No Hope
Roland slowly cracked his eyes open, grasping at his head soon after. He had the biggest, most irritating, splitting headache he'd had in a long while. It felt as if his skull was quickly closing, caving, in on itself. Those bashings to his cranium earlier must've done him wonders...
It'd only been... a few days since he was knocked out last. Why again? Why couldn't the world leave him alone? Why couldn't his trip be just a little more tranquil? It was already getting on his nerves, but this was... He didn't know how to describe it.
Something else started to irk him then; there was a strange tickling on his maw. He moved a paw to scratch at the vexing itch and was surprised to feel something other than his facial scales. It felt... leathery.
He glanced down and was shocked. There was a muzzle tied to his muzzle! He immediately tried to tear it off with his forepaws – struggled and squirmed – but ended up having no such luck. He grunted and growled, tugging at it with every ounce of strength his muscles could muster, but his efforts turned out fruitless once more.
There were no holes for breathing in the muzzle, either, so he couldn't pull it apart from the inside. There was enough room inside to respire through his nostrils obviously – he wouldn't be alive if that was the case – but not to open his jaws in even the slightest. He tried slicing at the straps next, as they were of leather too. But he couldn't. He looked down at his claws and found they were no longer there.
Those thoughts freaked him out. He speedily reached for his horns next. For a second, he was worried they'd been hacked off, as well. But once he felt the tough substance in his paws, he breathed a hasty sigh of relief. At least they hadn't been stolen from him.
Roland started trying to calm himself. He took a few deep breaths and tried to focus his thoughts on other things... He wondered where he was. He glanced around the room he was in; there were stone bricks overlaying the walls and floor, iron poles and a most likely locked steel door ten or so metres from him, and a corridor that seemed to lead off to the right beyond that. He was definitely in a cell. Why wasn't he surprised?
Roland continued to peer at his immediate surroundings. There didn't seem to be any other objects in the room besides a long chain and a large metallic ring attached to his neck, replacing his scarf, from the wall behind him and a slumbering ice dragoness to his left...
He gasped. He'd completely forgotten about her! Roland swiftly got to his feet and rushed over. Or, well, he tried to... He was barely a metre away from reaching her when the chain securely connecting him to the rock walls pulled at his neck and tripped him up. He lifted himself from the floor once more, furiously trying to snap the chain. It jingled noisily, taunting him, only adding to his already frustrated mood.
She'd received the same treatment as him: denied the ability to speak, her belongings stolen besides her ring, her once sharp claws gone, and tied to the wall via metallic link. He wanted to get over there. He needed to. If he could just awaken her... She probably had an idea of how they could get out of here! But this chain was stopping him from doing anything about it.
After what seemed like forever, Roland realised there was no use in trying to escape the literal iron grip of the chain keeping him from getting any closer. It was hopeless. He breathed a shaky sigh through his snout and flopped over, now trying his best to grab at her. She was so close to him, but he couldn't quite get his paws around hers. This was terrible... This was torture!
He tried to scream out her name, but it only came out as a muffled grunt. Again, he pulled at the muzzle, but his attempts were in vain. He did everything in his power to awaken her; he slammed his paws into the ground next to her, grunted to grab her attention, but nothing was working.
He wanted to yell, wanted to call her name, but he couldn't. It was impossible. If he had an element, he could burn the leathery restraints right off of his maw. Blast it off with earth or put a hole in it with ice. But no. He was cursed to live without something he truly needed right now. In the end, he stopped trying to awaken Ashlyn. He wasn't even sure if she was sleeping, anyway. She seemed so still...
And then he heard a groan escape her muzzled maw.
His jaw would've dropped if it wasn't bound up. He'd done it. He'd actually done it! Roland thanked the Ancestors for his fortune. He eagerly watched as her eyes slowly opened.
The first thing she seemed to see was him because her eyes quickly opened up wide in his direction. She scrambled to her feet, looking as if she was trying to figure out what kind of situation they'd been thrust into and what had happened to her. She looked down at the muzzle, peered at her paws and grasped her horns, all in almost exactly the same shocked fashion as him, albeit a lot faster. Despite their terrible predicament, he couldn't help but grin slightly to himself. Unfortunately, she didn't get to see it.
He was glad she was alright. The firearm that hooded opponent had used must not have been lethal. He wondered what kind of weapon was capable of knocking someone unconscious like that. It'd seemed like any old pistol at the time. Maybe he wasn't observant enough.
After Ashlyn had seemed to have calmed herself down, she paced over to him and put a paw atop his. She looked as if she was trying to offer him a smile, but it was difficult to tell. Still, he tried to look as happy as he possibly could for her and he received quite the joyful reaction in response. He guessed he'd done something right. Somehow...
She released his paw and instead placed it under her chin, showing signs of being in thought. Through an educated guess, he knew she was trying to think of way out of their third cell. Roland got the feeling that making a getaway would be fairly dissimilar to the past couple of times. There wouldn't be an unfair trial and banishment. There wouldn't be an Atlawan blacksmith to rescue them. There wouldn't be anybody helpful for miles. They would have to make it out by themselves.
Ashlyn seemed to think up an idea at that moment, judging by the cheerful look in her eyes. Roland curiously tilted his head rightward, wondering what she had in mind. Not being able to answer, she went through with whatever her master plan was. It involved closing her eyes and... choking on something? She looked like she was trying to regurgitate a past meal, but couldn't possibly do so because of her face brace.
He was concerned at once. Was she trying to suffocate herself? He grunted fretfully, attempting to stop her, but she raised a paw before he could do anything else. She must've been in control. He let it slide for now, although he still insisted on watching her with just as much apprehension.
Ashlyn drew her head back and from behind her muzzle, a muffled splutter escaped her mouth. He wanted to put an end to her actions – she was giving him the impression that whatever she was aiming to do was hurting her – but he was certain she would only be maddened by him. Plus, she appeared to be almost done...
With one more heavy cough, Ashlyn sent a paper-thin shard of ice soaring into the wall right of Roland, ripping a little hole in the material holding her maw together. She'd actually managed to open it up! Roland wanted to shout out in glee. He guessed it was some kind of pressure she'd built up inside of the muzzle.
Next, she got down on her elbows and fitted her forepaws inside the tiny slit the ice had created, where she started trying to rip it to shreds from the inside-out. And only seconds later, she'd succeeded in doing what she'd intended to do. With her strength alone, she'd severed it in two. It was still fastened to her face, but she could open her mouth up now. Roland was beyond excited for her.
"That feels so much better," she said jovially, albeit quietly. If there was anyone around, it made sense as to not alert them to their impending escape. "I'll see if I can get yours off now."
Roland nodded happily. She opened her maw once again and summoned an icicle. Instead of letting it careen into the rightmost wall, this time she let it drop to the brick floor. It looked similar in appearance to that of a small blade.
"Just hold still, Roland." She gave him a reassuring smile. "I'm going to have to cut it off."
Roland did as he was asked. She carefully slid the blade under the strap on the top of his skull. He was more worried about having a brain freeze than being sliced open; the icicle was dreadfully cold atop his head. Still, he trusted her. It wasn't like he had much of a choice if he wanted to free his maw, anyway. He knew she wouldn't injure him. Well, at least not on purpose...
At that moment, he felt the muzzle loosen. He was immediately grateful; just one more slice would do the trick. And before he could even think about shouting out in joy, the muzzle once holding his mouth together so fixedly dropped to the ground beside him. He opened his jaws wide right away, straightening them out after being imprisoned for what was probably hours.
Soon, he let his first words after awakening seep out of his mouth. It felt wonderful to speak again.
"You have no idea how glad I am you're here."
Ashlyn used the keen icicle to slice off the rest of her muzzle, still smiling joyously. "Aww... Does Roly care about me?"
"Of course I do," he answered seriously. "You're the only friend I've got, Ashlyn."
"Um... Yeah..." She sighed at that. His words definitely rang true. They'd managed to find comfort in each other, but anyone else they'd encountered on their travels had really only become mere acquaintances. A talking deer, a mole tavern owner, an Atlawan inventor, among others. All of those people had been oddballs, much like himself and Ashlyn, but he'd never really gotten to know any of them. He promised to himself that he would try to make amends and find them again. To have an actual conversation and personally thank them for everything they'd done for him.
"Uh, okay," Ashlyn eventually broke the silence. "Why don't we work on getting out of here? You can pick locks, right?"
"Not without my claws." He showed her the absence of his nails. "I need something to work with."
"Could you do it with ice?" She angled her head. Roland frowned at the random question, although he did realise what she was suggesting a second later.
"Maybe... I'd need that shard you're holding and the pick would have to tiny. About as small as a pin. Would you even be able to make it that small?"
"I can try. No promises, though," she added with a slight grin, shrugging and passing him the gelid blade. Soon, she closed her eyelids. He gazed on, watching as she tried to channel her elemental power into a lock pick. The ice spikes she generally released for combat must've taken no effort, nor any concentration, for forming something that little seemed to be taking every last bit of her focus... Roland was still jealous of her control over the elements.
She lifted a forepaw and opened it up. Inside of it, an attenuated rod of ice started to form in between her toes. Using other parts of the body for channelling the elements wasn't unheard of. In fact, it was rather common in ice dragons. What he did find strange, however, was her ring; the gemstone embedded inside was glowing a lighter shade of blue. Roland wondered why that was happening now and not when she'd used her element for warding off their enemies. The piece of jewellery was very peculiar. He was also surprised it hadn't been taken from her. It would probably fetch a nice price. Not that he'd thieve it from her now, anyway.
She stared into it for a few moments. Roland frowned. "Can you pass me the pick?"
Another smile pulled at her maw. "The ice pick?"
Roland narrowed his eyes. "Yep..."
"I'm sorry, Roland, but I don't have digging tools on me right now."
He'd seen that coming from a mile away, but he still grinned. "Okay, okay. Pass me the lock pick."
She giggled softly before handing over the frosty pick. Before he took it from her paws, he noticed she was panting quite deeply, and had been before they'd started conversing again. Forming the ice rod must've used a great deal of her energy.
"Yeah, that'll do fine, I think." He grasped it with a forepaw. "You look like you're tired after that, Ash. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine." She smiled, clearly trying to put him at ease. "Ice shaping is just not a talent I'm well-versed in. I really have to focus, especially for something that small. I haven't practiced it in... I don't know. It's been quite a while since I've found a use for it."
"Oh well." He sighed. It was just like Ashlyn to say she's feeling alright when, in reality, she's exhausted. Still, he would only receive a yelling if he told her that. "Can you lay down? It's a little hard to stand on two feet when I pick locks."
Ashlyn nodded and did as asked. Roland peered around the heavy metal link attaching her to the wall before laying down, searching for a lock of some kind. It didn't take him very long to find; a tiny, dark hole in stark contrast to the light grey of her iron bonds. It looked so deep when he stared into it, like an abyss gazing back at him.
"Alright," he said. "Let's get started. I'll get you out of that before you can say 'I'm free'."
"I'm free," she said predictably. Roland had to chuckle at that. It was surprising to think she could still have a little fun in this unpleasant predicament. She'd become such a different, happier dragoness over the course of their trek. He couldn't refrain from thinking that again.
His mood lightened, he began. Roland started by fitting the thin rod and blade into their rightful positions. He had to be incredibly gentle and precise when it came to using such fragile implements. The last thing he wanted was for them to shatter and get stuck inside the hole.
He realised this lock had two parts just from feeling around its insides: an outer catch and an inner lock. This one seemed to be designed with gaol breakers in mind; the outermost lock was created specifically for catching him off-guard and destroying the only chance he had to set her free. The first was hidden away inside somewhere, whilst the second was easy to get to. Twisting the second mechanism before dealing with the first would end up snapping his pick and probably even the larger icicle.
Then, the broken ice would get trapped inside and he'd have to wait for it to melt. If his equipment was made of iron and broke, the metal link attaching her to the wall would have to be cut off manually. So, in other words, he had to find the first lock or else he would only end up delaying the inevitable.
This contraption was genius... His efforts were becoming more and more stressful the further he dug into the device. Of course, he would get another shot later if he was unsuccessful, but that would only waste precious time they could be using to escape the cell.
Carefully, he turned the pick, trying his best to keep it intact and find the catch. Doing so was made even more difficult by the fact it was made of ice – it wanted to slip out of his paw – but he could manage just fine. He'd illicitly opened a lot of locks in his lifetime. Of course, he didn't usually do them with a tool, especially one this awkward, but he was certain he was capable enough. He tried to picture the slippery lock pick as an extension of his claws. Somebody had told him that once... He couldn't quite remember who, though.
Eventually, he found the catch he was searching for and slowly started to twist the ice blade clockwise. There came a strange, low creaking from the inside, but the pick remained loose, signifying to him that it was alright to keep turning. He continued and it felt like an eternity had passed before a satisfying click sounded from inside.
"It already feels better, Roland," she uttered encouragingly. "You can do it."
Roland let a smile play on his lips as he continued to work on the metal bonds holding her. He was astonished he'd done this well so far. He'd expected his instruments to snap before he could even start twisting the first lock.
The next lock was relatively easy to get open compared to the first, nor was it as stressful. After only one slow but simple twist of the blade, another soft click resounded from the mechanism. He took the frangible tools out and opened up the metal ring tying Ashlyn to the wall.
"Well, you definitely do know how to use a lock pick," she remarked. "Thank you. Now get yourself out of that and we can work on escaping. This place... It gives me the chills."
Roland grinned. "How can you get the chills when you're an ice dragon?"
"Figuratively, of course." She narrowed her eyes at his foreseeable jest. He sniggered lowly to himself.
"Anyway... I'm probably going to need another pick." As he told her that, he felt something damp slowly snake its way down his foreleg. "Yep. This thing's melting."
It took him a bit longer to unlock himself, and he had to be extra gentle to make sure his new implements wouldn't snap, but he ended up managing to do it. Those tools were just as unusual to use as the first ones, if not more so. It wasn't as if Ashlyn could really help that, though...
Again, the sapphire held by her ring glowed when she used her ice shaping abilities. He desired to know why, but he had more important objectives right now. Like, for instance, picking his way out of his gaol cell.
"Now I just need another pick," he said, "and I can get us both out of here."
"Didn't you see the effort that took?" Ashlyn grinned. "I've already made you two. Do you seriously think I could be bothered creating another?"
Roland returned the gesture. "Come on, we don't have time to waste. We need to get back on the road. That shrine awaits."
"Roland..." She continued smiling, but for whatever reason, it didn't look genuine anymore. "Are you still thinking of going to that shrine?"
"Well, um... I..." Now that they'd been captured, forced to endure horrible agony, was it really still worth it? This wasn't a nice outing at all, like he'd thought earlier. "I don't really know."
"I think we should just go back," she suggested, now losing the smile for a more serious expression. "You've been through enough as is... You've almost-"
"Yeah," he quickly cut her off. He was finding it difficult to not agree with her words. Risking his life for something seemingly impossible to obtain was silly now. "You're right. Let's just focus on getting out of here."
He grinned to himself once more. Her ideas were always good ones. Now, all he had to do was pick the lock on their cell and...
"You know, I'm impressed."
Roland frowned. That voice hadn't come from Ashlyn and it was in no way related to their discussion... He realised somebody was watching him; he turned towards the bars and despair washed over him when he saw a figure cloaked in red.
"I didn't expect you to actually find a way out of that," they said, "but you still managed it in the end. You both seem to know what you're doing. You'll be great for the arena."
Ashlyn looked prepared to throw all she had at this adversary. "You're impressed we nearly escaped you? How does that make any sense? And what's this arena?"
"But of course." They grabbed a set of keys from a pocket in their cloak and waved them mischievously in front of the bars. "Nobody's ever come that close before. And the arena? Just mindless entertainment. I'm sure you'd like it."
That was a blatant untruth. Anything this figure enjoyed was going to be despicable to him. Still, he chose not to speak up. Ashlyn looked as if she had the ensuing conversation under control for now.
"I doubt that," she growled. "What's so fun about 'the arena'?"
"That's for you to find out." They put the key in the door and unlocked it. Roland was immediately surprised. Were they an idiot? They'd practically just let him out! "Come along now. I won't bite."
"Oh, but I will," Ashlyn snarled before releasing a blast of ice shards in their enemy's direction. Roland expected this figure to be impaled, but the exact opposite happened. They pulled a pistol from a holster on their belt and speedily shot every single soaring shard out of the air with immense precision. That damned ringing resounded inside of his head again.
"Don't be silly, dragoness." They seemed amused by her behaviour. Meanwhile, Ashlyn looked utterly shocked. Roland didn't blame her at all; he was just as, if not more astonished than her. Was this weapon magical? "If you do that again, you can spend an afternoon in the Chamber of Fun."
That name... It didn't sit well with him. He had a fair idea of what the 'fun' really meant, but he didn't want to ask about it.
"I was hoping I wouldn't have to force you." They swiftly reloaded their firearm. "I thought you might just come peacefully. But no... Just hurry up. You won't want to miss this."
Ashlyn didn't speak up again; she seemed too astounded to even think about speech. Instead, she mindlessly followed their enemy, clearly unsure of what to do in this muddling plight. Roland hadn't the foggiest idea of how to flee now. If he tried anything, he'd probably be taken to this chamber the figure had told them about. That, or his insides would be pumped full of bullets... So he had no choice but to walk off with them.
"Get in front of me," their captor commanded. "I only want to keep an eye on you."
Roland did as he was ordered, as did Ashlyn. It seemed that, in the end, he actually did end up breaking free of his cell, even if it wasn't in the way he intended to... He would probably be put in there later, anyhow.
Was this now the life he was doomed to live? That thought had suddenly came to him. If he was never going to be capable of escaping this place, then what was going to happen to him next? It turned out the enemy quickly ushering them through the stone hallway had plans.
"It's going to be a long time before we can even think of delivering you to that grublin settlement way up in the Forbidden Mountains. So for now, you're stuck here with us. Boy, are we going to have fun with you..."
Roland shivered. How did they speak about selling off dragons so casually? It was a serious, absolutely dreadful thing to do. Were they insane? They definitely sounded the part.
But the Forbidden Mountains, across the Burned Lands? That was probably the worst place he could be sent to. On the north-eastern side of the Dragon Realms lay an area teeming with hulking, horrifying behemoths. Or so it was said. Most of the area was uncharted. Many had went to explore the terrifying peaks, but many had also supposedly perished there. Its small number of survivors had come back deranged and almost dead. None of them had made any progress in mapping out the area...
This talk about grublins was strange, however. They were once a part of the Dark Master's vicious armies, but after meeting his demise, the last of them had been hunted down. Apparently not, according to them. There must've been a few stragglers left, who then somehow found peace at the Forbidden Mountains. For overgrown, mutated bugs raised out of the soil itself, it was probably a piece of cake trying to fit in with the monsters there...
He turned a corner and found himself in another corridor, this one illuminated by hanging lights. Roland was only just now noticing how many gaol cells there were. Each and every one of them had been taken by two occupants; all of them were either llamas or moles. There were no other dragons besides himself and Ashlyn. Despite the large number of people, the area was unusually silent. A lot of the prisoners looked... traumatised. Their minds broken.
"Isn't all this just lovely?" the figure spoke up once more. "These moles came from Warfang, actually... The Skavenger designs were perfect. Made getting around quite easy."
"Wait, what? Warfang?" Roland finally spoke up. He was befuddled immediately. He thought he and his friends... and Seth, were the only people who managed to escape the dreadwings. There were more questions as well. After that massacre, he hadn't seen a single one of his captor's people at all. Where had they been? How did they capture so many moles? What about the Atlawa? Why weren't there any dragons amongst the collection of prisoners? Why Skavenger designs? Why destroy Warfang? All of these questions came spewing out of his mouth in one huge garbled mess. Somehow, their enemy seemed to understand his mess of words.
"Alright. One at a time." Roland didn't know why they were willing to answer the never ending stream of inquiries, but he was glad they were... Wait, he was glad? For some reason, that didn't feel like the right emotion to be displaying in front of his imprisoner.
The figure cleared their throat. "We were inside the city at the time, just in a segment we'd made sure wouldn't get bombed. In other words, a corner. The dreadwings were instructed to not bomb there. They're pretty intelligent for beasts, dragon. After we left, however, it was turned to rubble."
"As for your next few questions," they continued, "it wasn't too difficult. All you need is a shot to the leg to immobilise them and a quick whack to the head to knock them out. The dragons were a little too big to get our hands on, though, so most of them ended up being bombed in their sleep. I think I speak for everyone when I say I want more dragons like you. Such fine things, you are."
Roland, again, quivered. They weren't really thinking of him as an actual dragon, were they? More of a prize that was only going to end up making them more gems. Instead of pondering that further, however, he listened to what they had to say next.
"The Skavenger ships are amazing. We centred our flying ships around them, although we did take some... creative liberties. Those boats weren't all that aerodynamic, but the technology to keep them afloat was way ahead of its time. So we used that and made it work and look better as a result."
Roland had to think about what they were saying for a second. Back in the grove he'd incinerated, the opponents he'd fought and almost died to then didn't seem to be all that technologically advanced. They were still using swords and axes, after all. But some of the cloaked enemies here had guns on them, generally uncommon weapons, and from what this red entity was telling him, probably impressive airships too. Had they somehow received a sudden advance in their technology? He had no idea.
"And for your last question." They stopped for a moment. Roland halted his movement and gazed back at them, as did the ice dragoness pacing beside him. They seemed... depressed. Quickly, however, they lost that look of genuine emotion and took on a blank appearance. "I'm not permitted to answer that. Drevon would like to tell you instead."
Again, that name. That dragon fashioned out of steel. Who were they really? In fact, where was Roland exactly? He voiced those two questions to McRed Hood behind him.
"Wow, you have a lot of questions." They sighed. "Again, Drevon will tell you that. And you're at the shrine. The wishing shrine you were headed to."
Wait... The wishing shrine? But that wasn't possible! The last thing he would've expected to see at an area that apparently gave you whatever you truly desired was something as cruel as a prison. It couldn't be true...
"This is just another one of your... jokes, right? We're not actually..."
"I'm afraid it's true, dragon." He waved his firearm out in front of him, sounding irritated, and started to walk forward once more. "Now get a move on. We're wasting enough time as is."
Roland quickly got moving again, but that realisation wouldn't stop spiralling around his mind. His trek across Tall Plains really had been for naught... In fact, he'd ended up worse than he could've ever dreamed. Forced to live a life of... He didn't want to think about it. He wasn't sure if he knew, either.
He could have hope, but that was only a vain fantasy slowly vanishing before his eyes. There was nothing left for him. This was it.
What a life he'd lived...