I do not own Inheritance Cycle it belongs to Christopher Paolini. I do however own the fantasy culture and the race that practices it.
Here ya go chapter 3 this was a BITCH to write! Hope ya like it.
Savagery
Chapter 3: A Strange New Land
Seven years later…
'Does this situation really warrant our attention?' A bored Night-Scale asked from her seat on Dra'kor's back.
'Rex Turok wants people he trusts to find out what happened to all those hunters.' Replied Dra'kor with his powerful mental voice.
'They were probably just eaten during their hunts, it happens all the time.' Night-Scale argued.
'This is true, but for so many hunters to disappear in the course of a month, and for them all to vanish in the same area is very suspicious.' Ris'ka told them both. 'That's why we're here, this isn't the work of wild animals Night-Scale and you know it.'
Night-Scale simply huffed at this reasoning as the trio continued to soar through the skies of Lizar'ik.
It had been seven rains since Ris'ka had survived the Blood Trial and returned home. The fact she survived shocked many in the clan, but not as much as discovering she had slain a dragon and bonded with its offspring. Her family was ecstatic, they greeted her with strong hugs and praise for her mighty deed.
On the night of her return, the clan gathered for a massive celebratory feast. Dozens of long tables and scores of benches were brought out into the streets, and the dragon's meat was butchered and served in all different ways. The sound of drums, didgeridoos and bone horns filled the streets of the city with blood-pumping music. But before the feast began, the clan mark of the Screaming Skulls was painted onto Ris'ka's brown face by the High Shaman.
She, Dra'kor and Night-Scale stood on a raised platform right outside Rexa'gula as the shaman carefully spread the paint on her face. He first painted her nose and the skin around her eyes black before painting the white skull on her skin, then he drew upon her lips the black line, crossing it over with his claw. When he was finished he announced her a hunter and warrior of the Screaming Skulls to which the gathered crowd roared in approval.
The three sat at the head of the center table with their family where Ris'ka told them all about her time in the proving grounds. After a while, her father and Swift-Bite stood up and commanded silence from all gathered, all eyes were turned towards the Rex's table. An uncooked slice of the meat was placed in front of Dra'kor, the hatchling dragon, (who was perched on Ris'ka's shoulder at the time) climbed off her and onto the table. He sniffed the flesh of his mother briefly before snatching it up and gulping it down whole.
The clan once again, roared with approval and the feast finally started. The clan quickly began devouring the large meal laid out before them. The large slabs of cooked dragon meat were surrounded by an array of eggs, all from different animals. Along with the eggs was one of the only edible fruits in Lizar'ik, coconuts. These large, rock hard nuts were smashed or cut open for the milk inside them along with the soft white lining under the shell.
Bowls of dragon meat stew were served with steamed blue lobster tails. These delicacies hail from the crystal clear waters of the southern islands, where they are trapped then sold live in a multitude of cities, including Liz'ara. The meat in their tails is eaten first, and the empty shell is used like a spoon to scoop up the meaty stew.
Small chunks of the meat were skewered on wooden sticks with sliced cubes of mango (another of the few edible fruits) and river shrimp. These kabobs were dunked in bowls of mouse blood then roasted over and open fire. These went fast, as they were favored treats among children both for their taste and the way they are prepared.
The celebration lasted long into the night, many did not return to their homes and instead fell asleep on and around the tables and benches with full stomachs. Ris'ka and her family however, were not among those sleeping on streets, they had retired into Rexa'gula with the High Shaman several hours into the feast for another ritual.
Having the dragon mark tattooed onto her left arm.
The silver scar marked Ris'ka as a dragon rider, but the dragon tattoo marked her as a dragon slayer.
After deadening her arm, the High Shaman took a needle crafted from bone and started to inject black ink into Ris'ka's skin. The ink is taken from a species of fresh water octopus native to the rivers of Lizar'ik. For many hours the ink stained needle pricked her flesh, slowly shaping the neck and head of a black dragon, reaching from her shoulder where the base of the neck began, to her wrist where its open maw made to swallow her hand. When dawn came the shaman finally finished inking the mark into her flesh.
After the dragon mark was bestowed upon her, the work of crafting armor and weapons from the remains of the dragon began.
Using both her magic and own skill, Ris'ka crafted weapons and a set of armor. Using the scales, she made a full-body suit that gripped her form tightly, but did not restrict her movement at all. Then, using the shoulder-blades and pelvic bone, crafted bone-plates that were fixed to the outer thighs, shins, chest, shoulders, groin, and back of the suit using strong, magic enhanced glue.
A pair of gauntlets were crafted from the skin and bones; the fingers of which, were tipped with sharp iron ends to form claws, along with a pair of strong but light bone-plate boots. Ris'ka also crafted two bracers from the bones, but these bracers were not for defense.
These bracers would hold a weapon only bloodied clan members may have the honor of wielding.
The deadly Scimitar.
The scimitar is a wrist-mounted blade (with a slight downwards curve), of strong and sharp enough to slice a raptor's head off in one swing. The length and size of the blade varies greatly on the animal it was craved from. One of the most common and deadly weapons of the Liz'arin people, they can only be worn by those who prove their worth by bringing down a mighty beast in the Blood Trial. Made from the bones of their kill, the scimitar is often worn on both of the warrior's wrists to utilize their deadly skills to the fullest.
Ris'ka's scimitars were three and a half feet long. And since hers are made from dragon bone, they would be stronger and lighter than blades crafted from the bones of other beasts.
The blades are mounted on the bracers in special slots cut into the sides of the bracers that face away from the chest. They are held in place by a spell that the wielder controls, allowing them to either fall off or never budge from their spot on the bracers. When not in their bracers, the scimitars would be stored in sheaths hanging from each hip; these sheaths are often made using the scaly hide of the beast the warrior slew.
She also made a long bow using the bones and sinew, at least two hundred bone-head arrows, a dragon scale quiver, and a bone spear.
But Ris'ka was not the only one to benefit from this.
With the assistance of another dragon rider, (a bloodied from the Red Chins clan), and several bone and iron smiths from the Iron Hides, Ris'ka crafted a mighty set of armor for Dra'kor. Though he would have to grow to the size his mother before he could wear it, the armor was impressive none the less.
His mother's skull was made into a helmet, her lower jaw attached to it using the same magic Ris'ka used on her skull helm, allowing Dra'kor to bite his opponents fully helmed without hindrance. Using iron, scale and bone, her ribs were crafted together into a skeleton-like armor to be worn on his back and over his sides, it was held together by webs of strong rope that doubled as trophy nets. Armor for his legs, tail and neck were also crafted in a similar manner and after nearly two rains of hard work, the dragon armor was finished. The last touch was powerful spell that allowed the armor to grow with its wearer. This prevents the need to constantly craft bigger and bigger armor for the dragon. (This enchantment is also placed on Ris'ka's armor.)
Night-Scale received a set of armor with a similar look to Dra'kor's own along with a similar enchantment, but minus the helmet.
Before construction on the armor started however, the rider of the Red Chins clan showed Ris'ka how craft a saddle for Dra'kor that would accommodate both herself and Night-Scale.
A special basket-seat placed at the back of the saddle, where adjustable straps would prevent Night-Scale from falling off. The straps are designed so that a dranther can tighten or loosen them as easily as its thumbed partner can.
As the rains came and went, Ris'ka and her partners experienced many things. As the champions and representatives of the Screaming Skulls, they met with many different clans, even some from outside their tribe.
They visited the Ga'goyle clan, Razor Wing, in the Serpent's Back Mountains, and the Naga of the Serpent's Eye clan in the southern islands. From each of these visits, the trio learned many interesting and useful things from their winged and watery counterparts.
The Ga'goyle taught Dra'kor to fly with speed and silence, even when wearing his armor and they taught them how to tell when a storm is coming and how big it will be by feeling the wind and observing the behavior of the clouds. The Ga'goyle even showed them how to safely fly through these storms without fear of the strong and deadly winds tearing Dra'kor apart.
The Naga of the Serpent's Eye clan shared their knowledge with the trio as well. They're shamans showed Ris'ka, Night-Scale, and Dra'kor how to view others with the use of scrying and how to swim through the water with the elegance of a sea serpent. Ris'ka also learned spells from them; spells that ranged from healing grievous wounds to inflicting mind-numbing pain.
Normally, the tribes wouldn't share these skills with those outside their kind, but due to Ris'ka's role as a dragon rider she, Night-Scale, and Dra'kor were exceptions to this rule, along with her extraordinary skill in clan talks.
Ris'ka's skills as an ambassador were almost on par with her skills as a hunter and warrior. She can see the hidden intentions and desires of others as easily as a raptor can sniff out fresh blood. Just the simplest change in body language reveals a huge amount of information to Ris'ka. This talent is not just Ris'ka's to claim; through their bond, both Night-Scale and Dra'kor have inherited their two-legged third's power of perception and can use it just as well as she can.
This has allowed her to determine which clans are strong and which are weak, and help her father to determine which clan would provide the best fight for their warriors during the ceremonial clan battles.
The Liz'arin are a race of hunters and warriors and their thirst for battle can only sated for so long by the blood of beasts. To prevent their violent nature from destroying their culture and way of life, every clan in the three tribes take part in the clan battles. These are two week-long, rotating skirmishes that occur in the beginning and middle of a rain (a year) where clans pit their strongest warriors against one another in mighty battles. These battles are used as ways to settle grudges between clans fairly, keep their warriors strong and sharp-witted and just like in the Blood Trial, to weed out the weak and strengthen the strong.
All of a clan's warriors must participate in these battles, and the skirmishes are often watched by youths, elders, spouses and shamans. Each clan battle is limited to one hour or until one side has too few warriors to continue or forfeits, (however rare it might be). Shamans from both clans will then heal those wounded in the battle, and the warriors and family members alike will begin consumption of the dead.
There are several different battles that occur: foot combat, mounted combat, aerial combat, water combat, and magical combat.
Foot combats, as the name implies, are infantry battles and the most common of the battles; they are mostly comprised of the Liz'arin who passed their Blood Trial by slaying a great beast, though any are allowed to partake.
Mounted combat is mainly for those who tamed a creature for their Blood Trial, (usually a raptor). These fights are some of the faster ones; raptors jumping at each other with maw open and killing claw primed, riders with weapons raised in attempts to kill the attacker before they can, and dranthers tumbling around on the ground trying to rip out the others throat. These fights often last for only about fifteen minutes, before the wining clan is made clear. Like the foot combats, any are welcomed to partake in the mounted battles, all Saurous are taught how to ride raptors at thirteen rains of age and Ris'ka was no exception.
There are two other versions of mounted combat, flight and titan. Flight mounted combat is for the Saurous or Ga'goyle that have tamed a flying beast, like the long-beaked terradon or the fierce wyvern. Titan mounted combat is for Saurous who have tamed the biggest and fiercest animals Lizar'ik has to offer, the carnasour, troglodon, thunder-lizard, boulder-shell beast, dragon and more, all fall into this category (and like the honor duels, dragons can't use flight or fire).
Aerial combat is the exclusive combat of the Ga'goyle tribe. Considered the most dangerous of all the combats, it takes place high in the skies of Lizar'ik. Combatants and their drawk familiars will charge at each other with talons stretched out to strike, and crash into each other. They will then plummet to the ground below, all while they attempt to land the killing blow on the other before they reach the ground. More often than not, neither will land the final blow and will part from each other before they hit the ground. Sometimes however, the fighters will be so caught up in their battle, they don't notice the ground until it's too late.
Water combat, like aerial combat, is an exclusive tribe combat only for the Naga clans. Due to the many predators of the ocean, these battles take place in large, predator free coves barred off with large nets. If one watched these battles from land, all they would see is bloody water, thrashing waves, and the occasional breaching tail. The view from the sky would be only a little different; the waters would be crystal clear at the beginning, but would quickly be obscured by clouds of blood. This is because Naga fight under the surface of the water, where they can take full advantage of their strong, flexible bodies.
Magical combat is similarly reserved only for shamans. But unlike the other combats, magic battles are not large skirmishes between two armies, but two-on-two duels between shamans and their familiars. Also unlike the other combats, shamans can choose whether they wish to fight or not. Many believe it is because their connection to the Spirits have quelled their desire for blood and glory. But, when shamans do fight, the battle is a sight to behold. Lightning bolts, fireballs, stone pillars, ripping winds, summoned elementals, conjured storms and sky fire are just a few of the things one might see take place.
These ritual battles often leave youths orphaned, but this is rarely a problem. If a child and familiar have lost both their parents, be it in a hunt, duel, or clan battle, they are often adopted by other members of their clan. Those who have killed the child's parent and familiar will also take the child in. This is a Liz'arin's way of honoring a fallen foe; by taking in their opponent's child and their familiar cub, the warrior will train them to be stronger fighters than their deceased parents could.
Ris'ka and Night-Scale have taken part in many of these battles over the rains. During each one, they have led the charge against the foe with savage roars and lightning speed. Due to Dra'kor being a dragon, he can only take part in the titan combats. The others he simply watches from afar with the children, often letting them sit on his head and raising it high so they may have a better view of the battles.
Ris'ka was a gore-red and bone-white blur on the battlefield and Night-Scale was no different. Their skill and ferocity in battle earned them many titles from the warriors of both their own clan and others. Ris'ka earned titles like, Bloody-Skull, Lightning-Strike, Dragon-Fang, and Little-Whirlwind, (She is also nicknamed "Tiny" by Draigo and Tail-Swipe, much to her chagrin). Night-Scale was called Shadow-Death, Spirit-Walker, and Cunning-Claw. Dra'kor earned titles as well, Gore-Scale, Butcher-Claw, and Shadow-Wing were among his favorites.
Over the years the trio have accumulated many trophies, most were kept in the trophy room, but some Ris'ka hung from the rope-webs on Dra'kor's armor. Dra'kor took pleasure in wearing his armor, it was light but strong and made his already fearsome looking self even more terrifying.
But today was not a day for battle.
For the past month hunters from several clans have been disappearing by the score. While deaths during hunts are very high in Lizar'ik, they never happen in such rapid succession and there are at least two survivors (one Liz'arin and familiar) who return, but none from these hunts have returned. To add to the suspicion, they've all vanished in the same area; a hunting ground close to the Serpent's Back used by many different clans due to its abundance of game.
Normally, this would be waved off as the work of hungry predators, but those who neared the grounds smelled no Liz'arin or familiar blood and reported that the jungle was unnaturally quiet.
This is why Turok sent Ris'ka, Night-Scale and Dra'kor to find whatever has been taking the clans' hunters and put a stop to it, one way or another.
Since they didn't know what to expect, Ris'ka had dressed Dra'kor in his armor. Ris'ka tried to convince Night-Scale to allow her to do the same for her, but Night-Scale refused, stating she only needs armor for battle, not for finding dead hunters. Still, Ris'ka decided it best to pack it in one of Dra'kor's saddle packs just to be safe.
The trip to the hunting ground would have taken them two days to at the least to reach by land, but Dra'kor's swift and mighty wings got them there by sundown. Once they arrived they spent several more minutes in the air looking for a suitable clearing for Dra'kor to land. Once they found the clearing, Dra'kor began his descent.
He hadn't even touched the ground before Ris'ka and Night-Scale jumped off him and surveyed their surroundings. Immediately, Ris'ka sensed something was wrong.
'Dra'kor, Night-Scale, listen.' She told them.
They stopped all movement and listened to the sounds of the jungle…
Only there weren't any sounds, the jungle was as quiet as a tree-hole striker. Not a bird, lemur, frog, insect, or big animal could be heard, all was silent.
'There is something strange in the air,' Dra'kor told his two halves after taking a huge whiff of air. 'I can smell it.'
'Me too.' Night-Scale stated, lowering herself into a battle stance, ready to pounce anything foolish enough to try and attack them.
Ris'ka remained quiet, carefully scanning the brush and trees surrounding them for the slightest sign of movement or sound.
Suddenly, she saw a shadow move. With lightning speed, Ris'ka pulled out her bow, notched an arrow and aimed it where the shadow was.
But the shadow was no longer there…
Caution filled Ris'ka and Night-Scale, and they moved closer to Dra'kor.
'There it is!' Night-Scale announced, 'in the trees!'
'No,' Dra'kor argued, 'it's still in the brush!'
Shadows moved all around them, in the trees, and in the brush. They were completely surrounded by an enemy they could not see.
Ris'ka was just about to tell Night-Scale to jump onto Dra'kor before mounting him herself, when an unexpected and terrible pain shot into her mind. Her mental defenses were shattered before she even had a chance to raise them, and collapsed onto the ground with a short scream of anguish, paralyzed by the pain. The presence in her mind impairing her from even speaking. All she could do was glare into the depths of the jungle.
'Ris'ka!' Both Night-Scale and Dra'kor yelled, with concern and protective anger in their voices. Night-Scale stood over Ris'ka's prone form, growling and hissing at the shadows in the jungle.
"No move!" A voice spoke in accented and broken Liz'arin, "You do what we say or we kill her bad!"
Dra'kor and Night-Scale snarled at this demand, but reluctantly obeyed. Ris'ka was enraged, she desperately wanted to tell them to fly away, to go to her father, but the presence in her mind prevented any sort of communication between Ris'ka and her partners. All she could do was bare her teeth under her helmet.
They remained this way until the sun had completely passed under the horizon. As soon as the sky darkened, a figure stepped out into the clearing and once they saw it, the trio snarled in mix of rage, disgust and fear.
The figure was completely covered in gray and blue clothing, from its head to its toes. Even Ris'ka's sharp eyes could not see a single breach in the cloth, even its face was covered by dirty blue shawls, its black-tinted eyes bulged outwards like a bug's. A long, fish-scale gray cloak and hood was draped over its back.
The figure was a Dark One…
The Dark Ones came to Lizar'ik many generations ago, arriving in large, wooden canoes from a land to the north-west. It was said that they once were able to live very long lives, but they had no familiars, nor did they eat their dead. Legends say they mocked and insulted the Liz'arin's culture, and constantly interrupted their Blood Trials by killing the youths and familiars. Their arrogance and disrespect angered not only the Liz'arin Tribes, but the dragons and even the great Spirits themselves were outraged by their disgusting behavior. The Spirits cursed the first Dark Ones, taking from them their long life and the privilege to walk under the sun's gaze.
The sun became their worst enemy, scorching any part of their body that entered its light to a crisp. It is said that so many Dark Ones burnt up on the first day of the curse that the jungle smelled of ashes and burnt flesh for three days. By the time they realized what had befallen them and taken precautions against the sun's rays, the Liz'arin tribes attacked. They drove them far underground, into the maze of caverns and stone tunnels that lie beneath the Serpent's Back Mountains. And they have lived there ever since, coming out only at night when the sun poses no threat to them.
And now, Ris'ka was at the mercy of these monsters. More than ever she wished she could move, if only to tear out the abomination's throat.
More Dark Ones revealed themselves, completely circling the warrior, dranther and dragon. Over a hundred of the cursed creatures were present, all covered by heavy cloaks dyed either black, gray, or varying shades of blue. They stopped a hundred feet away from Dra'kor, all except the first one to reveal itself to them. It walked right up to Ris'ka and Night-Scale, Dra'kor's snarling head never left the Dark One as it kneeled down in front of Ris'ka and Night-Scale.
There was so much clothing covering the Dark One, Ris'ka couldn't tell if it was male or female. What she thought were eyes, Ris'ka now saw were actually special goggles, darker than obsidian.
The Dark One uttered something in its disgusting language, (its voice was masculine but also feminine, making it impossible to guess its gender.) no sooner did it finish speaking, thousands of foreign words rushed into Ris'ka's mind and through their bond, into Night-Scale and Dra'kor as well.
The words came with meanings, but there were so many of them, they confused Ris'ka and brought more pain to her already aching mind. Ris'ka grunted and heard both her partners whine and hiss in irritation as the painful transfer continued. Ris'ka did all she could to try and resist the flow of words, but with her mind being controlled by one of these disgusting creatures, all she could do was throw the words and meaning into disarray.
Finally, after what felt like hours, the transfer ended. Their minds were now filled with strange and foreign words, their meanings were jumbled and Ris'ka didn't have a clue which meaning went with which word.
"You…back to… home…." Ris'ka could only understand a few snips of the words, her mind was still swimming and she couldn't concentrate on what the Dark One was saying.
The Dark One rose from the ground and stared up at Dra'kor, who had just finished shaking his head in an attempt to clear his mind before glaring hatefully at the monster before it walked back to where the rest of its kin were standing.
Ris'ka's head was finally beginning to clear, when they began to do the most unexpected thing.
The Dark Ones started to sing.
But they did not sing like Liz'arin; they sung with a smooth fluidness that Ris'ka had never heard before. She may have even considered it beautiful if not for the fact it was being sung by the most hated creatures in all Lizar'ik.
The words were strange, they were not the words they had planted in her mind. They seemed to have a certain power in them, and despite not understanding the words themselves, Ris'ka was able to grasp what some of the words meant…
Send them away…
Light began to form around the trio, Dra'kor growled hatefully at it, but remained still. Night-Scale still stood over Ris'ka protectively and was whipping her head back and forth, snarling at the surrounding light. The light grew stronger and stronger and the Dark Ones sung louder and louder.
The painful presence in her mind was slowly leaving her mind as the song progressed. Suddenly the light flared as bright as the sun itself, blinding the trio. Ris'ka felt the presence completely leave her mind and screamed to her partners.
'Dra'kor, Night-Scale! Get out of he-'
The light enveloped them completely before she could finish her command and then it burst into sparkling dust.
And where the three once stood, there was nothing but charred and smoking grass.
Argetsúndav gazed upon the scorched patch of earth with tears in his eyes.
After so many generations of waiting and planning, their chance of returning to the fabled homeland had come. Ever since their ancestors had been cursed by the Spirits for their arrogance, they had been trying to return to the homeland. But the sun's harmful gaze and the Liz'arin's seething hatred for them prevented them from returning through conventional means.
But then, she came.
Twenty-two years ago, they had found the ravaged village of elves, too late to save any of them from the jungle's viscous predators. The only survivor was an infant girl, who much to their irritation, was taken in by the ruler of the Liz'arin and raised in their ways.
They watched with anger and contempt as she was brought up by the Saurous chief and his family like she was one of them. But they knew she would never be accepted by his clan until she had a familiar, something they were certain would never happen. However, the Spirits did not share their perspective and took pity on her, sending that black and white dranther to be her "other half" and let her partake in the Blood Trial.
And when she not only survived the Blood Trial, but became the clan champion many lost what little hope they had left.
But as the years passed, the elders realized this situation could be just what they needed. So they waited, and when the time was right, they set their plan into motion.
Through the use of paralyzing poisons, skill and ancient magic, they captured many Saurous hunters from many different clans. This was for two reasons, the first was to lure her to them and the second reason was to provide the needed energy to perform the teleportation spell.
Now she was in the homeland, and their plan was almost fulfilled. All they needed now as the Saurous king.
"Bring forth the prisoners!" Argetsúndav commanded his kin.
Almost all of the hunters and their familiars had been completely drained of their life energy by the spell and were now little more than lifeless husks. There were only two left alive, and they were crucial for the next stage of the plan.
Several of his kin returned with a Saurous and his familiar; his head was bare of a feathered crest, red paint covered the top, marking him a member of the Scalper clan.
Both he and his familiar were restrained by dozens of enchanted iron chains. The hunter was brought before Argetsúndav, where one of his kinsmen struck him behind his knee, forcing him to kneel in front of Argetsúndav, the familiar growled with rage at this act but could do nothing else. Even on his knees, the Scalper was a massive being, his head came up to Argetsúndav's chest.
He looked down at the scaly creature, who returned his stare with a wrathful glare that promised nothing but death for those who captured him and his dranther.
"You go to Rex," Argetsúndav began, using the few Liz'arin words he knew. "You go to Rex, tell him meet us here."
The Saurous simply snarls at him, "What makes a Dark One like yourself think I would do your bidding?" He growled out.
"We send his not-child far away," Argetsúndav stated, "If he want find her, he come talk with us."
"I ask again." The Scalper was stubborn, "What makes you think I'd do the bidding of a Dark One?"
"You no do what we want, we kill dranter but keep you live." Argetsúndav replied simply.
That was the Liz'arin's greatest weakness, the bond they share with the dranthers, drawk and coral serpents of Lizar'ik. So strong was this bond, if one of them dies the other follows almost immediately due to the shock. But not all of them do. Should one of them survive they will enter an incurable berserker rage, devoid of all thought, reason and distinction between friend and foe.
This was a fate feared by both Liz'arin and familiars, for if they succumb to the rage they believe their souls will never find peace and forever roam the world until they vanish into the mist.
Both the captives' eyes went wide with horror, then rage, then finally reluctant acceptance. He broke his gaze with Argetsúndav, looking at the ground for several moments before replying.
"Fine…" He hissed.
"Good," Argetsúndav then used the old tongue to remove their bindings before pointing in the direction of the Liz'arin capital city.
"You go now, others follow to make sure." He told him.
The Saurous hissed in displeasure, but wisely held his tongue. He and his dranther ran into the jungle, quickly followed by three of Argetsúndav's kin.
He looked back at the charred earth.
'We will finally return to the homeland.' Argetsúndav thought, tears of joy pooled up in his goggles and his lips curved up in a smile.
'Finally, we can return to Alagaësia!'
'…'
'….ka?'
'…Ris'ka? Ris'ka! Wake up!'
With a groan Ris'ka opened her eyes and was greeted by the worried gazes of Night-Scale and Dra'kor. She quickly pushed herself up and threw her right arm around Night-Scale and her left on Dra'kor's armored snout. Ris'ka let her relief flow into them as they did so with her.
They remained in the embrace for what felt like hours before Ris'ka broke it. She looked around them and saw they were no longer in the night shrouded jungle clearing they had been subdued in. Massive mountains surrounded them, larger than she had ever seen, they went so far up they pierced the clouds themselves.
The trees surrounding them were just as unknown as the mountains. Instead of broad leaves and long, tangled vines, the bizarre trees were covered by what looked like needles. The trees were shaped differently too, shooting straight up into the air like an arrow with the branches and needles shaping them to even look like huge green arrowheads.
It was cold too, much colder than Ris'ka was used to.
'Where are we?' Ris'ka asked her equally mesmerized partners.
'I don't know, Ris'ka. The land is unlike any I have seen or smelled before, we might not even be in Lizar'ik.' Night-Scale replied.
'I agree. The air smells different and the winds are much colder than even the highest peak of the Serpent's Back.' Came Dra'kor's elaboration.
Ris'ka couldn't believe this. The Dark Ones had sent them to a completely new land!
She finally noticed that it was no longer night, but neither was it morning. The massive mountains blocked the sun from covering the interior of their domain in complete sunlight, giving the area a look of darkening twilight.
"How long was I unconscious?" Ris'ka asked aloud.
'We know not, I was woken a few moments before you by Night-Scale, and she only a few seconds before that.' Dra'kor informed her.
Ris'ka looked around once more, the ground surround them was charred black for a hundred feet. She noticed her long bow was on the ground with the arrow still notched on its string, Ris'ka was relieved to see she would not be without a ranged weapon.
She picked up the arrow and bow, put them away and made to mount Dra'kor. Night-Scale jumped on his back and into her basket just as Ris'ka leapt into the saddle. As they strapped themselves in, Ris'ka conveyed her intention to Dra'kor.
'We should scout the surrounding area, see if we can find anyone who might tell us where we are.'
Dra'kor simply nodded before using his mighty wings to shoot into the sky. They soared for not even thirty minutes, when a familiar sound reached their ears.
The blare of a war horn.
Curious, the trio flew in the direction of the call. It led them to river flowing out of a lake. A large waterfall was present on the far side of the lake, and the river was flanked by narrow, pebble-rock shores that widened near the base of the waterfall. But it was what was on these shores that caught Ris'ka's attention.
Two strange looking creatures, leading a pair of tall four-legged animals, followed by a bright blue dragon. This group was being pursued by creatures equally if not larger than the average Saurous male, they were broad, gray-hide beasts with ugly faces and spiral horns sticking out of the sides of their heads.
'A dragon!' Exclaimed Dra'kor.
'One of those two creatures must be its rider.' Night-Scale explained.
Thoughts spiraled around inside Ris'ka's head. What should she do? Should she assist the pursuers or the pursued? The dragon marked one of them as a clan champion, perhaps it had failed to represent its clan respectively in the eyes of the horned-ones? Maybe they are from different tribes. Yes, that would make the most sense. The fleeing group must be clan representatives who must have insulted the other group and now they were being hunted.
The only question is why send such a large force after so few?
The trio watched from afar as the chase continued, the blue dragon suddenly took off and turned to face the approaching horde. Ris'ka heard the brown haired creature scream out in protest in the strange language the Dark Ones placed in her head. The dragon paid no heed and struck out against the horned creatures, who were now firing volleys of arrows at the dragon.
The arrows did little against the blue dragon, who suddenly dove into the river and completely submerged itself. The gray-hides were hesitant to advance, but one growled something out before jabbing its spear into the water, only to have it ripped from its hands by the dragon. Its comrades quickly brandished their own spears to jab at the dragon as it attacked. The dragon kept them at bay, but those on the opposite bank continued unhindered.
The two no-horn creatures were at the base of the waterfall now and completely trapped. Ris'ka suddenly noticed a third being, strapped to one of the four-legged beasts' back. They had wounded with them. Ris'ka suddenly realized what must be happening, these were not failed clan talkers, but refugees.
The dragon and these three beings must be members of a clan that was attacked and nearly wiped out, most likely by the horned ones. They were trying to escape death by running but were now trapped between the advancing horde and the descending wall of water.
This settled the dispute on whether they should act or not for Ris'ka. In Lizar'ik, if a clan loses too many members due to failed hunts, famine, disease, or battle they are to be left alone by the other clans nor take part in ceremonial clan battles, until they are at least a hundred warriors strong. Should another clan attack them during this time of weakness, their chief would be killed and their numbers thinned to match those of the clan they attacked. They would also suffer the shame of having their clan marks removed until they were deemed worthy to wear them again.
But these horned ones seemed set on completely annihilating these stragglers and the dragon, something that Ris'ka could not abide.
With her magic, Ris'ka reached out to the lake and called upon the Spirits that lived within its waters. She implored them to lend her their strength so that she may assist those being attacked.
The Water Spirits heard her plea and gave Ris'ka permission to call upon them for aid. She summoned six massive serpents from lake, made entirely of water. The display of power seemed to surprise both parties to a great deal, but the horned ones senses quickly returned and they roared at the elementals. With lightning speed the watery constructs struck out at the offenders, smashing them against each other using their strong, liquid bodies or pulling them into the depths with their watery jaws.
The blue dragon jumped out of the lake as the elemental serpents held off the attackers on both banks. Water Spirits are fickle however, and will only aid those who call upon them for a select amount of time before returning to the Spiritual Plane. Ris'ka knew this, and urged Dra'kor to land so they might greet the still stupefied group.
As they descended, Ris'ka noticed one of the horned ones had made it past the water serpents and was running towards the brown haired creature with a raised spear.
Dra'kor was about to reach the ground, but Ris'ka was faster. Using magic, she undid the straps around her legs within the blink of an eye and leapt off the dark red dragon. As she fell, she placed her bracers against her sheathed scimitars and fixed them to her wrists before whipping them out. Blades raised, she landed on the back of the beast with enough force and surprise to knock it to the ground. Wasting no time, Ris'ka decapitated the beast with a swift swipe of her left scimitar.
Dra'kor landed soon after the act with a thud and Night-Scale jumped off him with the savage grace of a predator. The two four-legged animals bucked and panicked but stayed where they were, the two furry-heads had swords drawn and pointed at the trio and the dragon stared at Dra'kor with a mix of awe and horror in its eyes.
Using some of the words the Dark Ones gave her, Ris'ka tried to convey their intentions.
"We no harm you! We want help!" The words were guttural and crude, much different from the smooth hissing and sharpness of the Liz'arin tongue.
"Who are you?" The black haired one yelled over the roar of the waterfall, she was about to answer when the blue dragon growled at the brown haired one. He turned and looked the dragon in the same way Ris'ka looked at Dra'kor or Night-Scale when she talked to them.
Arrows soared towards them, clanking off Dra'kor's mighty armor or flying right over them. The brown haired one sheathed his red blade and addressed the black haired one.
"The Varden… on the… of the lake. We… …. the waterfall!" He yelled, once again, Ris'ka only understood snippets of what he was saying.
The black haired one said something called horses would never go through it, but the brown haired one said he would convince them, and that Saphira can take Arya.
'Does he mean those strange, hoofed beasts?' Night-Scale asked.
'Probably, they must be their mounts, judging by the saddles.' Dra'kor stated as the black haired one removed the unconscious one from one of the beasts and the brown haired one caught it.
As they heaved their companion onto the dragon, (who must be the Saphira they spoke of), she jumped into the sky and over the lake.
'Dra'kor, fallow the blue one over the lake, we'll meet you on the other side.' Ris'ka told him.
Wordlessly, the bone armored dragon took off, but not in the direction of the smaller dragon. He flew right towards the clumped up pursuers, (the water elementals still harried their progress) and snatched one of the larger beasts in his right claw. With his catch in claw, Dra'kor opened his jaws wide and bathed those still living in an avalanche of dark red fire. They screamed and wailed in agony as dragon fire cooked them alive. After fifteen seconds of spewing flames, Dra'kor shut his maw and flew in the direction of the blue dragon.
No sooner did he pass out of sight, the water elementals burst apart, their time on this world expired. The few surviving horned creatures doubled their efforts to reach the waterfall. Climbing over their charred comrades to reach their prey.
'Ris'ka come on!' Night-Scale yelled at her.
Ris'ka suddenly realized she had been so focused on Dra'kor, she had missed the others jump into the water and now only she and Night-Scale remained. The two quickly jumped into the cold water and swam with the swiftness of serpents, the two swam up into the hidden entrance.
Eragon gasped in air as he was pulled out of the water by his savior. The sounds of combats coming from his right made Eragon turn. He feared an Urgal attack but instead was treated to the sight of the few remaining monsters being shot up with arrows. Many were still burning, while the others were floating in the lake, their bodies resembling pin cushions as the rest were trapped by warriors who seemed to have appeared out of the cliffs themselves.
A gruff voice next to Eragon, draws his attention away from the combat. "Akh Gûnteraz dorzada! What were they thinking? You would have drowned!"
The unfamiliar voice made Eragon jerk in surprise, for it was not Murtagh standing beside him, but a small man no taller than his elbow.
The dwarf was wringing water out of his long braided beard. Whilst he did this, Eragon took the opportunity to observe his diminutive rescuer.
He had a stocky chest, and wore a chain-mail jacket cut off at the shoulders to reveal strong, muscular arms. A war axe hung from a wide leather belt strapped around his waist. An iron-bound oxhide cap, bearing the symbol of a hammer surrounded by twelve stars, sat firmly on his head. But even with the cap, he barely reached four feet in height.
The dwarf looked longingly at the battle and looked to say something, before something else emerged from the water.
It was the armored woman who saved Eragon from being impaled by an Urgal and the strange creature that jumped off the armored dragon. They leapt out of the water with unnatural grace and turned to face Eragon and the dwarf.
Now Eragon was able to get a better look at his other savior. She was covered in what looked like scales the color of thick gore. Bone plates were held in place all over her by some unknown force, Eragon saw no straps holding them. Her boots were also made of bone; the only pieces of the armor that didn't seem entirely made of bone were the gauntlets, sharp iron tips adorned each finger, turning them into claws. The strange wrist-blades she wielded were also made of bone, they curved down slightly, and their jagged yet smooth look gave them a swept appearance. Hanging lazily around her neck was a necklace made of large teeth and claws. A large sheathed dagger resided on her shin, and a quiver of arrows and a bow hung from her back.
But what got Eragon's attention most was the helm. It appeared to be crafted from a skull, but from no creature Eragon knew. The teeth were as sharp as razors, and gleamed ivory white. The eye holes were large and the revealed skin around her eyes was covered by black paint. Yet the armor gave her a certain allure, beautiful but deadly, it reminded him of Saphira's own beauty in a way.
Eragon suddenly realized that neither Murtagh or Saphira were close to him, he drew Zar'roc from its sheath and looked around for both of them.
He saw them and the skeleton armored dragon standing before a tunnel, surrounded by a mixture of human and dwarf warriors. And a tall, purple-robed man with no hair at all on his head or face was holding a dagger to Murtagh's throat.
Eragon reached for his power, but in a sharp, dangerous voice the man said, "Stop! If you use magic I'll kill your lovely friend here, who was so kind as to mention you two are dragon riders. Don't think I won't know if you're drawing upon it. You can't hide anything from me."
The armored woman and the creature hissed viscously at his threat, making many of the people present flinch back, Eragon included. Even the bald man seem a bit taken back, but he regained his composure and pressed the dagger harder against Murtagh's neck.
"None of that! If either of you say or do anything I don't tell you to, he will die. Now, everyone inside." He backed into the tunnel, pulling Murtagh with him, while shifting his gaze between Eragon and the armored woman.
'Saphira, what should I do?' Eragon asked quickly as both the men and dwarves followed Murtagh's captor, leading the horses along with them.
'Go with them,' she counseled, 'and hope that we live.' She entered the tunnel herself, eliciting nervous glances from those around her. The armored dragon growled angrily behind its skull shaped helmet before following Saphira inside. Eragon noticed it seemed to be limping slightly, though he hadn't seen it get attacked. The woman and the creature followed after the large dragon, leaving Eragon the last to follow their captors/saviors inside.
"This way," snapped the bald man. He stepped back, keeping the dagger pressed under Murtagh's chin, then wheeled to the right, disappearing through an arched doorway. The warriors cautiously followed him, their attention centered on the two riders and their dragons.
Eragon started after Murtagh. He glanced at Saphira to confirm Arya was still tied to her back.
'She has to get the antidote!' Eragon thought franticly, knowing even now the Skilna Bragh was slowly performing its purpose on her.
He hurried through the arched doorway and down a narrow corridor after the bald man. A door opened into a large bare room large enough for both dragons to move with relative ease.
"There's an injured–" he began, only to be cut off by a sharp gesture from the bald man.
"Do not speak! It must wait until you have been tested." He shoved Murtagh to one of the warriors, who pressed his sword against Murtagh's neck.
The bald man clasped his hands together softly. "Remove your weapons and slid them to me." A dwarf unbuckled Murtagh's sword and dropped it on the floor with a clank.
Reluctantly, Eragon unfastened the sheath and set it on the floor with Zar'roc. He placed his bow and quiver next to them, then pushed the pile to towards the warriors.
The mystery woman however, made no move to remove any of her weapons. The bald man glared angrily at the defiant woman. "I said, remove your weapons, woman, or you will not be allowed to enter!" The bald man spat.
Before she could answer, Eragon interrupted, "please we need a healer!"
"Not until she removes her weapons and all your minds are searched." The bald man replied, still glaring at the armored woman.
"But she's dying!" Eragon replied angrily, pointing at Arya. They may have been in a dangerous situation, but Arya needed to be cared for.
"It will have to wait! No one will leave this room until we have discovered the truth of this matter. Unless you wish–"
The dwarf who saved Eragon jumped forward. "Are you blind, Egraz Carn? Can't you see that's an elf on the dragon? We cannot keep her here if she's in danger. Ajihad and the king will have our heads if she's allowed to die!"
The man's eyes tightened with anger. After a moment he relaxed and said smoothly, "Of course, Orik, we wouldn't want that to happen." He snapped his fingers then pointed at Arya. "Remove her from the dragon."
Reluctantly, two warriors sheathed their swords and approached Saphira, who watched them steadily.
"Quickly, quickly!"
The men unstrapped Arya from the saddle and lowered the elf to the floor. One inspected her face, then said sharply, "It's the dragon-egg courier, Arya!"
"What?" The bald man exclaimed. The dwarf Orik's eyes widened. The bald man fixed his steely gaze on Eragon and flatly said, "You have much explaining to do."
With as much determination as he could muster, Eragon returned his stare. "She was poisoned with the Skilna Bragh while in prison. Only Turnivor's Nectar can save her now."
"Very well. Take her to the healers, and tell them what she needs. Guard her until the ceremony is completed. I will have new orders for you by then." The bald man ordered the warriors. They nodded curtly and carried Arya out of the room.
Eragon watched them leave, wishing to accompany her. His attention was suddenly given to the grunting sound coming from the armored dragon.
All looked over and were shocked by what they saw. Held down by the dragon's front right claw was a Kull, struggling to free itself. The woman noticed this and calmly walked over to the horned monster.
"STOP! If you do anything I'll have the boy killed!" The man screamed at her.
She stopped, slowly turned to him and spoke in an accent completely unknown to Eragon. "You no hurt boy." She simply stated.
The man huffed arrogantly, "and why, pray tell makes you say that?"
She points up at the large dragon holding the Urgal down, it stared down at the man like a cat eying a tasty mouse. "You kill him, nothing stop Dra'kor from turning you to ash."
The dragon now known as Dra'kor, expelled puffs of fire from his nostrils to emphasize her point. All present paled, and the woman continued towards the Urgal with the strange creature in toe. She stopped when she was just a foot away from the beast before crouching down. She grabbed the Urgal by the chin and held it steady despite its struggling. She moved its head slowly, side to side, examining its face before suddenly letting go and moving away, the creature again following her.
When they were twenty feet away, the dragon released the Kull, all present shouted in protest and the warriors unsheathed their swords. The dragon roared at this behavior and everyone present halted their actions.
The woman stared at the Kull for a moment before raising her arms up as if to flex them. Then, she swiftly shoved the blades into two sheaths hanging from her sides. She removed the sheaths, along with the bow and quiver and even the knife on her shin.
All were confused by her actions, even the Kull. Finally, bare of weapons, the woman lifted her skull helmet off of her face and placed it with the weapons, (with the black creature next to them).
Everyone gasped at what they saw.
Her face was shaped almost identical to Arya's, and she had pointed ears, making her an elf! Her skin was not pale like Arya's however, it was an exotic brown tan, and her black hair was pulled back into a long braid. Her slanted eyes were green like Arya's too, but what surprised Eragon the most was what was on her face.
A closed-mouth skull, with the eye and nose holes painted black along with the mouth. It gave her the look of a savage hunter, willing to kill anything that gets in her way.
She suddenly let loose a loud, animalistic scream before charging at the Kull with lightning speed. The Kull roared in response, lowered his head, and charged at the elf. Right before the collided, the elf jumped over and behind the Kull. The monster tried to turn, but its forward momentum made it trip and fall. Before it could regain its footing, the elf pounced. She jumped on his back, the elf pushed the Kull into the ground. Then she placed her right foot on his shoulder, grabbed both his horns and pulled.
Eragon's mouth hung open, along with the mouths of everyone else. They watched with amazed terror as the elf proceeded to rip the Urgal's head right off its shoulders. The head came loose with a sick crack and a wet tear. The body fell limp as the elf examined the head before raising it high and roaring victoriously into the room.
'She is very strong.' Saphira told him with a hint of admiration in her voice.
The elf stepped off the body, tossed the head over to the black creature, then dragged the corpse over her dragon. Eragon watched as the elf threw the body into the dragon's open mouth, where it disappeared with a gulp. He could see the lump passing down its throat.
The elf then went back to where its weapons and helmet lie, she equip them all except the helm, which hung from her hip. With her equipment donned, she turned to the bald man and glared at him with murderous eyes.
"You no look in any minds." She hissed at him. "Or you shall face wrath of Ris'ka, hunter of Screaming Skulls!"
The man tried to regain his composure, but seeing that the woman was an elf, and a very strong one at that, made him falter.
"Yo-you will not be allowed in until we know why you are here." He fearfully stuttered.
The dragon, Dra'kor, turned his serpentine neck and glared down at the gathered warriors with a hungry gaze and a viscous growl.
"We tell our reasons to your chief, not you." She stated defiantly.
The man scowled with rage, "you have no choice in this matter!"
Suddenly, a black mass tackled the bald man to the ground. Eragon was shocked to see it was the creature that had been at the elf's heel. The black beast had clamped its jaws down on the man's right hand, making him scream in pain, before tearing it off with amazing strength. Prize in mouth, the creature ran back to its elven master and gave her the hand.
"You will pay for that! Kill the boy! Kill them all!" He yelled, rage and pain clear on his face as he gripped his stump of a right hand.
"You kill any of them and we'll all be burned alive! Let that boy go NOW!" Orik commanded, the man holding Murtagh seemed more inclined to live and released Eragon's friend.
Murtagh went over next to Eragon as the bald man glared hatefully at the dwarf.
"How dare you!" The man shouted. "You question my leadership, opened the gates without permission, and now this!" He raises his severed wrist. "You've shown nothing but insolence and treachery. Do you think your king will protect you now?"
Eragon saw Orik bristle. "You would have let them die! If I had waited any longer, the Urgals would have killed them." He pointed at the group, (the elf and creature had walked to stand with them, the man's hand hanging from the woman's waist). "We don't have any right to torture them for information! Ajihad won't sanction it. Not after they've brought us Arya."
They continued to argue for who knows how long before the bald man finally passed out due to excitement, and blood loss. The dwarf had the warriors take him away to be treated before addressing Eragon, Murtagh and the elf, Ris'ka.
"Forgive me, but until this is all sorted out you will have to sleep here for the night. I will have food brought to you." Orik said.
"Thanks you, small one, have much honor." Ris'ka gave a small bow of her head in thanks.
Orik seemed taken back from the comment before nodding back. Then he and the remaining warriors left the room and bolted the doors shut from the outside.
Leaving Eragon, Murtagh and Saphira in the company of an elf strong enough to rip a nine-foot-tall Urgal's head off, a jet black beast quiet enough to sneak in a room filled with armed warriors and a dragon large enough to swallow a Kull whole.
It would be an interesting night to say the least.
Author's Note: Done, damn this one was hard! I think I'm not going to switch perspectives with canon characters too much after this one. Too much work not enough kick ass! Anyway once again I have written my longest chapter yet coming in on over 9,000 words!
If any of you have any ideas thoughts about Savagery, please tell me them through either private messaging or reviews.
Also for those wondering: A dranther is about four-feet high at the shoulder, but Night-Scale is slightly taller. Their bodies are roughly seven feet long (not including the tail) two feet of which is their serpentine neck. Their tails are also seven feet long, to provide them with balance, their tails are extremely strong and flexible, able to grasp and hold onto branches just like a spider monkey. A dranther's head is much more pointed than an Algasaeia dragon's head, roughly the shape of a doberman's head.
They have very powerful legs that make them capable of jumping 50 feet from a standstill and 80 feet from a running start. Their claws are also extremely strong and very sharp. They are similar in appearance to cat claws and are between 3 to 3-and-a-half inches long. They use their claws to climb both up and down trees, (holding onto the trunk as they shimmy down it), and to hold onto large prey. Designed to dig and tear into hard scale, dranthers can slice through flesh with almost comical ease. If several packs of wild Dranthers made their way to Algasaia, local wildlife and livestock would vanish at an alarming rate. Coupled with their high intelligence, Dranthers are one of Lizar'ik's top predators, and will sometimes compete with wild raptors for territory and food.
Feathers flow from a crest on the top of their head all the way to the tail, they also divert a little on the front shoulders. The length of the feathers vary but they are highest between the front shoulders and thin as they reach the tip of the tail. The feathers can flex up and down like a cockatoo and ruffle to appear more aggressive.
I will put in more about the other creatures of Lizar'ik in my next chapter.
As always: please review, fav and follow Thank you!
DeadRich18 Out!
