Chapter 3: Blood, Teeth and Bone
(Important A/N: This is the censored version of this chapter for the FR forums. If any scenes seem strange or odd, it's likely because parts were cut out or changed.)
Struve tried to ignore the overpowering stench of an overworked tundra as she pressed as close as she could to Gryzor’s neck. She wrapped her claws in his thick fur, pressing her wings close to her body and wrapping her tail around his neck for further support. She could feel Gryzor’s shoulder blade nudging her ever so slightly each time he took a step forward. She had been in this position all day, and she could feel how stiff she was getting. Struve didn’t care that much about the smell, or how uncomfortable her position was. She was more concerned about staying alive. Her claws and fragile arms shook as the workday dragged on. Finally, she heard the wide calls of the guards as they began to stop the work efforts for the day.
Please, let this work. She wasn’t sure who she was even praying to.
If there is any good at all left in this world, let this plan work.
Gryzor could feel Struve burrowed in the thick fur around his shoulder and neck, her claws drawing blood from his skin. He went about his daily work in great pain, the long wound on his leg staining the snow and ice. It had been dark for a long time when the call finally went out to stop work. The navy imperial was among them once again, eager to use his whip.
“Alright, everyone outside! Stay in your lines and don’t move!” Gryzor and the rest of his group stumbled to the outside of their tunnel. When they exited, he was startled to see that all of the slaves had been gathered around a large circle that had been marked by burning torches. On the other side of the circle, with his back to the cliff, Marak stood. The flames cast an eerie light over him and his charge. Several of the mercenaries also stood around Marak. Their two sets of hungry eyes glinted at the slaves as they watched.
“Move it! And stay quiet or we’ll rip your tongues out!” Looking behind him, he saw that the overseers had arranged themselves behind them, herding them towards Marak and the edge of the cliff. There was a long moment as Marak discussed things with the mirrors, and as the slaves murmured quietly amongst themselves. Gryzor felt Struve shift in his fur.
Please, don’t be stupid enough to reveal yourself. He shifted painfully on his paws, watching as Marak grew more agitated. His charge seemed to suggest something. Quick as lightning, he struck her. She staggered back, the chain attached to his leg going taught. Dragging her forward, he approached the crowd of his slaves. Gryzor was uncomfortably jostled as the front rows of dragons backed away from him.
“Where are the faes?” The massive white and silver guardian had drawn himself up to his full height, spreading his wings to make himself appear even bigger. “Give them to me!
Now! Or you will
all suffer the consequences!”
A feeling of triumph spread throughout Gryzor. We did it! We managed to pull it off! But then the crowd was parting to let a large mirror through, and she was dragging a young tundra dragon by her mane. She threw her down in the middle of the clearing, and in a swift and savage motion killed her.
A swift silence descended on the crowd. Gryzor felt like he was suffocating in the cold air. His breath hazed over the scene before him. The ice in his legs and feet felt like teeth and claws. Those around him were eyeing him with suspicion, and suddenly it felt like the whole world would be able to see where Struve was hiding in his mane. He shrunk in on himself, pressing his wings to his sides.
The tundra’s blood pooled on the ground. Her glassy eyes looked over the scene lifelessly as the mirror swiftly discovered the two tiny fae dragons hiding in her thick winter fur. Although they hissed and struggled, they were killed swiftly as well. Their limp bodies were thrown next to the tundra’s carcass. The mirror quickly explained the situation to Marak. He quietly turned back to the crowd, and his cold white eyes carefully scanned the crowd.
“I want every tundra dragon brought here to my feet. Any of those discovered to be hiding faes will be joining them in death.” His powerful voice sent ripples through the crowd as the overseers and mercenaries began to wade through the crowd.
“Gryzor, what’s going on?” Struve’s head popped out of his fur, he crests flicking in confusion.
“Struve, what are you doing? Don't show yourself!” But it was too late, as one of the mercenaries had spotted them and was swiftly moving towards them. As the sleek mirror approached, he backed up and growled low in his throat, canine teeth showing. His legs shook, caked in blood and ice. The suffocating scent of fear hung heavy around him, accompanied by many cries of distress and pain. Suddenly, the mirror charged. She was going low, sleekly sliding across the ice and baring her teeth towards his throat. Gryzor moved as swiftly as he could in the crowd out of her way. She scrabbled for a moment, trying to get a grip in the slick ice, and he charged. His wounds made him clumsy, and she was able to sink her teeth into his shoulder. Bellowing with pain, Gryzor stumbled backwards. He shook and shuddered, trying shake her off, but there was not enough room within the crowd to maneuver.
Suddenly, Struve burst out of her hiding place and lunged for the mirror’s eyes. The small fae set to work quickly with her delicate claws. With quick savagery she bit and scratched until the mirror crashed to the ground, thrashing and shrieking. Struve lept off, quickly making her way next to Gryzor.
Apparently they weren’t the only ones that had decided to fight back. All around them, slaves snarled and snapped at the mercenaries and overseers as they waded through the crowd. Gryzor turned his eyes to the dragons nearest to them. Blood sprayed like dark paint on the ground. Another dragon came bounding out from between the crowd. It was Undana. She stood, an imposing and lithe figure above the injured dragon. Her wings framed her body against the sky as she struck down and killed the mercenary. The lifeblood of the mirror began to pool on the ground, and she turned to face the other slaves.
“My friends, our time has come to act. For too long, these heathens have abused us. Now they have decided that the lives of our friends are worthless. If we ever wish to be free, now is the time to fight. I am a warrior, and I have decided that I would rather die fighting for my freedom and honor than live another day in this hell.” She let her gaze fly over everyone else. Gryzor looked around at the other dragons in the crowd. The scent of fear still hung heavy in the air, but now it held a crackle of anticipation.
Undana is right. Now is the time for action.
“I will fight alongside you, Undana.” Gryzor had stepped forward, trying to lift his deep voice above the other noises in the crowd. “I have nothing left to lose. Our plan to save our friends has failed. Now I will fight for the chance to set us all free.”
“I have already made my decision.” Struve had also stepped up beside him. Her claws were covered in blood. “Marak and his overseers have enslaved me all my life, and now they have decided that it is my time to die. I say no.” There was a thick quiet amongst the dragons nearest to them, but slowly growls of approval ran through the crowd. The chanting was thick and unintelligible, but it ricocheted throughout all of the slaves gathered on the cliff. The change from confusion to blind fury was sudden, and the overseers were stunned.
The confrontation had turned into a battle. Struve stood with Gryzor in the midst of it all.
“Gryzor! We need to see if we can find the other tundra dragons. They will need our help.” His green eyes focused on her for a few tense seconds. Wordlessly, he turned and plunged into the crowd. Darting after him, she focused on keeping up with him and not getting crushed by a larger dragon. A ridgeback lunged at her, screaming, but a snapper caught his head in his jaws. As the two plunged into the rest of the crowd Struve desperately tried to keep moving. She lost sight of Gryzor and suddenly she was plunged into a swirling mass of blood, teeth and bone. The injured ridgeback and snapper careened back towards her, and she lept out of the way in time to avoid them. Once again a silhouette appeared out of the sky, and Undana landed beside her. She was spattered with blood, and it struck a striking similarity to her red eyes.
“You certainly seem to know when you are needed!” Struve shouted over the dim.
“I trained as a warrior in my old clan. Battles like these are not unusual in the barren wastelands.” Blood dripped from her mouth. “Follow me!”
Undana leapt and bound through the crowd, with Struve beside her. She watched in awe as Undana showed the full extent of her skills. She struck like lightning, fierce and elegant. She did not waver when faced with a larger opponent, and she helped defeat several overseers and mercenaries as they moved. Struve tried to help where she could, darting in and trying to give Undana the openings she needed. Still, Struve was exhausted and cold. Undana had also begun to tire, and her one wing dragged limply on the ground. The night was bitter.
Finally, they pushed their way out of the main throng of the crowd and came upon Gryzor. He was standing bravely with a group of other dragons, teaming up and ripping away at the mercenaries they flung themselves on. Occasionally one of them would falter, and fall to the ground dead. Finally, Struve found herself next to Gryzor once again.
“Are you alright?” Struve looked him up and down, caked in blood and ice. His old leg wound looked bad, weeping dark blood. His movements were staggered, but he gave her a half hearted grimace.
“I haven’t died yet.” Licking his bloodstained lips, he turned back to the carnage. “But others have. I am afraid we might be losing this battle.” Beside him another dragon fell. As one, they plunged back into the fray, joining the others as the fought for their lives. Struve lept and clawed at any dragon that came within her range, spitting curses and obscenities. She could feel her rage clawing its way up inside her, and all she saw was red as she did her best to pay back her pain in full. She didn’t know how long she managed to fight for, but finally there was a lull in the battle and she collapsed. Her very bones seemed to ache, and her sides heaved painfully with every breath she took. The blood, fire and ice began to waver in front of her eyes. She was jostled painfully when a soft nose nudged her. Struve looked up into the concerned eyes of Gryzor, whose bright green eyes mirrored her own.
“Struve, you need to get up.” She felt more than heard the deep rumble of his voice. Weakly she pushed herself up. Suddenly, a blur of muscle and scales crashed in between them. Struve was buffeted painfully as Marak exploded into the crowd. Gryzor had barely avoided the sweeping claws. The massive guardian used his full size to his advantage, crushing with his jaws, wings and tail. He reared up, roaring, and Struve was struck with his terrible beauty. He looked like the mountains themselves, white, silver, and jagged. The blood spattered on him looked like the splashings of rubies and garnets. He was striking out again and again, ruthlessly slaying everyone in his path. Suddenly, his terrible white eyes alighted on her.
He lunged greedily, raising a massive paw to crush her. Time seemed to slow as his claws blocked the feeble light of the stars and moon, satin blood falling from his stained paw. Behind her was open air, where the cliff dropped into horrible darkness. This is where I die. The horrible thought ran through Struve’s head. And then she was being roughly pushed aside again. She watched as Ara was crushed under her guardian’s paw.
There was a spray of blood, which spattered in every direction. Marak’s glistening white scales seemed to dull. His movements became jagged, and he stumbled drunkenly. His eyes rolled back in his head, bloodshot. His mouth fell open limply, his own blood pooling and dripping off his tongue. He reared back on his hind legs once more, wings dragging at the sky, before he let out a hideous shriek and crashed backwards onto the ground. Struve struggled to stay out of his way as he thrashed and struggled, clawing at himself. Marak’s flailing tail slammed into another dragon, who fell limply to the ground. His chest heaved and stuttered. There was a moment, where he seemed to reach for some unseen force in the air. Then Marak’s withering body plunged gracelessly over the edge of the cliff, wailing horribly into the pits below.
Struve looked away from what was left of Arana. Her legs trembled as she managed to stagger towards where Gryzor was still fighting. The carnage around her was deafening. She collapsed on Gryzor, leaning against his bloodied leg.
“Struve?” A lull had come once again in the battle, resting in the shock of Marak’s death. He looked down at her once more.
“We-we have to leave.” Her breath misted in front of her eyes, short and hurried. “Gryzor, we have to leave now.”
“What? But how? Are we to just leave behind the others? And Undana?”
“Gryzor, we will be killed if we stay.”
“But we will not die alone, and why leave when we can stay and fight? Together, we might have a chance-”
“Gryzor, we will simply all be killed if we stay! We are near dead now! We cannot keep fighting!”
“No! Are we just going to leave Undana behind?”
“Undana is dead!” He flinched back in shock at her outburst. Wordlessly, his eyes followed her gesture. Halfway across the clearing lay the skydancer. Her claws were deep in a ridgeback’s throat, but ridgeback’s jaws had a closed finality around her neck. They lay together in the slush. Gryzor turned back to her. “Gryzor, listen to me. There is nothing left for us here. So many have already died. If we do not leave now, there will be no opportunity for us to do so later.”
“Then we will go. But how do you plan on leaving?”
“We fly.” Struve said this with a confidence she did not have, turning once more back to the edge of the cliff.
“Struve, I have barely flown before. We were never given the chance, and besides, we are exhausted to the point of being near death.”
“We have to try. There is no other option.” He looked at her in concern, his ears plastered flat against his head and eyes wide in fear. “Gryzor, you were born to the wind, correct?”
“Yes, I was born to wind flight.”
“So was I. We can make this, Gryzor. It is simply a matter of us deciding to try.”
They locked stairs again for a moment. Their eyes mirrored each other’s, full of fear and sadness but with a spark of hope. As the battle raged around them, a gentle breeze gusted around them, beckoning. Together, they spread their wings and leapt into the embrace of the wind.
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