Chapter 21: Scars
They made love twice that night, then laid down in the boat, spent, with their chests heaving. They both struggled to take in as much air as possible, their bodies wrapped by the prince's cloak that served as their blanket as well. The prince couldn't help but smile, a stinging pain on his back indicating that the half-dragon had given him a few more scars to tend to.
"You were good," the half-dragon breathed heavily, and chuckled. "You were very good,"
"I can tell," the prince leaned on his elbow, looking at her serene face, his finger running up and down her side gently. "We nearly capsized the boat," he flashed a grin, and kissed her fervently. She giggled, biting his lips as he tried to pull back, and then kissed him back harder.
They laid down again, their gazes fixed on the stars right above them. The prince held up his cloak, covering themselves to the chin. They both said nothing for a while, just looking at the heavens above. The seas were a lot calmer compared to what they had just the day before, without the army of the dead or Gangplank's band of pirates hunting them down. Shyvana breathed a short sigh, which Jarvan looked at her, puzzled.
"How long until we have to get back? The fish we caught, it will stink," she turned and looked at him, her eyes a brilliant glow amidst the darkness.
The prince shrugged nonchalantly. "We can just toss them back into the sea, if that bothers you,"
She sat up, the cloak falling from her and revealing her bare back and breasts to the night air. "No, I'm rather famished right now. Let's not waste a good catch,"
Her back was to the prince, and she reached into the bucket for a salmon. The prince did not respond, just laying down and watching her as she conjured a flame in her palm, grilling the salmon over a slow fire. He took the time to study her back, decorated with three scars – one was a star-shaped scar that stretched at the lower part of the back, and the prince knew that was when the harpoon penetrated her flesh. The other one was a rather large, ugly gash right across her spine, and the smallest scar was situated on her right shoulder, most likely a stab wound. He knew there were a few more scars and treated wounds on her torso, the one which he once stitched and another caused by the harpoon, and a few more he had seen during their lovemaking. Oddly, melancholy brewed in his heart, as though he was hurt for her.
As though acting on its own, his hand reached out and lingered on the largest scar, the one that stretched across her back. He caressed it gently, which she only grunted while biting morsels of flesh off the grilled fish. He knew it was a very personal question, but he was curious, and risked it anyway. "This one," his touch was soft like his voice, just above the scar. "What happened?"
Shyvana did not look back or speak, only ate her meal silently. It wasn't long before all that was left in her hand were bones, which she tossed out into the sea. She remained silent, looking out into the sea, refusing to lay back down with the prince.
"A fight with the drake, back when I was a child," her voice carried far across the waters, calm and solemn. "He threw me across the forest and I slammed against a boulder, while I was in my dragon form. Had I been in my human form, my spine would have snapped. Fortunately, it was just a scratch,"
"Doesn't look like a scratch to me," he mused.
"Of course it doesn't to you," The half-dragon snorted. "Just like to dragons, your weapons are merely toothpicks,"
Jarvan only chuckled. "Feisty," he sat up and wrapped his arms around her. She was warm, prompting the prince to hug her tighter. The half-dragon gave an exasperated sigh and relinquished, leaning back into his broad chest. He kissed the scar on her shoulder, which she laughed.
"Do you plan to kiss my scars all night? They won't fade, somehow,"
"Perhaps," he whispered in her ear, his voice sultry and thick with passion. "I want to know more about you," he murmured.
Before we have to leave and never see each other again, but the prince said nothing.
"Fine then," she laughed again. They leaned back down onto his cloak, their faces so close to each other the prince could simply point out the tiny scales that covered her face, and how her pupils dilate and narrow as she studied his face. Their noses touched, briefly. "Which scar would you like to know?" she asked, and he could see the glint in her eyes, reflecting the moonlight.
"You sure?" the prince then noticed a faint scratch on her cheek, just a fine line that would go unnoticed unless one sat very close to her. "I don't wish to bring back unpleasant memories,"
"Jarvan," her voice was low, but he could sense the underlying threat in her words. "I am not one to be pampered with. They are just scars, a bad memory or two won't break me down into tears,"
The prince nodded, and allowed himself to touch the faint line on her cheek. Somehow, his guts told him that it was not caused by an accident, but someone who intended to hurt her. The emotions conveyed through her heated stare only confirmed his suspicions, and without a word she knew what he was going to ask.
"Bel'Zhun," she answered. "Bounty hunters wanted to capture me and hand me over to the drake. They thought they would do the town a favour, so the drake wouldn't burn the place to the ground. My father refused, and one of them tried to take me down with a crossbow. I dodged, but the bolt grazed my cheek,"
"And the bounty hunters?"
"Dead," the glow in her eyes grew dimmer. "The drake came to the town, and burnt them with his breath. My father and I barely escaped. After that, we never stayed too long in a city or town,"
The prince said nothing, only staring at her silently. To this, she was grateful. She was afraid that he may ask questions that she simply could not answer. His stare was so intense that she had to draw away. Afraid that he may feel rejected, the half-dragon ducked her head and tucked herself under his chin.
"What about you?" she murmured, her lips leaving a trail of kisses down his throat. "I'm sure you have your own fair share of scars. Or do you call it battle spoils?"
He chuckled. "They are nothing to be proud of," he took her hand and guided it to his chest, her fingers grazing a rough patch of skin situated just two inches next to his heart. "This one nearly took my life. My men and I were at the Great Barrier, fighting a Brambleback,"
"A Brambleback?" she chortled.
He nodded. "With all my twelve men back then. I was a green boy, I knew nothing. And this beast was the first I encountered, the first and last I underestimated. I charged in blindly and we fought gallantly. My, oh my, how I've truly underestimated it,"
She said nothing, so he continued. "It took down two of my men easily, and heavily wounded another before its thorns pierced me, right here," her palm pressed against the scar on his chest. "I bled heavily. Kevan landed the killing blow, and my men quickly took me to the nearest town to be nursed back to health. So all that was left was an ugly scar, as a constant reminder of my pompousity and stupidity,"
"Sometimes we learn through the hard way," her body radiated warmth, and the prince just sighed with comfort, not even bothered slightly by the cold breeze. "It hurts like shit, but at least we learn,"
"At least we learn," he agreed, his tone suddenly turned sombre and unhappy. Shyvana must have sensed it, for she looked back up at him and kissed him on his cheek.
"You haven't answered me. How much time do we have left?"
He scoffed. "It's the middle of the night, we have until dawn. What's the hurry?"
The half-dragon did not answer, and silence permeated through the air, until she broke it with a quiet whisper. "The night will end,"
The prince could sense the melancholy in her voice, her unwillingness to leave, thus he shared her sadness as well. He tightened his hold around her body, and sighed. "Everything ends,"
Shyvana pursed her lips. "I was awake when you and August spoke back on the boat,"
If Jarvan was surprised, he did well at hiding it. The half-dragon looked up to him to see that his eyes were fixed in a distance, thinking deeply. There was a long pause before he spoke, "I know. I saw how your breaths were uneven. I knew you were awake. How much did you hear, though?"
"Enough to know. That you are promised to a girl called..." her voice trailed away, as she struggled to recall her name.
"Lux," Jarvan filled her in. "Her name is Lux,"
"Do you love her?" her tone was monotonous and flat, yet those words concealed a myriad of emotions.
"Like a sister," he muttered, and he knew his answer was true. Lux had more innocence than anyone else he had ever met, and he did not know if she knew of their betrothal. After all, Jarvan III only told him when he was of age, before he entered the Demacia military. But he did not break the news to her, for he knew that she would be upset even though she would oblige to do it as her duty. Nevertheless, the prince knew she would never be happy.
Shyvana snorted. "What does that even mean?"
"Lux is Garen's sister. We played together when we were children. Garen is the prime of the Demacian Military, whereas his little sister... she's a prodigy. She was the youngest in the College of Magic, and she aced all her grades, even better than her seniors. When she was at her sophomore year, she had already mastered all schools of magic, and she was given the chance to research rare magicks. From there, she learnt to be a light mage,"
"Sounds like a bright person,"
"She is,"
Shyvana then had a picture in her mind – a young girl, obviously a foot shorter than Jarvan, dressed in elegant white dresses and cute shoes. But that image was incomplete, and her curosity was boundless.
"How does she look like?" she asked, wanting to complete the picture in her mind.
"She had golden hair," he described, his hand running up and down her naked back, caressing her scars tenderly. "And bright, laughing blue eyes. She is much fairer than Garen, and petite in size. Her voice is shrill but gentle. And, oh, she was such a happy child,"
"'Was'?"
"I was there when she enrolled in the College of Magic, at the age of nine," the half-dragon looked up to him, and saw how he winced at the sheer thought of that memory. "Garen did not want to see, it was too much for him. She shouldn't be enrolled until she was twelve. Lux deserved a childhood, like any other kids. But her mother thought otherwise. I saw her crying, saying she didn't want to be there. Her mother reprimanded her and dragged her into the college. That was the last I have seen of her. Whatever that is left of her after her graduation, it won't be innocence,"
"My, my," Shyvana tutted. "Do duty and honour come before everything for you Demacians?"
"Some things you would never understand," he rebuked. "Are you angry? About this... betrothal?"
Shyvana said nothing, her body was calm and still in his arms, and Jarvan could not see her face. She was probably seething right now, ready to throw him off the boat for not telling her sooner, for taking advantage of her.
"You have the right to be angry," he suddenly felt conscious of himself, that he did not deserve her. His arms loosened around her, ready to draw back. "I should have told you sooner. I apologize if you feel that I have deceived you –"
"No," she interrupted. "I'm not angry. I should have known. Of course a prince like you would be promised to someone else of a similar social class. I'm barely a commoner. I should have known,"
"Shyvana – "
"Don't," she hissed. "Do not say something you will regret, Jarvan IV,"
He stopped. She only referred him by that name if she would brook no argument.
"I should have seen this coming. I don't stand a chance," she tried her best to sound flat and blunt, but the prince heard the slight crack in her voice. "After all these, we will part ways. We won't see each other again, ever. Do your duty, prince. And I'll do mine by staying as far away as possible,"
"Shyvana," he whispered, his voice harsh and pained. He looked down at her, her arms and body still pressed firmly against his chest. When he saw her face, his eyes widened with surprise, and he brought his thumbs to her cheeks to wipe the tears away. "Are you weeping?"
"N-no!" she shook away his touch and moved away from him, trembling slightly, and threw her hand over her eyes, covering her face from the prince's sight. "It's nothing worth crying for, it's just..."
He only stared. She drew further from him, and withdrew to herself, refusing to let him see her face. However, her shoulders shook violently from her sobs, but the prince did not comment.
"I'm not angry," she admitted. "It's just... every time I've come so close to have something I want..." a gasp, then she continued. "I just can't have it,"
He heard her gritting her teeth. Then her shoulders stopped shaking, but her hand was still draped over her face. The prince smiled sadly.
"But for now," his voice was sweet and gentle. "You have me,"
"The night will end. Everything will end,"
"Nothing lasts forever," he agreed. "Which is why we must make every moment count," he reached out to her and hugged her again, expecting her to protest and pull away. Shyvana did nothing of the sort, nor did she return his embrace.
"Tonight," she promised. "Just for tonight, we'll have each other,"
He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, and said nothing. They stared into the darkness, relishing in each others' warmth as they dreaded for dawn to come.
You are all I need, he wanted to tell her, but he could not hurt her anymore. So he only joined her in the silence, wishing that the night would never end.
"The Ironspike Mountains stretch from Freljord to the edge of Noxus," Jarvan quipped. "We need to narrow down the search, if we were to search for every mountain, we'll never find the drake,"
"Don't you worry," Shyvana said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "The drake will find us," she stabbed a bacon with her fork, chewing as she washed it down with a swig of ale. The prince narrowed his eyes as she remained indifferent, and soon he felt his frustration peak.
"I'm being serious here, Shyvana,"
"So am I," she slammed down her fork and glared at the prince. "Not that I have a solution, do I?"
The loud thud of the metal fork against the wooden table rang throughout the empty inn, but no one except the prince and the half-dragon was there to hear it. When they reached the inn, the town was already half-awake, and when they entered the inn, the innkeeper was already lighting the candles.
"You said that drake's blinded," Jarvan said, drawing markings on the map, outlining the possible trail of the wounded drake.
"His hearing is still acute, and so is his sense of smell. Unlikely that he will leave a trail,"
"Or perhaps we can lure him,"
"That drake isn't stupid," she grunted. "If we can lure him out, it's because he is in full health, and he will overpower us,"
The prince stroked his chin as he thought deeply, his eyes stayed on the map. The range of Ironspike Mountains was just as it was named – its mountains and hills were topped with jagged and sharpened peaks, and the tallest was always concealed by a faint veil of dust. The range began in the deep snowy lands of Freljord, bordered Zaun and Noxus and ended at the far end of Valoran. Beyond the mountain range was the capital of Piltover and Zaun, whereas in its deepest end was the coldest region of Freljord, where the brave Freljordians had often called it the Cursed Lands, the land that was always plagued by the storm, the Gelid Vortex. No man had ever gone to the far end of the Ironspike and returned alive.
"Can dragons withstand the cold?" Jarvan looked up to Shyvana, and asked.
"They do have a certain resistance to it. Dragons are beings forged from fire after all, they can warm themselves with their own heat," she took another bite from her meal. "However, the cold will numb their senses, allow them to hibernate for years. There's a possibility he may have gone there to lick his wounds,"
Jarvan wiped a hand over his forehead, his eyebrows creased in a frown. If he had gone deep into the Freljord, there's no hope for us. We can't fight in the cold.
"If he has gone to the Cursed Lands..." the prince's voice trailed away. He then thought of the tribes in Freljord, and he remembered stories of the great leaders who led their tribes to slay beasts and monsters, despite being weighed down by the elements. He then thought of the Queen of the Avarosan tribe, whom he heard was a just and fair queen that resided in the palace of Rakelstake, of how she had invited his father warmly into her halls during her daughter's birth. He had heard of stories of how she would not turn down a man, that she would offer help no matter the cost.
"Perhaps we can turn to the Avarosan Queen for assistance," he spoke suddenly, surprising Shyvana. The half-dragon gave him a confused stare, as though she had no idea who he was speaking of. "The Avarosan tribe is one of the largest in Freljord. My father had gone to Rakelstake once to seek neutrality with the Queen. Should the need arises, we can seek their help. The Freljordians are fantastic trackers and hunters,"
"We do not even know if the drake has gone there," Shyvana retorted. "And this Queen, whoever she is, have you met her?"
"No," Jarvan said sheepishly. "But my father has –"
"Your father met her, not you. How can you trust someone whom you had never met before?"
The prince opened his mouth to answer, before someone else behind them cut in. "If you are to head to Freljord at this time of the year, you will never survive,"
Jarvan turned behind, and met Ryze's eyes. He only wore a simple black mage's robe, but the hood was not pulled over his head, revealing his white tattoos and blue skin, with his scrawny beard.
"Who are you?" Shyvana's lips curled in disdain and irritation. "And why do you care?"
"Shyvana," Jarvan stopped her before she could say further. "This is the man who brewed the elixir for you, Ryze," he introduced, and saw how Ryze remained silent, as though waiting for him to continue further. And so the prince cleared his throat and continued reluctantly. "... And master of the arcane arts. And this is my friend, Shyvana,"
"Mind if I take a seat?" he did not wait for an answer and simply sat down anyway, his eyes fixed on the half-dragon from under the hood. Shyvana only glared, willing him to look away, which he didn't.
"You were saying, Ryze?" Jarvan asked.
"Now is not the time for travellers like you to head to Freljord," Ryze simply took Jarvan's mead and sipped without asking, but the prince pretended not to notice. "The Gelid Vortex will be at its strongest, and vicious snowstorms and avalanches rage across the nation. Even Freljordians cease hunting at this time. You won't survive if you were to go there,"
Still, the prince was adamant. "There must be a route that leads to Rakelstake. It's a large kingdom, surely they won't turn us away?"
Ryze snorted. "I'm not sure if the Avarosan are as friendly as before, friend. The Queen died in a war recently. Freljord is in turmoil,"
Shyvana looked up. The dumbfounded look on Jarvan's face was impossible to miss.
"And they put a fifteen year old girl on the throne, bah!" Ryze took another swig of mead. "If this girl is still soft with dreams of childhood, she will be killed within a month! The Avarosan tribe will fall! Then Freljord will be in shambles!"
Jarvan sighed. "Then there's no way we can head north. We will probably die before we find the drake,"
This time Ryze stared at the prince with eyes wide as saucers, not even bothering to hide his surprise. "The drake that flew past this town a few days ago. You want to track that beast down?"
Suddenly Shyvana was interested, and she leaned forward. "You've seen him? How was he?"
"Oh, huge he was. Still he was no larger than a dragon. When he flew past, he made a moaning sound, as though injured," Ryze saw how Shyvana's eyes winked with intrigue and excitement, and so he arched an eyebrow. "His wings were dark as night. He was heading north, obviously to the Ironspike Mountains, but I have no idea where. Now why would you wish to find this beast?"
Jarvan and Shyvana locked eyes for a moment, sharing their thoughts silently. Then the prince turned to Ryze, the mage who was somehow unaware of his true identity. But he knew that the mage was powerful enough to delve deep into his mind to know every single thing about him, and there was no use lying. Still, Jarvan decided to play the risks, preferring not to trust anyone even though he had helped them.
He chuckled lightly. "Some things are best remained as secret, my friend. Let's just say that it's a man's wish to see a dragon, and it would be a true wonder if I manage to watch him and his behaviour closely. A foolish endeavour, no doubt you may think, but it means a lot to us as travellers,"
"Travellers? From where do you hail from, young ones, for you to have such a deathly wish?"
"Shurima," Shyvana cut in, her lie as smooth as it could be. "We have traversed the Sai region and visited the Rakkor village. Nothing could be worse than a drake,"
Ryze sucked air through his teeth, nodding like he was truly impressed. "The youngsters these days are so brave. Don't mind me, Jarvan, but can I ask a question?"
The prince nodded.
"Travellers, you said," he took another sip from his mead, this time finishing it and leaving the empty tankard upon the table. "I have heard of tales of a unique, half-breed, born of a dragon father and a human mother, who was marked for death by the dragonkin. Have you, by any chance, heard of it?"
Across the table, the half-dragon tensed, and Jarvan felt how the room was suddenly a lot warmer and more humid. Frantically, he cut in, but tried his best to maintain his calm composure. "I don't think we had, is it the same drake?"
"I wonder," Ryze shifted in his seat. "I mean, travellers heard plenty of stories," his gaze turned to Shyvana, who tried to hide under her hood. "Right, half-dragon?"
Shyvana's grip on the tankard clenched, and the metal ear grew red-hot. Jarvan's fingers sneaked across the bench, silently reaching for his lance that was hidden in rolls of linen and bandages.
"She may be half-beast as you said, my friend," Jarvan agreed. "But I think you had the wrong person. I'd never heard of the tale that you've told, perhaps you can kindly enlighten me about it?"
"Either you are lying to me or this creature is deceiving you, lad," Ryze snapped, his tone quickly turning venomous. "Say, your name is Jarvan, lad? With a name like that, why haven't the Noxians captured you and executed you yet? Any Noxian with the right mind, no matter how far from the mainland, would never name their child after their enemies,"
Jarvan opened his mouth to retort, before Ryze flashed a wicked, triumphant grin. At that moment, Jarvan knew he had made a huge mistake.
"Unless you are the lost prince of Demacia, aye?"
At that moment, many things happened at once.
Shyvana roared and leapt across the table, her hands ablaze and reaching for Ryze's robe. Jarvan grabbed his lance and tried to remove the weapon from its bindings. Then, strangely, a loud explosion occurred, blasting through the windows and the doors of the inn, nearly blowing the wall to pieces.
But the windows and doors, blown to bits, froze in mid-air, the debris floating and the clouds of smoke and fire remained static. Shyvana was in mid-air as well, her eyes full of rage and her mouth agape with mock fury, her face as ferocious as an angered beast. Jarvan saw all this happening before him, and he was conscious of it. However, his hand remained around his lance, and though he commanded his muscles to move, they would not budge.
Everything was frozen, even time, but Ryze stood up and patted his robe as though it was a normal occurence, puffing his chest out as his ego swelled tenfold. "Can't believe it work," he placed a small artifact on the wooden table, and it emitted a strange aura that surrounded the prince and the mage, but not Shyvana. He wanted to speak, to shout, to attack, but he could do neither of those and only stare at him helplessly.
"Took me a while to set up the trap, I was wondering when you would notice. Time-manipulation magic is always so hard to master, and usually leaves the caster sick for a week. But I suppose a little mead always help," he shrugged, admiring the green aura he had created and the magic he had casted. "And to freeze time and cast paralysis at the same time? My, my, I truly am the master of the arcane arts,"
Jarvan tried to speak, but all that came forth from his throat was an animalistic grunt.
"We haven't much time. Only 5 minutes. And you, Prince Jarvan Lightshield, Fourth of His Name. If you wish to live and save that half-dragon, you'd best listen to me. But why listen to a rogue mage who just paralyzed you, hmm?"
"What...," he grunted. "d..did.. give... to her?"
"An elixir," Ryze answered. "Which healed all her wounds inside and confirmed my suspicion. I gave her the spinerot, a herb for the dragons but poison to other species. If she survived drinking the elixir, then she is truly the half-dragon. I am not a fool, prince. When I saw you, I knew who you are. You are wary, aye, suspicious of everyone around you, which only makes me want to pry open your skull and know all your dirty little secrets,"
Jarvan bristled in rage. The rogue mage laughed.
"Gregori Hastur was right," Ryze spat. "Oh, how I wish he was wrong. That old man sickens me. And yes, prince. Your half-dragon is a wonderful prize. The Gray Order would find her a splendid specimen. They were right, and now they are coming for her,"
The prince's heart sank with fright. And Ryze must have noticed it, for his eyes were filled with temporary sympathy before he tutted piteously. "But Gregori knows where the drake is. If you think it's worth the risk, I don't know, it's your game. Either way, I am getting out of here. I don't wish to listen to that old man's ramblings," he lifted his hands and muttered a chant, his hands moving in odd gestures. Moments later, a rift opened before him, and dust swirled inside the aura he had casted around the prince and himself.
"Whatever it is, Prince Jarvan, get that half-dragon out of town. The drake will end up destroying every cities and towns she has visited. I like this place. Don't get it burnt to the ground for no reason," he snorted, and then snapped his fingers. "You have 5 seconds," then he simply walked into the rift, and the rift closed without leaving any trace.
The aura around him collapsed immediately, the small artifact on the table suddenly shattered by an unknown force and disappeared. Then the explosion continued and blew Jarvan off the floor, and Shyvana crashed into the bench where Ryze had been just 5 minutes ago.
"What the fuck?!" the half-dragon exclaimed in confusion and anger.
"We've been ambushed!" Jarvan roared. "Get out of here!"
A spark of lightning zapped across them, barely singeing Shyvana's nose. They looked to the door, now blasted to nothing and leaving a rather huge opening, and standing there were three men all covered in grey robes, their faces concealed and leaving only their eyes visible.
One of the grey men conjured a white glowing orb in between his palms, then threw it at Shyvana. The half-dragon anticipated the attack, and quickly rolled aside to dodge it. However, the innkeeper just appeared from his kitchen after hearing the commotion, and unfortunately the orb smashed right into him.
The innkeeper screamed as the orb hit him, snaring him in place with runes that seared to the wooden floorboards as he jolted uncontrollably, like he was having a fit. Shyvana and Jarvan stared in shock. The grey man conjured another orb, ready to capture the half-dragon.
"Run!" Jarvan pushed her, and they hopped over tables as more orbs crashed into random furniture. The grey men ran after them in hot pursuit, as they both exited the inn through the back door and ran as fast as they could.
"Who are they?" she panted. "Where is Ryze?"
"Just... run!" he grunted and sprinted, his legs pumping furiously. "The market! Head to the market! Blend in with the crowd!"
They ran ahead, quickly losing the grey men but struggling to find a crowd. Oddly, there was no one around them, and Jarvan had his suspicions, until Shyvana crashed into something invisible and bounced back, falling onto her rump.
"Shit!" he slammed a fist into the air, and just as he thought, his fist collided with a barrier. They were trapped.
Out of nowhere, grey men surrounded them from all direction, until their backs were to the invisible barriers. The air crackled with raw energy, and Jarvan knew that these men were no mere novice mages. They were adepts and were capable of killing should the need arises.
Then, a tall, gaunt man stepped through the circle formed by the grey men. He, too, wore a grey robe, but his long, white hair was worn in a pony-tail, and his cheeks were so hollow Jarvan wondered if this man had eaten at all. The tall man placed his hands behind him, his eyes studying the prince and the half-dragon closely.
Jarvan did not need to guess to know that he was Gregori Hastur, the man that Ryze had warned them to run from.
"I guess we have to fight our way out of here," Shyvana furiously spat blood onto the ground. She lifted her gauntlets, liquids of flame pouring from her blazing hands. Jarvan brandished his lance, ready to summon his Golden Aegis.
The tall man's face was stoic and emotionless. He kept staring at Shyvana, before moving his eyes to the prince. Jarvan then felt cold pinpricks on his neck, suddenly fearing what this man could do. His stare was harsh and intimidating, and as though provoked, Jarvan swiftly summon his shield around himself and Shyvana.
The half-dragon turned to him, confused. Their assailants did not attack, only remained at their spots with their spells ready. The tall man smirked, just a slight curl at the corner of his lips.
He then lifted his hand, and closed his palm into a clenched fist. And the prince's shield shattered against his will, leaving them exposed.
Then the grey men cast their spells, all aiming at the half-dragon. Shyvana summoned fire to protect herself, but the spells that were hurled towards her passed through her flames easily and struck her. She screamed and fell as rune circles were shaped and seared into the soft ground beneath her, binding her to their will.
The prince lifted his lance and charged towards the tall man. He simply gestured with ease, and a rune was conjured before the prince and formed a white prison around him, snaring him to the spot and leaving him trapped.
"Leave her alone!" he shouted, struggling to get past the prison.
But he did not answer, simply looking at him with a glare that left him helpless and worthless. Jarvan watched as the grey men closed in around the trapped half-dragon until he could no longer see her. Then she screamed, and his heart plummeted and his blood curdled with fear.
"Please, leave her. She has done nothing wrong," the prince pleaded. Still the tall man watched. The smirk was gone from his face, but his cold eyes were so unsettling, as though he wanted the prince to know that he won.
The tall man simply looked at him with an uncaring gaze. "That is not for you to decide," his tone was flat, his voice monotonous and emotionless. Then he chanted a spell and pressed a thumb forcefully to the prince's forehead.
Jarvan gasped in pain, and his eyes rolled back into his head.
When Jarvan woke, his hands and ankles were bound in chains, and he had to squint against the bright light that almost blinded him. He narrowed his eyes, studying his environment only to see immaculate white walls around him. Nothing else. Only clean white walls, and the cot which he was sitting on.
A figure stood before him, who was obviously a woman. Her frame was small and petite, wearing a demure grey dress that complimented her curves. Her small hands were held in front of her, and when the dark spots had faded from his vision, Jarvan saw how her face was not concealed like the rest of her colleagues. From this, the prince wondered how exposed and vulnerable she would feel, but from the look of her face, she seemed rather comfortable with herself, and also knew when the prince would awake from his restless slumber.
"Good day, Prince Jarvan," the lady spoke, her unsettling smile never leaving her face. Her hair was dark brown, tightly pulled back and wrapped in a bun. Her eyes were black and expressive, as though full of secrets and knowledge that she would never share with the world. Her voice, melodious, but beneath there hid a deadly undertone, that she was capable of threat just as offering a truce.
The prince chose not to answer. His lips were curled in an ugly grimace, assessing this woman to see what she was made of.
"I know Gregori has used severe methods to capture you and the half-dragon, to the extent where you might strongly disagree," she approached the prince. "But I hope you understand, that it is for the best,"
"For the best interests," Jarvan corrected. "For yourself and this... Gray Order,"
She arched an eyebrow, otherwise she did not seem intimidated or surprised. "I suppose you have met Ryze, then? But our interests are not in the likes of a coward who strokes his pride calling himself the 'master of the arcane arts'. Perhaps you are right, it is for our best interests, after all,"
Jarvan remained silent. If you talk too much, you tend to let slip information that should have been kept a secret. And he won't make the same mistake twice.
"We are the Gray Order. Neither good, nor wicked. Neither black, nor white. We use whatever methods to reach our goals, be it dark magic or necromancy. But we do it to oppose the darker means of the Noxian High Command, whose ill use of sorcery threatens to bring this country to downfall,"
"If you think I care about Noxus' welfare –"
"Of course you don't," she dismissed him with a wave of her hand. "You're a Demacian prince, you'd rather that the snakes of Noxus bite their own tails. I'm telling you this to make you understand that although we may use horrible means to achieve something, but our goals are for the better. And we are in dire need of your friend's help,"
"Shyvana won't help you," Jarvan gritted his teeth in anger. "You took her against her will, by force. She will not take it lightly,"
"Well, you're not wrong," the woman stood, her grace never diminishing from her small frame. "Not unless you've heard our purpose,"
The prince kept quiet again, urging her to continue.
"We've been tracking her down for months, ever since we've heard the tales of a half-dragon. Gregori was never one to believe in rumours told by peasants, but he decided to pay attention to this one. He was very desperate,"
"Then he should have been kinder with us," the prince said disdainfully.
The woman took him no heed. "Your friend's fire-manipulation abilities are impressive. Is it an innate ability, or did she develop it as she grows? Is she immune to fire, or just has high resistance to it? We mages are masters of fire-destruction magic, but even so we risk burning ourselves if we're not careful. Yet your friend just surrounds herself in flames and charges head on into the battle, like it was a part of her,"
A cold feeling conjured in his gut, and he inhaled sharply. "Have you been studying her?"
"No," her voice was firm, and this time her smile changed into something more malicious and unkindly. She leaned forward, her intense glare staring into the prince's blue eyes. "I've been scrying through Ryze's eyes, and used clairvoyance to know everything about you both. I know you have dabbled with magic, but only enough for a few low-level spells. That half-dragon, however, she is a unique creature,"
"Scrying?" Jarvan asked, his eyebrow arched in confusion.
"A psychic technique developed by myself," she explained, but there was no pride in her tone, only seriousness. "Perhaps you may call it astral projection, or something similar. I simply entered Ryze's conscience and watched and heard everything from his perspective. It didn't last long, obviously. That old, sarcastic shrew knew I was prying into his mind, long enough for him to weave his own plan, or else we could have caught him.
"Anyway, back to what I was saying, we are immensely impressed by your friend's fire-manipulation ability, and her inborn gift to morph into the form of a dragon at will. Had our situation not been so dire, we wouldn't have taken you both by force. But Gregori and I need your help,"
"If it involves Shyvana being harmed, I'm against it,"
She chuckled. "Nothing so cruel, prince," then her smile died, as she gestured to cast a spell. "But our daughter needs her help,"
When Shyvana woke, her whole body was bound to a metal chair – straps and belts confined her wrists and ankles, then strapped across her chest and hips, rendering her immobile. Her eyes darted around, scanning the room with its four unblemished white walls, and something unnatural radiated from the room. She had a sinking feeling that this room was not what it seemed, and there were people beyond the walls who could see her even though she couldn't – studying her, knowing every bit about her.
She did not bother using her flames to scorch her way out of this room. They were probably expecting her to do that, and whatever trap they had laid out for her, she did not intend to stupidly fall into it. So, she remained still, her eyes still looking left and right, up and down the chamber, looking hopelessly for a route to escape.
Growling in frustration, she let her anger seep into her mind, bringing forth her dragon senses. Her eyes, which were a dim amber, suddenly glowed bright orange and then turned golden with her pupils narrowed, and suddenly it was as though the room was ten times brighter. Her ears twitched, at first hearing only her breathing, and now she could even hear her own heartbeat and the blood flowing in her veins. Shyvana closed her eyes – whoever was out there was probably watching her discretely. She listened carefully, hearing for any signs of movement or odd sounds beyond the four walls.
Strangely, she heard nothing. Sighing in defeat, she was about to shut out her dragon senses and probably get some sleep to pass the time, until she felt someone reaching out for her. She froze, goosebumps rising on her arms and the hair on the nape of her neck suddenly standing. The feeling felt foreign, and indescribable, as though someone's mind was connected to hers, and it was against her volition.
Knowing that it was probably one of the mages taking a peek into her head through telepathy, Shyvana jolted in fear and defiance. She struggled to pull out, even summoning flames involuntarily as if it would burn her perpetrator, but the link was strong, and she was no mage to simply avoid being mind-read.
She stopped struggling when a picture conjured in her mind's eye. Her eyes were shut, but she could see the image vividly. It was the picture of a rather colourful room, a nursery perhaps, where there was a crib to the corner with dangling stuffed animals above it, throwing bright flashes of light that would excite any toddler. On the floor was a hundred other toys, and amidst the sea of stuffed toys, was a baby girl, probably two years old, with wisps of brown hair and a bright flashing smile, as though she saw something to her liking. Her bright green eyes twinkled, and in her hands was a cute, stuffed elephant, drenched with drool. She sat cross-legged, her stubby little legs wriggling with excitement as her tiny arms flailed aimlessly.
Shyvana would have been less worried, if the baby hadn't been looking and smiling at her.
Perhaps this is their trap, Shyvana reasoned. A vision planted in my mind, meant to trick me into spilling all my secrets and information. Very clever.
The baby giggled at her, her tiny, chubby hands reaching out for Shyvana and dropping the stuffed animal in the process. She babbled and spoke random gibberish, to which Shyvana grinned amusingly, despite her grim situation.
Then the child mumbled one word, unclear but still unnerving to Shyvana. "Drakon," she giggled again. "Shee-wanna," and hearing this, Shyvana's smile died.
"What are you?" Shyvana's lips moved silently, without her knowing. As though understanding her, the baby giggled happily again. Her little fists flailed wildly, still desperately reaching out for her.
"Shee-wanna," she said again, repeating that word over and over again. The half-dragon knew the child was calling her, but she had no idea whether the child was merely a trick conjured by the mages, or if this telepathy was simply linked by mistake.
And if it was the latter, it meant this child had just established a telepathic connection with a random stranger, and read her mind like it was an opened book. This child, who was probably just two years old.
"Who are you?" the half-dragon asked again, this time afraid. The idea of a two-year-old child mind-reading her was just absurd, and at this point Shyvana was very convinced that the mages had set her up to this. However, she still could not shake away her fear and disbelief, and she was too terrified to feel embarrassed by her fear of an illusion of a toddler.
Before the child spoke gibberish again, the door to the nursery opened. A woman stood in the doorway, with her dark brown hair pulled back and a modest grey dress. The baby turned toward the woman, and babbled jovially at the sight of her.
Mother, a single conscious word rang in Shyvana's mind, even though she had never seen this woman before. It was as though the word was projected into her mind, a message transferred by someone outside her mind's domain.
The woman grinned and cooed at the baby, and she knelt down to pick her up. She then noticed how the babe wouldn't stop staring at a fixed direction, her finger pointing at the half-dragon's mind's eye. The woman looked to where the babe was pointing, then a confused frown marred her face.
"Annie, what is it?" she rocked the babe up and down. The child, Annie, only cooed and spoke in a language that she herself could understand, still staring at Shyvana.
And all of a sudden, the connection was lost. The picture simply winked out of existence, pulling the half-dragon back into the reality violently. She opened her eyes and jolted awake, panting heavily. Her whole body was covered in cold sweat, and it was then Shyvana realized a man stood before her, the man in grey who captured them earlier.
His face betrayed no emotions, only the dismal curl of his thin, chapped lips. He looked so pale his complexion almost matched his attire, and his hands were folded behind his back, his spine so straight the posture seemed almost uncomfortable.
She tried to look intimidating at least, but she could hardly control her rapid breathing. She managed a deep breath, but only succeeded in gasping and croaking to her shame.
"What did you see?" he asked. No introductions or greetings. This man was as blunt as he seemed.
"The tricks you have laid for me," the half-dragon spat forcefully.
"If we wish to force secrets out of you, I could have just read your mind, or subject you to simple mental torture. Whatever you have seen has inspired fear in you, and we thought you were fearless. We were simply monitoring you, until your brain activity spiked so suddenly, we were worried you were having a seizure,"
"If you don't plan to force secrets out of me," she decided to change the subject, finding the vision earlier a little too uncomfortable to talk about. "Then what is it that you want with me?"
There was a pause, the silent so palpable the half-dragon could feel her own disquiet.
"Your assistance," he finally said, his deep, smooth voice reverberating about the white room.
The half-dragon scoffed. "And yet I'm bound to this metal chair. Do you kidnap people to seek their aid?"
"Because one way or another, you have to help us. You cannot reject,"
"You could have tried asking nicely,"
He smiled slyly. "That is not our way,"
"That is none of my concern,"
"Nevertheless," he cut her off. "You wish to seek vengeance on the drake that murdered your father, don't you?"
Shyvana kept quiet.
"I can help you find where he is," he simply offered. "Provided that you help us,"
She still said nothing. Something felt fishy, she knew it. Either this man was too desperate, or there is something else he did not tell her.
"I know what you're thinking. That this is a trap and I should not be trusted," the man reached into his robes and retrieved a a blue orb-like device, casting its eerie lights across the room. Floating above his palm, the runes etched into the machinations of the device glowed hotly, before splitting itself and began to spin, illuminating a globe-shaped aura around it, revealing the map of Valoran.
"This trinket pinpoints the location of the drake, and it will be yours once you agree to help me. After that, you and the prince are free to go as you please, with this device,"
She narrowed her eyes at him. "What is it that you need?"
"My daughter," he said. "My wife and I are renowned mages of the Gray Order, and together we birthed a child who has possibly inherited our magical adeptness and psychic mastery," he withdrew his palm, and the orb shrunk back into its normal self, the runes' glow dying down. "Just a few months old, she was able to conjure a small mote of flame, or establish prominent psychic connections with my wife, Amoline and I,"
Shyvana shuddered and had no doubt that this child was similar to the one she saw in her vision. She struggled to keep a straight face, and inhaled deeply when he did not notice her change in demeanour.
He continued. "A child, who is most probably pyrokinetic and exhibits the ability of mental domination, is most easily the target of malignant forces. Have you heard of the tale of the shadow demon?"
She shook her head.
"This creature devours the magical force of mages, and is the living terror of all warlocks since the beginning of time. No mage has ever encountered this beast and sealed it or tamed it. Perhaps it is a wild djinn on the loose, we do not know. But whatever it is, it targets areas with strong concentration of magical auras, and will first establish a connection with its victims before luring them out. Coincidentally, when Ryze appeared with the Gray Order, my daughter started having nightmares,"
"You think that creature could have gone after Ryze?"
"No," the man cleared his throat. "The creature is more attracted to fire magic. Ryze makes use of arcane spells and rune magic. Anyhow, we have peered into my daughter's mind to relive her night terrors, and all we see from her dreams was a dark shadow, shifting and changing shapes, with red glowering eyes. That must be the shadow demon, and it is coming after my daughter,"
The half-dragon waited for the man to make his request.
"And I want you to kill that creature for us, so my daughter would be safe once again,"
Shyvana snarled, her eyes narrowed in distaste and ridicule. "How do you expect me to slay a creature that cannot be seen? More so a djinn? If not even the warlocks or mages can take down this thing, I want nothing to do with it,"
"This shadow creature is attracted to fire, and past records had implied that it was susceptible to fire, just as it desired it. Your ability to manipulate heat and fire is different from other forms of destruction magic. Also, the Gray Order will assist you in taking down this demon," from the way he said it, she could tell that he was desperate, but not enough to show it through his voice or emotions.
She held up her chin defiantly. "If I refuse?"
"I will slit that man's throat, right in front of you,"
Her defiance dissipated, replaced by rigid fear and terror. She hated how she was manipulated so easily, and she cursed silently. The man smiled at the change of her composure.
"Do you know who he is?" she grunted, raw anger burning her throat, but this time she was the one afraid and desperate. "Do you know what the consequences will be, if you murder him?"
"Oh, I do, half-dragon. And I know your relationship with him, we have seen everything," he stepped forward. "And I don't care. I don't care if he is the heir to the throne. I don't care what he means to you, or what you mean to him. Don't forget that you are both stepping on the soil of his enemies. If his blood spills here, I'll be doing Noxus a favour,"
Shyvana pursed her lips, once again finding herself cornered by predators. The man locked gazes with her, and she knew that he was not making idle threats.
"What is your name, warlock?" she spat furiously.
"Gregori Hastur," he answered without hesitation, his calmness and murderous intent palpable within the white walls of her prison.
"Gregori Hastur," she spoke his name with hate. "Give me that orb and release him, then I will help you,"
Thank you for reading. Reviews are very much appreciated!