Meleys Rider Novels & Stories

The prize for winning the race was so tempting that it attracted all the experts without thinking twice about risking their life. Weylin Turner under the pseudonym 'Rider' was waving his hand at his fans. He was seated on his motorcycle Yamaha YZF-R6. His long hair, which touched the base or his neck, was combed backwards while a few naughty locks fell on his forehead. His friend, Jace Smith stood beside him, chuckling at his friend's popularity. "Weylin, I know you want to impress your fans. So make sure you will win the race," Jace said, running his hand through his hair. "Be careful. You know how dangerous this race is."

I should have known not to under estimate my opponent. A sudden knock came through. "Enter" I said. The familiar face of Beta Hiram stepped in nervously with his eyes low. "The scouts have confirmed it, my Lady. It was a dragon. Not just that… the rider wore the colors of Blood Moon." With my eyes furrowed, I turned to him slowly. "And who is the rider?" He hesitated. "We… we don’t know yet. According to the whispers, he only came yesterday. But they say he rides an ancient big black dragon. Like something out of the old tales."

I respond nonchalantly. The rider enters, dust streaks his face, eyes bright with the kind of fear that comes from seeing something you were not meant to see. He bows quickly. “Mistress,” he says. “I followed the caravan. They stopped at the old ford. There was a skirmish. A small band—mercenaries—attacked the caravan. The trader escaped, but the caravan scattered. The mercenaries took a chest and rode north.” My fingers tighten around the map until the paper creases. “Who were the mercenaries?”