Bonus points to the one who tells me why this title(meaning minor spoiler) in a review.
A gusty wind swept the forlorn remains of the vegetation that littered the parched ground, making it look like a black, uneven stain. Small particles of soot danced it the air, creating a spectacle in the form of a rain of cinder mercilessly swept away by the air currents. The scent of charred grass mixed itself with the pungent smell of coagulated blood, creating a most unpleasant odor. Burying his snout under his paw, Thorn released a dim, muffled growl. Each inhalation of the tainted air was a painful reminder of his past, raking at his memories until the unpleasant, the tainted part of his miserable life resurfaced. Lashing his tail against the ground, Thorn's eyes searched for something, anything, that would take his mind off the destruction around him. But there was no such thing. The blackened earth and the scent it carried had been a too familiar stimulus for the young dragon who became the instrument of such destruction.
Ever since he had been capable of carrying Murtagh on his back, Thorn was forced to strictly obey the king's commands, much of his liberty taken by what seemed a mere human. Mistaking Galbatorix for a puny human, however, was a mistake, even for a young, inexperienced dragon. Every word he spoke, every command he handled was to be accomplished as soon as possible. No objections, no failures. And no leeway allowed. The days of relative freedom were over, and there was no turning back. Galbatorix was a shrewd person, and he did what any man of his position would do. Making use of his greatest asset, and as much as possible.
The first assignments were nothing special. Most of the tasks were in the boundaries of what a normal soldier would be capable of doing, like scouting or traveling between settlements. The simplicity of these menial tasks surprised even Murtagh, who began to question the king's sanity. He was no mere soldier, and even he—a name slave which had no control over his own life—deserved more respect than that. But he did not protest—not in Galbatorix's presence, at least. Thorn made sure that something like that would not happen by keeping Murtagh's behavior in check, often mending his sore mind and provide him one more reason to get up from the bottomless pit in which both of them lingered. Time passed without mercy, and nothing seemed to change until Thorn became a mature dragon.
After he learned to breathe fire—a natural ability all dragons possess, Thorn and Murtagh were given different type of tasks, which were sure to include a use for Thorn's new ability. Ranging from the destruction of caravans that supplied the Varden with different goods to scouting missions that usually ended up with the death of someone, Thorn had no choice but to cause strife and destruction. His blazing fire incinerated everything it touched, reducing it to ashes, while his fangs and claws drew blood every time someone would take arms against him.
Snorting revoltingly as ash made its way into his nostrils, Thorn's mind returned to the present. In the distance, a cloud of rising black smoke was obscuring the clear-blue-sky. Thorn was not particularly interested in the aftermath that involved the vegetation. His focus was summoned by something less monotonous and static. Nearing him with slow beat of his wings, Shruikan began to slowly descend. Soft, powdery ash flew into the air when paws that matched the ground's color touched the burned soil. Folding his wings, he placed them safely near his body.
Thorn growled with contentment at the sight of the black dragon. The battle ended favorably for all of them, and this single thought was enough to wash away Thorn's worries. Hastily scrambling on his legs, Thorn rushed forward, wincing slightly as he did so. He barely took one step and the stinging pain already retaliated scornfully after he placed his injured foreleg on the ground. Releasing a soft growl—which was more like a whimper— Thorn quickly lifted his injured leg and slowly lowered his body on the ground, looking at the approaching black dragon with interest.
Shruikan's majestic form dwarfed everything around him as he approached Thorn. The ruby dragon was greeted by a pleasant nuzzle on the back of his neck before Shruikan lowered his snout even further, sniffing at the lacerations on Thorn's leg. Extending his neck to return the greeting, Thorn reached Shruikan's neck. He was inches away with his snout when a loud whimper escaped him, distracting his attention.
Shruikan's tongue gently brushed against the exposed flesh. The caring gesture was a sign of good will, yet he still found it unpleasant.
Although Shruikan's intentions were good, Thorn could not tolerate the pain anymore as he quickly retracted his leg while his snout darted forward. Clamping his jaws around Shruikan's neck in a light grip, Thorn growled his discomfort.
Shruikan immediately understood the implications of his actions. Pulling his snout away from Thorn's injuries, he released a soft growl.
I apologize for causing you pain, young one. That particular cut would need much more than my assistance to heal itself, said Shruikan.
Tongue strokes brushed against the scales where teeth previously gripped Shruikan's neck. The contact with the obsidian scales was interrupted when Shruikan rose up. Moving around Thorn, he lowered his body beside him.
The ruby dragon growled approvingly when Shruikan's bulk settled itself so close to him. The extra warmth and the large black wing that was draped over his body, covering everything except a part of his hail and head, instilled a feeling of safety into the young dragon's mind.
All my attacks were useless against such speedy opponent, said Thorn, placing his head on Shruikan's foreleg. It is a bit amusing how fate twists and turns. Elves made the pact with our race to stop the blood shed, and in exchange they gained abilities that would allow them to kill us as easily as we kill our prey.
That is one of the sparks which led to the ignition of the great war that decimated our race,said Shruikan, lowering his neck until he comfortably placed his head on the ground. Power can alter one's personality to the point where it becomes a shadow of his former self, unrecognizable even by the ones closest to it.
Thorn thought about Shruikan's words, but he could not discern the meaning behind them. The Riders… how were they before Galbatorix lost his dragon?
No one knows for sure, Shruikan snorted, looking at the sky thoughtfully. Some claim that the Riders were the ultimate wall against misery, that the land flourished and people knew no fear. Yet— Shruikan paused, looking towards the ruby dragon who held his head low, his eyes full of questions and desire to know the ill fate of an order that was responsible for his misfortune almost equally to his predicament. Our species suffered during the Elven War, yes, Shruikan thought, finding a little consolation in the vermilion eyes of Thorn, but what if the pact never happened? We wouldn't be bonded with the elves, give them power and spurt their arrogance, and ultimately destroy ourselves in the process. If Galbatorix had no dragon in the first place, none of this would have happened…
The seed of discord had been planted way before The Fall, young one, Shruikan said with resignation. Its roots thickened under the ground, away from their perception, and the beautiful vine, the Riders, that entangled the elven society became a poisonous ivy, suffocating what the elves strived to protect in the end.
The Riders…Thorn asked with bewilderment, they had changed before Galbatorix lost his dragon?
Shruikan released a soft growl, they did, young one, long before Galbatorix was born. Power breeds arrogance and swelters pride, which in turn leads to conflicts. With no other authority having control over them, the Riders were the true rulers of Alagaesia.
Thorn began to slowly understand where the cause of the rot truly resided. Politics were of no concern to dragons, but Galbatorix did not mind sharing pieces of history with his most loyal and trusted servants. The Riders were only an order of peace keepers and protectors who were in the service of the lords and kings of that time, and their choosing was independent of rank, meaning that everyone had the chance to become a Rider. Even with an apparent sound system based on trust and loyalty, no ruler could hope to go against the Riders or question their decisions, even if the kingdom would ultimately suffer because of the Rider's actions. As Galbatorix said, the Riders were the force which led from the darkness, the cunning and invisible force which bended the land according to their preferences.
So they were corrupt, after all, said Thorn.
Not quite, said Shruikan. There is no rebuttal when one follows his conscience to achieve a goal from which everyone benefits. Although their methods were questionable and sometimes frowned upon by the respective rulers, the ultimate goal of the Riders was to serve the interests of the land.
But most of the Riders were young, Thorn observed. As any hatchling, their nature was bound to resurface.
It was only natural for that to happen. When a mere elf youngster obtains a magic stronger than any of the spell casters and physical attributes which would make even the seasoned veterans envy, the others become wary of his power. In turn, the elf cannot help but surrender to the feeling of superiority that is brought along with his new abilities. Shruikan paused, and Thorn eyed him with a contemplative look. But chiding someone who has equal authority, if not higher, than the King or Queen, is no easy task, Shruikan added, clawing at the grass with his right paw, trying to end the life of a pesky insect-with-many-legs that tried to use his paw as a refuge.
The dragons! Thorn cut in with enthusiasm, feeling that it all began to make sense. We obey to no one, and when a dragon hatches for someone, the Rider should feel privileged. It's our choice, not theirs. So it falls to us to fight the unreasonable and win.
Shruikan nudged Thorn in the neck with his snout, making the young dragon lose his mesmerized state and wince, surely you know how powerful the Rider bond is. You— Shruikan bowed his head, you know it better than me.
Thorn felt pity cascading over him. Shruikan's life was more miserable than his own. Enslaved since he hatched, he was deprived of a loving Rider, or a caring mate. His life was shallow, empty, and dark. Darker than his scales, empty and cold like the marbled chambers in Uru'baen.
They were not easily manipulated, Shrukan said, interrupting Thorn's train of thought. Molding one's personality is nothing less than an impossible feat, knowing that the dragon chooses his Rider. We are not without flaws, and this reflected our choice of Riders.
Thorn lifted his head from his previously comfortable position. It's hard to believe that no dragon could grind some rightfulness into those arrogant elves, Thorn said. He was about to continue when his attention was quickly attracted by the strong scent of blood which came from somewhere nearby. Barely spending time to look around, Thorn quickly found the source of the sticky substance that was covering the midnight black scales. After a brief sniff, Thorn's tongue darted out of his mouth, brushing softly against the bloodied scales.
Shruikan growled softly, then whimpered as Thorn's tongue ran over an open wound, we too were responsible for what happened, hatchling, Shruikan said, wincing at the contact. Being a proud race ourselves, we could not see through the ominous veil that was starting to afflict the Riders.
Thorn continued to clean Shruikan's scales, careful not to provoke any unnecessary pain to the older dragon. Careful as a mother who cleaned her hatchlings, Thorn ran the tip of his tongue over the bloodied scales slowly, almost soothingly.
Caught in a moment between calmness and ease, Thorn pondered about what he just learned. The Riders undoubtedly played a big role in the extinction of the dragons, save for those who still survived. No matter the sides, the damage had already been done, and while the Forsworn were responsible for the current situation, Thorn knew that it was the failed request of Galbatorix who brought this one upon them.
He also loved Murtagh, and their feelings for each other ran deeper than gestures or words that too often cause irrevocable confusion. Murtagh was the partner of his mind and soul, a reliable being who always trusted his counsel and never acted stupidly on his own. Well, at least most of the times. What was wrong with the Riders then? Was misery necessary to open their eyes? Was carnage the only solution to put an end to a faulty system?
I am grateful that you managed to dispose of the elf before he could hurt you even more. If that happened, then the blame was on me for not being able to protect you, said Shruikan , his voice warm and soothing. The older dragon was oblivious to Thorn's concerns. He probably mused about the same questions at some point.
Thorn stopped for a brief moment, growling his disapproval, I would never blame you for something like this, Shruikan. If anything, it should be my fault for not being strong enough to protect myself.
No further words came from Shruikan as he began licking Thorn's neck. It was something unusual for a dragon to back off from an argument, but Thorn quickly realized that a simple argue would completely ruin this tender moment of relaxation.
Ultimately, it was not a dragon's stubbornness, but Murtagh's arrival that distracted the attention of the two dragons as he swiftly approached. Fortunately, Thorn cleared every trace of blood that dirtied Shruikan's hide, revealing the shiny black scales underneath. Shruikan also stopped his actions as he turned his attention towards Murtagh.
Murtagh's run came to an abrupt end as he stopped in front of the two dragons. He leisurely wiped the beads of sweat from his brow and waited for a moment to catch his breath. "Did I arrive too late?" he asked, squinting his eyes," or am I interrupting something?"
Thorn snorted a puff of smoke, don't be silly, little one. We were both waiting for you to show up.
There is no reason for me not to believe you, Murtagh said in defeat, a small smile presenting itself on his face. Thorn flicked his tail on the ground, staring at Murtagh intently. In a few strides, he covered the distance between them and knelt beside Thorn's leg, frowning a little.
This is the last time I believe you, said Murtagh on a disapproving tone as he ran his hand across the large laceration. Thorn winced at the contact, strengthening Murtagh's resolution further. If I were absent for the whole battle, I'd say that you fought against a dragon, not one of those pompous, full of themselves elves, Murtagh mumbled, pressing his last words, these wounds are deep enough to rival the ones caused by Saphira.
Thorn released a low growl, bringing his snout closer to Murtagh, it may seem large to you, but to me it is as harmful as a useless stick thrown against my hide. A snort of defiance followed, one of Thorn's means to protect his pride and to fight Murtagh's claims, which were blatantly exaggerated.
Murtagh threw him a smug look before he placed his hand on the wound. I'll be wary of such sticks next time, then, Thorn barely suppressed a light growl due to the bothersome contact with the wound.
I'm sorry about that, he apologized. I can't afford being careless after all our energy sources were depleted, Murtagh said dryly, his concerned eyes moving swiftly in their sockets, analyzing the wound, making calculations, most likely.
Thorn looked at him questioningly. Murtagh smiled and ran his hand across his foot, all the way to his ivory claws. I'll heal you even if I must use the last reserves of my energy, Thorn, Murtagh said, patting Thorn's clawed paw. This wound will bother you no more, but before I start the healing spell I need to further inspect the depth of the wounds and adjust the right amount of energy I need to pour into the spell, he further explained. This way, I will be able to do it without endangering myself more than necessary.
Thorn brought his snout closer to Murtagh and nuzzled his arm affectionately. Releasing a light laughter, Murtagh ran his hands across his snout before he gripped it with his arms, placing his forehead on the ruby scales.
It will not be long until the sun will set, said Murtagh on a calm voice. Hopefully, we will reach Uru'baen by nightfall and get our well deserved rest, he continued. Pulling his arms away, he looked briefly into Thorn's vermilion eyes before turning his attention towards the wound.
That we shall, and we will take as many breaks as Thorn will wish to, Shruikan added.
Thorn turned his attention towards the black dragon, whose eyes bore visible concern. Slowly reaching towards the black dragon, Thorn rubbed his snout against Shruikan's neck with affection.
I do not want to be a burden for you or my Rider, Thorn said, brushing against his hard, pristine scales. And I also do not want Galbatorix to punish any one of us for our late arrival, he added.
He will not, Shruikan growled softly, he probably knows the outcome of the battle and causing you any more pain would be unwise. Shruikan retracted his neck slightly so he could look Thorn in his eyes. Besides, I will deny him the possibility to harm the two of you, physically or mentally.
Thorn stopped from his pleasant reverie, taken aback by Shruikan's words. Shruikan was not enjoying a different freedom; he was as much of a slave as he was, maybe even worse. When his previous thoughts about Shruikan's loneliness returned, Thorn realized how caring Shruikan truly was. He was more than impressed by the selflessness displayed by one who was forced to do the mad king's bidding ever since he hatched.
Unknowingly, he found himself staring into his amber eyes. The same perplexed stare of a young ruby dragon when a massive dragon towered above him. Like a vengeance of the past, words refused to show themselves to him.
Luckily, he did not have to think a lot about it as silent words were whispered upon the gentle breeze. Immediately after, an intense pain exploded from Thorn's front leg, a loud roar making its way through his throat.
Murtagh cringed and groaned at the powerful sound, but did not stop the spell until the wounds were completely gone.
Thorn's snarl subsided once the pain was replaced by a warm, ticklish sensation. Bringing his head down so he could inspect his front leg, Thorn could see no traces of the previous lacerations. Thorn growled in pleasure as Murtagh rubbed his snout with his hands, you can thank me later for ridding you of that superficial wound, he chuckled.
Thorn pushed Murtagh with his snout, causing the Rider to lose his balance, why delay when I can do it now? He said sheepishly as his tongue flicked out of his mouth.
Thorn was about to express his gratefulness towards his Rider when Murtagh quickly rolled away, looking at Thorn like he was some kind of menace.
I'll take my words back, he said as he slowly moved away from Thorn, there is no need for you to thank me for such a small favor.
Thorn snorted a puff of smoke and turned his attention away from Murtagh, you have escaped this time, but you will need to do more than this to persuade me next time.
Thorn felt a warm, comforting rub on his neck, I am glad you two reached an agreement because time is growing scarce, said Shruikan wisely as he briefly nuzzled the younger dragon.
Growling in delight, Thorn had no chance to express himself as the warm, velvety membrane that was draped over his body was lifted. Placing his wing near his body, Shruikan rose from the ground, stretching his body like a cat as he lowered his front legs, bending his body forward. His wings also extended to their limits, revealing their impressive wing span. Shruikan flapped his wings experimentally a few times before he placed them safely by his body.
Watching Shruikan with interest, Thorn did not notice the human that came from behind. A slight touch on his foreleg attracted Thorn's attention, who turned his head towards the source of the disturbance.
Aren't you going to do the same? Asked Murtagh, throwing a quick glance at Shruikan.
Not with you around me, hummed Thorn as he slowly rose up on his feet, extending his wings in the process. He tried to flap them a few times before the extended flight was upon him, but his left wing remained behind the right one as it hit something. A deep, playful growl was released from the black dragon that moved a bit farther from Thorn, his amber eyes never leaving him as he looked at the ruby dragon expectantly.
Let me carry Murtagh on my back, young one, for it would be easier for you to fly by yourself, said Shruikan.
I cannot accept his offer, Murtagh said with awe, his face pale. You've seen how big he is and how he flies. Besides, he has no saddle and his scales would-
Thorn snarled, interrupting the distressed Rider from his mumblings, calm down, little one. I am strong enough to carry you, be it on my back or in my claws.
Murtagh gulped emptily at the mention of claws and threw Shruikan a quick look before he jumped into Thorn's saddle.
Do not worry about me, Shruikan, said Thorn as he moved towards the black dragon, Murtagh's small weight will not be a hindrance to me.
So be it, young one.
Shruikan lowered his body into a crouch, then leaped into the air, his massive wings generating impressive gusts of air with each flap.
Thorn took to the skies shortly after Shruikan, his sharp claws leaving deep gashes into the parched soil as he pushed himself up.
I must say, I very much like the choice of title this time. If you paid attention to the first message, then here's your chance to get another small spoiler. The rules are simple: You have to do it officially!( by posting here). I don't want to watch for time when you sent that PM or when the profile message happened. Here, it's simple: Who gets it first gets the small spoiler. Let the game begin.
Also, I would be very pleased if you, my readers, decide to emerge from the darkness and populate this saddened thread with more posts. There has been a while since I got more than 3 different people posting, yet the number of readers increased since the start. Please, consider about giving me a virtual cookie. I love them so much.