Quest Series - Book 1 - Caedor

Hello. This is part of my novel in progress, and I just wanted to get some reviews. Here it is.

BEGINNINGS
Caedor Ignisi walked down the dirt path. The trees provided shade, but he still didn't like being out so much in the day. For four days he had searched the traders routes, looking for the man he had heard about. Today he felt lucky.
Up ahead the path he saw a man wearing the traditional blue hat of the traders, carrying a large pack on his back.
"Trader!" Caedor called out.
The man turned around and stopped, apparently pleased he had a costumer.
"Can I help you?" he asked.
"Are you Hew, the weapons trader?"
"That I am."
"I was wondering if I could have a look at some of your merchandise."
Hew's face brightened.
"Of course! What kind of weapons are you looking for?"
"Swords, of the historical type."
"I have just the thing you're looking for, sir." He dream a long, slender sword out of his pack. Caedor's eyes gleamed as he saw it.
"May I?" he asked. The trader handed him the sword.
Caedor ran his hand down the thin blade. He caressed the smooth edges with his fingers, observing the large dent in the middle of the sword.
"Where did this come from?" he asked the trader.
"Wonderful story behind this piece," Hew explained. "That was used in the battle between the famous assassin Farrōr and the hero Despin. It was Farrōr's sword and--"
"I'll take it." Caedor said, sliding the blade into the trader's chest. Hew's expression became on of discomfort and surprise. His eyes glazed over and he limped. Caedo smoothly removed the blade and wiped it on the man's shirt.
"Good deal." he cruelly chuckled. "Ispiŕ ckep asdeń."
The dent in the sword disappeared. He pulled out his dagger, and scratched the asdeń wre hyitre on the sword. The mark of the assassin, matching the tattoo on the back of his neck.
* * *
Drekea Verden slowly observed his small village of Pacisen. It's people bustled about, buying and selling, chatting and gossiping. With a broad grin, Drekea walked down the hilltop and back to his village. He was greeted with a roar of excitement and people rushing to his sides. The questions were as numerous as the days he had been gone. Children jumped at his heels, gaping at his mountainous figure, pointing at awe at his sword.
"Everyone calm down!" he said in his deep voice. "I promise to tell you everything after a pint!"
"On me!" the town's bartender, Undinae, shouted merrily.
The forest shifted slightly, and the town grew deathly silent.
"What's out there?" a young boy whispered.
"No need to worry," Drekea said. He whistled. From the forest rose a dragon, green as the waters of the sea. It landed next to Drekea, and smoothly observed the town with it's deep, emerald eyes. The people were quietly frozen in awe.
"This is Saveron." Drekea said.
The dragon let out a roar, and the people remained rooted in place by their awe.
Hello Saveron said.
"Hey!" a small girl called out. "I can hear him in my head!"
"It's his magic." Drekea explained. "He speaks through his mind."
"Wonderful!" Trea, the smith's daughter squealed.
"But why have you come back?" Mazet, the smith, asked. "Your return is joyous, but since you have come back so early, I fear that difficult times are coming."
Many of the adults murmured in agreement, but the children were too distracted with Saveron, who was gently nuzzling them with his snout.
"I'm afraid you're right. Mazet," Drekea sighed. "I've come back to protect you. The Nigerucros are coming."
* * *
Pandea Knister knelt down and picked up the dead man's dagger. She yanked the arrow out of his chest and put in her quiver. She looked across the battlefield, where so many like this man laid. She'd never liked cleaning the battlefield, as her mother had called it, but weapons make money in the market, and the Empire's arrows were usually sharp and perfect compared to the rough crude ones she made. Her quiver was getting full, and her stomach was getting hungry. She grabbed a battle axe she saw and started to head home. She had found four daggers, two swords, a mace, and the battle axe. It would be good money in the market, but lugging it all home in the sack was a chore. She had used three layers of leathered skins to try and keep the sharp weapons from slicing the bag, but it was still tattered and full of rips and holes. It was at times like this she wished she had taken the time to learn magic from her mother, but she had died when Pandea was nine.
A snap of a twig caught her attention. Within a second, Pandea had dropped her bag and readied an arrow. It was a doe. She held her arrow tight, deciding if she would kill it for meat or let it escape. When a small fawn jumped out of the trees, Pandea lowered her bow. She would not kill a mother, not when her own had been slaughtered so mercilessly. The deer perked their ears, and ran off. Pandea could hear some crashing in the trees, and she shot an arrow at eye level. There was a cry of surprise, and a dwarf came out of trees.
"Calm down, lass!" he shouted in a gravely voice. He had a long black beard that touched his knees, and a pointy hat that was taller than him. "We mean you no harm!"
"We?" Pandea asked suspiciously, reaching for another arrow.
"Aye." A group of dwarves exited the woods, wearing an assortment of battle armor, wizard's robes, and Pandea swore she even saw one wearing a dress.
"Who are you?" she asked, relaxing her bowstring.
"We just be a troupe of dwarves, unfit for the mines, and unwanted in battle. So we travel the lands as traders and entertainers."
"Why--" Pandea started to ask, but was cut off by an explosion. Smoke started to rise in the south.
"Oh no," she breathed.
"What?" the dwarf leader asked.
"That's my home!"