Serengenna
#13 of Incomplete Stories.
The world of Serengenna is quite different from other worlds. For one, the weather. The summers are unpredictable. One summer it might be as hot as a lava pool, the next, you could swear hell had frozen over. To a fully advanced technological race, this would only be a minor inconvenience, but to this world's inhabitants, it meant everything. A summer too hot could scorch a free farmer's crops to the point of extinction. He would then have to either request help from a nearby lord or enslave himself and his prodigy for all eternity. Out of this he would either gain renumeration for his lost crops, a small percentage going to his new lord, or, he would gain a half life. He would live at the whim of his lord, never to be free. His children, if he was given permission to have any, would like wise live under the same conditions. The social rankings within Serengenna were different to society as we know it. Death was held very lightly by those who had power. A slave had no control over his or her life. Should a slave be ordered to do anything, they had best do it, or a slow death by hanging or drowning would await them. A small step above slaves were serfs. Serfs were those people who had sold there lives to their lord, but were free to buy it back. Servants are paid for their work, unless a servant was a slave or a serf. There are many more different social rankings, including warrior castes, advisors, the lord or high clan member themselves, but the highest of all is the Emperor. The emperor himself was untouchable. He could order an entire clan wiped out, and he wouldn't even have to give a reason. The only way to become emperor was to marry into the royal family and be next in line for the throne. This is also the only way to become the head of a family or clan. Unless one was born into it. One might also be adopted into a family, though this happens very rarely and is frowned upon by those in a higher station. Now, this story shall go deeper than originally intended.
IT was a dark autumn night. The cricket like sewa chirped in the reed rushes outside of the dark estate grounds. The sewa fell silent as several beings clothed in dark robes slipped past, barely making a noise. The leader of the twelve man team raised a darkly clothed fist as he checked the position of the three Serengenna moons. His men stopped in half crouches, awaiting for his signal to continue. A cloud passed over the tall Therra grasses, the seed heavy heads reflecting the soft purple of the three moons. A dark cloud inserted itself between the moons and the darkly clothed men. Before the cloud had covered him entirely, the leader flicked three fingers left and right before motioning forwards with his hand. Six men split into two groups before rounding the corners of the estate. The leader and the rest of his men moved forwards, hidden within the shadow of the cloud. Their mission was simple. All within the dwelling must die. There were to be no survivors. Soft feet padded up the small wooden steps before a cloth wrapped hand slowly opened the wood and paper door of the sleeping quarters of the house's master. A quick glance and a nod from his men was all the leader needed before he drew his black steel dagger from its pouch, readying it for use. His men followed his lead as he quickly and quietly stepped past the doorway, enterring the silent house.
One hour. They killed every single member of the clan in one hour. The children were poisoned swiftly. The adult males were either strangled or stabbed. The female adults were quickly dispatched by the blade. The assassins, for that was what they were, completed their task, quickly leaving without a trace. Except for one. A single black stone was tied to the forehead of the family head.
Present day, Earth
Michail looked around, surreptitiously searching the streets. He hadn't seen a single person for the last few blocks. He raised a hand to stroke the wet ponytail poking out from under the black cap he wore. He flicked his hand, getting rid of some water and a few loose hairs as he scanned the street again. He cursed the steel grey sky for the illusions it cast upon the street while he headed for his job interview. He was a lanky twenty two year old that could pass for someone under eighteen when he shaved, like today. He used the middle finger of his right hand to tap the bridge of his glasses up his nose abit more. Short sighted though he was, he could still discern marvelous details about the most tiniest objects. A speck of brightness caught his left eye a moment before he followed the right hand street down to his destination. He blinked, scanning the nearby ground for the object. There. He squatted close to the bitchumen he was on and carefully stuck his hand into the small drainage pipe sticking out of the kerb. His finger tips grazed something hard and grainy. Digging down slightly he drew out the object. Holding it up to the light, he inspected it with an inexperienced eye. It was a finely crafted silver chain, but hanging from the chain was what really interrested him. A small tablet of black metal hung from a small clip at the bottom of the chain. Upon the surface of the tablet was a raised design of a serpentine dragon holding three orbs in it's right paw. He brought the necklace closer, sniffing it slightly. It didn't smell dirty. Michail glanced back to the drainage pipe where he'd picked up the necklace from. He blinked, then looked about him. The drainage pipe had vanished. His digital watch beeped at him a moment before he would have decided to stay simply to investigate the disappearance. Knowing he now had only twenty minutes to reach his destination, he set off at a light jog, placing the necklace and its pendant inside his jeans pocket.
He had only travelled a few metre's down the street when he unexpectedly hit a dead end. He turned around to head back when he froze. Five young men now stood at the entrance to the dead end street he was in. Unfortunately, all of them were armed. The middle one stepped forwards, an extremely disfiguring scar turning the left side of his face into a permanent leer. He raised a meaty hand palm upwards while his other slowly twirled a few solid feet of steel chain.
"Payment." He said in a gutteral voice, small black eyes staring directly into Michail's own soft green one's.
"Payment..?" Questioned Michail in an almost inaudible voice. "Payment for what..? Besides which, I don't have any money."
The four others behind the big guy tensed up, a sadistic light filling their eyes. The big guy himself scrunched his open hand into a fist. "Payment for getting out of here alive." He grinned, making his visage even more horrifying. The others behind him chortled or laughed, their eyes intent upon their new quarry. Michail's eyes flicked about him, searching for some way out of this confrontation without getting seriously hurt. He carefully slid a sweating hand into his pocket. Unlocking his phone without taking it out, and praying that he did it right, he dialled nine one one. The phone buzzed in his hand and relief filled him. Then came shock when he realised he had no way of telling the operator anything about what was happening. He held back a despairing cry as he looked at the advancing gang members, for what else could they be? He looked to either side of him. Spotting a brick foothold that lead upwards, he pulled out his phone and chucked it at them. They moved aside, allowing it to sail past them before they came after him, whooping in malicious glee. Quickly scrambling up the side of the old building, Michail ran across the rooftops. He turned left around a corner then stopped. He felt the strange urge to put the necklace on. He shivered a moment before continuing to run, the urge growing stronger with each step. Finally he paused, his entire body itching and twitching.
"Allright! Fine! I'll put it on!" He shouted to no one in particular. He reached inside of his back pocket and pulled it out. Michail quickly looked the silver chain over, hoping to identify some type of clasp. Seeing none, he did the only illogical thing he could think of. He tried to pull the obviously smaller hole of the necklace over his head. He gave a gasp of surprise, eyes widening, as it easily fit over his head. He felt a momentary tingle, and frowned in puzzlement a full half second before being kicked off of the roof.
"AHHHHHH-ugghmm." Michail yelled before landing at the bottom of an economic dumping bin. He bashed at the sides a moment before hearing the unmistakeable dull roar of a garbage truck. Adrenaline fed fear burst through his nervous system as he started to bash, jump, and holler for help. The truck stopped beside the bin he was in, the mechanical 'wheeeee' of the arms folding out, grabbing the bin, and slowly lifting it up. Michail yelled at full volume, screaming loud enough to break eardrums. He scrabbled at the sides and floor of the bin as he was tipped into the truck. Something long and sharp poked itself right under his left kneecap as he landed, slicing under it and hitting the joint. Michail screamed in pain, rolling backwards and grabbing the blood soaked piece of metal. Ripping it out, a few drops of blood fell upon the black pendant. The truck rumbled to life, causing Michail to lurch to and fro before he made his agonising way to a wall and started bashing upon that. The truck paused, and Michail offered a relieved sigh, thinking that he was finally to be rescued. No such luck. 'wheeeeeeeee-crunk-whiiiiiiiiiiiiirrrr' Several hundred kilo's of trash fell upon Michail. Bones in his wrists, right ankle, and left leg, snapped under this new pressure. Michail tried to scream, but filth clogged his mouth. That was when he heard the most terrifying sound of all. The inbuilt trash compactor started up, slowly crushing Michail into oblivion. As Michail slowly became nothing more than a few extra kilo's of trash, depressingly enough, the only thought he had was,
Gods I suck....
Gentle shaking sought to rouse him. Michail flailed tiredly. "No mom, I dun wanna go to school, I feel sick." The shaking ceased. A confused look passing between the two men in the well lit mahogany panelled bedroom.
"Skool? What is Skool?"
"I don't know, just be glad he's alive. I can't believe they almost got the entire Family."
Michail rolled over, burrying his head under the pillow he had been resting upon earlier. The fingers of his right hand moved along his neck to scratch at an oddly hot part in the muscle of the left side of his neck. His fingers found a dry, raised edge before poking into a hole and coming into contact with a viscous fluid that was seeping from the hole. Michail's sleep clouded mind took precisely seven seconds to connect the sticky stuff coming out of his neck, to the fact that anything coming out of him where it shouldn't was bad. Deep blue, almost black eyes opened to the midmorning light streaming in through several wide windows. Raising his left hand, Michail took the pillow off his head and sat up, looking about him with his right hand held over the hole in his neck. Two middle aged men were kneeling by him, both had grey robes on with a small patch of colours on their right shoulders. One's hair was brown, but starting to turn grey, brown eyes looked with deep concern into his own. His eye's moving to the other person's, Michail saw that he too had brown eyes, but his hair was a pale green, the colour leaching from the hair. Both of them looked at him as though he were a ghost rising from the dead.
Paying more attention to the hole in his neck, and the incessant itching it gave, Michail simply wondered what in the world was going on. Here he was in a place of apparent luxury. Poking at a pillow that had previously been resting upon his face, he confirmed that it was real silk. With two strange looking men who seemed to think he was this master person because some guy had died. His fingers found the touch of cool metal around his neck. Curling his fingers around it, Michail traced the linked metal down his front untill his fingers ran into a larger surface. Opening the robe he was wearing Michail pulled out the funny pendant he had put on before..
"AAAHHHH!!!!!" Both men jumped as Michail yelled loudly in the high pitched voice of a six year old. Instantly several men rushed into the room, weapons drawn and pointed at the men in here with him. A younger man, possibly in his late twenties or early thirties, walked into the room. He also had his weapon drawn, but this short sword he had shimmered oddly in the morning light. He was dressed in full japanese styled armour, just without the face plate. The black and blue metal covering his strong form almost made him look like a dragon. His eyes though, showed confusion, as though he wasn't entirely sure what he was doing here.
"Why did the young Master scream? What did you two try to do to him?" Weapons edged slightly closer as the two men cowered under the fearful display of strength.
Michail didn't like this, nor how it seemed to be going. "Enough!" He said, getting up and wobbling slightly. A nearby warrior sheathed his weapon and held him steady. Michail blinked. Either he was very tall, or he himself was very small. Shaking his head to clear it he dealt with the problem directly infront of him. "These men have done nothing wrong, I was shocked and yelled at realising that I have died, yet appear to be here, with this thing around my neck." Michail held up the black metal pendant with the dragon upon it. Everyone immediately bowed. Even those with weapons prostrated themselves before him. The only one that didn't was the one in full black and blue armour. He simply bowed at the waist.
"I see you truly are the head of the family now Young Master Misuro. As the last surviving member of your family, regardless of your age, you are now the family head. If these men have caused you no discomfort my young Master, then may I and my men have your leave to withdraw?" Michail looked up into the man's eyes. He seemed sad for some reason. He looked like one of those dogs at the pound that new it was going to die. All the light was gone from their eyes. Michail had a question.
"Your men may leave, as can these two here, but I want you to stay. I have some questions I want to ask you. About you, and me, and why my entire family is dead." When in Rome. He thought to himself. The two men in grey robes bowed again to him before quckly getting up and leaving. The armed men about him did the same thing, the last one being kind enough to close the door. This left him and the fully armoured warrior alone, in what was apparently his bedroom.
"What does the young master wish of me?" Now, no longer surrounded by his men, that same sadness was easier to discern. Sitting himself carefully down, Michail tried to figure out just what in the names of the gods was going on.
"What's my name?"
The man blinked before replying. "Master Misuro."
Michail thought about this, rubbing the pendant around his neck slightly. "And what is your name?"
"My name is, and always has been, Yanille, Young Master Misuro."
Michail waved small childlike hands at that young master misuro stuff. "Listen to me Yanille. I am not this Misuro person. My name is Michail. Michail Deskai to be precise. I don't know where I am, or what's going on here, but quite obviously this is not my home, and most deffinately not where I belong. So if you can help me out at all here, I would be grateful." Michail smiled up at Yanille.
Yanille blinked, before bowing. "This is a game isn't it Young Master? I concede defeat, you had me fooled. As your prize I am your slave once again, to do with as you please." Yanille started to strip off his armour. The metal came off easily, but if someone like Michail had tried to do it he deffinately wouldn't have gotten anywhere with it. Michail blinked in stunned confusion as someone he didn't know stripped before him. His armour finally removed he started upon his clothes. The simple shirt and shorts were quickly removed and placed by the armour. This left his chiseled form nude except for some type of loin cloth, which Yanille reached down to remove as well.
"STOP!" Yanille froze his hands, about to undo his loincloth.
"The young master does not wish to violate me? Then maybe the young master would prefer to whip a slave?" Yanille moved quickly to the door. Sliding it, he ordered the man there to get "The orange excuse for a male." The man saluted, jogging off. Turning back to Michail, Yanille bowed, his stomach muscles shifting as he made it a low bow. "Your whipping boy will be brought to you now Young Master. May I ask that you kill him this time? The healers are finding it hard to keep him alive with what meagre rations he's given." Surely not.
Michail looked at Yanille, trying to keep his emotions concealed. Surely he was kidding. There was no way that he would ever hurt a person, nevermind using them as a whipping boy. Well, there was that one time, but only because he'd apparently liked being spanked. Maybe it was like one of those times? Surely he couldn't mean an Actual whipping boy, could he?
There was a slight tap upon the door as Michail pondered whether this was actual or some kind of sick joke. "Enter." Came Yanille's strident voice. The door slid open, revealing a person covered completely in bright orange fur. Michail stared in shock at him. Although the young male was nude, a fact he avoided looking at for curtesy's sake, his fur covered a great deal more than what was exposed. He looked like a kid that had been mixed with a house cat. On top of his head were orange furred cat ears, the insides a light orange cream colour. A small cat face with big expressive green eyes, whiskers and a pink nose. The orangeish cream spread from just under his chin, down his front, and under his tail abit. His tail, which hung limp, was somewhat spotty. The stripes went around his tail, but there were clumps of fur missing from it, almost like they'd been pulled off. That was when Michail noticed the shackles. Big heavy metal rings were around his short muzzle, neck, wrists, ankles, and tail. All of the rings were connected with what looked like a very heavy chain. The man behind him pushed him roughly into the room, causing him to trip and stumble. Michail made his new body move. Running towards him, Michail caught the cat person as he was heading for the floor. Catching him, Michail was surprised as he fell anyway, the boy's weight light, but heavier than his own. His arms around the taller cat boy's sides and back, he heard the faint scream. Removing his arms immediately, Michail stared horrified at what was on his hands and fingers. Bright red blood. Rolling out from under him, Michail stood up and stared. The orange cat boy's back was a mass of scars and blood. There was almost no fur left upon his back. Michail sat heavily, tears glistening in his eyes at the thought of something so beautiful being horribly abused and disfigured.
Looking over to Yanille, who was kneeling by his bed, and seeing the look of loss upon his face, Michail decided what to do. "Remove these shackles from him." Yanille looked up from the cat boy, confused.
"Young Master, those shackles can not be removed by anyone. You yourself desired it this way. He has been slowly wasting away ever since you decided he was to be your whipping boy. Your father was greatly pleased when you took my son as your toy. He decided to forgive my earlier transgression of not prostrating myself before him as is tradition." One single tear dropped from Yanille's eyes as he looked at the cat boy that was apparently his son. "Please young master, kill my son now, end his torment. I am slowly being driven insane by what you and your family do."
Michail slowly backed away from the orange cat boy. This wasn't happening, he told himself. Over and over within his mind he professed that this was imposible. There wasn't anywhere in the world where such cruelty could exist without retribution. "What's your son's name?" Michail asked in a choked whisper.
"Denroe, as you know young master. You've had me confess my love for my son every time you abused me." Michail shook his head. This was So not happening.
Michail marched his small body to the sliding door. Pulling back upon the door, Michail startled the man on the other side. "You," He pointed to the man. "Get me the best doctors around here, and people that work with metal. I want Denroe as healthy as possible, and I want these shackles off of him. If anything else like this is happening, I want the doctors and metal workers to go to them as well. This atrocity will no longer be commited. Anyone I find committing such atrocities will be executed. Immediately. Is that understood?" The man fell to his knees, muttering a hurried and fearful "Yes my lord."
The man raced away, leaving him alone again with Yanille and Denroe. Turning back to them, Michail stared at what his body, or the person who had used it before him, had done. Moving closer to Yanille, he wondered if there was any food available. "Yanille, is there any food here? I kind of feel hungry. I want soup though. A nice soup that's full of meat, but I want it drinkable I don't want to have to chew." The small light that had begun to surface in Yanille's eyes snuffed out. Nodding, he walked to the door and headed off to the kitchens. Sorry Yanille, I'm apparently meant to be a really evil person, but that's not me. Moving to his bed, Michail arranged the soft and colourful silk pillows to support a body completely while cushioning it. Going back over to Denroe, he carefully picked him up. "Come on Denroe, I need you to help me. We just need to walk over to the bed, then you can lie down in comfort, okay? Just a couple of steps to the bed." Denroe complied. Slowly, both he and Denroe made it to his bed where Michail very carefully laid him down upon the cushions. Taking the silk sheet that was at the bottom, Michail pulled it up, covering Denroe's naked form. While he couldn't do anything about the shackles, he could at least do something about his nakedness.
Yanille arrived with a bowl of brown soup and a spoon. Seeing his son in Michail's bed he wondered if this was another scheme of his, but regretfully he gave Michail the bowl of soup he'd asked for.
Michail took the bowl. Looking at it, he gimaced as small things floated around in it. "I said I didn't want to chew.' Yanille went to take the bowl back, but Michail moved it out of his reach. "No, it's too late now." Moving the bowl to the bed, Michail looked at the spoon it had. It was a very large and long spoon, and very ornate. Just about everything here was reminding him about the Japanese. Moving closer to Denroe's head, Michail checked his mouth. The muzzle on his mouth appeared to give slightly. Poking with one small finger, Michail discovered that there was enough space to stick his finger in. Denroe immediately sucked. Pulling his finger free he checked Denroe's eyes. The pupils contracted as his eyes looked at him. Michail smiled. "Denroe, I'm going to give you some soup, okay? Unfortuantely I don't think that you can sit up and hold a spoon in your condition, so I'm going to do something really strange, okay? Just please don't think less of me for feeding you this way." Denroe's eyes closed, and his head turned away slightly. A worried look upon his face, Michail took a spoonful of soup and drank. It was good. A nice thick, meaty broth. Taking another spoonful Michail drank again, but this time he didn't swallow. Moving his lips to Denroe's, Michail carefully pushed untill he was sure there wasn't going to be any leak. Once he was sure, he let the broth trickle out from his mouth and into Denroe's.
Denroe's eye's shot open wide as Michail's lips touched his. Then they opened wider as the heavy soup entered his mouth, barely touching his tongue as it was swallowed quickly. Michail rose from Denroe's lips, grabbed another mouthful of soup, then repeated the procedure. Each time Michail's lips touched Denroe's, more energy was restored to him as the warm soup was quickly absorbed by his underfed stomach.
Taking the bowl, Michail drained the last drops. Moving his mouth back to Denroe's, he made to repeat the procedure once more. Michail pulled back his head in surprise as he felt cold steel under his neck. Turning his gaze to the left, Michail saw Yanille with his sword held tight, the tip under Michail's neck.
"You are not Misuro." The statement made Michail wince inwardly. Sure he wasn't this Misuro person, but wasn't he better than this torturer of children? Yanille moved forwards and Michail tensed. He was shocked into immobility as the larger man hugged him, his sword dropping to the floor. "You're here, you're finally here." Thick tears fell on top of Michail's head as Yanille cried. Michail did not understand the situation in the least.
Ducking under Yanille, Michail backed away from him, small arms raised in supplication. Swallowing the mouthful of soup he had, Michail said, "Listen here. I don't know who you think I am, But trust me. I am not this Misuro person. Apart from knowing that your name is Yanille, and the young cat on the bed is your son, also named Denroe, I don't know anything. The last thing I remember is putting on this pendant, and being crushed to death." Michail pulled up the pendant to show Yanille again. "What in all hells, is going on here?"
Yanille smiled a sad looking smile. "You are finally here. The child from another world. The one that will destroy our society, and remake it as he sees fit. The beast races have been waiting for what's seemed like forever for your arrival." Yanille bowed before him again
Michail had only one thought going through his mind as he watched Yanille prostrate himself before him. What am I in for now...?
***********
Cruel laughter welled up from the robed person. Michail stared, his heart breaking as his first friend in this world slowly fell down to the cold embrace of the earth, several long poisoned needles sticking from his chest. His body guards formed up around him, a flimsy shell of flesh around him that he couldn't see. His heart broke into smaller and smaller pieces. Tears welled up then overflowed from his eyes. Something within his stomach moved, his drowning sorrow taking shape. More tears fell in a running stream as blue bands of spectral energy traced themselves around him. He felt like his world didn't exist. Like he didn't exist. The commander of his garrison barked orders. Bows were raised at the robed one. The cloak moved, more needles flying outwards and hitting their targets. A score of people, some he knew some he was just starting to know, fell. Michail wanted it to stop. He didn't belong here, where cruelty abounded. He sat heavily, sobbing and putting his face within his arms above his knees. One of the people close to him touched an invisible strand and yelped in pain. The band fed from the contact, slowly becoming visible as a shadow that circled Michail. Soon, the others became visible. Thirteen hard to see shadows revolved around Michail, twirling upwards from a circle around him. Two more went down. Michail started to shake, feeling more people lose their lives because of him.
"stop it.." Michail wasn't aware of speaking. He didn't want to be here in this world of cruelty. Honour was based upon how cruelly one tortured their enemies. Kindness was unknown. He shook his head, shaking tears free and into the wall of energy surrounding him. The droplets hit, then fell through the wall as balls of salty ice. His tears had frozen upon contact with the energy surrounding him.
He stood, his clothes moving with an invisible wind that was springing from himself. "Stop it!" More people fell as the robed one sent more needle darts at them. "Stop IT!" The ground cracked apart, as though lashed by a giant. The crack went from Michail towards the robed figure, who jumped away.
"Oh? Is the little baby upset that I broke his toys? What's the matter baby? Come with me, and I'll give you lots of toys to play with. You can torture them as much as you like, they'll never say no. They'll die, begging you to treat them harsher." The robed one laughed again as the people surrounding Michail backed away from him, so as not to be harmed by this fight.
The energy around Michail finally took a fully visible form and colour. Deep sapphire blue tendrils snaked their way around Michail over and over again. They moved from their set pattern, snaking over to the bodies of the people he'd once known as friends. One by one, they were slowly picked up and moved behind him, to be taken care of by those who had stayed relatively close. Denroe's body was the last to be moved. Michail's eyes of drowning sapphire didn't see as Denroe was carefully lifted and transferred behind him. The protagonist of everything that had happenned today, flicked a needle at him. A tendril moved, lightning fast, and flicked the poisoned metal away. Michail's eyes were focused solely upon the stranger. He was no longer himself. His sorrow drove him, his anguish fueled him, and his deep seated need for revenge pushed him onwards.
Michail took a step forwards, then another. The robed one flicked more needles at him which were instantly blocked and attacked by the tendrils of blue energy surrounding Michail. Michail took another step forwards, leaving icy footprints behind him. His heart ached worse then that time when he had been dumped by his highschool sweetheart for loving her too much. His tears made small tracks down his face before freezing. The breezy robe thing they had placed him in to show him as the family head of the household for his visit to the markets, whipped around like it wanted to fly off in an invisible wind. The cloaked one stood for a moment upon the hilltop, staring down at him. More needles were flicked at him. This time the blue tendrils didn't stop the tiny darts of metal. They hit the ring of energy surrounding him and froze into fragility. Hitting the light clothing he wore, they shattered. Ice encrusted metal broke upon contact as Michail kept moving forwards. Raising his right arm, energy swirled into the palm of his open hand. The energy coalesced into a ball of glittering blue energy. It twirled within his hand around a white core. Eyes the colour of the deepest depths of the ocean stared with cold, murderous intent at the cloaked one. His robe opened partially and more poisoned needles were sent at Michail. Michail released his hold upon the ball of freezing energy and watched it launch itself at the being on the hilltop. A tendril knocked the needles away as the ball of blue and white energy lanced straight at his attacker. He jumped at the last instant, and the ball of energy arced upwards above him. It rose steadily before twisting in on itself and lancing straight down at him. Had he been tracking the ball of energy and not grinning at Michail, he might have been able to dodge in time. As it was, he didn't.
Shockwaves blew through the earth as the ball made contact and froze what it touched. The person that had tormented him and his friends was now an ice statue, the ground around him looked like a flower that had been frozen at full bloom. Gigantic ice petals revolved around the ice statue and the point of impact. Michail smiled, though it wasn't a happy smile. More a smile that something had been done in revenge of his fallen friends. The cold energy that had been welling up in him shuddered as his sorrow increased. The power flared stronger than before as his rage and sorrow turned inwards at himself. He blamed himself for this, for everything. If he had of just listened to Yanille, this wouldn't have happenned. Michail gave a sob, his small body shivering within the depths of his heart wrenching sorrow and rage. He raised his tear streaked face and screamed as only a child could scream. His wellspring of energy jumped, energy swam up around him in an arc, turning inwards above him as it came into contact with itself. A gigantic spear of ice lanced from the top of the dome of energy, straight through Michail's heart, spearing him and stopping his banshee like cry of grief and torment. But the magic wasn't finished. Not satisfied with Michail's death, the icicle of blue energy grew, slowly encasing Michail in a block of heavy ice, his heart slowed indeffinately by his own magic.
**********
The dark hand, professional assassins for the war emperor Jinuchi, opened a magically sealed cell for Michail, tossing him none too gently into the dark, dank confines of his soon to be prison. The large, thick, spell wrapped metal door swung shut with a very heavy, and ominous thud, the echo of the contact reverbrating from cell to cell.
"How do we like our new accomodations, oh high and mighty one? To think, a snotty little brat like you was supposed to over throw his lordship. I just can't believe it." A rattle and a chink, and the door was locked, both magically and physically. Michail moved carefully within the darkness, his hands immediately going to his chest area as he curled into a ball, trying to fight the rising tide of pain within himself. It felt like thousands of hands were tearing him apart piece by piece. His ribs hurt because of all the hits he'd taken while protecting the dragonling. He was angry with himself, for falling into such an easy trap, for not checking to see if his guards were still with him, for protecting that miniature dragon.
Michail ran through the events that lead up to his protecting of the dragonling. Why? Why had it seemed so important to protect that one little creature? If he had of ignored it, he could have gotten away, but the mage children were using it for target practice. At the time, he'd been filled with such sorrow, such drowning, excruciating sorrow that he couldn't handle it anymore. He had done the unthinkable and endangered his own life, for the gift of a dragonling's. It made no sense what-so-ever, no matter how many times he ran through it. It was completely and utterly irrational.
Michail rolled over, trying to find a softer spot within the stone work that was his cell, unwilling to get up and move to the nearby bed. He just hurt so bad that all he wanted to do, was rest, sleep, and recover.
"We have to save him!"
A furred fist slammed down into the table that at one point decorated Michail's bedroom as his personal eating table. The orange markings identified the owner as Denroe. His emerald green eyes literally bristled with barely contained fury, his tail puffed out in his agitation. Yanille, his adopted father, slowly shook his helmeted head. He pointed a gloved hand upon the map infront of him, his finger tip resting at a copse of trees south south east of the palace.
"There are over three hundred men stationed here that are loyal to the war emperor, and the war emperor only."
He moved his finger north west, and stopped at the western gates to the palace itself.
"There are over five hundred men stationed here, with a further two hundred of his loyal assassins taking up residence within his palace itself."
Yanille moved his hand, travelling north to the tip of the Jelberran mountain rage, then followed the entire range south east as it curled behind the palace.
"The Jelberran mountain prevents any access to or from his palace, regardless of what day or night it is, though the standard watch of two hundred men patrolling daily up and down it's spine is shortened to one hundred and fifty during her magesty's harvest." A few heads bowed at the comon name for the reaper, and her holiday which is naturally called, the day of harvest. The day of harvest was the one day, out of the entire year, where she could walk among the mortals, taking the souls of the recently dead. Michail's generals looked up as Gaeron gasped his way into the tent.
"His excellency ........... has been captured ................ he jumped the wall ........................... and stood in front of magelings ........................... he didn't protect himself ............................ and was captured by the dark ............... hand." Gaeron collapsed into a hastilly vacated seat, his dark hyena fur splotchy and dusty from where he'd rolled in the filth of the midden heaps. It took all four generals to restrain Denroe.
"_ YOU KILLED HIM! YOU KILLED HIM YOU TRAITOROUS BASTARD, DIE!!!! _" Gaeron gave a shocked, and fearfull face, rolling away from Denroe faster than his winded person originally could have, his energy for the moment coming from his fear. Denroe turned into an orange and leather wearing death ball, slicing and biting at any who touched him even if it only got him a little bit closer to Gaeron. Finally, Yanille decided to put an end to it, and smashed his son's head, causing him to sit in a heap, robbed of his senses for the time being.
Who are you?
Michail woke in a sweat, his eyes glancing all about him as he tried to locate the silent voice. After minutes of no success, he tried the only illogical thing his brain could come up with.
"Hello...?"
Oh, hello. I am Mirion. Who are you?
Michail blinked, his mind taking in the silent voice, processing it's words, and then waiting for a return message to send. Of course his brain forgot to mention that he was hearing a voice without the use of his ears, which in everyday society meant he was now certifiably insane.
"I'm.... Michail. Where.... Where are you?"
Very nice to meet you Michail. May I please ask you a question?
Again Michail blinked. The voice sounded oddly feminine, and was the most politest person ... thing .... entity he'd ever come accross within this world.
"Sure.."
Thankyou kindly. May I please know why you rescued me from those humans yesterday?
Michail turned within his cell, sitting up in order to help his headache. Once upright, he could finally feel where the mind that was touching his, was. It was behind him, but with his back to the wall, it had to be past even that. He frowned in thought, trying to come up with an answer for Mirion.
"I don't really know." He paused, then tried to expand upon that. "It's not that I don't know, but I don't know how to explain why."
May I make a suggestion?
Michail shrugged, pretty much open to anything. "Sure."
Open up yourself to me, then relive the memmory, putting all of your thoughts and feelings into it.
Michail gave a carefully suppressed snort, wondering if this would actually work. Taking a deep breath, he ignored the discomforting feeling of himself being pulled apart piece by piece, and focused himself. He closed down, drawing himself in as he focused upon the memmory, and his feelings before, during, and after the event. Taking another deep, calming breath, he reached out mentally to the voice and opened himself up to it, allowing it to view the specific piece of himself that he had carefully recrafted for it. During the middle of the viewing, something cracked itself within his head, a torrent of images and forms suddenly bursting through him.
Michail gasped, breathing heavily as his shocked eyes looked at nothing in particular, his attention focused upon the fleeting and oddly familiar images. The rushing roar of wind during a desperate flight, raging sorrow flowing through the being. The images shifted, turning to view something large that blotted out the sun overhead. A dragon the length of seven football fields fell upon him, claws rending his wings before his large serpentine neck snaked out and bit deep. The image shifted again, snow swirling about, the clash of heavy magic leaving the taint of burnt flesh in the air. The raging sorrow was ever present, a lance of ice forming by sheer will and diving at a large winged woman. A scream of pure animal defiance and rage reverbrated up through Michail's mind, a force taking hold of him and slamming his head into the stone wall of his cell.
Michail saw a burst of stars, the pain chasing away the vivid memmories or feelings he had just experienced. The back right hand side of his head felt like someone had plunged a badly made dagger in, then twisted it. Michail's right eye blinked and fluttered, his vision increasing and decreasing at a rapid rate. Had anyone been present within the same cell as he, they would have seen the changes his right eye was going through. It switched from a normal light blue colour with a perfect sphere of a pupil, to something resembling the orb of a dragon, the pupil slitted and the colour of the iris intensifying as a result.
*****************
The scaled three fingered hand was wrapped within his clothes. The other hand held a dagger that appeared to be made out of some type of bone. It's large lizard like head glared down at Michail, saw like teeth glinting as it's mouth opened to hiss words at him. "How woulds you knows the passings of words?" Michail blinked trying to understand. Passing of words? Password? Something within the middle of his head felt like it opened up, and a small verse flickered accross his eyes. Without even thinking about it, Michail spoke the words.
"From hatching day to breeding day, forever shall we fight. Brothers born of queen and king, yet never the same wing. For queen alone shall I fight, Her beauty conquers all." Movement around him stopped. It didn't grind to a halt, it simply stopped. Dead. Michail blinked the words from his eyes and looked around. The warriors that had been ready to rip him and his small company up were staring at him with very, Very wide eyes. The three clawed hand gripping his clothes let go, its owner backing away quickly as if he'd been burned by the contact. The one with the bone dagger turned to the rust red doors and roared. A few moments later, an answering roar shuddered through the very earth at their feet. Bone dagger turned his head, as though listening to something else within the roar. He turned to face Michail again, his dagger semi raised as though he were unsure about what he was doing. His lips moved, and his sibilant voice hissed out again, hesitantly.
"Ifs queens be false and kings be true, does murder hold the hearts of few?" Michail fought to hold in his smile. It was a relief to know what to say. They were testing him, his knowledge, his loyalty.
"The queen be all, the queen be none, stay the queen or be undone." One of the archers along the wall to the door gave a hooting cry. Even though it's features were different, Michail could feel the respect and joy.
Bone dagger frowned though. He turned and gave a creeling cry to the door. Seconds passed, then minutes. Michail's small contingent of guards shuffled uneasily, their hands edging closer to their weapons. Every single one of the dragon people tensed. Darkness pooled and coalesced infront of the rust red door. Bone dagger knelt, as did all the other dragon creatures. A draconic warrior unlike all of the others Michail had seen so far, rose from the pool of darkness. Where the others had been brightly coloured blues, reds, oranges, greens, yellows and a few purples, this one was black, except for it's golden underbelly. It's starbright eyes glared at Michail. Smoke rosing from both it's nostrils as it's natural fire heated with it's temper.
"Our queen wishes to know your intentions mortal. State them now and we will give you a quick death." A small amount of flame lit it's nostrils as it grinned a crocodile's grin. "Or you can immitate another dracksie phrase and die slowly over a roasting spit." Michail knew a touch of fear, but he pressed on. If he didn't win the dragons to his side, then there was no hope for him. He would die sooner or later. Closing his eyes he recited something he'd written back on earth. It had been a poem that had greatly confused him, because he felt there was alot more meaning behind the words than what they portrayed upon paper.
"Sorrow is my gift, sorrow is my song. Though mate and bride a plenty be, none are what they seem. My mother was the only one, from birth untill rebirth. She sheltered me with wings of ice, a tear for me she shed. My queen of whom I wed my soul, wast killed upon my wing. With sorrowed song and hearts of ice, I chilled mine enemies. Through roar of fire and claws of blood, a vengeance sought I three. Kishria, the iceland god, betrayer of the winged race. I sought her out and flamed her down, A prison of lava do I make. Ghon the dragon god, my mother did he take. She flew from him and hatched me dead, a tear was my first birth. Ulviss, the nature warden, despised by all and none. He took from me my first cherished thought, and spurned me throughout life." Michail took a step forwards within the ringing sound of his song, bowing to the black dragon. "True I be of song and heart, yet anguished can I be. Should I prove of false heart, strike me true and through." Michail closed his mouth, looking up at the eight and a half foot dragon person, tears blinking from his eyes as the full realisation of what that poem said hit him. It was short, but he understood it now. It was the life of a dragon.
All around him the dragon people were blinking. Some of them were turning dark blue as the dragon song touched their hearts deeply. The only one untouched by the song was the black dragon. His three fingered hand wrapped around air and a white scimitar appeared. It shone with it's own light as small gusts of wind rippled at Michail's clothes. Michail was unable to move away from the dragon, still feeling the sorrow of his own song. He watched with teared eyes as the scimitar rose up, the wind swirling around him. Michail closed his eyes, unwilling to see his death and the end of this world's hope. One word, a name, floated to his lips. He whispered it without thinking, shedding a single tear in the process.
"Kippri..." Energy arced around Michail as the pendant he was wearing heated to a point that was almost unbearable. The blade of wind energy hit the glimmering shell around Michail and shattered. Growls went through the dragons surrounding him as the black dragon waved it's claws and hands in well practised movements. Energy rippled around his hands as he readied a spell, but before he could unleash another attack, the doors to the dragon hive groaned loudly in protest as they were forced open. Years of dirt and dust that had seeped infront of the doors made everything ripple and buckle. The rocky red soil crinkled in an outward radiating fan pattern. The rock sediment crinkled as the doors split and opened, a small young dragon squeezing through the crack.
*****************
"Master Misuro, Master Misuro!" Michail turned as his name was shouted from the front rooms. Denroe turned as well, edging closer to Michail and touching his furred hand to his sword hilt. Michail gently touched his tail tip, causing him to jump almost imperceptibly.
"It's only the front door servant." Denroe gave a displeased sigh as the servant made his way past the front doors to his study, a small envelope flying within his grasp. He stopped upon entering the study, apparently aware of his impudence because his face drained immediately to a fear filled white. Michail shook his head slowly. "Don't worry about it. I'm not like your previous masters. What's so important that you would come charging in here without thought to your own safety?" Taking a large breath of air, the young man stepped forwards carefully into the brightly lit study room, his eyes glancing cautiously at Denroe who stood there in his furred glory.
Michail stretched out his hand for the envelope, which the servant hurriedly gave him, exiting as quickly as possible under the strange honor code this world had. Denroe turned to peer over Michail's shoulder as he unsealed the envelope. Gently grasping the paper like sheaf inside, Michail withdrew it in a single step. He blinked in surprise as blue runes glowed upon the paper, shifting untill they had formed the family's emblem. The glow faded and words appeared slowly upon the document. Michail set it down in order to read it, Denroe reading with him.
"To the master of the house. Your presence is requested most honorably by the emporer in the reopening of the Colleseum of Chorron. The great master may or may not be aware of the Colleseum's fabled history, and the terms of entry. The Colleseum grants entry to the general populace, and the thirteen great houses. As the receiver of this letter, your house is considered to be one of the thirteen houses. The rules of the Colleseum state that each house must offer their best warrior in the fields of Combat. This is categorised further into Sword, Axe, Mace, Pole, Dagger, Staff, Bow, Magic, and any weapon or style that corresponds as closely as possible to the category. For an example, the three poled Schilsion, used by the southern Gunamara tribes, is considered a pole weapon, even though the poles themselves are linked by a small length of chain. The Colleseum is considered safe ground, and each house is guaranteed safety while in it. No house may attack another except on the field of the Coloseum. No house may seek the death of another while the Emperor is present."
"While it is not demanded that each of the thirteen houses deliver a champion for each category, the emperor wishes to remind you that a fine will be taken immediately from your own coffers. The fine this year is fourteen thousand, seven hundred tet."
"They can't be serious!" Michail turned, a frown upon his almost angelic face. Denroe saw the frown and bowed immediately. "Sorry, but that amount is about fourteen times higher than what it was seven years ago when it was closed by the previous emperor." Michail's frown vanished, and he continued reading aloud.
"This year's amount has been carefully considered by his royal highness, along with his advisors. According to current knowledge, the only house unable to pay this amount, is the house that has always entered it's own warriors." Michail held his place, and turned to Denroe. "Would you happen to know which house this is refering to?" Denroe gave a slight nod.
"It is your own young master." Michail let no expression escape him.
"I see." He turned and continued reading. "Substitues from other clans may be enetered in the stead of the head os house's own warriors, but this is limited to three entries. The head of house must participate in at least one field. A head of house may challange another to the field of combat, but the field can only be decided by the challanged. The challange can only be made once by the challanger, but the challanged must acept all challangers or risk losing their standing within the great families."
"This isn't right master." Michail stopped reading to look up at Denroe. Denroe's ears were flat against his skull, his sharp mind working through the hidden threats within the missive. Michail looked to the doors into his receiving room, a moment before Yanille gently pushed upen the doors.
"Yanille, I need your help on this. I've just been sent an invitation to the colleseum." Yanille's face showed shock and deep concern. He jogged up the length of carpet towards Michail, his heavily mailed feet leaving deep imprints in the mauve carpet.
"Young master, we cannot possibly accept the invitation. You have too many enemies that will see this as their chance to remove you from the great houses, and place their own there."
Michail shook his head gently. "I have to accept. The price of denial is fourteen thousand, seven hundred Tet." Michail watched as Yanille's face drained of all colour.
"Someone of royal blood wants you dead young master." Michail nodded his head.
"I know. The problem here is that I'm not confidant of my ability to defend myself if I'm challanged, and I know we can't possibly have the people to go through all the fields of combat. I'm allowed three substitutes, but I have to enter a field as well. I don't know anything about anything! I can't possibly fight in a field of combat." Michail noticed how the two looked at him. "What?"
"Young master," Yanille began. "You are possibly one of the strongest mages on the planet." Michail's eyebrow rose in surprise.
"I am..?" Both Denroe and Yanille nodded.
"Besides, you have the dragon and dragonkin to help you."
Michail paused in opening his mouth, the shock too much for him to take. "I couldn't possibly ask them for help after what I did to one of their strongest mages." Denroe wrapped an arm over Michail's shoulder.
"The queen to be likes you, you can ask anything you want from here and she will gladly give it to you. Why do you think your borders are being protected by her mother's guards?"
Michail looked flustered at that. "Well, I thought it was because I'd been polite when I was allowed to be." Denroe shook his head, a smile gracing his furred lips.
"She's protecting you because her daughter likes you. Chances are it's also because you have the soul of a dragon, but I don't really know about that mystical stuff, you'd have to ask Kippri what she knows."
*************
As the cursed dragon opend it's mouth, Michail was already opening himself up to his power. The blast of draconic energy shot from it's mouth, contacted with the energy flowing from him. To those on the outer rim of the cavernous room, it looked like the stream of darkness turned into brilliant blue ice as it struck the energy coming from Michail. Michail was the head of a comet, his power flaring behind him due to the force of the dragon's energy, but inside the bubble of his power, Michail was safe, protected by the riduclously large amount of mana coming out of him.
@