Excerpt #1 - Guards of the Phoenix

As dawn rose early the next morning, its amber rays of light fell upon a small outpost in the desert. As the cool air began to warm with the rising of the sun, three men clad in armor of the Protectors of the Phoenix of Earth awoke from their sleep. Rubbing the remaining sleep from their eyes, they put their bare feet on the carpeted and ground and yawned. Three horses stood outside, lashed to a post, though by a long cord. They took turns at a wooden basin, drinking water collected from the fronds of a nearby cluster of palm trees. One of the men, squinting his eyes in the bright light, emerged from the sleeping quarters and, with a wide-mouthed jug in his hands, he walked to the group of trees and began shaking the morning dew from the palm fronds into the jug. When the water was collected, he emptied the liquid into the basin. When he stood up, he stretched his sleepy muscles and whispered a few words to his horse. The creature neighed affectionately and nodded its head. The man smiled and patted the animal on its long nose.
One of the men called out to him, “Duad! Hurry up! Duad…”
He then kissed the top of his horse’s furry head and strode back into the thatched buildings. When he stepped inside, he found his comrades with their beds made and most of their armor already strapped on. Their armor consisted of coats of metal scales, which were reminiscent of bird feathers. Below their hauberks of scale armor, were light mail skirts, which were hidden behind flowing capes. About their heads, would be placed a steel skullcap, around which long cloth turbans would be wrapped. When they were dressed and their armor was presentable, they took their curved swords from a rack above their beds and walked outside. They turned to face the sun and stood for a moment taking in deep breaths of the warm morning air. They raised their curved bladed weapons into the sun’s light and began uttering a prayer in their ancient language. After a moment they got down on their knees and placed the sword on the ground, with the tip pointing to the east. They then bowed low to the ground and continued their prayers. When they had finished speaking with the gods, they sat up and looked to the east. They got to their feet and placed their sheathed weapons on their belts.
A group of three spears sitting in the corner waiting to be needed had begun to collect dust and spiders had woven their silky threads between their wooden shafts. The men stood outside in the light of the rising sun taking in the day when they each, in turn, noticed the giant cloud surging forward from the south. They froze where they stood, each instinctively moving a hand to the blade at their hip. The cloud passed over their heads and they took shelter under the thatched canopy over the door of the small barracks. They watched in awe as the cloud moved over them, yielding no precipitation. The horses stomped their hooves in the sand and neighed furiously. They tugged on their bonds, but to no avail. The men tried to calm the frightened animals, though their efforts were largely wasted. They abandoned the creatures for a moment and watched the cloud.
“This is an unexpected weather pattern,” said one of them.
“Yes,” said another. “And, it moves against the wind!”
“Look!” cried a third, thrusting a finger to the South. His two companions moved their gaze to see what it was he pointed to. Far off in the distance they saw the flowing cape and shimmering armor of another man stationed as a scout with them. Below the man, panting heavily, galloping as fast as its legs would permit, was a fine black horse. Both the rider and the horse bearing signs of a conflict, they raced through the dunes hoping to alert the others. A clap of thunder roared across the sandy planes. The horses became very frantic and they tried with all their might to free themselves from the bar they had been lashed to. They snorted and kicked the supporting post, but it was too deeply secured in the ground to have any effect. As the man on horseback cam nearer to the outpost, the men beneath the canopy heard that he was shouting at the top of his lungs. They could not understand what it was he screamed about, but they assumed it had something to do with the rapid change in the weather. After a brief while longer, the men began to understand him, though his cries made no sense.
“Run!” he cried. He disappeared behind a large dune, but then reappeared at its peak. “Retreat to the city!” He pushed his horse as fast as it would go. “If you value your lives, you will run for our city!!” he cried loudly.
The men stood firm, baffled as to why they should retreat to the city simply because of a quick change in the weather. Finally, the man arrived at the outpost. The men surrounded him and pulled him off his horse, which then ran off to the north. They sat the man down in the sand, though it was a great struggle.
“What’s wrong?” asked one of them. Another went to fetch the man some water.
“We cannot stay here!” said the rider.
“What do you mean?” asked the second man. He kneeled in front of the man.
“Where are Rashid and Kalai?” asked the man returning with a cup full of water. The man downed the water in one messy gulp.
“Dead!” said the man, wiping his chin. His armor was stained with red blood.
“How?” asked one of the men.
Still breathing heavily, the man pointed to the south and said, “Orcs!”
The men looked in the direction of the accusing finger but saw only sand and the endless dark cloud. They turned back to look at the tired man, questioning his sanity, despite their long friendship.
“Khasim, what happened to the others?”
“I tell you, Orcs are coming. They come this way and with them are fourteen dragons and their riders.”
“That’s impossible,” said one man. “There should only be…”
The third man interrupted him, “fourteen.”
The men looked up at him and found him looking wide-eyed to the south, a look of pure horror on his face. The others looked and immediately clamored to their feet. The horses had destroyed their water basin, but continued to fight for freedom. The men ran into their shelter, erupting seconds later with saddles. They threw the saddles over their terrified mounts and hastily fastened them trying to avoid flying hooves. Khasim ran back into the hut and took the three spears from their dusty corner. He threw the poles out the door and grabbed his own from another corner before running back through the door into the desert. The others had fastened their saddles to their horses and gone to collect their spears. In his rush, Khasim stuck the tip of his spear into the armored leg of one of his comrades. He paused for a moment and apologized.
“I’m fine! Let’s go!” said the man.
Khasim ran toward the horses, but stopped again.
“There aren’t enough horses!” he cried.
A roar thundered behind them. The men looked to the south and then to the north.
“Just get on!” shouted Duad. “We’ll manage or we’ll die!”
The other two men untied their steeds and took off as Khasim climbed aboard Duad’s horse. Afraid to lose too much time untying the line, Duad drew his crescent blade and cut the line with one smooth stroke.
“Sayyid! Jafa! Wait!” he yelled over another roar. His horse struggled a bit to pick up its speed, but when it did, it had no problem keeping the pace when he caught up the other two. They charged into the north as their fine horses grunted and snorted below them. They looked behind and their eyes met terror. They spun around and urged their steeds to go faster. Encouraged also by fear, the horses ran as fast as their powerful legs would go. A large shadow passed over them, followed by another and another and several more. The men looked up and saw flying over them the winged demons, their undead riders aboard their backs. Their hearts racing, sweat pouring down their faces, the men tightened their grip on their spears and their reins and continued across the sandy plane. One of the large shadows lingered. Before they knew what had happened, the men found themselves trapped by a pair of large clawed feet. The horses neighed in frightened protest. Duad thrust his spear into the flesh of the foot, but the tip merely bent and became blunt. The dragon roared and squeezed its large foot around the men. Sayyid’s spear snapped in two and the pieces fell to the dusty ground. The dragons roared again as they sailed through the air, making a painful symphony that each of the men feared would become a requiem only too soon.
They managed to turn around and get a look at what was below them. Their already saddened eyes were pushed into further dejection when they eyed the large black mass below them. Cheers rang out as the dragons flew the massive group of Orcs. The beasts began to form a circle and spiraled downward to mark their landing. Jafa noticed that they were heading toward a small group that had been separated from the main force. The dragons formed a circle around the isolated group and the dragon holding the men along with their petrified steeds dropped them in the center. They fell to the ground and were sprawled on their armored stomachs for a moment. Jafa lifted his face from the sand and looked forward. To his dismay, he recognized the beastly form before him. Surrounded by armed, snarling, vicious underlings, the mighty Orcish general Oorlog stood with a spear clenched in his fist. The rest of his weapons rested in various sheathes and belts around his body. The small squad of Orcs behind him flashed swords, though they also carried bows.
“What have we here?” asked the general through his cracked, but jagged teeth.
The dragon rider who carried the men opened his mouth. “Scouts, general,” he said in his scratchy tone.
The general smiled. “Well, I’d say they’ve found something!” he laughed.
The thousands of Orcs behind him laughed as well, though the ones toward the rear had no idea of the goings on at the front. The laughter died down quickly.
“Well, I’ll not keep you long,” said the general, eyeing Sayyid hungrily. His eyes then darted to Khasim who glared a the foul creature with fire burning in his eyes. Oorlog gave a small chuckle and his small troop of Orcs cackled and thrust their weapons at him. The general’s eyes, though blood-shot and dark as they were, showed more clarity than the glazed orbs of his minions. They showed depth and a spark of logic and sophistication. They slid over Khasim and moved to Duad, whose expression was one of vacant fear. Oorlog’s smile broadened.
“Are you afraid of me, boy?” he asked bending over slightly.
“No,” stammered Duad trying to raise his voice.
Oorlog took a sword from one of the many sheathes at his side. He walked up to Duad, who fell onto his back trying to escape, and put a large armored foot on his chest. He put his face close to Duad’s.
“It would be wiser if you were,” he said threateningly. He pulled away from the men and resumed his place among his underlings.
“Take this message to your king,” he said with a fierce tone. “We will make camp tonight, but within two days we will arrive at your city and it will fall. Our banner will wave from the top of the nearest dune by dawn on the second day. When we arrive, we will not lift our siege until your city has fallen to the Horde. Those who do not surrender will be slaughtered like meat stock.”
As he spoke, fear coursed through the men’s veins. Jafa sat, quaking in his armor. The War chief, as he would have been called were he addressed by an Orc, finished his speech and sheathed his sword.
“Now, go!” he ordered, “and warn your king of our coming.”
The men sat frozen in place. Their horses had been restrained by Orcis ropes and stood, unable to move while they waited for what would come next.
“Get on your way!” shouted Oorlog, losing his patience with the men.
They clamored to their feet and ran to their steeds. Khasim leapt onto Jafa’s horse and they took off. Two of the dragons moved aside, granting them passage. Their master whispered hauntingly into Oorlog’s ear.
“Tell, me, my good general,” he rasped. “How many men does it take to bear a word?”
“One, my lord,” replied Oorlog, looking up at the dark figure.
“Very Good,” There was a rush of wind and the flaming dragon took to the sky. It shot toward the terrified horseman and devoured all but one of them. There were screams and a large cloud of sand, kicked up in the excitement. Then there were only hoof beats. And a low, dull, droning roar.