Warrior of her dreams

“There weren’t always dragons in the valley.”

Niamh remembered those words uttered the previous evening as she was catching up with her friends at the local tavern. At the time, Niamh didn’t give those words much thought, her attention more focussed on the various tavern maids throwing flirtatious glances her friend’s way; Glances he barely noticed, his thoughts taking him to a time far from them. This morning, however, the words came back to her in rush as she took in the scene before her.

Niamh and her wolfhound, Beowulf had commenced the morning preparing to feed and care for the animals on her father’s property. Her father had insisted on her having the wolfhound, knowing that these lands had become unsafe, rogues passing through their land being far more dangerous than the giant predators in the sky. Their home was situated within the outskirts of the village as her father had decided that they would settle there when her mother had passed, preferring to raise Niamh in the peace of the countryside, away from the gossip of the town.

As they approached the shed where the family’s horses were stabled, she noticed that the horses appeared distressed. Falcon, a jet-black stallion and her father’s pride and joy, was continuously pawing at the ground and kicking the stable door. Niamh rushed to the stallion, and with Beowulf close at her heels, she attempted to comfort the horse by whispering calming words and patting down his coat in symbols that she knew would radiate calming energy throughout his body.

Finally calming the horses, Niamh had set about trying to find the source of their distress. As she rounded the corner to Falcon’s stall, she found it. Laying there, amongst the hay and grain was a mangled and charred up body of what appeared to be a man – or a woman- … Niamh couldn’t really tell from what she saw but one thing she knew… the peace and tranquillity of their home had ended.

Niamh stared at the body in horror and quickly rushed back to her home calling for her father as she ran. Her father, Warren heard her shouts and came out of the house, concern etched on his face as he took in Niamh’s appearance and the terror he detected in her voice.

“Calm yourself Niamh, then tell me what has happened.” His steady presence calmed Niamh and gave her the reassurance she needed to get the next words out.

“A body…. A body near Falcon’s stall! … it’s...” Niamh trailed off, her words failing her as she contemplated how she was going to get the next words out. She took a steadying breath. “Father, the body…. it looks like it was killed by a dragon.”

Warren’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Although the dragon population had increased in the past decade, they were not known to venture this low to ground and were not known to mutilate human bodies and leave them for someone to find. He followed Niamh to the stables and to the body that lay there. He considered their options for the moment and sighed. “Niamh, send word to the town. It seems we will be requiring the assistance of the Scythians.”

Niamh paled at her father words. If her father was worried enough to request the services of the Scythians, Gods help them.



It was hours before they arrived at her home. Four of them, dressed in the uniform that identified them as part of the command they served. As they approached her home, Niamh took the time to study each one of them in turn. They were all similar in appearance and walked in a unison that showed they had clearly served together as a unit for some time. Each man was imposing on their own but when they walked together, they exuded an aura that told others they were not to be trifled with.

As the first warrior climbed the stairs to the porch of her home Niamh could feel the panic slowly start to rise. These men were all threatening together, yes. But the man coming up the stairs was power, danger and menace all in one. As he reached the top of the stairs his presence overwhelmed her so much that she couldn’t help but take a step back behind the safety of her father.

The man passed an assessing glance over her as she did so, but his focus soon quickly shifted to her father and the matter at hand. “Take us to the body.” His voice was smooth and cool but had a hint of steel underneath; a voice, Niamh knew, no one had ever dared disobey. Niamh slid a glance to her father, wondering how he would react to the man’s swift command. Her father passed his own assessing glance over the man and the three other warriors positioned behind him. As he assessed the warriors before him, he stated, “My name is Warren, and this is my daughter Niamh.” He stuck his hand out to the man before him as he made the introductions.

Surprise flashed in the Scythian’s eyes as he acknowledged Warren’s outstretched hand. Rather than take the extended hand he inclined his head to both Warren and Niamh in turn. “I am Ahmet, and these are my men, Khan, Emir and Vulcan.” He vaguely gestured to the men behind him. “Now, take us to the body.” Warren said nothing further and silently led the warriors to the body. When they got to the stables the four men got to work examining the body and their surroundings. They worked in silence as they took in the scene before them and gathered the necessary evidence to begin their investigation.

The silence was unnerving, and Niamh couldn’t take it anymore. “So! Was it the dragons? Should we be doing something to protect ourselves? Our animals? Are we in danger?” The remaining words and questions slowly trailed off as Ahmet raised his head and looked her. His face remained as stoic as it was when he arrived, but Niamh could have sworn she saw faint amusement in his eyes at her outburst.

As he looked at her, Niamh couldn’t help but study his appearance. He wore his hair longer than other Scythians she had seen in the past. The front spiked up and to the side as though he had run his hand through his hair often. His tanned face looked as though it was carved from granite; a quality he perpetuated by the constant maintaining of his blank expression. However, what captured Niamh’s attention the most were his eyes. Their colour reminding her of the melted chocolates her father would buy her whenever he went into town. As Niamh continued to gaze into those eyes, she couldn’t help but feel as though they had seen so much, maybe too much. Niamh thought to herself that although the sheer presence of him frightened her, some part of her felt sorry for him and worried about the dangerous life he must lead.

“No, Ms Niamh.” Niamh shook the thoughts out of her head as she realised that Ahmet was answering her questions. “You are not in danger from dragons.” Niamh doubtfully looked at him as he responded. “But how can you be so sure? if a dragon was bold enough to drop this man near our stables, who’s to say they are not going to be brazen enough to snatch us up as we go about our morning routine?” Niamh knew she was starting to sound hysterical, but it had been a long day and Niamh was amazed that it had taken this long for some form of hysteria to show.

“Because, Ms Niamh, a dragon did not do this…. A human did.”