Riding on the Storm
© 2022 by Walter Reimer

Thumbnail art by  DragonMelde, color by  Major Matt Mason



“Due north,” Meredith remarked, looking up. The forest was so dense that the sky could not be easily glimpsed through the canopy. The terrain trended upward, but was interlaced with valleys and switchbacks. The undergrowth was composed of ferns and furze bushes that clutched at their clothes and armor.

“That’s what he said,” Varan said. The vir looked up. “I’m no longer sure that we’re headed north, though, thanks to the terrain.”

“I agree. And the sun’s starting to go down. Should we stop for the night?”

“Yes,” the mage agreed. “We don’t want to get separated.”

By the time they found a nearly-level site to set up camp, the sun was near the horizon and clouds could be glimpsed gathering above the forest canopy. Meredith and Varan anchored their tent to a large tree and some of the nearby rock outcroppings, finishing up as the first fat drops of rain began to fall and the wind increased, moaning around the trees. The last thing Varan did before seeking the shelter of the tent was to mark a few runes and wards on neighboring trees with her claws.

Hours later, with the two entwined in sleep, one of Meredith’s ears flicked at a sound, and her paw reached for her sword as she sat up. “Varan?” she said softly.

“Ernnh?”

“I hear something – or someone,” the golden palomino mare whispered.

Varan raised a hand. “Should I?”

Meredith disentangled herself from her lover and crouched, aiming at the entrance to the tent with her sword ready. “Do it.”

The mage’s hand drew a Sign in midair.

The runes she’d scratched on the trees flared into bright light, the howling of the storm joined by a number of astonished yelps and curses, and Meredith charged out of the tent. She came to a halt just outside the entrance and stopped, looking around as rainwater dripped onto her from the trees overhead.

Half a dozen stallions stood rubbing their eyes, blinking as the magic lights faded. Meredith guessed that they were generally taller than her, with a mix of fur colors ranging from roan to pinto, and they wore leather harnesses across their chests and leather loincloths around their waists. Each held a sword in their paw, and when one moved to face her, Meredith blinked.

All six had wings.

Varan came out of the tent, powering collecting around her hands, and the mage adopted a defensive pose beside Meredith as the paladin asked, “Who are you?”

One stallion, his chest harness differenced by a small gold amulet, stepped forward. “We sensed strangers here in the forest, very close to the BEES!”

“’Bees?’” Varan asked.

“No,” another stallion said, “Not ‘bees,’ ‘BEES!’”

“Your camp is very close to their Hive,” the one with the gold badge said. “We had not expected to find a mage and a paladin, but even for you this is not a safe place.” He sheathed his sword, the others following suit. “I am Elfrik, the leader of this patrol.”

Varan introduced herself and Meredith, and Meredith lowered her sword. “What’s so bad about the BEES!?”

“They don’t like strangers,” Elfrik said, “so they make strangers friends. By changing them into BEES!, and increasing their numbers. We are the Riders of the Storm, sworn to safeguard travelers in these mountains.”

“Is that why you have wings?” Varan asked.

One of the other stallions nodded. “Into this house we’re born.”

“The Skies Above have favored you,” Elfrik said, “or you would have been found by the BEES! You should not stay here.”

“We are headed for the Ghost Mountain,” Varan said, “and we were told it was due north.”

One of the stallions scoffed. “You’re going entirely the wrong way then. It’s easy to get lost in these woods if you can’t fly.”

Meredith turned to Elfrik. “Can we ask for your assistance?”

“Yes,” Elfrik said.

And waited.

The golden palomino mare rolled her eyes. “May we please have you fly us to a place of safety?”

The stallion nodded. “If you will strike camp and pack up your supplies, we shall fly you and your companion to our sanctuary. When the weather clears tomorrow, we shall guide you to the next town.”

The mage and the paladin exchanged glances, and Meredith said, “That’ll be fine.” The pair started to pack up their supplies, and the mare eyed the group of stallions as they waited. Chances were more than good that they would require some sort of payment for their services.

And as one stallion shifted his stance and his loincloth moved aside, Meredith could make a good guess at what the payment would entail.