The wind howled in Stephan's ears as Death folded her wings close, diving fast and low. The desert blurred beneath them until the fleeing riders came into sharp focus. Two horses, their hooves pounding across the sand, their riders cloaked in gleaming white and gold.
"Hold," Stephan commanded, and Death obeyed, tilting her wings so that she skimmed directly above them.
The elves looked up, eyes widening in unmasked shock as the shadow of a dragon engulfed them. Their mounts reared back in panic, neighing and striking against the sand. The sight of Stephan perched upon the dragon's back must have struck them like a vision of nightmare.
Stephan caught the flash of surprise in their faces, and his mouth curved into a grin. Good. Be afraid.
