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An unmanned one-horse chariot wound slowly to a stop in front of the centurion as he stood in the road and polished his sword with a ragged black cloth. His favourite black dragon stood menacingly behind him, breathing on his armour, which shone in the brilliant morning light. Far above the hawks circled like vultures, awaiting a bloody climax to the past night’s events. The centurion stood and called out.
“Who goes there?”
No reply came.
“I say, I’m getting bloody impatient,” cried the centurion, louder this time.
A warm spurt of air crept across the back of his neck. He turned and gave the dragon a nasty glare. It looked sheepish.
“If thou do not show thyself, I will comb the desert until I find thee, and it will go badly for thee, believe you me!” shouted the centurion, surveying the even horizon broken only by the narrow path and the mysterious chariot.
Then a white flag peeped up over the edge of the chariot and began to move precociously side to side. The centurion leapt backward, nocked an arrow and let fly through the center of the flag with an alarming shriek. The flag withdrew.
“You curse me with your insolence!” breathed the centurion. “And don’t expect me to believe that you didn’t know I’m allergic to the colour white!”
“Well it was worth a try,” came a mumble from inside the chariot.
“And now, oh devious one, show yourself and let us do epic battle for the hearts and minds of all present, past, and future! And I will vanquish thee like the fell magician thou art!”
No one moved.
“Fell magician!”
Nothing.
“Fell magician, I say!”
A cough.
“Well are you coming or not?” said the centurion. “I don’t have a magician’s patience. What is your reply?”
Two eyes and a hooked nose peeked around the side of the chariot. “I’m not a magician.”
“What?”
“I’m not a magician,” said the eyes again.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I’m no magician.”
“I beg your pardon?”
The eyes rolled. “I. Am. Not. A. Magician.”
“You’re casting a spell on me, aren’t you? Well it won’t work; I’m well protected!” The centurion held up a mish-mash of assorted religious symbols and pendants as proof of his claim.
“I’m not casting a spell. I don’t bloody know any. I’m not a magician for Dirth’s sake.”
“So, what you’re saying is… You lied to me?”
“What?”
“You admit to your grievous sin of misleading me in the direction of believing that you are a magician.” The centurion grinned confidently.
The eyes narrowed. “I admit to nothing, you royal buffoon. I never said I was a magician.”
“You ride in an unmanned chariot with a magical horse; I hear the bells ringing as its feet break the barriers between our world and the next with every step. I am well versed in the signs of witchcraft. I will not be fooled, fell magician! For now I see that once again you attempt to mislead me with a spell of false assurance!”
A mouth emerged behind the nose, opened wide in frustration. “Those are bells, you idiot! Look on the bridle! And this isn’t an unmanned chariot. For the love of God, I’m in it!”
The centurion took a quick glance at the bells attached to the horse’s bridle, frowned, and looked nervously at his dragon, who shrugged. “So you are.”
“Look, can I go now?”
“Ah ha!” cried the centurion. “If the chariot is not unmanned, why could I not see you in it as you approached? You must have spirited into it with black magic!”
“I was sleeping! Is that a crime?”
“Um.”
“That’s what I thought.” The head withdrew, and moments later the man stood. “Now, all I want to do is go back to sleep and let my horse take me and my companion through to Sunrise City.”
“Your companion?” The centurion leapt forward with a jubilant laugh of triumph.
“Good grief,” said the man in the chariot, moving off at a quick trot.
The centurion watched the chariot pull away disappointedly. “Why,” he asked the dragon, “do I get the feeling that I was just deceived?”
This was all right, but there is a lot wrong with it and a lot missing.
"Then a white flag peeped up over the edge of the chariot and began to move precociously side to side. The centurion leapt backward, nocked an arrow and let fly through the center of the flag with an alarming shriek. The flag withdrew."
Just to use this one paragraph as an example:
1. Look up the word "precocious". Don't think it can be used here.
2. A moment before, the centurion was polishing his sword, yet now he is winging arrows at white flags. Perhaps it is one of those Swiss Army Swords and he simply folded out a bow and quiver?
3. Think you mean an alarmed shriek. It could be alarming shriek but that strays on the pointless side since anyone being shot at is probably more alarmed by the arrows themselves.
Beginnings are important, and you get a lot of detail into yours. That's good. But in setting the scene, you refer to the past night's events and then never make clear what they were. Either bring it out or leave it out. It's a distraction. The ending is also a bit nebulous.
To sum up: this was amusing in places, vivid in others, but falls down in important respects and also stumbles into the trap of having dragons "stand menacingly".
It's nice to be surprised sometimes. The dialog turned into an unexpected and delightful comic exchange. I never quite LMAO'd, but it was definitely LOL territory once it became apparent that the centurion was a bit, shall we say, dense. My only disappointment is that you didn't do more with it.
Quote:
A mouth emerged behind the nose, opened wide in frustration. “Those are bells, you idiot! Look on the bridle! And this isn’t an unmanned chariot. For the love of God, I’m in it!”
I'm not going to put it up here. It's a work in progress, and is missing chunks from the middle and whatnot. I doubt the storyline is halfway set, and there are still tons of scenes to insert into what is already there.
Some day it might be done, but it might not ever be finished. We'll see.
Well, I liked it. 
Linear Mode
