Chapter IV
Through the day, the hawk remained idle in the cage that bound it. Chains were often heard rattling from the bedroom as he roamed about, trailing his lithe fingers along the sandstone walls as if searching for some form of secret. Anything to help him escape.
Or, in a very distant hope.. perhaps find his blades.
Actually, he had never thought to ask the prophet where he took his armor and blades. It was a question that didn't seem to even cross his mind as they spoke; the seer was capable of bringing up far more important points that required immediate recognition. But, perhaps he would ask him later.
After all, he still had his shirt, pants, and metal boots; it was enough to keep him pleased for the time being.
The sudden creaking of a wooden door made Talon's ears perk up, stopping him from his search as he removed his hands from the wall. Without needing to turn his eyes to the doorway, he felt the eerie presence of the prophet float into the room. After all, it was hard to miss, given the fact he had such a strong, ominous aura about him.
"Assassin. I have a proposition for you. One that may, in fact, please you." Malzahar began, holding a new set of chains in his hands. "You are coming to the market with me today."
A small glimmer of hope appeared in Talon's mind. This could be his chance to finally strike, or, to get away from his captor. Without thinking too far into it, he gained a small smile on his lips as he turned to Malzahar and nodded in acceptance.
"Of course. If that is what you wish for me to do." He replied almost too willingly, walking over towards him and allowing the shackles that bound his wrists and ankles to be undone. Though, they were swiftly replaced before he could make a single move.
In fact, the smile was wiped off his face completely as a collar was snapped around his neck and a chain attached to a small iron loop that adorned the leather binding.
"Don't get your hopes up. If you are having thoughts of escaping while we are there, remove them from your thinking process immediately. Save yourself the trouble of having your hopes shot down, would you?" Malzahar's voice was rather nonchalant, but truthful. "After all, if you escaped me... I would do everything in my power to bring you back. Do not forget that I can travel much faster than an average being, mortal."
Mortal. The term made Talon roll his eyes in disgust. The fact Malzahar held himself on such a high pedestal for simply being the 'chosen' of the Void irked Talon.
The seer was far from being a special cookie in Talon's eyes, not that he would ever tell him such.
"Here."
The blade's shadow growled as he was smacked in the face by a dark brown cloak that flopped over his head as he failed to catch it. An amused chuckle came from Malzahar, Talon responding with a glower as he pulled the cloak from his head and wrapped it around him the best he could. Shackles were still attached to his wrist, and the chain that connected in between them was far from being long; he could barely fit his arms down in a relaxed position at his sides.
The seer certainly had prepared for this, just in case.
"Good, that should conceal you rather nicely... don't want a sudden sandstorm to scar that precious face of yours, now do we? You need to look your best for when the Void finally enters you." Talon could feel the smile on Malzahar's lips from underneath the facemask. Again, it made him sick.
Suddenly, the brown hood that was attached to the cloak was pulled roughly over his head, blocking the top half of his face from view. Only the bottom of his nose down was now visible to onlookers, though he could somewhat see through the dark fabric. Enough to tell what his surroundings were, anyway, and if necessary he could just maneouver his head to gain a better view.
Thankfully the assassin was used to wearing clothing of this sort - given his usual missions into the frigid lands of Freljord.
"Now. Shall we go?" Malzahar asked, receiving a reluctant huff of acknowledgment from Talon.
Without waiting, the chain that Malzahar held in hand was roughly tugged, pulling the assassin forward. Right now, he truly did feel like a pet, which made him scowl at the back of Malzahar's head as he was lead out of the small house and into the desert sands. Being led around by a chain that was attached to a collar on his neck... how degrading, Talon thought.
"It will not take long to reach our destination. There is a small village not far from here that holds what I seek. Try to keep up, and please don't allow yourself to suffer from heatstroke."
That simple request, though meant with good intentions, made Talon's eye twitch. Don't allow himself to suffer from heatstroke... was this man serious? In fact, he seemed like a small child at times with how he spoke and acted.
After all, it had been nearly a week now that they had first met.
Speaking to the prophet each day, Talon began to pick up on his actions and notice clearly the things that bothered him and the things that did not. While he was an intriguing man to talk to due to the fact that he held many secrets within his knowledgeable mind, he was also extremely, extremely infuriating. There were little things and remarks that he would make that would leave Talon's skin crawling in annoyance. But thankfully, Talon has, since the night he was nearly killed by the odd Void entity, resisted the urge to punch the Prophet again.
To say he had learned his lesson the first time would be an understatement. The next time Talon would decide to attack the prophet, it would be with a killing intent. Not just a warning strike.
"So, Talon... how well did you enjoy your life in Noxus?"
The sudden question made Talon blink. He didn't understand why Malzahar would be attempting small talk about his life when he already knew everything about him. Though, to humor him, Talon decided to go along with it, even if his replies would be simple.
"Was rough, 'till the General took me in."
"Is that so? I suppose I can see why... going from living off the filthy streets and making your home in a sewer, to living in a luxurious mansion filled with all types of delicacies must have seemed like heaven for you, mm?" The prophet chuckled, and for once, seemed like a decent man worth speaking with.
Talon gained a small smile on the corner of his lips, "...Yeah. I was truly grateful for what he saw in me... he saw me for what I truly was, and used my abilities well. I was something much more than just a 'guard dog' or an 'assassin' to him. He treated me like a son."
Much to Talon's surprise, the Seer had grown silent instead of conjuring up a response to his explanation. His head had turned to face forward, and his pace had slowed, allowing Talon to catch up and walk alongside the floating male. It was odd for him to be so silent, since he was a man of many questions.
An awkward silence drew in between the two, persisting for what seemed like ages as they traveled. The only sounds that occurred were the shuffling of Talon's armored boots through the soft sand, and the occasional fluttering of fabric in the wind. As one who was used to staying in silence, Talon didn't complain; though he did inwardly admit to being a little unnerved with how quiet Malzahar remained.
As Talon opened his mouth to talk to finally break the quiet, Malzahar interrupted him as if on cue.
"We have arrived." He said simply, gesturing forward with his free hand.
Beholding the sight of a rural village just a short ways away, Talon exhaled a small breath in gratitude. His feet somewhat ached from trudging through the dunes without rest, and just now he realized how thirsty he actually was. Hungry, too, but getting something to drink was currently his main concern.
"...Good." Talon simply replied, voice somewhat raspy due to his parched thirst. "I was getting tired of traveling."
Malzahar smiled underneath his mask, eyes flicking over to look down at the Noxian, "Your voice and slouched figure gives that away rather easily. Sadly, I cannot allow you to go someplace to rest... we need to return home before nightfall. You may get something to drink, however..."
A small sound of detest came from the younger male upon hearing those, his hopes of getting away from Malzahar even for the shortest moment had been shot down completely. Though he was seemingly kind enough to find him something to drink, so Talon hadn't the room to whine. Anything to beat the searing desert heat would be a good thing in his book.
Upon entering the town, villagers scurried about, some with crates and others with large pots that were handcrafted by the wonderful ladies that resided within. Dancers and gypsies made their homes in the central plaza of this town, Talon's eyes trailing over their forms as they seemed to quickly scurry away from he and Malzahar whenever they drew close. It piqued the assassin's curiosity, drawing a bit closer to Malzahar in order to speak quietly to him.
"Why do they flee away from us...?"
Malzahar chuckled, glowing eyes flicking down to the concerned rogue, "Simple. They think of you as being a slave."
"...Certainly not a wrong assumption." Talon growled under his breath, watching as Malzahar once again turned his focus forward.
"Slave traders are common around this part of Shurima. They come and go, bringing slaves from all different areas of Runeterra to be sold. Most tend to stay far away from them, most likely due to fear. Fear that they will end up as slave themselves if they aren't careful, especially if they are poor and lacking a proper home to run to."
Malzahar's explanation silenced Talon. He gained a disgusted frown, dark eyes turning to stare at the sandy cobblestone. He had remembered an instance where General Du Couteau had sent him to do away with a slave trader... the assassin still remembered when he had stumbled upon the slaves that he owned, and just how miserable each one of them seemed.
If there were ever a time that Talon pitied another human being, it would have been then.
"Stay close to me."
The small whisper from the Prophet made Talon regain his focus as Malzahar quickly pulled him into a more secluded area of the marketplace. An alleyway cast in shade stretched before them, stalls lining the sides of the large path, each with a variety of goods stored upon their wooden stands. A black market, Talon immediately knew; there was one similar in the slums of Noxus, where many stolen and imported goods were sold for profit.
It wasn't until Malzahar stopped in front of one of the stalls did Talon once again pay attention to him, stopping behind him as he gazed over his shoulder at what he was eyeing.
"Cloth...?" Talon asked, looking at the other male in bewilderment. "What is this for?"
"Silence." Came the swift, low reply, making his brow furrow, "hold onto these for me. If you want a drink, you're going to work for it."
Without waiting for a response, a bundle of purple and blue cloth was shoved into Talon's arms. He growled, not quite enjoying such treatment, even if he was used to the sort of thing from other Noxians. So, instead of wittily retorting, he merely huffed in irritation, holding onto the bundle of cloth as he was told.
Looking down at the small bundle, Talon took a moment to notice that it held the same texture of cotton; expensive, but extremely soft. His mind could only wonder what the seer had in mind, considering trying to read him was like trying to decode an ancient scripture. Talon had stopped trying after the first couple of days.
No sense trying to understand something that is shrouded in mystery, he reasoned.
The assassin stumbled as he was suddenly tugged forward with a fair amount of force, noticing that Malzahar had once again begun to move after paying for the cloth. He was keeping Talon unusually close to him, only allowing a small margin of the long chain out of his grip, forcing the other to practically hug his side. Just as he was about to question this action, he was once again silenced by the other's ethereal voice.
"Keep your eyes open. This is an area that is popular amongst thieves. You, of course, may be used to such things... but, I shall pass on a warning to you regardless." His voice was quieter than normal, whispering so he wouldn't be heard by onlookers, "and, have you not noticed the odd looks that you are receiving?"
That question made Talon blink, slightly turning his head to look around at the people who gathered behind the stalls. Their dark eyes were indeed watching him in particular, and watching him carefully. Odd, he didn't think he looked out of the ordinary... most of them were also wearing dark brown, hooded cloaks that concealed most of their features.
"...Yes. Why?" Another rough tug, one that jerked Talon forward so he forced to literally be pressed against Malzahar's side. "Stop that."
Blue eyes began to glow brighter as they flicked down to look at Talon, who immediately noticed the change and muttered a quiet apology to calm him down.
"Firstly, do not speak to me that way..." His voice was a low growl, one that always inflicted a shudder on the young assassin, "Secondly... ignoring the fact you look like a slave, it is your skin tone. Outsiders are not... welcomed here with open arms. Why do you think you are dressed in those robes? They are not only to protect you from the sands, but also to conceal your identity. Should the villagers gain word that you are a Noxian, you will be hunted-"
"Because they hate Noxus due to the war, all Noxians are scum, blah blah. Been there, done that." Talon interrupted with an annoyed, grumbling tone of voice. Malzahar slowly nodded in response.
"Correct. As such, you need to stay close to me, and do not remove your hood."
A simple command, Talon mused. Not like he'd take his hood off in public anyway, it stayed on for a reason, especially when in Noxus. It was a perfect way of concealing his identity, after all.
"Fine." Came his reply, allowing himself to be lead back into a lighter environment, and soon he found himself wandering through the commons again.
It wasn't long before a small canteen of oasis water fell into his hands, the assassin greedily popping the cork and drinking his fill. At least the prophet was true to his word, even if it did take a little while for him to follow through. It left the Noxian thirstier than he would have liked, but the reward of cool water going down his parched throat was well worth the wait.
Even as they finally left the village with a small woven basket filled with goods, Talon continued to gulp the water greedily. At least, on the bright side, the trip back was a lot less agonizing, considering they were mainly going down a majority of the dunes rather than traveling up them. However, Talon was getting rather chilled, as with the setting of the sun, a cool wind began to waft over the Shurimian sands.
The assassin shivered as they walked, picking up his pace so that he was actually walking a few steps ahead of the prophet. He needed to keep himself going if he hoped to beat the cold. Thankfully, the small home that Malzahar owned had a small fireplace in the main room; it wasn't much, but it would be enough to keep the place somewhat heated.
Especially on a cold evening such as this.
"Are you cold?" The question made Talon turn his head, dark eyes looking carefully at Malzahar. Instead of replying vocally, his head slowly nodded. "I see. We shall be home soon."
'Home'. The word ran through Talon's mind as he heard it spoken. Could the place he was staying in now with the Seer truly be called a home...?
An odd fact about the assassin was that he was capable of being lost within his thoughts easily, which Malzahar seemed to pick up on. There were certain words, phrases and actions that could leave the Noxian lost within his mind for seemingly hours, if given the luxury of being alone for that long. However, this time, the prophet decided to act upon it.
The younger male shook as he suddenly felt a strong arm around his shoulder, and a warmth run over his cool body. The prophet had moved and pulled Talon towards him, wrapping his purple cloak partially around the rogue in an attempt to provide him with extra heat. Of course, whether he knew that this situation was a rather awkward one to be put in or not was certainly a question worth pondering.
"Malzahar...?" Talon questioned, grateful for the heat, but also somewhat bewildered by the generous action, "What are you doing?"
No response was received, silence instead falling between the two as Talon lightly shrugged his shoulders and welcomed the sloppy embrace. It was something, at least – something to keep the both of them warm as they traversed the icy desert sands. Hesitantly, Talon even found his arm slinking around the prophet's back, placing it on his hip so that he were in a more comfortable position against him.
Normally, the assassin would never consider such an action. If he were in Noxus, and if his wrists weren't restrained, he would have stabbed the Seer through the throat a long time ago and fled to fend for himself. It was his usual action to take, one he fell back on since childhood.
But now, in this time, his eyes were turned to the far left, looking away from the Seer but leaning against him for the warmth. Whether it was intentional or not, his head had also moved to rest on Malzahar's chest, only now realizing how fatigued he truly was. Walking an entire day, enduring heat and cold in a desert of all places really took it out of him.
Which is why as soon as they finally arrived at the small home, Talon broke the embrace and moved towards his room. Or, at least, he would have, if Malzahar didn't still have a good hold on the chain attached to his collar. As he attempted to move, his body was pulled backwards by the chain, eliciting a growl from his once again parched throat.
"Let go." His response was quick and low, voice challenging, "I want to sleep."
"Not yet." Malzahar replied, though he did pull him towards the bedroom anyways, which surprised the younger man, "There is still something I want to do."