Author's Notes: Happy new year dear readers! I'm back with another chapter of Undersong, and not a minute too soon it would seem. Just had to sneak one in to commemorate making it through 2015 ;) A word of warning though - this chapter *is* a little bit darker than what we've seen so far, so be prepared. And as always, enjoy~
Undersong, CH3
Five minutes.
That's how long he'd been gone.
Five fucking minutes.
Talon's chest heaved against his ribs, the frigid night air blazing a trail of ice and fire down his lungs with every heavy breath he took. His arms trailed by his sides and were covered in cuts and scrapes from scything through stinging nettles as tall as his hips, even as his boots continued to hammer a steady rhythm into the soft, sodden earth and shifting stones underfoot.
He'd left the two of them alone in camp, Darius and his sister, for five minutes. That was all… to take a bit of a stroll up the ridge, maybe clear his mind and answer nature's call. Perhaps he'd lost track of time in doing so, brooding in solitude over the mission and all his misgivings concerning it. The night had been cool and crisp, the sky brilliant in its darkness, littered with stars… as well as an odd sort of glow that seemed to be stemming from the eastern end of the valley. Right about where Noxus would have been. Talon had climbed the hillside for a better look, only to spy several bloated spires of ash rising into the night… thick clouds pouring over the horizon, each illuminated in orange and reddish hues from below.
Noxus was burning.
Now he was running along the cliff's side and the river rapids rushing below, his gaze flashing skyward to focus on the flickering silhouette of the forest canopy. The moon had already crested over the trees, the cold light it cast filtering through the foliage in pale, silver streaks that seemed to frolic along the forest floor. It was quiet now. Far too quiet. Even the insects had stopped buzzing and the only sound Talon could hear now – other than that of his own heart pumping furiously or his lungs screaming for a chance to catch their breath – was that of the wind whistling through the reeds.
As if on cue a faint cry pierced the darkness, prompting Talon to hasten his already breakneck pace. Katarina. No doubt about it. Another bloodcurdling shriek followed right after. This one however, was far lower in pitch than the first.
Not his sister's voice… but not Darius's, either.
With a surge of adrenaline Talon bolted through the last of the brambles and shrubbery, careening straight into the camp's center… only to stop dead in his tracks.
A newcomer stood bathed in the smoldering glow of the campfire, howling and cursing up and down as blood dribbled down his chin from a long gash under his eye… and what appeared to be the business end of a tiny boot knife still embedded in his flesh. The man was stout, even hunched over as he was with his hands clutching his face and deep crimson welling up between his chipped fingernails. His hair was coarse and windswept, his wiry frame draped in serrated leather and overlapping furs of various patterns and colors, each layer seemingly more egregious than the last.
Talon's focus swept down to alight upon another form… that of his sister, battered and barely breathing, doubled over in a pile at the man's feet. Her clothing lay in tatters even as a ring of surly men in Noxian military garb moved to surround her, pinning her to the ground with the blunt ends of their pikes.
Talon's breath hitched in his throat.
Without hesitation his hands fell to his blades, but before he could draw them – let alone even process what was transpiring – something dull and heavy met with the back of his head. For a moment his vision turned red and his limbs went numb. Then the assassin's knees buckled altogether and he crumpled to the floor.
"I'm sorry Talon," came a heavy whisper from somewhere above. "But you should have listened to Swain." The butt of a great axe embedded itself in the earth next to him while an iron forearm hooked under his throat, dragging him off the ground and onto his knees in a brutal rear naked choke. "If you'd like," the gruff voice continued, "I'll kill you first so you won't have to watch her die."
"Darius…" Talon curled his fingers meekly around the arm threatening to crush his windpipe. "W-what… are you…" Blood began to trickle down his brow, streaming in thin rivulets out from under his hood and the top of his dark hairline.
"I'm doing what I must." Darius inhaled sharply, his stranglehold never faltering nor wavering, not even for a moment. "For the sake of Noxus."
Talon's eyes threatened to roll into the back of his head. It took everything he had now just to stay conscious. "W-what… the fuck… are you talking about..."
"Our people grow fat and complacent in these tranquil times. Our leaders are toothless. It makes me sick to my stomach." Darius grunted. "This is not the Noxus I know or love. But no more. The time has come to reshape and reclaim our home. Under Swain's guidance, we shall make Noxus great again." He leaned in now, his breath heavy against Talon's lobe. "The old Noxus is dead, Talon… and with it, so too House Du Couteau." The man's stony gaze turned to face the spectacle unfolding before them, namely that of his brother Draven clutching angrily at his own bloodied face as he attempted to pull a knife shard out from under his eye socket. "Draven! Stop screwing around and kill her already."
"F-ffuck me!" Draven cursed as he planted the tip of his boot into Katarina's stomach over and over again, his howling and bellyaching slowly giving way to a fit of psychotic laughter in the process. The other soldiers began to back away. "Bitch almost got my eye…"
Katarina groaned with every blow, her voice strained and weak, barely audible above the sound of her own breathing. That wouldn't stop a sharp cry from escaping her lips though, when Draven finally stooped down to take hold of her hair, only to yank on it violently from behind.
"I guess you like this rough shit, huh?" His words vibrated against the back of her head as he pressed his nose into the crease of her wet scarlet locks. "Me too." Draven paused, as if to make a dramatic show of inhaling her scent, then reared back and slammed her face into the ground. Hard. So much so in fact, that a dark pool began to spread in the dirt under her chin. Snickering, he hoisted her head back up to bask in the light of the campfire.
Katarina hung limp in his arms now, her nostrils flared and streaming thin rivulets of blood down her throat and chin. She was fluttering in and out of consciousness and her dirt-caked features remained all but obscured by a tangled cascade of matted scarlet, stained at the tips an even deeper shade of red.
"T-Tal…"
"Stupid bitch." Draven shoved her face into the dirt before rocking back on his heels and reaching up to cradle the bloody mess she'd left behind on his face. "Stings like a motherfucker." His other hand began to wander south as he did so, callous fingers prodding the curve of her spine and not stopping until they'd slipped under the waistband of her leggings. "Hey brother," Draven huffed now as a lopsided grin began to spread across those pearly white teeth of his. "How 'bout we… have some fun first?" With every flick of his wrist the dark leather fabric clinging to Kat's backside wrenched downwards further and further, slowly giving way to the pale, milky smoothness hidden underneath.
Talon could feel a dull ache in his chest whenever his ribcage swelled to fill the growing void in his lungs. "Draven," he growled as best as he could, what with a vise-like forearm cutting into his air supply. His voice was raspy, cracked and low. "If y-you… touch her… I swear-"
Darius wrenched his forearm deeper, reducing Talon's threats to little more than a stifled string of chokes and burbles.
"Brother, that's enough," the man saddled his younger sibling with a hard gaze, his demeanor austere and ever grim. "Let's just do what we came here to do and then get back to Noxus. Swain is awaiting our-"
"Fuck Swain." A sliver of saliva dribbled down Draven's pointed beard only to splatter between the dimples of Kat's lower back. "Crippled bastard can wait. This bitch needs to be taught a lesson first." With one final tug he corralled her leggings to the middle of her thighs, the curve of her bottom now all but exposed to the cool night air. "I mean… look at this ass. It'd be a waste to just kill her, y'know?" Draven glanced up now, reaching up with the back of his hand to wipe the drivel off his chin. His own belt buckle hung loosely from the front of his trousers. "Don't tell me the thought's never crossed your mind."
Before Darius could respond, a faint whimper wafted up from somewhere below them, prompting the men to cast their gazes downwards. Katarina had drawn in her limbs and begun to crawl away on all fours, lurching forward through the mud one miserable inch at a time. She wouldn't get very far though. No sooner had she started than a pair of hands lashed about her upturned thighs. Her skin dimpled under the heavy grip, the pain drawing another feeble cry from her lips as she slowly slid backwards through the dirt. Another warm wad of spittle landed between her legs and Draven reached down this time with two fingers to massage it into her skin. "Huh," he chortled after a moment, his lupine gaze grinning all the while. "Looks like the carpet does match the drapes."
Talon clenched his jaw shut like a steel trap. He could feel his blood coursing through his temples and his anger boiling over like an empty kettle left to simmer over an open flame. His vision had grown dim and blurry, whether from blood and sweat pooling under the rim of his eyelids or from the lack of oxygen to his brain was anybody's guess. His head lolled to the side now as he struggled to blink black the specters dancing at the edges of his gaze and instead focus only on his sister writhing in the dirt not twelve paces away. Fresh tears welled up in the corners of his eyes. He'd once sworn to her father that he would protect her at all costs… and yet here he was, choking on his own spit and blood, unable to do anything but watch as her body convulsed every time Draven's flesh slapped against it from behind.
"No…"
Talon grit his teeth and roared.
No.
With one final surge of strength Talon lashed out, slamming the back of his skull into Darius's jaw with such a forceful and ear-splitting crack, it might as well have been a thunderclap. The bigger man's neck whipped back and he nearly dropped like a stone from the force of the blow, his forearm sliding out from under the assassin's chin. That was all the leeway Talon needed. In a flash he was darting through the moonlight towards Draven and Kat, his shadow kicking up loose bits of dirt, sludge and fallen leaves every which way. Two soldiers appeared in front of him with their pikes set to skewer his sides, but that wouldn't stop him now. Nothing could. The blades bit into his flesh with wet squelches, each passing through the spaces in his ribs, but Talon simply lashed out with both hands and drove his palms into their jawlines, as if to force their freshly broken teeth into the back of their skulls.
Talon's body was all but numb to any kind of sensation now. No pain, no pleasure. Nothing. No, all that mattered now was to wrap his hands around the son of a bitch who dared violate his sister… and then tear him apart, limb from fucking limb. Talon took one more step, his hands balling into rock-hard fists, fingernails wet with blood… and then his eyes grew wide and he froze when something cold and metallic passed through his bicep, bisecting his right arm cleanly below the shoulder.
Time seemed to grind to a halt. The weary assassin glanced up now to see Draven's grinning form standing before him – pants around his ankles and cock dangling between his legs – reaching out with one hand to snatch a spinning scythe-like blade out of the air. Talon's jaw went slack and his blood splattered across his own face a split second later, a thick font of red gushing forth from the spot where his arm used to be. His clouded gaze passed over the spot where his severed hand lay twitching in the dirt and then his eyes simply rolled into the back of his head. He sank to his knees and swayed as his lips parted in a pitiful sort of half-grimace half-smirk, but his momentum continued to carry him forward right past Draven… past his sister… and right off the edge of the cliff.
Down Talon tumbled, down, down… his blood sputtering from his wounds in graceful, sheet-like spirals, not stopping till he'd vanished from sight into the freezing waters below.
