water jug and pulled himself up onto his tired feet.

He could no longer run but tried to trot down the gully and away from the rim. He tried to stay in the shadows to conserve what little energy he had left. It was hopeless but still he moved on. The trot soon became a walk and after another hour he was forced to rest.

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He lay in the cool of a shadow and thought to take a brief rest but soon fell asleep and dreamed of his home planet and it's rolling blue oceans.

He returned to his mothers cottage deep in a cool dark valley. He saw his brothers and sisters working the fields or picking grapes in the arbors. His mother sitting and rocking his youngest sister under the big shade tree in the yard. He looked for his father but then remembered he was killed off planet, in the Dragon Wars. He was just back from killing the nest of the dragon that had eaten his father. A mating pair and a dozen nestlings. It had been a long campaign on two worlds. His unit alone killed a quarter million . He was drunk on blood and slaughter, but very tired and listless. It was good to be back at home in the shade of the arbor. He could hear his mother calling to him, and then his brothers and sisters were calling too.

He awoke with a start, and realized they were very near and closing in on him. That dream was from along time ago, when he was young and a dragon slayer. He had stolen the last clutch and run here from his old comrades, for he saw a way to make some easy money and buy himself some time. Instead, when he had the eggs in his possession something began to change in him, not at first but soon and more and more each day. He was beginning to feel a strange kinship to them. He couldn't put a finger on it but he knew he couldn't destroy or sell them. He must save them at all costs. They were the last of a once proud and mighty race, all but destroyed by his kind.

He peeked up over the rim of the gully and saw them a quarter mile away in two groups. One group tracking from behind and another group to the one side trying to get in front of him. He was up in a instant and running along the gully away from his pursuers. Two men and three tracking beasts were off on his left. After a few minutes he gradually pulled ahead of the flankers.

Had he been able to see his back pack he would have noticed a multi-hued glow and suddenly his thoughts turned to laying an ambush for the flankers while he still had time. Something told him, that a good spot was just ahead. He had never been to this planet before. Hadn't even known it's name; Parlesia, or that everybody knew who he was and what he had done or the rather large reward that the eggs and his head would bring. He was just beginning to realize that none of those compelling thoughts were his. To steal the eggs or to come to this planet. But when he held the eggs in his hands and felt the vibrations beat in time to the glow nothing mattered. The eggs were love. He could no longer imagine killing them or that all consuming hate after the death of his father.

As the gully made a large S curve he saw that he had cut across the path of his flankers and on the end of that curve he saw the place that he had seen before in his mind. A small outcropping of rock pushed its way up from the desert floor. He raced to it's base and began to climb up until he reached its top. He pulled his rifle off his back and took aim on his followers.

He dropped the two humans in quick succession and then turned his attention on the beasts. Off world creatures that looked like a cross between the body of a bull and the head of a crocodile. As he fired on the humans the beasts made a bee line for his perch. He shot the first two as they came but then his weapon was empty. As he dropped his last clip of energy into the rifle, bright flashes of energy began streaking past his head and a smell of ozone permeated the air. Although still a quarter mile away the other group had found him and were running in his direction. A voice in his head told him to jump down and make a run for it.

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He leaped from his perch and had begun to run, when he heard the third beasts growl close behind him. In the confusion of battle he had forgotten that there were three. A fact that might soon cost him everything. Something nudged him and sent him sprawling to the ground. The massive tracking beast stood snarling above him, then as it began to lower it's head down to devour him, it was suddenly jerked up and backwards. As it turned its head to snap at what was holding it he saw the flea.

A sand crab held the tracking beast in its pincers. "Sand Crabs" or "Dragon Fleas," were mean, nasty little monsters that generally lived in or near dragon caves. He hadn't the time to wonder what this one was doing in the Great Polar Desert as the crab bit the struggling tracking beast in two and turned in his direction. He jumped to his feet as the ground began to tilt. Try as he might he couldn't stop from sliding. He quit trying when a voice told him that he had to hurry, that this was the only way out. With a serene look of peace in his eyes and a silly looking grin on his face, he began sliding down towards the crabs lair and into the dark.

uncle-ernie 7 Feb 8
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2 comments

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Maybe best to let us know who ‘he’ is in the first paragraph. A name, a one sentence description, preferably psychological in nature, because I don’t care who ‘he’ is. A tantalising description helps identify and then pull you along on the journey. No one really cares for ‘He’. Please don’t think this negative, it is intended to be constructive.

0

Too long, lost interest in the middle of paragraph two.

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