Chapters The House That Sleep Built
I: The Massacre in the Forest
The Northern Cold.
It was called that for a reason; a reason that we were reminded of as the group of us crouched,shivering in the tuffs of fresh powder.
We were cold, there was no denying that, but we were also ready. Ready and waiting for the signal to be given.
Rolling my shoulders slightly, causing chunks of frost to chip off the sides of my shoulder pauldrons, adjusting the plates and the gorget that encircled my throat, I strained my neck to peer over the side of the small cliff that we were stationed at, to get a good look at the path below us.
The rest of my Company and I had been tracking this particular group of bandits for two weeks now, following in the wake of their destructive path. Already, two small Rooks have been pillaged and left in flames, their inhabitants slain or enslaved, as the cut a bloody path through the Black Forest Nidstang.
Finally, through intelligence of some of our best scouts, we managed to judge where their next strike would be, and cut them off at the Stone Pass, before the next Rook could be targeted.
Now, some of the best rangers we had and myself laid await in ambush, ready to butcher these marauding scum. Because that’s what they were.
Scum.
Not worthy to lick the shit off the bottom of my boots.
I turned to look at my comrades on my sides. On each side of me, I was flanked by three other rangers, wrapped in their leather armors and cloaks, swords sharp and poised to strike.
Above us in the trees, more of our comrades lay in hiding amongst the thick bushels of braches and and twigs, crossbows at the ready to rain down bolts. Once the signal was given by the Commander, they would loose their munitions first, and provide cover whilst we slaughter the survivors.
“Alright lads, ready into your positions,” a voice on my left whispered to the group of us.
Snapping our attention back to acknowledge the Commander, we all tightened our grips on the hilts of our weapons, ready to unsheath them on command.
The Commander, an imposing griffon, clad in imposing plate armor and mail atop his gambeson, cloak faintly fluttering in the forest breeze, clicked his tongue sharply twice, a signal for the archers above to ready themselves.
Faintly, we could hear their bolts being knocked into place, the cranking of the crossbows’ twine lining, and the shuffling of their own armors, before everything went silent again.
“Pay attention laddies, once the bolts are loosed on the targets, count down ten seconds, not a moment sooner or later, then begin the charge,” the Commander said, drawing his long sword from it’s sheath, the blade chipped and worn from constant battling,”remember, no prisoners, keep your heads down, and try your best to keep yourselves alive. These are some of Abinchova’s boys, and they will put up one fuck of a fight.”
A sharp whistle rang through the forest, easily mistaken for a bird call. That was the signal from the advance scouts.
“You ready, Lou?” a voice on my right whispered to me. I nodded, keeping my gaze locked ahead in anticipation.
“I’m always ready, Rush.”
I felt a pat on my shoulder, before hearing a Rush shuffle towards me a little closer.
“Same as always, my brother. Watch my back, and I’ll watch yours, and we’ll be drinking mead back at camp in no time.”
A small smile tugged at my lips, as I returned the pat on the shoulder in acknowledgement.
“Alright lads, draw swords,” the Commander whispered roughly, as we all drew our weapons from our scabbards.
I could feel my heart beginning to beat quickly, my gaze focusing, my breath shuddering, as I positioned my sword.
Through the snowfall, around the bend of the game trail, a troop of bandits began their march, no more then 200 meters away from us. Instead of a loud and rambunctious group of drunks and degenerates, what came through our position was a group of twenty, grim faced and seasoned killers. The lot of were heavily armored, adorned with heavy plates of gray armor, thick and padded gambesons underneath. The lot of them were adorned with pelts and cloaks, suitable for the winter cold of the season, which meant that they were either returning to their camp, or on the way to the next Rook to sack and pillage.
In the back of the troop, walked one stnard carrier, carrying a flag of black, a griffin skull in the middle, with Allerseen wildflowers growing from the sockets, a runic letter A engraved in the forehead.
The standard of the Black Talon Company.
Abinchova’s bandits.
Abinchova’s....
The name lingered in mind for a bit, before I shook my head clear, tensely waiting for the command. Begging for the command.
I wanted to fall upon them with my sword, soaking the ground with their blood.
I wanted to kill them. To kill them all!
The group bandits looked at their surroundings wearily, as if their instincts screamed at them that this would be the perfect place for an ambush, yet still continued to move onward, almost as if against their will.
If only they listened.
As the group grew closer, I turned towards the Commander’s head, and brought my lips to the side of his ear.
“Once the command is given, I will go for the Captain in the front and his guard,” I whispered as quietly as I could,”if the archers don’t get him, it would be wise to butcher the standard bearer first.”
“Yes my prince, the flag would be an excellent gift to the king as well.”
I patted the Commander on the back, as we lifted his head up in preparation.
He gave three, loud audible clicks.
Just three.
That’s all it took for a bloodbath to begin.
Not even a second passed after the click of the Commander’s tongue that bolts of crossbows from both sides of the path flew into the group of bandits below.
Screams of agony followed not long after.
The ten seconds we needed to count seemed to be the longest of my life, as I saw bandit after bandit fell beneath the crossbow bolts. Some were lodged into necks and heads, crimson blood pouring from the wounds, expressions of horror and pain etched on the recipients’ faces.
Others took bolts into the shoulders and torso, wings and legs, causing them to fall to the ground, grasping the protruding objects embedded in their flesh as they yelled.
Ten seconds had passed.
The lot of us sprang from our crouching posistions and prepared to charge.
“No mercy, lads! Kill them all!”
We all yelled as loudly we could, leaping over brush and rocks in our way, as we surged forward with ungodly hate in our hearts. We were all war weary, and yet still bloodthirsty, our swords and axes and daggers and Spears gleaming in the winter sun’s light, another volley of crossbow bolts slamming into the group before we reached them.
Time seemed to slow before I reached their captain, a mean looking griffon with three crossbow bolts sticking from his shoulder pauldrons, as I swung my sword towards his head.
I could see the look in his eyes shift from a snarl of rage and fury, into that of mortification and despair. He knew he couldn’t shift his body fast enough to block my impending blow, that he couldn’t duck his head quickly enough, as he was burdened by all the heavy plate he wearing.
He knew, in that moment, that his death was imminent.
And just like that, time seemed to speed up again, as my sword sunk into his neck, cutting through flesh, sinew, and bone, before ripping itself through the other side, sending his head sailing off into the shrubbery and his limp body crumpling to the ground.
Catching my thrust before over extending my reach, I flipped my sword back upwards, stabbing one of the captain’s guards through the belly, pulling it out and finishing him with a slash through the neck.
All around me, the chaos of battle rang through
The yells and frantic cries of the bandits were drowned out by the shouting of our rangers, and the clamor of steel against steel. Towards the back of the group, I saw the Commander thrust his sword into the standard bearer’s chest and rip the flag from his claws.
Turning back into the fray, I parried the sword strikes of another bandit before shoving him with my armored shoulder, throwing him off balance. Before he could right himself, Rush swooped down with his war axe, smashing it into his skull.
“You owe one for that!” He yelled, trying to yank his axe from the top of the bandit’s, as another one lifted his sword above Rush’s head from behind.
As quickly as I could, I threw my sword at the bandit, piercing his stomach as he fell to the ground. Leaping over bodies on the ground, I ran towards my sword, pulling it from the bandit, as I brought it back down into his chest, confirming the kill.
“Now we’re even!” I yelled back at Rush, pulling him back to his paws, as the two of us leapt into the fray once more.
We brandished our weapons, cutting down the closest enemies we could find, as we lost ourselves into the lust of battle.
I didn’t even know when the fighiting stopped.
The battlefield slowly became quieter and quieter, as the screams of the bandits devolved into gurgles and death gasps, until the forest became quiet and still, save for the ragged breaths of the soldeirs and I.
The hazy world around me slowly began to become clear again, my eyes beginning to refocus, as I beheld the scene before me.
Their was blood. Blood everywhere.
It stained the forest floors, the trunks of the trees, splattered on the bushes, and all over ourselves. I turned down, looking at my hands, seeing the color red all over my gloves and arm greaves, and dripping from my blade. Reaching up, I touched my face, and felt it stained and running there, as well.
This wasn’t battle, this was a massacre.
“Is everybody alright!” I heard the Commander yell, as he stomped up to the head of the battlefield, his armor clanking, he himself blood drenched.
A chorus of affirmatives greeted him, as well as several groans from the floor. He looked towards us, sheathing his bloody sword, and removing the helmet from his head, allowing his black feathered head to breath.
“Alright lads, let’s get our wounded up and tended too, and begin torching these scums’ bodies. I’ll need a few volunteers up with me to scout ahead to see if their camp is nearby, and if we got the numbers to hit it now.”
At once, Rush and I, as well as another ranger, stepped forward in front of the Commmnader, as he nodded his head.
“Aye, this’ll do,” he muttered, almost to himself, as he cleared his throat,”Alright, I’ll take these three with me, the rest of you lot finish up here, and await the signal again. If ya hear nothing in an hours time, return to camp and prepare yourselves. Understood?”
“Understood, sir!”
“Good, Good,” the Commander stated, reaching beneath his breast plate and pulling forth a clean cloth, offering it to myself.
“Thanks, Owens,” I said, taking the cloth, rubbing the blood from my face, passing it onto to Rush.
“Of course, my prince,” he replied, adjusting the belt along his waist,”bloody good work, as usually. The Rangers are good to have you.”
“What about me, sir? No love shown my way?” Rush asked, pushing past me in jest, his trademark cocky smile plastered on his face.
“Rush, your lucky the Unprince here saved your sorry arse, again,” The Commander grumbled, shoving him back into place,” I don’t know how you put up with this idiot, sometimes, Milord.”
I patted Rush on the top of his head,”what can I say, Owens, he’s my idiot.”
That elicited a laugh from the Commander and the other Ranger, Cormac.
“Well, boys, let’s ready up and take a little stroll through the woods, see if we can find that little ol’ camp of theirs’, and see if anymore killing needs to be done today.”
On that note, the four of us readied our weapons and gear, adjusting the cloaks over our shoulders, and walked off the path into the Nidstang trees, eager to see if the day would get bloodier then it already had.
Author's Note
well, this is the rewrite of one of my first fics on this site that I posted years ago. The plot has changed that it will work around the underlying narrative of my other two stories. I will be updating all three of these stories at different times, but timeline wise, In the Kingdom of the Blind is a prequel to Black Tar and this story. More updates for the other stories coming soon! If you like it, please favorite it and comment, let me know how it turns out, and like always, don’t be afraid to point out my shitty grammar!
The House That Sleep Built
II: Low the Daystar Hangs
“Hold. Do you lot smell that?”
We froze in place, crouching low to ground. Rush tilted his beak upwards, taking in a deep breath though his nostrils, his eyes narrowing in thought.
“I smell smoke. Smells like a campfire, with a hint of some kind of meat cooking. Definitely their campsite.”
The Commander nodded in agreement.
“We must be close. Cormac, fly up as stealthily as you can, and take a quick peek.”
Cormac nodded, fixing a bolt into his cross bow, and fluttered up into the sky. He perched on the top branch of a large pine, and peered into the distance.
“Laddie!” Commander Owens whispered harshly, getting Cormac’s attention, tossing up his spy glass up into the air. Cormac caught it in his left claw, resting his crossbow on a neighboring branch, and peered through it.
With his right claw, he formed a fist and held it up, flashing one of his talons, reforming the fist, and pointing towards the east.
“The camp is east from where we are. Maybe ten or so hostile there.”
“Only ten? Commander, we could take ‘em!” Rush exclaimed, a determined look upon his face.
Cormac fluttered back down, landing upon a small mound of snow and handing the spy glass back to the Commander.
“Commander, not all the members of the camp look like hostiles. Some appeared to be prisoners.”
Owens rubbed his beak, nudging some of the frost of the tip, a look of contemplation upon his face.
“Hmmm, this complicates things. Normally, I would have us pull back and retrieve reinforcements, but if there are prisoners there, we may need to act now.”
He turned back to Cormac,” could you gauge how many?”
“Out of the ten, I saw at least 6 prisoners. Two of them were definitely not our kind.”
I peeked my brow at that. Though we shared the souther tip of our border with the Minotaurs, it was still a very rare occasion that we would get visitors from other species within our borders. Especially during times of war of war .
“Did the other two look like look they would be merchants?” I asked Cormac.
“I couldn’t really tell,” he replied with a shrug,”I saw supplies in the camp, but nothing that seemed out of the ordinary for a military camp. Perhaps they picked them up during one of the raids.”
“Guys, we definitely have to do something now!” Rush exclaimed,” they could kill them soon when they realize that their comrades aren’t coming back.”
“Hush, you bloody fool!” The Commander whispered harshly again, grabbing Rush by the shoulder and shoving him back down into a crouch,”do you want the whole bloody fuckin’ forest to hear us?!”
Rush turned to me, a pleading expression on his face.
“Lou, you know I’m right. We have to do something now! We don’t have time to wait for the others!”
“Waiting for back up would be preferable in this situation. Even if we caught them by surprise, it will still be a hard fight,” Cormac cautioned, turning towards me as well,” if we charged up, they may kill the prisoners, anyway.”
Owens sighed, shaking his head, placing his claw upon the hilt of his sword.
“I agree with Cormac on this one, my prince. But, I leave the decision up to you. Whatever order you give, we will follow, just know the consequences.”
I now had the three looking at me, each having given me there own words of advice on what to do. I saw the sense that the Commander and Cormac had made, but I also saw the sense in Rush’s words as well. Either decision I made could mean the deaths of those prisoners.
I was at a loss.
I didn’t know what to do.
It felt like a Catch 22, damned if I did and damned if I didn’t. Yet within me, I still had the itch for a fight, to prove myself. If I could slay this camp, and free those prisoners, it would be a much needed victory during these harsh times.
It would be good news that my family and the kingdom defiantly needed.
I made my choice.
“Let’s hit the camp. Cormac will cover us from the trees, Owens, you’ll take the left side, Rush, the right, and I’ll head center. We hit ‘em fast and hard.”
The Commander and Cormac looked unsettled by the plan, but brushed past it and nodding in confirmation.
“You made the right choice, Lou,” Rush said,
“I hope so. Cormac, get in position, fire upon them when we are with 15 meters of the camp.
“Yes my prince,” Cormac stated with a salute, fluttering back into the canopies of pine branches.
“I hope you know what you’re doing, Milord,” the commander said as the three of us stalked off into the forest,” the lot of us could die, including the prisoners.”
“Do you doubt my abilities as a swordshawk?”
“Of course not Milord,” he responded in haste,” I know that our king spared no expense in hiring the best to train you, I just don’t think the numbers are on our side.”
“I trust that the two of you will get us out of this alive,” Rush responded, maneuvering himself so that he walked besides us,”you and Lou are the best swordhawks we have, and Cormac is a deadeye shot when it comes to that crossbow of his.”
“What does that make you then, laddie?”
“Incredibly lucky,” he replied with a smirk.
The Commander and I shook are heads with a small laugh.
“We’ll put that to the test right now. My prince, I lead the command up to you.”
Nodding my head, I unsheathed my sword, adjusting my cloak so that it wouldn’t be in the way of swings. Owens and Rush readied their weapons as well, as we approached the 15 meter mark.
“Alright, guys, are you ready?”
“Yes, my prince.”
“Ready, Lou.”
“Alright, let’s give them fight! For Allerseen!”
We charged forth.
The faster that we ran, the sight of the camp became clearer and clearer. As we got closer, Owens and Rush broke off into their positions, diverting their paths towards their prey.
The same feeling as before washed over me. I felt a haze flood my vision, my breathing become faster and more haggard, blood pumping in a frenzy through my veins.
That primal lust for battle that all hardened warriors felt encompassed who I was.
Just ahead of me, I could make the light of a lantern, finally picking up the scent of the campfires. A bandit sat in front atop a fallen log on the forest floor, his back to me, as I charged forward. Raising my sword and hit a as strong a heave as I could muster, I thrust it forward.
The tip of my blade entered through the back of his head, forcing its way through the flesh and bone, before popping out the front of his face, just below the his beak.
An instant death.
Yanking my sword back, I leapt over the log and the corpse landing on the opposite side and into the fringes of the camp. Three bandits sitting on by the campfire turned and saw as their comrade fell onto the floor, looks of shock and horror adorning their features, before they began scrambling for their weapons.
“We’re being attacked,” one yelled, before a crossbow bolt sunk into his chest with a hard thump and a spray of blood. Brandishing their weapons in anger at their fallen comrade, the remaining bandits rushed towards me.
Raising my sword up, I parried the blows of one bandit’s swings, maneuvering towards the left to avoid the other’s slash from his spear. Dig into belt as quickly as I could, I pulled forth a dagger, jamming it into the throat of bandit with the spear, releasing the hilt as well as the body and returning my free hand back on to the grip of my sword.
Around me, the camp was in disarray. Another bolt cut through the air, embedding itself the head of a bandit lieutenant. Cormac dropped from the tree tops, tossing his crossbow to the ground and drawing his own sword and joining to the battle of the ground.
The Commander and Rush had long since joined the fight, each fighting a foe of their own.
Down thrusting sharply, I cleaved the shaft of the bandit’s spear in two, launching my left foot fowward and kicking him in the chest.
The bandit lost his footing, falling backwards, hindered by the weight of his armor.
I lifted my sword above my head to strike the fatal blow.
“For the love of the gods, have mercy Milord! Please!”
And for a second, the thought crossed my mind. To show mercy. To be the better man. What would the Unprinces before me have done?
What would my father have done?
For that brief moment, I didn’t see an enemy before me, but a griffon, a countryman. Someone who I could’ve fought alongside in a previous life.
Battle marks littered his armor, eyes that shone with fear, and yet a weary resignation, almost as if some part of this griffon deep down inside new that this would happen, and wouldn’t be able to change it.
I almost lowered my sword.
But then, the other memories came back. The smell of burning corpses and blood on the battlefield. The screams of terror of innocent villagers as they were murdered in cold blood. The ringing of bells and clanging of swords and cries of death.
Thousands of lives taken by the claws of this very same griffon and his comrades.
This wasn’t a countryman.
This was a murderer.
A snark escaped my lips, as I brought my sword down, stabbing into his chest.
I did it over and over again, each time the bandit making a guttural grunt of pain, as chest slowly morphed into a bloody mess.
Every strike I laid, I yelled louder and louder, as sweat drenched from my scalp. I could feel my hair sticking to the sides of my head, flecks of blood splashing onto my face.
By the time I stopped, gasping for breath, I could barely recognize the corpse below me. I could hear is screams of pain echo in my head, his eyes rolling in the back of his head in misery.
Shaking my head, I felt someone’s gaze peering into the back of my head, as I turned around swiftly.
Before me were the prisoners, each bound and gagged, within the confines of a small, wooden pen, covered in filth. There were about six captives, two griffon hens, clothed in tattered rags of what used to be dresses, as well as one griffon hawk, beaten and bruised, clad in a light gambeson and belt. He looked as if he belonged to a rival bandit group.
The next three were very surprising.
A Diamond Dog was also present, his paws bound behind his back. His short black fur was hidden behind his layers of worn garments. Two his side was another Diamond Dog, a female, her white fur stained with mud and grime, her wrists crossed and bound behind her. The black one had placed himself in front of the white one, in a protective stance.
On the far end of the cage, was one of the Equestrian ponies. Obviously female, it’s teal
She was ill.
All the prisoners had looks of horror on their faces, as they stared at me, and I back at them. For some reason, I felt ashamed by their stares, as the blood dropped from my face, landing in puddles on the floor.
I must have appeared monstrous to them.
Before I could open my mouth to speak, a yell broke the temporary silence, before I felt an explosion of pain rip through my shoulder.
The blade of a bandits dagger plunged into my left shoulder pain, tearing in between the gaps in my shoulder pauldron and through my gambeson. The stab felt so deep, I swore that it connected with bone.
Howling in agony, I ripped around before slashing my sword downward with my right arm, catching the bandit in the throat in a spray of red mist.
“Lou, are you alright!?” I heard Rush yell from across the camp.
“Yes,” I replied hoarsely,” it’s just a flesh wound! Cormac, Owens, rally on me!”
The three finished their adversaries, rushing over to my position. As they made their way, four more bandits sprinted after them, emerging from a tent on the opposite side of the camp.
“Hopefully this is the last of them,” Owens panted, his armor scruffed and scratched from the fight. Rush and Cormac were in similar states, each showing signs of fatigue.
“Lets finish this lads, brace yourselves!”
Cormac grabbed a second sword from the ground, preparing both blades, the rest of us tightening are stances, as the remaining bandits fell upon us.
Partying sword strikes as quickly as we could, the four of us battled, sparks flying from our weapons from the force of the impacts. The stress of the strikes shot pain through my wounded shoulder. I could feel the wound ripping and widening, blood now flowing freely.
I could only grip my teeth.
“My Lord, hold on—“ Owens began, before the sound of an arrow swished through the air, and embedding itself through his eye. The Commander reached up to his face by instinct, before a sword swing from his opponent struck his neck, severing it his head.
Owens was dead.
Cormac yelled in anguish, throwing the second sword, as it planted itself into the chest of the bandit with a bow before he could loose another arrow.
Rush and I could only howl as well, anger flooding our vision at the commanders death.
The blood was back in full force.
Fuck the pain!
Kill them all!
All I could see was red. Red and hatred. I could feel the wet splashed of blood and sweat and tears fall upon my face and armor.
And, as if only seconds had passed, the world around us was silent and still.
I could hear the grunts and cries from the bound and gagged captives behind us, yet I paid them no mind. I fell to the ground, my knees squishing against the red blood and melted snow below me, as I grasped Owens limp claw in my hand, holding it tightly, as I felt a sob choke in my throat.
I couldn’t hear anything around me, I couldn’t trust my my vision.
I could catch the smell of smoke from the campfires and the of the carnage all around us, as I wept.
I did this.
I got Owens killed. The blame was my mine, and mine alone.
“Lou! He’s dead, man! We have to get these prisoners help!”
I shakily released Owens claw, it limply falling to the ground, before wobbling to my feet. Wiping the tears and sweat from the face, taking a long, hard breath and releasing a shudder, I turned to Cormac, whose gaze was locked on the bodies at his feet, his sword dangling from his grip.
“Cor,” I muttered softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. He jumped in surprise, raising his sword for a second with a loud gasp.
“Hey, hey, Cor, it’s alright, it’s over,” i said, trying to soothe him,”you need to fly back to camp and get the others, we’re gonna need some help here, Cor.”
“T-the Commander, L-Lou, he’s dead! I-I can’t leave him.”
“We’ll watch him, Cor, nothing else will happen to him, but we’ll need help taking his body back, as well as helping these prisoners. Can you do it,
He stared back at me, a far off look in his gaze, before finally nodding and extending his wings.
“I’ll be back as fast I can. If more come, fuck these prisoners and run, I won’t lose anymore of you today.”
On that note, he launched himself into the air, fluttering south towards our camp.
With a sigh, I turned and marched up to the wooden cage, which Rush had managed to successfully open.
Walking up for the group of captives, I unsheathed my dagger, clearing my throat.
“Don’t be afraid, my friend and I are not here to harm you. I am Lucifer, the Unprince on Allerseen, and we’re here to help you.”
Author's Note
New chapter. Next update will be for In the Kingdom of the Blind. Comment how you think the story is going and stay tuned for more!
The House That Sleep Built
III: The Night that Knows No Dawn
Walking towards the prisoners, I noticed that the two griffons expressions changed from ones of mortification to ones of relief. The two Diamond dogs still had nervousness etched across their features, but also looks that I couldn’t really place, almost as if I was familiar to them.
The pony still had one of horror. Tears were welling up in her soft eyes, as she hiccuped beneath the thick gag over her mouth. Even though there was fear in her gaze, she looked more tired and sickly then anything else.
For some reason, this broke my heart even further.
The Equestrians, though powerful, are a soft race, unused to the violence and harshness of the lands outside their eutopia. The horror that she felt was understandable.
Moving towards the pair of griffons, I lowered my dagger towards the hawk’s bound claws and cut the rope binding them together, handing him the blade.
“Free yourself and your companions,” I said to him, in as gentle a tone as I could muster,”Rush, give him a claw, I’ll.....tend to the Commander.”
Rush merely nodded, his expression grim and somber, and headed into the cage, as the Griffon hawk ripped his gag from his mouth, taking a deep breath. Cutting the bonds that held his legs together, he quickly went to work freeing his companion.
Turning my back towards them, I walked out from the cage, before returning to the Commander’s body. Kneeling by his body once more, I picked up his tattered and beaten sword, once a gleaming and vibrant blade, and placed it back into the scabbard attached to his belt.
Standing back up, I turned to the bushes towards my left, and began walking towards them, once again feeling the gaze of multiple eyes towards my back. Ignoring them, I moved to the foot of the bushels, finding Owens head amongst the thickets. His lifeless eyes stared up at the sky, probably the last thing he saw before his death, his last expression of pain frozen upon his face, as a small trail of blood stained the sides of his beak.
I stretched out my hand, closing his eyes with two of my fingers, and grasped his head into my arms. Walking back towards his body, I placed it besides him, kissing my fingers, and pressing them against the side of his cheek in farewell.
“I’m sorry, Owens. I’m so, so, sorry. Rest well, my friend.”
I could feel the tears threatening to spill forth once more.
Bringing my hand back, I moved to sit on a stump by the still burning campfire, and began removing my shoulder pauldrons to tend to the gash in my shoulder. Taking my seat, I heard multiple footsteps heading towards me.
“Milord, the Gods blessing be upon you!” I heard a voice call to me. Raising my eyes, I saw the group of prisoners standing before me, Rush remaining at the side of the Commander, also paying his respects.
“Are any of you seriously injured?” I asked, my voice weary and low, looking towards the group. Simultaneously, I began wrapping a torn cloth around my shoulder in an attempt to stop the blood flow. Seeing my struggle to do it one handedly, the Griffon hen leapt towards my side, and began arranging the impromptu bandage around my wound. I nodded my head at her.
“Thank you.”
“No, thank you, my prince, you saved our lives,” she replied, knotting the bandage in place before stepping to the side.
“Our friend, the pony, is injured and sick, she needs help,” the white female Diamond Dog said, as she kneeled to the ground, the pony’s head laying across her lap.
Grunting as I stood up, I walked over and kneeled by her as well. Her breathing was haggard and strained, with a faint wheeze accompanying each exhale.
“Do you know what’s wrong with her?” I asked, removing a glove from my hand, and placing it across her forehead.
She was burning up.
"We’ve been kept out in the cold for the last two days, with only a couple of furs to keep us warm. The way she’s breathing, I suspect pneumonia.”
“Hmmm, that’s deadly, even within reach of a doctor. Tell me, can you move?” I asked the mare, giving her mane a comforting stroak.
“N-no,” she barely managed to whisper, her eyes closing as she erupted into a coughing fit.
“We have to bring her inside one of these tents and get her warm. Diamond Dog, can you help me carry her?”
“My name is Kay,” the black furred Diamond Dog said gruffly, pointing towards the white furred one,”and this is my sister, Poppy. The Mare is a friend of ours, so of course we’ll help you.”
“My apologies, I didn’t mean to offend, help me grab her by the—“
“No, Lou, you are wounded, I’ll help Kay carry her,” Rush stated, moving towards the mare’s side,”Do you think you two can make a fire by the tent entrance so we can get some warmth by her?”
The two other griffons nodded swiftly, fluttering off towards the campfire, bringing extra wood and make a shift torch to start the next one with. Kay and Rush each grabbed half of the mare’s body, gently lifted her up and carried her into one of the cleaner tents within the camp, followed closely by Poppy.
Giving one last look towards Owens’s body, I followed them into the tent as well, hunkering down onto the floor, as the two griffons built a new fire.
“Thank you for the assistance with the fire, Mr.—“
“Cassius, my prince, my name is Cassius, and this is my mate, Amelia.”
“It’s an honor, my prince,” the Amelia said, her and Cassius once again bowing low in reverence.
“Rise, you two, and sit by the fire with us,” I replied back, patting the spot on my left, as I knelt besides the mare, “Rush, see if you can find some food and a pot of water, as well as some clean rags.”
“Yes, Milord.”
“My prince, allow me to go with him, I can show him where these bastards kept the lauder and provisions,” Cassius suggested.
I nodded my head in appreciation, as the two exited the tent and out into the camp.
“God’s, I hope Cormac returns soon.”
Returning my attention to the mare, I grasped a pile of furs, layering her chilled body, and folding one up, placing it underneath her head. Though she appeared far from a child, the mare was young, obviously only a few years out of adulthood.
“Don’t worry, little one, I have others coming as we speak, we’ll make you well again.”
The mare offered a weak, yet sincere smile. I returned it as best as I could, before closing her eyes and drifting off into a soft sleep.
“What’s her name?” I asked the Diamond Dogs behind me, watching me as I tended their friend.
“Dew Drop, er, my prince,” Kay remarked awkwardk, causing me to raise an eyebrow.
Sighing, I understood their confusion.
“ I take it that you’ve never seen another one of my kind before—“
“No, it’s not that, we have,” Poppy exclaimed, excitedly,”you look just like our baby brother, Mazbeth!”
Now it was my turn to look astonished.
“W-what?!”
“She’s right,” Kay replied, stiffening up and adjusting the furs he wore over his shoulders,”though his skin is much more tan, and eyes and hair are different, he’s exactly the same species as you.”
“Where did you find him? Who are you two?”
“Well, our Mah and Pah found him in the southern forest in the Gem Vale, almost 17 years ago now. You ever hear of Raynard of Clan Pyrite?”
I nodded in confirmation.
“Yeah, I own a few swords from his workshop. You’re his children?”
“Indeed we are,” Poppy replied, as she shuffled closer to Kay for warmth,”he adopted our baby brother and we’ve been a family ever since.”
“Yet still,who are you two? And I don’t mean just your names. What are you doing in Allerseen? The Gem Vale is many leagues south of here.”
“I am.....I was a Knight in the service of King Ector the Great, but....circumstances forced me and my sister here out of the Gem Vale, along with our parents.”
I pondered on his meaning as a former knight, but chose not to seek into his business.
“And why are you here in my Kingdom? You do know the state of it currently, so now wouldn’t be a wise time for visitors to the North.”
“We were taken here against our will,” Poppy stated, sadly,”we were forced to flee from our home, and ran into Minotaur slavers on the Gem Vale’s northern border. They split all of us up, so our parents could be anywhere.”
By this time, tears began to flow from her eyes, as Amelia reached out and placed a comforting paw around her shoulders.
“It’s ok dear, you’re safe now.”
“My apologies, you two,” I replied to them. Slavery had been banned from Allerseen centuries ago, and it always made a knot appear in my stomach to know that some kingdoms still relished in the trade.
“It’s alright,”Kay replied with a sigh,”it’s just been a rough few weeks. By the time we were captured, Dew Drop here had already been enslaved for a month, so if anything, she’s had the worst of it. They intended to sell us at an Auction in the Minotaur Capital, but were diverted up north to parlay with the Slave Captain’s associate, a Griffon named Abinchova.”
“What the fuck, Abinchova deals in slaves?!” I exclaimed, anger lacing my throat, startling the three of them with my sudden outburst.
“Easy there,” Kay replied, raising his paws defensively,” I don’t know much about him, but I take it that you do. All I know is that it seemed to be a set up, because Abinchova turned on the Slavers and killed most of them. They left no survivors. Hell, they even freed some of the slaves as well.”
“And why not you and your companions?”
“I don’t know,” He replied with a shrug,”all of this happened a few days ago. Perhaps he thought he could trade us back to King Ector for a profit, perhaps he just hates foreigners.”
“And what of you, Amelia? How did you and Cassius end up here.”
Amelia released Poppy, crossing her forearms and bringing them closer to her body. A look of sadness crossed her face.
“Our Rook was sacked a few days back. The Black Talon Company burned it, took food and gold and weapons, even some of our people. They killed the rest, Cassius’s father, included. They supposedly took the prisoners to a bigger camp somewhere deeper in Nidstang, but where, I don’t know. This camp was just a temporary one before the lot here moved onto the bigger one.”
“Yeah, we ran into the rest of the host here a few hours back. We butchered them all.”
“Good,” Amelia spat, her look of sadness shifting to a look of anger,”those beasts deserve nothing less.”
Rush and Cassius entered the tent, carrying a large pot of water, as well as a small sack. Placing the pot upon the fire pit, Rush opened the sack, pulling forth a loaf of bread, and began to tear it into chunks.
"We managed to find a few things; some bread and veggies, and a bit of meat, but we thought it would be inappropriate to eat it with the mare here. It’s not much, but it’ll tide us over until help help arrives.”
“Good job, you two,”I said in gratitude, accepting a chunk of bread, taking small bites. It felt good to get food back into my stomach; I hadn’t realized how hungry I had become.
A silence fell upon the group of us as we ate, besides the wheezing snores of Dew Drop, as if each of us was attempting to process all that had happened to us during the last few days.
“Are you really the prince of these lands?” A voice peirced the silence, gathering the attentions of the others. Moving towards the pot of warm water, I removed a clean, damp cloth from its depths, straining it, and placing it on Dew’s forehead.
“I’m not a prince, I’m an Unprince.”
The two Diamond Dogs cocked an eyebrow in confusion at that.
“What’s an Unprince?” Poppy asked, curiously.
“Allerseen is a griffon Kingdom, always has been, and only griffons can become royalty. Since I’m not a griffon, but was adopted by the royal family, I hold no real authority over the governance of the country.”
Shifting the furs on Dew again, I reached into the pot again, removing another damp cloth, and began wiping my face with it, tossing it aside when it turned red from the old blood.
“I have no claim of inheritance to the throne, even though I’m the oldest, and though I have access to the royal treasury, it is frowned upon for me to take any large sums. I only have any real say in matters of military, and that’s fine with me.”
“Have their been other Unprinces?” Kay asked, fascinated by the new information he had learned of his new companion.
"Their have been several throughout Allerseen's history," I replied," Though they appeared far and few in-between. I'm the last one that has appeared within this century. Unprinces are said to bring ill omens to the kingdom, so many of them before me did not live long lives."
The group, minus Rush, looked horrified at that answer,
"They were murdered?!"
I could only nod in affirmation. I honestly did not like to think on the fates of my predecessors, finding the topic depressing, but every once in awhile, i would lie awake in bed, wondering if it would be my last night rest, before an assassins blade would cut me down.
"Some, yes, others died in battle. My namesake, Lucifer, was the first recorded Unprince of Allerseen, many hundreds of years ago, and arguably one of the greatest, and he was killed by our his own friends. even now, some of the kingdom blame the Civil War that just ended on my existence."
"That's horrible, how could they think such a thing like that on their own royalty?" Poppy asked in shock, while Cassius and Amelia could only shake their heads.
"Our kingdom is a slow one to change, honey," Amelia said," They don't call us The Forgotten Kingdom for nothing. Just know, Milord, that we think no such of you. You are good hawk, and has only strived to do right by the kingdom."
Cassius nodded in agreement, a small smile upon his face," You're a good lad, my prince, the King has done right by you raising you so."
When those words were spoken to me, I felt truly touched by them. Though I was treated with respect by the nobility, and with honor by my fellow soldiers, it was very rare that words like that were spoken to me by griffons that weren't family.
"Thank you, you two, I-" before i could finish, the sound of wings and cluttering armor dully reverberated through the air> It couldn't have been, Cormac, he would've barely made it to camp by now. If not our fellow rangers, then....
Oh gods, no.
"Rush, bandits are approaching!" I yelled, springing to my feet and drawing my sword.
"Gods damnit!," He yelled, also springing up, reaching for the axe that hung on his side.
Turning to the group, i addressed them quickly,"Alright, you lot stay here, we'll try and hold them off as long as we can, buy you guys some time! If your quick enough, head south past the main road, and hopefully you can run into our reinforcements!"
"Fuck that, I won't leave you two here after saving our hides! I'm a knight, I can fight! we'd rather fight then go back to becoming slaves to these bastards again!"
Turning to Cassius, he grunted in agreement, reaching for a spear that lay against one of sides of the tent.
"Besides, if we fled, we'd have to leave Dew here, and we won't abandon her," Poppy cried," If we're gonna die, we'll die fighting!"
Sighing, I tossed two short swords to the pair of siblings, turning to address Amelia.
"At least, you stay here and keep Dew safe, if any luck, we'll stall them enough for Cormac, to return."
Amelia nodded, draping a protective wing over Dew's shivering body.
"I'll protect her with my life."
I truly admired her bravery, all of their bravery. It would've made Owens proud.
"Alright, lets go meet our guests," I muttered, feeling the pain return to my shoulder as I lifted my cloak across my back, "Let's not keep them waiting."
With that, the group of exited the tent, only to met with a host of bandits. At least thirty of the bastards landed in the clearing in the middle of the camp, The Black Talon Company banners fluttering in the winter breeze. Each bandit armored and angered, beholding the body of many of the fellow soldiers sprawled about the camp.
And then, he appeared. The small crowd began to part, as a average sized griffon emerged from the middle. His white feathered head struck out from the layers of heavy armor and furs that he wore, a large scar running down the length his beak.
He was not or grizzled, but fairly young and in his prime. Even handsome, by griffon standards. A cloak of crimson was draped over him, as we walked towards, his somber green eyes beholding the group of us before him.
It was in that look, that the griffon I once called my truest friend flashed before my eyes, appearing like he had all those years ago.
"Hey Lou," I heard him call to me, sadness laced in his throat. sadness that I felt to. I could only clench my fists as i looked at him.
"Hello, Abinchova."
Author's Note
I couldn't resist but update this story again. I guess im just feeling nostalgic for the original one I wrote back years ago.
The House That Sleep Built
IV: The Sparrows and the Nightingales
There was a tense silence between the two groups, neither of us making a move towards the other, as we each waited with our weapons at the ready. It was clear to see that each side of us was prepared for a fight, and that both them and us were eager to spill the blood of the opposing side. Surprisingly, even to the crew that he lead, Abinchova raised a claw to his bandits, ordering them to halt in their place, as he calmly stepped forward towards us. He moved with a calmness that betrayed the situation at hand, with steady, focused steps, his stare locked in no other direction but my own, with the barest hint of a smirk upon the curve of his beak. In response to the gesture, I nodded my head in assurance to my group of companions, allowing them to take a more relaxed position, while I made to parlay with the bandit leader, stepping forward to meet the hawk face to face.
We stopped mere feet apart from the other, the feeling of the cold winter wind blow around us, causing me to give a slight shiver of frigid discomfort. The wind fluttered whatever loose clothing we had adorned to our bodies, filling the still silence with the creaking of armor, the rustling of chainmail and the flapping of leather padding. Giving a quick glance back, I could see that Poppy, Cassius and Rush stood still and rigid, clearly nervous to the outcome of the confrontation. Kay, though, stood in a solemn stillness, patiently waiting with the sword he grasped at his side. His stance leant a calm collectiveness in face of the situation at hand, which was truly befitting of a knight of his caliber.
If he really did serve Ector, that it is.
I would have to have a more detailed conversation with the Bossk at a later time, if the encounter we were in was survivable.
Though the four of them were ready to face what may come, no one is ever truly prepared to die.
Returning my gaze to Abinchova, the two of us stood still, slowly sizing up the other, waiting for either of us to make the first attempt at conversation, to break the mind numbing tension that seemed to engulf the forest . It was the bandit leader that broke the silence between us.
“Well, here we are again,” he said in faux exasperation, the smirk he had suddenly transforming for the mere slightest of seconds into a genuine smile, almost as if he had looked forward to this meeting, as he planted his sword into the ground, leaning on it with a lazy flick of his tail ” standing on opposite sides of the battlefield once again. Just like old times, eh Lou?”
I was honestly surprised by the nonchalant way his comment was uttered, which seemed to be almost a friendly remark. The way he talked, and the tone of his voice, made me feel as if he wasn't talking to an enemy, but an old pal after a long absence from seeing the other. In response, the glare I had upon my face hardened at his comment,
“You chose your side long ago, Abe, and I chose mine.”
He gave a soft laugh, as he shook his head, bits of snow and frost shaking from his the tips feathers and falling to ground at his paws.
“Abe, haven’t heard that name in awhile. I think I can say that I almost miss it, just like how I almost miss you, Lucifer. Just almost, though.”
There it was again, that friendly tone in his voice, a tone that I was so used to years back. Back when things weren't so horribly shit, the Kingdom was whole, thousands more were alive, and when the days seemed so much brighter and fuller then they did now.
“It’s never to late to surrender," I stated flatly, trying to keep any twinge of emotion out my voice, in fear that an old fondness would creep into it,"We beat your armies on the Fields of Dis, Abe. You lost. Turning yourself in now would entrust my father’s mercy."
It was that comment that caused that platonic smile etched upon his beak to curve downward into a stoic grimace that matched my own. That twinkle of mischievousness that sparkled in his eye seemed to fade into the darkness of his irises, as his face morphed into a look of outrage.
“Mercy,” he spat loudly, so much that the bandits closest to him flinched in shock at the outburst of their leaders,”was Venom Falls an example of your father's mercy?!”
Venom Falls.
The mention of that name gave me pause.
Venom Falls was one of the Kingdom's, and in turn my father's, greatest shames in recent years, though at the time we felt it was necessary. The actions that we took that day to obtain victory in our war against the rebellious South were marked by gallons upon gallons of blood splattered over an insignificant patch of woodland in an insignificant patch of Nidstang. Sometimes, at night and in my dreams, I see the carnage and hear the screams and smell the burning bodies and the scent of untold carnage. I would wake up in a cold sweat, terrified and sobbing, as Gilda and Ellie would clutch onto to me in panic and unbridled sympathy.
Venom Falls gave not just I, but many hardened veterans of the Great Civil War terrors at night, that we feared would never leave us as long as we lived.
On that day, we did truly unspeakable things.
“You know that we.....that I regretted that. With every fiber of my being.”
“Regret?” He scoffed harshly, his gauntlets creaking as he tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword," You fucking slaughtered us, Lucifer! Under a banner of goddamn truce! A sacred banner of truce that even we rebels understood!"
As I faced the fuming form of the bandit captain, I noticed the beginning of tears forming in the corners of his eyes, as he snarled at me. The eyes are said to be windows into the soul, and as I peered into the mosaic of stained glass that was the soul of Abinchova, I saw the same look that I saw in many of the post war veterans: hurt, anger, and a deep tiredness, almost as if he hadn't slept in a lifetime. And, instead sneering at the display of emotion, I could only feel a lump of shame form in the pit of my stomach as memories began to flood back into my mind. Because it was a look and feeling and an aching that I could relate to, that I could understand and accept. I was tired, too.
Those were dark days, during the time that the ending of the war was within sight, and it was clear that the Southern province would see the faintest glimmer of a victory. Our tactics of battle shifted from a once patriotic sense of duty to reunify our torn country and to serve the will of the Old laws, into more cruel means of extracting revenge against the rebellious army that turned families against each other.
Venom Falls was just another example of the "justified" cruelty we used to end the war as quickly as we could, taken to a whole other extreme.
"Innocent Griffons died that day!" Abe continued, as his body began to slightly, yet noticeably, shake in fury, the deep look of sadness and fatigue in his eyes replaced by the hatred that he had so long held for our split in ideals, "Some, that you even called friends at one point, you bastard! I loved you, Lucifer, and I trusted you! Yet you, the hawk I knew and respected, even when we fought across different lines, died that day in the snow with all those thousands of others."
"And were you and yours so goddamn innocent?!" I yelled back at the griffon hawk, my own fists tightening in frustration," Your side committed atrocities, just like we did! Remember, you ignorant shit, it was you and your Democracy that abandoned Allerseen! It was you that abandoned me!!"
Once again, a tense silence befell the two of us, Rush and the others staring at us with wide eyes over our shouting match, waiting for me to make a move against the bandit lord. Abinchova's company stood at alert as well, shuffling amongst themselves. Some were drawing their weapons that they had sheathed, others rearming their crossbows with bolts, waiting for us to do anything remotely hostile so they could do the deed that they eagerly awaited for. Abinchova and I merely panted from our shouting match, trying to calm ourselves down and regain our composures, ignoring the ire fixed in our body language.
"I wish things were different, Abe," I found myself muttering back to him," Gods, Abe, I wish none of this ever happened, that things were just like how they were when we were young, and stupid....and innocent. I wish that there wasn't any suffering and death and this soul crushing heartache that fell over the kingdom."
And I honestly, truly meant that.
If any truth mattered in the world to me at that very instant in time, under the shade of the looming pines of the forest, it was that I and so many others lost so much during the Great Civil War, and that great many of us did horrible things in the name of our Kingdom. And that even if I didn't regret what I had to do for my family and my countrygriffons, all I could've longed for was that things could've been different.
I had his attention at that point. The cold look in his eyes once again began to melt, and a faint sliver of hope and understanding that I recognized in my old friend so long ago returned into those deep, green eyes of his. And that's indeed what I saw in tat moment, not a warlord or a marauder, not a butcherer who I clashed with numerous times or various battlefields throughout the years, but an old friend, a friend that I loved dearly. Which only made what I was about to say more painful.
"But it's like I said, you chose your side, and I chose mine, Abinchova. And no matter what could have been, and even though I did things I truly regret, the past is what it is, in the past, and we can't change what we believe is right."
And just like that, the light left him, the hope died within him, and that cold, hardened glare returned to him again.
"Indeed, you're right, the past is what it is, in the past. And we're not here to debate our ideologies again, are we?" Abinchova asked, finally straightening his aloof stance back up to a rigid posture, lifting his sword with him.
"No, I think not, Abinchova," I replied, feeling my muscles begin tense, in preparation to what ever strike that my old friend would use against me.
our statures mirrored each others as we once again sized the other up.
"You mentioned earlier that you wanted us to surrender, and pray upon the mercy of your father. Now, I'm asking you the same thing. You're out numbered here, half of your little troop here look exhausted and sickly, and if my ears aren't lying to me, the one you have hidden in the tent there sounds close to death's door. Pneumonia is killer out here in these woods at this time of year, after all."
Abinchova finally took a step forward towards me, causing me to raise sword in his direction. He fixated me into his gaze, his eyes, deep pools of green, almost seemed to implore me to see the sense in what he was saying.
"Drop the sword, Lou, and we won't hurt you and your new friends."
"Fuck you, you bastard son of a hawk!" Rush yelled defiantly from where he was standing, as grasped his war axe in both of his armored talons," I'd drop dead before I lay my axe at the feet of traitorous scum like you!"
Abinchova turned to look past me and cock an eyebrow at the outburst of my friend, before clicking his tongue in mockery.
"Oh Rush, how on this cold, frozen earth could I have forgotten and that annoyingly loud mouth of yours about you," Abinchova mocked in sarcasm, which seemed to do it's intended job of pissing Rush off " you know, I never did like you much, so butchering you would be more of a pleasure than anything else here. But you're not the one I'm parlaying with here, so do the world a favor and shut that damn beak of yours for a second."
Before Rush could let loose another series of expletives, I raised my hand upward to halt him from doing anything drastic.
"So Lucifer, what's it gonna be? Mercy or death? That's a choice that you far from deserve."
I turned back to glance one last time at my companions behind me, each standing ready, their weapons once again grasped in their paws and claws, poised to strike at the closest bandit to them once my command was given. And once again, the order of life and death fell into my hands. It was up to me to send others to die on my word, to bleed for me and for a Kingdom that would never know their sacrifice. The most likely outcome of this confrontation would be a lonely death, in a woodland glade in the middle of a terrible winter, nameless to the history books, as they lay in puddles of their blood staining the snow at their feet.
And yet, they were still ready to lay down their lives. If not for me and my Kingdom, but just to remain free of slavery at the claws of the horde of traitorous horde before us. To be subjected to such a fate, with all freewill torn from your life, was worse then any death that one could choose. I understood their choice, to stay and to fight, and to most likely fall, and I respected it.
I admired it.
Abinchova and I walked closer to each other, each step under our feet crushing the fresh powder of snow beneath my heavy leather boots and the padding on Abinchova's paws, until our noses were inches apart.
"We choose death, Abe." And with that, as quickly as I could, I lashed out my sword from my side, swiping it downward with as strong a thrust as I could muster, causing it clash with a loud clang against Abinchova's. Maybe, If I could kill the bandit lord, it would demoralize his troops and cause them to disperse. All I had to was----
In an instant, so fast that at first, I didn't even realize it, I felt a pain so sharp, so terrible, that it caused my breath to catch in my throat in gasp, to erupt in the middle of my lower abdomen. My eyes were wide in shock at the pain, as I turned to look at Abinchova again. He once again was peering into my eyes with his deep green ones, a small, sad smile across his beak. Tearing my gaze away, ignoring the sounds of the clamoring fight around me, I rolled them downwards to see a small hilt of a dagger sticking out below the base of my gambeson, with Abinchova's claw firmly wrapped around it. He slowly pushed it in further, as it tore through my gambeson and deeper into my flesh, causing me to grunt in horror even more.
"I know you're the better swordshawk, Lou," The bandit lord muttered softly, as he ripped the dagger out with a quick yank, before plunging it back in with a flick of his claw into another spot in my stomach, finally causing me to let out a shrill, deep yell of pain as the foreign object entered my body, "I know that I couldn't beat you in a one on one fight, so I took steps to favor myself."
Once he again, he ripped out the dagger, and almost like he released bonds that tethered me onto my feet, my knees buckled, and I fell backwards towards the ground. It seemed like an eternity before my back connected with the ground with a hard thud, and cloud of powdery snow erupting from the floor. I lay on my back, trying to reclaim the breath that the blade stole from me with shuddering gasps, not unlike a fish stranded on dry land.
Abinchova knelt down by my side, extending a bloodied claw to the side of my head, and began softly stroking my matted and dirty hair, slowly, comfortingly, almost lovingly, while my hands shot downward to clasp the ragged holes in my stomach.
"It'll soon be over, Lou," he said softly, continuing to stroke my hair," All the pain, all the death, all the sit, it'll be over just before you know it. You're right, man, I also wish that things were different. But I made my choice, and you chose that knife. We'll kill Rush, but the others, if they live, will be kept alive. You have my word."
I tried to focus on what was happening around me, but I couldn't think past the pain. I knew the others were fighting, and were screaming out my name, but they were fighting a losing fight, no matter how many bandits they felled with their blades. I could only stare faintly up into the sky, watching the snow fall from the dark clouds above, almost like little shooting stars crashing to the Earth. My hands grabbed into the snow and soil at my hands, looking for any kind of relief from the suffering.
This is what dying felt like? This is what I had been doing to so many others over the years I swung that sword of mine through the fields of battle?
"I wish things were different," He muttered again, as he removed the claw from head and reached down to pick up the dagger that was the cause of my suffering, and he raised up again, positioning it over the spot where my heart would be," But we can't change the past, Lou. Sleep well."
A loud, chilling roar broke the chaos of the struggle in the forest. The bandits who were restraining the others, and who were about to cut down Rush with his own axe all halted in place, each turning in all directions to see where the roar came from. It cut through the quiet again, this time louder and closer, until a horrid realization dawned across the troop.
"DRAGON!!!"
And, within an instant, the area was a glow with bright flash of orange light, engulfing a group of the bandits standing closest to the timberline. Their garments and skins caught fire in seconds, causing them to release guttural shrills of agony and pain as they burned alive. Another yet of orange light engulfed the area, causing more screams of terror, which finally set the camp into the frenzy. Then, the sound of war cries burst from the thickets of pine trees as a wave of griffons came crashing through the forest.
Cormac had returned, and he brought the Red Sparrows!
Abinchova turned his head to and fro in horror, still crouched by my side, as he watched the slaughter of his troops once again, either by the blade or by dragon fire. And it wasn't just any dragon.
It was my dragon.
My beloved mate.
My Ellie.
The world was a swirl of screams and smoke and blood, as I tried to move my arms, still frozen from the pain in my abdomen. But I had to try, to do something, to extract revenge, to inflict pain. My sword was out of reach, yards away from where it was flung, but as I stretched out my hands into the snow, the tips of my fingers touched something. It was a small branch, thin and short, with a tip that had a slight point to it. It would do.
Ignoring the screaming pain in my stomach, I lurched up, and grabbed the collar of the cloak that Abinchova had draped ovr his shoulders and pulled him down to my level. His vision was torn away from his surroundings, and once again we locked eyes. I stared into them again, deep pools of green, filled with terror and pain and fatigue and despair, and I saw my friend again. I saw him like how we was years ago, when we met against each other on the battlefield for the first time.
That horror that he would be killed by someone that he once treasured, or that he would be forced to kill that person himself. We both weren't ready for that encounter when it happened, each frozen, not knowing what to do.
This time I knew what to do, though.
I lunged my hand forward and buried the small branch into his left eye.
Giving a shout of agony, the bandit lord reached up to clutch his face, before tearing off from the grown and leaving my field of vision.
And like that, I was alone on the ground, the sounds of the battle and cries of war muting themselves, as I continued to stare into the chaotic mess that was the winter sky. How could something so ominous be so beautiful as well?
Then she appeared. Cutting through the smoke was pale blue dragoness, the most beautiful that I had ever seen, that I loved with all my heart, as she swooped down towards me. Her beautiful golden eyes were etched with horror as she beheld my bleeding and broken form, a puddle of blood growing larger underneath me.
Before my vision began to fade, I saw myself surrounded by many different griffons, as well as the two Diamond Dogs, all speaking words that I couldn't hear, all adorning expressions of alarm and concern, I could feel their talons reaching down to grab me, putting claws against my forehead, trying to stop the bleeding from gut, but my vision was fixed upon the beautiful blue dragoness descending towards me from above. If she was the last thing I would see before death claimed me, then I would've died a happy man.
"Lucifer!!"
