Trouble

((I took a little liberty with this week’s prompt. It’s supposed to be to write a story set in a country you’ve never been to. Since I hadn’t really developed western Naren yet, I decided to set it there since I wanted to stick to my own fantasy world. Here’s my first story about Naren Sorias/Harrier.))

Trouble. That’s what you are.

The words echoed in his mind from a distant past. He quickened his pace as he approached the edge of the roof, jumping just as he reached the edge, and landing on the roof on the other side of the alley below. He kept running. They were, no doubt, looking for him. He just had to find the right spot in this block of homes to descend before he came to any wide streets that he wouldn’t be able to jump over.

It worried him that they had found him here. The oasis town was not large, and he hadn’t been here for long. In fact, he had just been passing through, and the caravan he had joined had stopped here for the night. Of course, he was running, where else was he going to go? He supposed he could have taken a ship, but something unnerved him about being in a tiny boat in a large body of deep water. That and the fact he expected them to think he had taken a ship, made him decide that it would be better to take the caravan.

Except it wasn’t.

He hopped over the dividing walls between the uneven roof tops, and ran to pick up speed again. Another alley, this one was only slightly bigger than the other, but it presented little challenge to his long legs. He supposed it was one of the benefits of being a western elf. They averaged a bit taller than their eastern cousins and humans, and much more taller than the dwarves in the mountains, which is where he had been hoping to go. He already knew people there, and they didn’t care that his name was not official. Thril Gandir mages never showed up there. Dwarves had their own regulations for mages, and their own rules about names. As far as Sorias knew, they and the dragons were the only societies in all of Naren that did not celebrate Name Days. Not that he ever met any dragons, but he had heard from travelers from the east.

He jumped another alley, glancing behind after he landed on a roof on the other side. He didn’t see any sign of his pursuers. So he looked over the sides of the building. It was late, and most people were inside by now. He saw no one in the street below. He decided to climb down the back of the building. It would be easier with the back stairs. He gingerly climbed down from the edge, careful not to fall. Although the distance to the first landing wasn’t far, it was enough that it would hurt. Once he was there, it was easy to descend, but he stopped at the second floor and knelt by the door there. He couldn’t go back to the inn, and going with the caravan in the morning was a bad idea.

So was running off into the desert alone, but he didn’t know what other choice he had at this point. The town was too small. They would be able to find him again if he stayed another day. He pulled a hair pin out of his bun, letting a strand of his long white hair drop down his back. Now was not the time for being vain. All of his desert covering was back at the inn. He had his money and the clothes on his back that he had been wearing in the common room of the inn when the men had come in looking for him.

Nothing but troub—

The memory of the voice was interrupted by a lock clicking. He pushed the door open to find himself in the kitchen of the home. A white cloth headcover and headband hung beside the door. He grabbed those, and an bag which he emptied of facial beautification products before continuing. He took some fruit off the table and some full waterskins and put those in the bag, which wasn’t big to begin with but it would do. He left the bag and head cover next to the back door as he tiptoed further into the house. He lucked out by finding a rack with clothes left to dry on it. He grabbed the largest white robe and took it with him to the back door. Before leaving, he took out his coin purse and left a few coins on the table.

He climbed down the last stairs as he put the head covering on, draping the cloth over his ears to protect them after daylight arrived. He decided against changing his clothes in the alley. At night, it was cooler, and he was dressed appropriately for that. He stuffed the white robe half in the bag; most of it resting on top in a messy pile. He hurried off towards the northern street that led out of town and into the desert night.

The Chua

(( This week’s prompt is a story that starts with a gunshot. I don’t have many characters who use guns. Guns are non-existent in Naren, and all of my WoW characters who shoot things use bows. However, I do have this almost max level aurin character in Wildstar who has pistols. I decided to go with that, so here’s a random Wildstar story! ))

Bang!

Kiratt Brokenbark refocused on his target.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

A dominion varmint, on his property!

Bang!

He ran towards where he last saw it as the small chua ducked behind one of his trees. He was careful not to shoot his trees, but the chua had to go. He sped around the tree and shot again.

Bang!

He wasn’t anyone important. He wasn’t doing anything important. Why the chua was here in the first place was something he couldn’t figure out, not that he had a lot of time to think about it right now.

Bang!

The chua fell over, flopping onto the ground face first with a tiny thud. Kiratt approached the small ball of fur carefully. He wasn’t sure if chua played dead, but he didn’t want to find out the hard way. He kicked it lightly with his foot and watched for any movement. There was none. He knelt beside it checking for breathing and a pulse. He had hoped not to kill it, but it hadn’t seemed very keen on stopping with just an injury. He verified it was dead and stood, his ears twitching.

He didn’t like it. Nothing about this was good. He had to choices now. He could report it, like he supposed he should. They would come and ask questions, most of which he’d be unable to answer. Then they’d search for clues, turn all his stuff upside down, probably find his magazines and laugh at him, but eventually they would go. The body would be taken away, and he’d spend the rest of the week putting things back the way he wanted.

The alternative sounded better, if the chua hadn’t actually done anything. Was there a bomb somewhere? Maybe it had poisoned his plants. Anger swelled up in him at the last thought and he balled his fist as he walked to his storage shed. The chua didn’t deserve to be sent home, or sent anywhere. The alternative would suffice. He’d check for bombs and keep an eye on his plants on his own.

He grabbed a shovel from his shed and walked to his garden. He started digging a hole.

The Nameless

(( Last week’s prompt was to write a story about a festival. — I am still behind, but I should be able to catch up this week, and yes I still remember I have free sketches to catch up on too! — Anyway, I kind of already did Naren’s Name Day festival in another prompt, but I decided to touch on it again. This time I chose to write Naren Alinash, who has a similar story to World of Warcraft Alinash, with one major difference. That difference starts on a Name Day festival. ))

Alinash pushed his way through the crowds that had gathered in the largest square in Kingsfall outside of the palace. He hated name days. He didn’t have one to celebrate himself. His name was unofficial, given to him by a whore who had taken pity on him when she found him abandoned in the slums on the western side of the city. He had been three or four at the time. It was difficult to tell, and he didn’t remember. Neither did he remember his name. He had refused to talk for almost a year after she had found him, and by then, his new name had already embedded itself in his brain. He couldn’t remember being called anything else. He was unsure of his age as well. Twenty, twenty-one maybe.

Of course, having an unofficial name caused all sorts of trouble when dealing with official things. If he was caught, at his age, unnamed and possibly untested for magic, he would likely be imprisoned for not having adhered to the rules. He couldn’t work. He couldn’t travel to certain areas. He couldn’t marry — not that anyone would want him. Jobless and unofficially named, his main income came from stealing, and tonight, despite his hate of the holiday itself, the quarterly festival gave much opportunity for ‘accidental’ bumping and stealthily lifting wallets out of pockets and purses. Tonight was no exception. He’d already run back to his shack once to empty his bag, burying his treasures in a hole he had dug under the bed he had made out of old boards and torn blankets. His second bag was filling quickly.

He jostled against someone dancing, his hand darting in an exposed pocket, and pulling out a small coin purse. The people who danced to the musicians playing on the stage were some of the easiest targets. He also enjoyed pretending not to watch where he was going, and running into people. While helping them pick up things, or regaining their balance, he’d check as many pockets as he could. He slipped the small coin purse into the bag he carried and continued on through the crowd of dancers, picking the pockets as he went.

Ten minutes later, he decided he had enough to sell and feed himself for at least two months. He began to make his way back to the slums, and was almost to his shack when he heard a tiny cry. He looked around for the noise, turning his head and flicking his ears, waiting to hear it again. He waited a few minutes, but only heard the sound of the party in the center of the city.

He turned and started to head back to his shack. He stopped when he heard it again. It sounded like a small child crying. He didn’t see any children in the path between the flimsy shacks. Perhaps it was inside one of them. Satisfied with that possibility, he continued to his shack.

He moved aside the bed and dropped his loot in the hole with the previous trip’s earnings. Then he heard it again. A small cry coming from nearby. He walked back to his doorway and looked out. Again, he saw no children, but then he heard it again. A soft sob coming from around the corner. He looked between his shack and the next, and that’s where he saw her.

Her hair was done up, and her red and white dress had streaks of dirt on it. She was definitely not from the area. Her tiny elven ears were just starting to stick out properly.
“Hello? What’s your name?” Alinash asked, hoping she was old enough to talk and understand the question. He had no idea how to tell how old a kid was.

The girl scooted away from him, but didn’t get up and run. Was she old enough to run? Her legs were so tiny.

“Do you know where you’re from?” He tried again to get some sort of answer from her while kneeling down, hoping he wouldn’t scare her.

“Mama” the girl sobbed.

She at least knew one word. Alinash didn’t find it was very helpful. He needed more information. “Where? Where is mama?”

The girl pointed the opposite direction. Alinash stood and stepped over her as he moved through the tiny space between the shacks. Most adults wouldn’t have fit, but he was not large. He stopped when the girl grabbed his leg.

“No!”

“No?” Alinash was close enough to the other side to peek out around the edge. He listened to the girl try to explain.

“Mama.” It was all she said again as she picked up a small rock, and hit the ground with it.

There were lots of unsavory types in this part of the slum. If the mother was dressed up as much as her daughter was, and took a wrong turn, he had no doubt something bad happened. Of course, he had even more questions now. Was her mother still alive? Was she hit with a rock, or was the girl just playing with the rock? Where was the father? Did she have other family? He saw nothing in the path on the other side. The girl continued her sobbing.

He made his way back to the side his door was on and knelt down again, not sure what to do. He couldn’t take her to the guards. They would want to investigate. He would need to make statements and sign documents with his name. He couldn’t. He was nameless. He looked at the girl, hoping it would be easier for her, “What is your name?”

She did not answer.

Alinash frowned. He couldn’t leave her outside. After all, he was found in a similar way. If it hadn’t been for Syrina taking him in, who knows what would have happened.

“Are you hungry? I can give you some food. I don’t have a lot. I have water too. Come here.” He held out his hand, waiting for her to take it.

She took it and unsteadily stood. Alinash helped her out of the space between the shacks and showed her inside.

The Lord of Moressley

(( Last week’s story prompt was to write a story from the villian’s PoV. I decided to go with a Naren villian, and while I’m not ready to reveal the true big bad of the books, there are plenty of minor villians to choose from. I decided to go with the one who was most developed, Lord Miray, who appears in the first book. Also this is last week’s prompt. I was sick for about a week and fell way behind in things. This week’s prompt will come either tomorrow or early next week. I’ll be caught up then, at least on the story prompts. ))

It shouldn’t have been necessary. Thril Gandir sent mages to all provinces who requested one. They had denied him his right to a mage. Yet they allowed his enemies, those who would encroach on his borders, to have powerful spellcasters in their employ. He had not been happy upon receiving a letter rejecting his request for a new mage. He still wasn’t happy. He stormed from his chambers and out into the common area where one of his attendants waited.

“Has he arrived yet?”

“No, my lord. Your spies reported that he crossed the bridge over the Aduandel River early this morning. He should arrive soon.”

“Good. My strongest guards are on duty today?”

“Yes, my lord. They are awaiting you in the courtyard as you requested.”

Lord Miray nodded, and moved onto the next room where his breakfast was waiting. He frowned as he ate his eggs. They were good enough, but not enough salt. He’d have to go to the kitchen later to fix that. For now, he would eat them as they were. It was difficult to get good help in Moressley, and to be denied a mage as well! He was taking care of that. If they had just sent one, he wouldn’t have to have gone through the trouble of baiting one. Then there was going to be the process of keeping him here.

His scouts had told him much about this one before his plan was put in motion. Shortly after beheading his last mage and adahi for crimes against the lordship, he received the letter that stated he would not get a replacement. He sent his scouts out to find one and send back information. There were plenty of mages in neighboring provinces, but the one that intrigued him most was the mage who had been released from Thril Gandir as a free-traveling mage. He had been found in Kingsfall with his adahi at first.

Lord Miray had the mage followed while he hatched a plan. He discovered that the mage wrote frequent letters to his family in Elal’s Fork. He sent spies to Elal’s Fork to find that he visited his family rather frequently. His family was the key to getting him to Moressley. He had them kidnapped and brought to his castle. They were now under very close watch with two guards in their small suite in the castle, and one outside the door. The mage’s father and mother were too old to worry about, but his sisters had put up a fight more than once. After he had them here, he sent a letter to the mage informing him that they were being held for a ransom. If Thril Gandir was notified, he would kill them. The ransom was an amount he knew the mage could easily gather together. As he had hoped, the mage and his adahi did not contact Thril Gandir. They quietly gathered their money together and began to travel towards Moressley. Now they were arriving to the city, and if all went well, should be arriving any minute.

He was just finishing his breakfast as one of his attendants entered the room. “Lord Miray, the mage and his adahi are here. They are being escorted to the courtyard to wait for you.”

“Good, are the archers in place in the windows on the second floor?”

“They have been notified and are moving into position now.”

Lord Miray nodded as he stood, leaving his plate on the table for the servants to take away. “Good. Let’s go.”

He walked ahead of his attendant, stopping and waiting at each door for the attendant to walk ahead just enough to open the door for him to pass through until they reached the courtyard. The mage was already there. He was a tall elf with long reddish-brown hair. He looked down his nose at Lord Miray, and forgoing using any titles of any sort or waiting for any introductions, he asked, “Where is my family?”

Lord Miray withheld his anger. He’d have plenty of time to teach this mage a lesson. He just needed to separate him from the adahi, who was much more dangerous as he did not have anything at stake. “Where is the money?”

The mage looked at his adahi. He was also an elf, shorter but much more muscular. He carried a sword and a shield, and his long blond hair hung loosely over his armored chest and back. The adahi loosened a bag of coins from his belt. “Every copper should be accounted for. Now release his family.”

Lord Miray looked at the bag, but did not take it. “Hold onto it. I will take him to see that his family is safe and release them in front of him.” He started towards one of the doors leading from the courtyard. He turned and looked at the mage. “Coming?”

The mage took a few steps, but the adahi did as well.

“Not you. Stay here with the gold. We’ll be right back with his family.”

“I do not allow my mage out of my sight. If he is going with you, then I am as well. We can exchange the gold at the same time that you release his family.”

Lord Miray frowned, “I think you forget, you aren’t in charge here.”

“Moressley has no power over-”

He was interrupted as Lord Miray raised his hand, then lowered it in an arc. Arrows flew free from the windows over the courtyard. Some of them merely bounced off his armor, but others thudded in where the joints were. The adahi fell to his knees. The mage, untouched by the arrows, knelt beside the adahi.

“No! Kerran!” The mage looked up at Lord Miray, “I’m leaving. My adahi needs healing.”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. I still have your family. If you leave, they will die.”

The mage took the bag of coins and threw it at the lord’s feet. “Take your money and let them go.”

“Come with me. I will release them for you, then you may come back to collect your adahi and all leave together.”

The mage looked away from Lord Miray and back to the elf who was still on all fours next to him. Blood dripped off the arrows that stuck out of him at different angles. “I’ll be right back, Kerran. I need to get my family first.” He bent closer and kissed his adahi’s cheek before standing. “Take me to them.”

Lord Miray once again turned and walked towards one of the doors. He waited as the attendant opened the door, and waited a second longer as the mage caught up. “Walk with me. We will talk about the conditions of your family’s safety.”

The mage frowned and twitched an ear. He was visibly irritated. “You will release them, and allow us to leave, with my adahi.”

Lord Miray grinned, “I should warn you that the guards following us now are all trained adahis. If you try anything, they will kill you. If they kill you, your family is useless to me, and I will kill them. Thril Gandir has no power here. You are in my city, and in my castle. It is best if you do as I say.”

He watched as the mage glanced behind them to see the four guards he had chosen to follow. “If Thril Gandir has no power here, why do you have four adahis. Why aren’t they assigned to mages?”

“They are adahis from Moressley, when Thril Gandir broke their end of the agreement to send a mage, the adahis from Moressley returned home.”

They turned down a hallway as the mage asked, “They denied you a mage?”

“Yes, and you foolishly walked into my trap. Your family is here. Your family is safe. They will remain that way as long as you serve me. I will show them to you.”

The mage scratched his ear, and looked around at the guards again, “What of my adahi?”

Lord Miray shrugged, “Do you want your family to live?”

“Yes.”

“Then no more questions. You do not question your lord’s authority.”

He was pleasantly surprised that this shut the mage up. He reached the door to the suite where the mage’s family was being kept, and spoke to the guard, “Open up the door.” He turned to the mage, “You will not go in the room. Which family member do you want to see?”

“My father.”

Lord Miray waited until the door was open before motioning to one of the guards inside to come to the door, “Get the old man, show him that he’s still alive and in good health.” The guard nodded and returned inside the suite. He returned a moment later pushing an older elf towards the door.

“Heruthin!” The old man exclaimed. He was stopped from running towards the door by the guard.

“I’m sorry, Father.” The mage managed to say before Lord Miray closed the door.

“You see they are alive and in good health. They are being fed and cared for and are well-guarded. I usually have one of the adahis in the room as well. It will not go well for you if you try anything.”

“I want to see Kerran.”

“No, we’re taking you to your room next. Tomorrow, I want you ready to cast some warding spells over the west wing where you will be staying. Also, you will call me ‘Lord’ when you address me. There will be no more demands from you. If you do not comply, your family will die. It is that simple.”

The mage fell silent once more as they walked into the west wing. They went down one of the hallways and up a flight of stairs. Halfway down another hallway, Lord Miray stopped at a door and waited for an attendant to open it before pushing the mage in.

“This room has been prepared for you. As long as you are compliant, you and your family will be treated well. Lunch will be brought to you soon.” Lord Miray grinned as he pulled the door shut. It had worked. He had a mage to serve his province again. The only bad part was that he was an elf, which he was willing to overlook if the mage did as he was told.

He left one guard to stay behind and watch the mage. As he headed back to his own suite within the castle, he sent the other three guards to finish off the adahi in the courtyard. He watched from the doorway, satisfied that his plan had worked so well, before continuing on to his chambers.

Another Student

“No, don’t go! Please!”

Hethurin Fairsong stopped mid-cast upon hearing the request. He flicked an ear upon hearing Aeramin sigh beside him, and glanced his way as the teleport spell ended. “We’re here to help, right?”

Aeramin sighed again, “Yes, but I’m tired, and you already found someone?”

Hethurin flicked an ear this time, “Irael. I think she’ll work out well, but I won’t deny another applicant his chance.” He moved to sit at the desk, motioning for Desdeyliri to follow him. Aeramin frowned but took a seat nearby, and Terellion moved back to the door to guard it, letting only the young elf who had spoken to pass.

“I’m sorry, I’m late. I just filled out your form even though the teacher said I’m too late to see you. Please, give me a chance.”

Hethurin heard another sigh from Aeramin. They had heard similar pleas throughout the day from people who wanted off the Row, but weren’t very studious.

“Please sit.” Hethurin said, motioning to the chair on the other side of the desk. “May I ask why you are so late with your application?” He started glancing at the answers. He had made the application based on general education tests, and was looking for those who could at least answer a few of the more advanced questions. He raised a brow upon seeing the detailed answers on this applicants answers.

“I just got off work and just got back to the city. I’m really sorry I’m so late.”

“What kind of work do you do?” Hethurin asked, passing the application paper to Desdeyliri to look over.

“I work on the docks just outside the city.”

Aeramin spoke up, “Why are you on the Row if you work on the docks.”

“I’m only there part time, when they know a lot of ships are going to be in and need the extra help. My father wants me to be there full time, but that would cut into my study time, and I’d really rather be a mage than a dock worker.”

Aeramin spoke again, “What does your father do?”

“He can’t work. He lost a leg during the Scourge invasion.”

“Your mother?” Aeramin asked.

“She died during the Scourge invasion.”

Aeramin frowned, “I’m sorry.”

Hethurin asked, “Do you have any siblings?”

“I have a younger sister.”

“Is she still in school?” Hethurin queried, hoping that Aeramin wouldn’t interrupt again.

“No, she’s working, but my father and I only get a little of the money.”

“What does she–”

“That’s not important, Hethurin.” Aeramin interrupted.

“I just want to get an idea of what the family life is like.”

Aeramin looked at Hethurin, “Good, he lives with his disabled father and gets a little assistance from his sister. Is that right? Umm, what’s your name?”

“Felarius, and yes, that’s right.”

Hethurin frowned, “Okay, Felarius, have you had an magic instruction before?”

Felarius shook his head, “No, sir, but I read a lot about it, as much as I can. My father gets upset with it and wants me to work the docks full time. I can’t check out books at the big library because I can’t pay for the ones he destroyed, but I can go to read there.”

“So you do actively study.”

“As much as possible.”

“Can you cast?”

“I haven’t really tried. I’ve read a lot about it, and I want to try, but I don’t want to mess things up so I’d really prefer to have someone who knows what they’re doing with me.”

Hethurin nodded, and glanced at Desdeyliri who was still going over the application. She glanced back and nodded once. He looked to Aeramin only to see he was already dozing off. It had been a long day, and he couldn’t blame him really, but it was an important decision. He had already told Irael that she had the scholarship, but now there was another student who claimed to study often. He had planned to only give one scholarship away, not two, but then there wasn’t anything stopping him from giving a second.

He turned back to Felarius. “Will your father be okay without you?”

Felarius nodded. “He has my sister. I mean, it’s not a lot, but it’s enough.”

Hethurin looked at the application paper as Desdeyliri passed it back to him. She had marked that he had 95% of the questions right, and he answered the bonus question with a yes. “I’ve already given out the one scholarship that I was planning to give, but it seems as though I might expand that and give out two instead. You’ve never been accused of any crimes?”

Felarius shook his head.

“We will do a background check with the Spire, but you’re welcome to come to the school while the check is processing.”

“Really?”

Hethurin nodded. “We’ll take care of everything you need too. If you need robes or shoes or notebooks, or anything, just ask. We’ll make sure you everything. Room and board is included in the scholarship as well. Do you have any special dietary requirements?”

Felarius shook his head again, a look of disbelief on his face.

“Good, we’ll be here again tomorrow just before supper to provide a teleport to the school. Do you need a note to your father?”

“No, that’s okay. I’ll tell him.”

Hethurin smiled, “I’ll see you then.” He motioned for Terellion to come closer then began to cast his spell to take him, Des, Ter and Aeramin back to the Ghostlands.

The Name

 

“You did what?”

Aeramin grinned. There was a certain satisfaction he got from having his father’s full attention. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I said,” he paused for effect, “I changed Lyorri’s name.”

Arancon stared at him a few seconds before blurting, “What? How?”

He shrugged, “I went to the Spire, showed them my papers, showed them her papers, asked for the form, and filled it out. It was really kind of easy.”

“Why?”

Aeramin laughed, “Because I can. There’s nothing you can do about it. I’m her father. For some reason, I can’t sign papers to change that without someone trying to throw themselves in the middle of it and messing things up.”

Arancon glared at him a moment before asking in a flat tone, “What did you change it to?”

“Oh, that’s the best part. I thought you’d never ask.” He watched as his father’s brow raised before answering, “Pumpkinhead.”

Arancon’s brow raised further, “What?”

“You heard me. Pumpkinhead. Lyorri Pumpkinhead.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“I am not.”

“Why the hell would you do that to her?”

Aeramin shrugged, “I don’t know. Maybe it’s the hair. I used to be called that, so I thought she should have the name too. I mean, that’s really what this is all about, right? Carrying the name of your family? Well, I was called pumpkinhead a lot when I was young, so I thought that was better than associating her with drunks and whores.”

“Except I’m not a drunk anymore and you’re not a whore. We have overcome what we used to be. Firewind is a perfectly good name.”

“All good in theory, but in practice, the moment someone steps into the Row and asks if they know any Firewinds, they will ask if they want to know about the drunk or the whore. She doesn’t deserve to be associated with that, so I took care of it.”

“Aeramin, Pumpkinhead is not a good name. Everyone will laugh at her.”

Aeramin smiled and nodded, “Good. I’m glad you agree. Now, I don’t want her to grow up as a Pumpkinhead either, so I’ll tell you what to do to stop it. Take your contract, and remove the part about the name. I will take the revised version to Ordinicus and Kestrae and ensure that they agree to you being able to visit and all the other stuff you really didn’t need to worry about in the first place. Then I can sign the papers to give up my parental rights and they can adopt her without you interfering. If you do not agree to do this, she will be a Pumpkinhead, and it will be your fault for being stubborn.”

“You can’t do this.”

“I can, and I am. She is Lyorri Pumpkinhead until I sign the papers allowing Kestrae and Ordinicus to adopt her. Then they can change her name so that she will fit in their family. I am not signing those papers until you sign yours indicating that you won’t interfere with the adoption. Her name is in your hands now. She can be adopted and have the same name as her family, or she can continue living with them and be called Lyorri Pumpkinhead.”

Arancon frowned and twitched an ear. He grumbled, “I’m not happy about this. I’ll have a new contract ready tomorrow afternoon.”

Bhaqrin’s Capture

(( This week’s prompt was to write a story that takes place inside of a vehicle. I decided on another piece of Bhaqrin’s backstory. ))

Bhaqrin landed with a thud in the back of the trailer. Iron bars slammed shut behind him, and one of the humans closed a padlock over the latch. The other human spoke, saying something in a language that Bhaqrin was unfamiliar with. He’d never even met humans until a few days ago. He now regretted that he ever did. He had only shown himself to them in hopes that they would help him. A wound that he had received while escaping the torukil caves only a week before had become infected. The humans did treat it, but they also restrained him. The past few days he had been kept in a cell not much bigger than the one in the wagon trailer.

He rolled as he struggled to right himself as the two humans sat on a bench opposite of the cell. These two weren’t ones he had met before. They continued to speak in their strange tongue to each other, effectively ignoring Bhaqrin. He managed to get into kneeling position just as the wagon lurched forward, throwing him off balance. He caught himself by leaning on the bars with his shoulder. One of the humans, the younger of the two, glanced at him briefly before returning to his conversation with his companion.

Bhaqrin observed them both for a time. The younger one looked fit and well-kept. He wore padded armor and carried a sword and a shield. The older human looked more frail. His scraggly grey hair hung loosely down his back. They spoke to each other for a while, glancing occasionally to the cell where Bhaqrin kneeled. Once the younger one rose and walked to the bars, pointing while speaking. At last their chatter quieted and the older human drew a book out of his satchel. The younger one watched outside through a barred opening in the door.

Bhaqrin wondered where they were taking him. The town they had been in was most certainly left far behind by now. So much had happened over the past few days, and he wasn’t sure that things wouldn’t get worse before they got better. A week ago, he had been a slave in service to the dragons, as was all of his race. Every Lucaja owed their lives to the dragons, or so the dragons claimed. They must be obedient and serve without question.

Bhaqrin questioned. Frequently. He had the scars to show for it.

The final time that he questioned the rules, he managed to get himself left for dead in the torukil caves. He escaped, if just barely. The torukil had bitten him and torn a long slash down one of his wings. Bhaqrin knew he needed a mender when the wound in his wing swelled and grew more painful. Heat radiated from it, and any movement in his wing caused him to pause as waves of pain passed over him. He really had no choice to show himself to the humans. The only other alternative was to return to the dragons, and that would likely just get him thrown back in the torukil caves.

He had chosen a small house outside of a town to approach, hoping to avoid a mob of onlookers. He had been found by a girl. He wasn’t sure how fast humans aged, but she looked to be on the cusp of adulthood. She had seemed frightened at first, but didn’t run. He had sat on the ground a distance away from her and pointed to the gash in his wing. She had seemed to understand, or at least he thought she did. She held up one finger, and ran off to the house. She was gone for a good amount of time before returning with an older man, perhaps her father. She held a bowl of something, and he had his hand on the handle to a dagger attached to his belt. The girl approached him and spread a salve on his wound. It hurt when she touched, but he didn’t dare flinch. The older human was watching him warily. No doubt he was waiting for him to make the wrong move. The girl finished and backed away. The man followed close behind her.

He thought it had went well, so he returned the next day for more salve to help his wing heal. The second day went much like the first. He waited until he saw the girl doing her chores outside before stepping out where she could see him. He sat and pointed to his wing. She nodded and ran back into the house, returning with the salve and her father.

His wing was feeling much better by the third day, but he thought once more with the salve couldn’t hurt. Again, he went to look for the girl, finding her almost immediately. He sat and pointed to his wing. She motioned for him to follow, and turned towards the house. He was unsure what she meant at first. She wanted him to follow her into the house? Would the older man approve? She turned and motioned again. Perhaps the other human had requested that she bring him in so that they could properly clean the wound. He still hesitated, but then she turned towards him a third time and motioned for him to follow. He got up and went along with her.

The house was quiet when he first entered, but he could hear them. Gasps and whispers filled his sensitive ears. He almost turned around and fled, and if he had known then what he knew now, he wouldn’t have even hesitated. The girl hadn’t shown him any reason to doubt her so he followed her further into the house.

A net fell down on him from the loft above. Seven men, attacked and restrained him with ropes. He fought them carefully, not wanting to injure any and give them reason to keep him restrained, but at the same time wishing to be free of the restraints. The girl screamed and cried while they tied him, which he felt was strange since it was her who led him into the trap in the first place.

They took him into the town and a crowd gathered around to look at him before he was thrown in the cell there. That was three days ago, and now he was going somewhere else. He hoped wherever it was, they would decide he could be free there.