The small, nameless creature lay wrapped in a gray, dreamless sleep, a sleep that had lasted for more than two days now. He slept within the dreary confines of a metal cage housed in the last wagon, drugged and beaten, unaware of the convoy's steady southward progress. He had been quite a find, young and healthy and full of spirit. His kind were rare, and could fetch a high price. If the dark dust did its work, he would give ones who caught him no trouble. He would remember nothing, at least until he was sold, and then nothing would matter at all.
Sometimes the dust didn't work.
The last wagon jarred over a large stone in the road, and the lutrai's head banged against the wooden floor of the cage. In the murky gray slumber, there was a dull pulse of color, and a vague feeling of pain. Sensation began to crawl back into his numbed body, filling leaden muscles with a tingling heat. He gave voice to a soft moan of dismay, his dark brown eyes opening slightly and squinting at the bars of dusty orange light filtering into the wagon's interior. There was pain everywhere, dull and shallow for the most part. His throat hurt a great deal. As the world began to swim back into focus, he dragged both paws up over his head and whimpered softly, feeling a slow, blooming pain there as well.
He had never woken up like this before, so alone and full of hurt. He knew he wasn't home. Home was soft and warm, and full of happiness. His dismay deepened, as did the pain in his head. It felt like snarls of hot wire were wrapped around his mind. What could have happened? His vision cleared a little more, and he saw for the first time the bars all around him. He could smell the iron, a raw and unnatural scent that poured a chill down his spine. He was in a cage. The cage was moving; he could feel the jolting progress of the wagon now, and the creaking of wood.
"H-Hello?" he croaked. "Is anyone there?"
His voice was so faint and broken that he barely heard it himself. It was his throat, parched dry with the dust. He tried to swallow and could not. Using both paws, he slowly pushed his head up off the floor of the cage and looked around. The wagon's interior was taken up by two cages, side by side. The cage doors faced one side of the interior, which was hinged to open in two places, allowing access to both from outside. It was too dark to make out the interior of the other cage, though he could hear a faint, labored breathing in the gloom. Another shiver ran through his weary frame, and his head bumped down against the floor as his paws slid out from under him. Hot tears stung his eyes, and he turned his head with a soft sniffle, trying to make out what was in the other cage. Though it hurt to do so, he spoke softly and fearfully into the darkness.
"Who's there?"
Something moved, creating a dry rustling sound. There was also a metallic rattle as links of chain shifted and slid across the wooden floor. Then there were eyes in the darkness, amber-green slits that cast back the faint light, staring at him. His blood went cold, and he whimpered softly. An eddy of chill air washed over his face, causing him to flinch back and shut his eyes. The rattle of chains came again, louder.
"Hrrrrf," said the other cage's occupant.
The young lutrai opened one eye. The creature in the other cage had moved into a slim bar of sunlight, which illuminated a small portion of its body at the threshold of light and shadow. Bone white hide. Serpentine curves. And the eyes, twin orbs of clear green like polished gemstones radiating tangible distrust. A moment later, it withdrew into the darkness again, accompanied by the dull shifting of chains. A pale arc in the gloom, a tail perhaps. The lutrai remained stock still, too afraid to move until the shifting sounds had stopped again. It took him nearly a minute to gather up the courage to speak again.
"Where are we?" he managed, trying his best not to sound so afraid.
"Frrrrfr," came the voice from the darkness.
In spite of the pain, the lutrai was gradually able to pull himself up onto his elbows. He squinted into the shadows, daring to lean forward slightly closer to the double set of bars between them. Again the other cage's occupant shifted, but this time its movement was lightning quick, and it came out of the darkness with a muffled hiss, smashing its horned head into the bars. The lutrai screamed in terrified surprise, mindless of the sudden burst of pain in his throat as he scrambled backwards and bumped against the bars on the opposite side. The pale creature hissed again, its angular, reptilian head weaving back and forth in front of the bars, its narrowed, distrustful eyes fixed on the shivering lutrai. It took a moment for him to register that the creature's jaws were trapped in a basket-like cage of metal and leather.
"It's okay," the lutrai said softly, his voice cracking. "You don't have to be mad."
The white reptile reared up and moved closer to the bars, banging the iron brackets of its muzzle against them. The young lutrai could see most of its body now. Hunched over, it was only slightly taller than he was, though much of its length fell back on heavy haunches and carried through a stout, muscular tail. Fine white scales covered its heavy frame, widening to broad overlapping plates along its throat, chest, and belly. Off the back of its head rose an oversized white fin, with a pair of blunt horns on either side just behind its eyes. Even though he had never seen such a creature, the lutrai could tell it was young. It had a pair of bat-like wings, but they were too small. Its claws were short and rather blunt. It was a little chubby, too. The lutrai's pounding heart slowed a little, and he sagged back against the rear of the cage, rubbing his throat.
"Snrrrrr..." the creature growled.
Regaining some of his composure, the lutrai crawled cautiously towards the bars separating the two cages. He stopped two feet away from the division, and waited for a reaction. The white reptile glared down at him, then slumped back on its haunches, exhaling a sort of angry sigh. Another gust of cool air buffeted the young lutrai's face, and he blinked in surprise.
"Can you understand what I'm saying?" he whispered.
The creature shook its head. The lutrai frowned.
"If you promise not to bite me, I can take that thing off."
The creature paused, and lowered its head slowly, until he was looking right into the young lutrai's eyes. He held out his webbed paws, palms up. The reptile made another muffled sound through the muzzle. It sounded like a scoff.
"I will, I really will," he said softly. "I promise. It looks like it hurts."
The reptile narrowed its eyes again and shook its head, taking a step back from the bars. The lutrai moved closer, on his paws and knees, his fear almost forgotten.
"Wait, don't go," he pleaded. "I want to help."
The creature hesitated at the edge of the shadows, watching him with its angry green eyes. The lutrai could almost feel its hostility. With a soft sigh, he lowered his head against the bars and looked down at his paws. They were shaking slightly. When he looked up again, he was startled to see that the other cage's inhabitant had crept back, its expression slightly reproachful, almost embarrassed. He could feel its cold breath, and he shivered in spite of himself. Very carefully, he slid back onto his knees and reached up with one unsteady paw, through the bars. The pale creature tilted its head as the lutrai's webbed fingers brushed lightly over the dark iron muzzle. There was dried blood where the cruel binding had bitten into the corners of the creature's mouth, and numerous dark bruises that showed beneath the pearly scales. Leaning closer, he tried to get a better look at the muzzle's bindings.
"Hold still, okay?" he whispered, rising a little higher on his knees. Whether it understood or not, it kept still, and he managed to get a good look at the metal clasps that held the muzzle in place. There were no locks, but the catches were far too small for the creature's paws. He also noticed that the inner bands were lined with small spikes, which would undoubtedly cause painful wounds if the muzzle were pulled at. Shifting a bit closer, he slid his paws around the back of the creature's neck and pulled the first of three clasps open. The reptile vented another cold puff of air against the top of his head, stirring his spiky headfur. He blew a stray lock out of his eyes and pulled open the second clasp. This time the whole muzzle loosened noticeably, and the white reptile jerked back, impatiently clawing at it and shaking its head violently back and forth.
"No don't! Hold on," the lutrai whispered fiercely. "There's just one more."
Growling, the other cage's inhabitant gradually slid back up to the bars, a trickle of fresh blood running from under one of the iron bands. Taking a deep breath, the lutrai reached back and undid the last metal latch, then pulled the muzzle up and off. It fell to the floor of the cage with a heavy thud, and before he could so much as look up again, the creature jerked back and issued forth a deafening, triumphant shriek.
"Shiver free! Shiver kill!"
Gault was an expert at what he did. He was, in fact, so good that he could scarcely find the time to settle down anywhere, as his talents were always in demand. Gault was an expert on acquisition in general and slavery in specific. He knew what people wanted, where to get it, how to buy it, and how to sell it again for many times the price he'd paid. There were a number of truly great merchants, of course, but few took quite as much pleasure in their trade as did Gault. Like most of his kind, his role had been selected by his elders long before he had any say in the matter, and yet he had taken to it with a natural aptitude that even the other neogi found surprising. It was in his ichor, this merchant business.
"Come on, dearie," he hissed, his voice cool and sibilant. "Have a drink."
The neogi combined the best features of spider and moray eel, a sort of nightmarish centaur with a bloated, eight-legged body topped with three feet of slimy, sinewy neck and a sharp, cruel head that was mostly mouth. Right now, Gault was trying his best to smile. Smiling, he found, was something that many humanoids did to put each other at ease, and yet his own smile often had the opposite effect. Baring his double rows of translucent, needle-like teeth, he wondered idly if he needed more practice. The fey looked down at the chain around her ankle, then up at Gault again, clearly upset. She had every right to be, at least in her current state, barely dressed and bound to the back wall of Gault's personal wagon.
"Don't worry about that, dearie," he hissed, dangling the wineskin on the end of one long, hairy foreleg. "Just a formality. Now have a drink, please, I insist. So good for you!"
Gault didn't think too much of the fey's intelligence. They were a scatterbrained, primitive people who had more in common with sprites and pixies than any of the civilised races. However, they were also very comely, easily domesticated creatures, and very popular as slaves. They were also quite rare, and could fetch a fantastic price on the right market. Far too wild and unruly in their natural state, they needed to be broken in a little, which was a very delicate process. Some people - idiots mostly in Gault's opinion - used physical treatment, more commonly known as 'beating'. Others used magical means, a wide variety of spells to manipulate the creature's emotions and needs. A little more subtle, perhaps, but by no means economical. Gault used drugs.
"It will help you relax," he hissed softly, raising his other foreleg and brushing it up along the fey's bare calf. She flinched and jerked back into a corner, pulling the chain taut. Gault clucked his tongue, "See, you need to relax?"
His favourite drug was chith, a black powder derived from a common plant and an exotic alchemical process. In small doses, it brought about a rather lacklustre sense of bliss. Used continuously, it eliminated various strong emotions, fatigue, and ambition. The only drawback was that it had to be ingested regularly, as withdrawal often caused psychotic episodes and insanity. Not that Gault cared, of course; once the product was sold, it was no longer his responsibility. He had mixed a spoonful of the black dust into the wine, which was more than enough to spoil its flavour. Gault didn't care about that either. He just wanted to get the process over with, and break in the goods before they reached their destination. He was in the process of leaning closer to the cornered fey when the wagon came to a jarring halt. On eight legs, he barely noticed, shifting his balance easily to the front. The fey banged her head smartly against the corner and cried out, falling to her knees. There came a pounding on the cabin door.
"This had better be good," he snapped, wheeling to face the rear of the wagon's interior just as the small door was yanked open.
It was Scruffy, his valet.
"Scruffy," he began, eyes narrowed.
"It's Ruffy, sir," the young lupine muttered, wringing his paws.
"Insect!" Gault shouted. "Why have we stopped?"
Ruffy cringed, his eyes wide and full of wordless apology. He worked his mouth around a pair of inarticulate sounds, and gestured vaguely. Gault sprang forward and dipped his head, his needle-like teeth flashing to within an inch of the frightened boy's eyes.
"What was that?" he gnashed.
"The dragon, sir," he whimpered. "The little white one."
"What about the little white dragon," Gault hissed.
"I think his muzzle's come off, sir."
Gault closed his eyes and took a deep breath, wondering what Ruffy would taste like. He had bought the pup from an orphanage in the north. They needed food. He needed a valet. In all, he had paid less than two sacks of oats for Ruffy. He had later decided he'd been cheated. When he opened his eyes again, the young wolf seemed to mistake his deadly calm for forgiving patience, and relaxed. One of the neogi's forelegs snapped out and hooked Ruffy by the collar, dragging his feet off the ground and his upper body into the wagon's interior. Ruffy let out a little yelp of protest.
"Go and put the little white dragon's muzzle back on," he hissed, flicking his tongue over his needle-like teeth to emphasise each syllable. "immediately."
"Yessir," he whimpered. "Right away."
With a disgusted grunt, Gault dropped the youth and yanked the door shut again. His romantic mood ruined, he flicked the wineskin into the corner of the wagon and craned his neck around to glare at the fey, "Drink up, or drink nothing."
Ruffy was truly afraid, moreso of Master Gault than a small, angry dragon hatchling. The worst the dragon hatchling could do was kill him. He kicked a stone. There were other teamsters, of course, four others, all larger, older, and more experienced than Ruffy, but as always, he was the first to report trouble to the Master, and that usually meant being assigned to deal with it. The others, who were actually paid, did surprisingly little. Rubbing the side of his sore neck, he made his way to the second wagon, and looked up at the rear door. There was laughing coming from inside. Gathering his nerve, he knocked on the door.
The laughter continued. They were drunk.
"Hello?" he ventured.
"Piss off!" came the reply.
Ruffy's shoulders sagged, and his ears lay back flat. He knew how nasty the teamsters could be when they were drunk. Pressing the issue might result in a beating. Still, he couldn't possibly deal with the dragon on his own, could he?
"The dragon's muzzle's come off," he said, leaning against the door.
There was a lull in the drunken conversation within, and a moment later the wagon door swung outwards, knocking Ruffy down on his rear in the dusty road. Lango, the lead teamster, jumped down and landed almost on top of the young wolf. Before he could scramble back to his feet, the big man reached down and hauled Ruffy up by the collar. The youth let out another soft whine of protest. It really hurt.
"What was that about the dragon, Scruffy?" he growled. His voice reeked of some strong drink that Ruffy could not identify.
"His muzzle's come off, sir," he whimpered. "Gault wants it taken care of straight away."
"Is that why we stopped?" Lango asked, scowling. "I guess I better deal with it, then. Stay here and make sure nobody looks at my cards."
Ruffy felt an amazing sense of relief. He actually smiled a little, in spite of the pain. Lango released his collar with a neutral grunt, and walked off towards the rearmost wagon. Rubbing his neck, Ruffy peered into the dark interior of the wagon. Three other teamsters looked back at him contemptuously, holding cards and waiting with obvious impatience. He smiled weakly, and raised one paw, "Hi fellas."
Lango swung the rear wagon's side panel open, grimacing slightly and shielding his face with the back of one hand. It wasn't nearly enough protection. From within one of the dark cages, he saw a brief flash of white, and a sharp gasping sound that he mistook for surprise. An instant later, his upper body was consumed in a blast of air so cold it blinded him, and took his breath away. A terrible roaring sound filled his ears, and at once he felt as if he were being burned alive. Then he died, falling back into the road with his arms still raised and frozen solid. His frost-blasted expression was one of terminal surprise.
Shiver let out another triumphant shriek, smashing his two hundred pound bulk against the side of the cage. Everything was red! He snarled, spun around, and lashed the bars with his stout tail, then followed through with another freezing eruption from deep within his body. This was new, something that had wanted to get out ever since he'd been muzzled. It felt great! Thick patterns of frost spread across the bars, and he could hear them creak faintly. Nothing could stop him!
"Shiver kill!" he shrieked.
Rocking back on his tail, he smashed both feet into the front of the cage with all his might. There was a splintering sound as one of the bars shattered. Shiver didn't pause for a moment. Pivoting, he hammered the door again with his tail, splitting the brittle, frozen iron and knocking the cage door off one of its hinges.
"Shiver free!" he screamed, smashing the cage door wide open with another fierce kick. It swung outwards and rebounded slightly before falling off into the dusty road, atop the slaver's frozen body. The small dragon dropped down out of the wagon and promptly tripped over both the fallen cage door and the body beneath it, sprawling into the dust. It hurt, but in his state, the young dragon barely felt it. He snarled angrily, then kicked over into crouch, shielding his eyes with his paws. The sun was very bright after days in the dark interior. Turning, he looked back at the wagon's open flank and saw the creature that had helped him, leaning against the bars, staring out at him. It looked like a little bear.
"Shiver avenge you, leetle bear," the dragon called. More than enough gratitude.
"Please don't leave me here," the little bear protested, sounding quite ill. "Can you get me out?"
Something about the little bear's voice gave Shiver pause, and the small dragon took a step towards its cage. The creature's eyes were fixed on his. Shiver reared up on his haunches and brought his muzzle to the bars, less than a foot away from the captive within. The bear flinched only slightly, but there was look in his eyes that Shiver understood all to well. Most of him didn't care. Most of him wanted to get back to smashing things and attacking the people who had hurt and humiliated him. Part of him screamed at this total waste of time. However, there was also a part of him which remembered why he was free now, and that even for a brief moment, the bear had been stronger then he was. Now Shiver was stronger.
"Shiver help leetle bear who help Shiver," the dragon growled. "If leetle bear talk fast."
"They open these doors with metal teeth," the bear said quickly. "That man has some on his belt."
Shiver looked down at the half-frozen corpse of the slaver. Lo and behold, there was a metal ring of what looked like strange metal teeth on his belt. For a moment, he reflected on how easy it was to understand what the bear said; most spoken terms confused him completely. With a snort, Shiver leaned down and snatched the keys off the belt, snapping the metal ring in the process. Keys spilled everywhere.
"Teeth fall," Shiver muttered. "Too bad."
"Wait!" the bear cried. "I just need a few, please Shiver."
"Shiver busy!" the dragon snarled, losing patience. Already he could hear someone coming, and the blood was rushing back to his head. "Teeth fall, too bad!"
"I'll help you, I promise," the bear whispered fiercely, also inclining his head toward the sound of the footsteps. "I just need a few."
Shiver grumbled and looked down. He was standing on the fallen cage door. The fallen cage door was on top of the dead man. The metal teeth were UNDER the dead man, for the most part. Shiver looked up again after this new assessment.
"Teeth fall under door," he said, matter-of-factly.
"Move the door!" the bear cried, banging against the bars. "You're really strong!"
Shiver would have left at that very moment. No little bear was going to push him around. However, the last part, the little compliment, did not escape him either. Shiver was strong, after all. He could move the silly little door. He had in fact smashed it completely. Reaching down with both forepaws, he seized the cage door and flung it easily aside. Four of the metal teeth were now in plain view, and he snatched up three of them and a big pawful of road dust in one swipe. No problem! The young white dragon reared up on his haunches with a smug grin, tossing the dirt and keys into the bear's cage. One of the keys bounced off the bars and fell back into the road again with a soft metallic pinging sound.
"Hah, plenty teeth! Now Shiver have to go!" he snarled. "Shiver kill!"
Just as he was starting to turn around, Shiver heard something he had never heard before. It sounded like a curse uttered by the wind. Then a bright bolt of agony shot through his body, racing up his back and into his mind in an explosion of red and orange sparks. When he tried to turn, the pain flared again in one of his legs, close to his tail, and he crumpled to three legs with a shriek of outrage. There was a man standing perhaps twenty feet away, by the second wagon, pointing some insolent little human weapon at him. The man was busily fiddling with it, trying to make it work again perhaps.
"Shiver kill you!" he screamed at the man.
The man stopped playing with his weapon, and advanced towards the crippled dragon, teeth bared in a blunt man snarl. Shiver waited, seeing red again, prepared to unleash his own new weapon the moment the man got too close. As if sensing this intention, the human stopped, circling slowly towards the third wagon's open flank. Shiver snatched a quick breath, pressure building inside his body as he took aim. The man was faster. There was another wind curse, and this time the young dragon caught sight of a gleaming metal dart. The projectile flashed once in the fading light, and buried itself in his abdomen, knocking the breath out of him. At the same time, he felt the red cloud of rage dissolve into a sick, numbing shock. He slumped forward, growling weakly, and saw his own blood spilling from the place where the dart had struck him. The sense of weakness deepened.
"Shiver...kill..." he coughed faintly.
The man's boot connected with the side of his head, rocking it back. For a moment, the whole world swam out in a huge drunken swoop, and then his muzzle crashed down into the dusty road. The boot came down hard on the side of his neck, pinning it to the road and cutting off his breath.
"Shiver die," the man said coldly.
There was a metallic click, and a sudden, violent impact. Then there was darkness.
Two keys.
Out of a ring of at least ten.
The lutrai managed to jam the first one into the lock near the floor of the cage, watching the man with feverish attention. The man had no interest in the caged lutrai. He had a bead on the dangerous creature, to the exclusion of all else. Closing his eyes tightly, the lutrai applied pressure to the key. At the same time, he heard Shiver cry out in pain. The key turned with a faint metallic click, and the lock disengaged. His heart leapt into his throat, and his eyes opened wide. It worked!
"Shiver die," he heard the man say.
With a shout, the lutrai kicked the cage door open as hard as he could, using both feet. It flew outwards on its hinges with a rusty scream, and the man's head snapped around just in time to catch the door's lower outside corner. It split his skull almost soundlessly, an inch above the bridge of the nose, and he crumpled into the road atop the unconscious dragon. The young lutrai scrambled out of his cage and dropped down to the road in a crouch, putting both his paws on Shiver's back. The white reptile was still breathing.
"Hold on," he said, reaching over the wounded creature and picking up the man's strange dart weapon. It looked like it was ready to use, but it was also complicated and quite awkward in his webbed paws. He heard another voice; someone was shouting now. Frantic, he tossed the weapon aside and searched the man for something else to use. His paw closed around the handle of a short, heavy sword, and he pulled it out of its sheath to examine it. The sharp, well-oiled blade gleamed dully in the fading light. He had never even held a sword before.
"Hey!" someone screamed. "Hey they're out of the cages! They killed Lango!"
The lutrai looked up sharply, raising the sword in both paws. There were actually two men, standing side by side next to the second wagon. They looked quite upset. Seeing his sword, both men drew their own weapons, swords of a similar make, only larger. They were big men, too. The shorter of the pair was a clear foot taller than he was.
"Easy now," one of them said, trying to make eye contact. "Jus' you put that down and get back in yer cage like a nice little..."
Bear.
"...bear." he finished. "We ain't gonna hurt you."
The lutrai had no intention of getting back into the cage, or being a nice little bear. He clenched his teeth and advanced a few steps towards them, eyes blazing defiance. His legs almost gave out under him, but he managed to keep his composure. For an instant, both men seemed to falter, backing up slightly. One of them muttered an oath under his breath.
"We don't have to fight," the lutrai said softly. A strong gust of wind sheared across the road, ruffling his long head fur. "We can go our own ways."
One of the men took another step back, and his companion flashed him a look of almost incredulous contempt. He stopped backing away, eyes downcast. The lutrai tightened his grip on the sword handle, his gaze unwavering.
"If you kill me, you won't have any slaves left to sell," the lutrai said slowly. "You'll have to kill me to get me back in that cage."
This time both men hesitated. He had struck at something fundamental, perhaps. Wealth certainly seemed to be the lifeblood of human motivation. One of the men cast a glance over his shoulder at something the lutrai couldn't see, then looked back. He muttered quietly to his companion, shifting his gaze to the two human bodies lying in the road at the lutrai's feet. Both men lowered their weapons and backed off, until they were out of sight behind the second wagon. The lutrai waited, still holding the sword up, unable to believe what had happened. The men had left without a fight. He closed his eyes for a moment, listening, wanting to be certain. A minute went by, and his arms were starting to hurt. Just as the sun began to sink below the horizon, he looked up to see a pair of long shadows departing southward along the road. Above the wind, the lutrai could hear the distant sound of hoofbeats. He let out all his breath and lowered the tip of the sword into the dust, feeling a deep and almost tiring relief.
"Shiver?" he asked softly, looking down at the dragon. "Are you alright?"
Shiver didn't respond, and casting one more cautious glance around, the lutrai dropped to one knee beside the wounded creature. He had been shot twice, once in the belly, and once in the rear. He winced at the sight, and got down on his paws and knees to get a better look. The darts were small, and hadn't penetrated very deeply, but there was a lot of blood. He leaned closer to the dragon's head, and gently rested one paw on his neck.
"I'm going to find something for your wounds," he said softly. "It'll be alright. Just...stay here."
Ruffy sat in the second wagon, at an empty card table. He was cowering. The situation could not have been good, because the teamsters had left their money right out on the table. And then there were the screams. He heard horses, too. Fleeing horses. A deep, sick feeling had crawled into his belly as the minutes of silence crept by. All he could hear now was the mindless howl of the wind around the wagon. There was a knife on the table, a long one with an ivory handle carved in the shape of a rose stem. He snatched it up in one trembling paw, and held it in a rather ridiculous stabbing position. Another minute went by.
"Hello?" he called shakily, knowing his voice would be totally drowned out by the wind. Nobody answered, heralding the beginning of another long, silent minute. He wanted very badly to get out of the wagon and look around. Or to run for his life. Different scenarios raced through his head as he tried to imagine what had happened. Perhaps the dragon had killed all of them. Ruffy had seen the dragon a few times, but it was really quite young and small. He even felt sorry for it now and then. How could it have possibly killed four grown men with weapons from inside its cage? Perhaps raiders had attacked the caravan and killed the others. That would explain the sound of the departing horses. However, if it had been raiders, why hadn't they raided the second wagon? That was where most of the money was, and the personal supplies. Even the wagon itself was worth a lot of money.
"Is anyone there?" he ventured, lowering the knife slightly.
The idiot wind was the only response. It was getting dark out, too. Night would be upon them soon. Upon him. He looked at the table again, and the scattered cards. Lango would have won. He had a flush in clubs. He had asked Lango to teach him cards once, and the big man had laughed heartily, telling him that there was no point, since he didn't have any money to bet with. Ruffy blinked a few times, staring at the table, and a great white light went on inside him. If nobody came back, he could take whatever he wanted and escape! He would be free! This realization was so intense that he felt a wave of faintness wash over him, causing him to drop the knife. Without daring to touch the coins, Ruffy estimated that there were roughly fifty nobles and well over a hundred half-nobles, along with a scattering of betting fodder like whiskey and tobacco. It would be enough to live comfortably for a long time!
"They must be dead," he whispered to himself.
For the first time that he could remember, he found himself wishing that they were dead. It felt awful somehow, even after everything they had done to him. He had never even thought about freedom before, and now that he could taste it, a great sense of determination filled his heart. He felt stronger, braver, more alert. He decided that he would wait another hour, just to be safe. The money wasn't going anywhere, after all. In the meantime, he would bide his time, and perhaps make an assessment of the total worth of the things he could carry.
A noise outside the wagon caught his attention, and he froze in the act of reaching for a valuable-looking ivory pipe.
There was someone outside the wagon, and it most certainly was not one of the teamsters. Ruffy's hearing was excellent, so good in fact that he was often sent ahead to scout the road at night. He had memorised the sound of each teamster's footsteps, the pause in between, even the creak of different types and thicknesses of leather. What he heard now matched nothing in his memory. Someone was walking in bare feet. A small someone. His hand shifted away from the pipe, and closed over the handle of the knife again. The footsteps were far too light for it to have been the dragon, which came as a great relief. Still, someone was outside sneaking. Or at least being cautious. His grip on the knife handle tightened, and he was amazed to discover that he was no longer afraid. His blood was up, he was ready to defend himself, his money, and his new-found freedom. Clenching his teeth, he slid soundlessly out of his chair and crouched. The intruder had moved up to the wagon door. Ruffy tensed, his muscles like tightly wound springs. He had never felt so alive.
The door creaked open slowly, and the young wolf felt the wind rush around him, stirring his iron-grey coat. There was a figure in the doorway, partly silhouetted by the fading sunset. It was not a human. With a scream, Ruffy lunged at the creature, his knife upraised. He barely heard himself above the blood roaring in his ears. Something flashed at the heart of the silhouette, and then a cold, dull pain shot through his belly. He stabbed blindly, still screaming, and broke the knife blade on the doorframe. Time seemed to hang for a moment, and then the pain overran his adrenaline, and he looked down at himself, shivering. There was a sword buried in his midriff, between the bottom of his tattered tunic and the waist of his breeches. As he stared at it, blood began to well up around the steel. He felt a horrible, cold disbelief, and sank to his knees slowly, looking up again to see who had done this to him. The face that looked back seemed just as shocked and horrified as he was.
"I'm sorry," the lutrai breathed. "I..."
Ruffy tried to swallow and gag at the same time. A soft choking sound rose in his throat. It was the other slave who had done this. The young wolf sank down further, and the lutrai released the handle of the sword from his shaking paws. Ruffy looked down again and shuddered. There was blood everywhere. He was going to be sick.
"I didn't mean it," the lutrai said, almost pleadingly. There were tears in his eyes.
With agonising effort, he brought his paws up to the blade and tried feebly to pull it out. The cruel steel split the soft skin of his palms, and he winced, unable to move it at all. Very slowly, he looked up at the lutrai again. He had never seen an expression of such anguished guilt, not even in the mirror.
"I didn't mean it either," Ruffy whispered, still clutching the sword blade near the hilt.
A cool, numbing darkness bloomed upwards through his mind like a flower, folding around it. He slid down onto his back, and felt another brief, distant spark of pain. It barely caught his attention. Far away, he could hear the lutrai crying softly. His thoughts were slowing down and scattering, and for a moment, he imagined he could feel the wind blowing through his fur. It was warm, in spite of the coming night. As the darkness enveloped him, he remembered to close his eyes.
"I'm sorry..."
The lutrai sat beside the dead wolf, watching the day slowly pass into night. The bloody glow of sunset gradually faded into the royal violet of twilight, and the first stars began to glitter in the heavens. He looked down at his bloody paws and flexed them, hated them. Shiver needed his help, but he could barely move. The horrified look in the wolf's eyes was all he could think of.
Somewhere, a door slammed, and the lutrai's mind snapped back to attention. There was someone else. The thought of picking up the sword and going to confront this new threat sickened him, and yet he found himself getting back to his feet and turning to look down at the body. The wolf's eyes were closed, at the very least. There was a lot of blood. He felt his gorge rise and swallowed it back with clenched teeth. Gripping the handle of the sword, he pulled it free and turned away, heaving. If he'd had anything in his stomach, he would have lost it, but all that came up was air. Doubled over, he stared at the wooden floor while trying to get his breath back. The wind picked up again, howling its way up to a mindless, whistling shriek. Somewhere far out across the plains, thunder rumbled. Turning to the door, the lutrai stumbled out of the wagon and dropped down to the dusty road again, shielding his face against the wind.
"Come out!" he shouted hoarsely. He didn't care about the element of surprise, not after what had happened with the wolf. He didn't care about the pain in his throat. "Come out, whoever you are!"
Nobody came out. He looked back over his shoulder into the wagon for something he could use to bind Shiver's wounds, and saw nothing large enough or long enough. In any case, he didn't want to be ambushed while trying to help the injured dragon. Gripping the sword in both paws again, he stood amid the whistling wind and descending night, staring at the looming bulk of the first wagon. It was larger and more ornately decorated than the other two. That was where the sound had come from. Head lowered, he walked towards it with his teeth clenched and his mind racing. Across the dead plains, thunder roared from the heart of the gathering storm.
Gault was playing the waiting game. He had played it before, in countless scenarios, with countless people. He considered himself to be quite good at it, in fact, one of the best. He had heard the screams, the fleeing horses, and the slave boy's challenge. Most of the waiting games Gault played were very complex, involving numerous influential people and often great deals of money. They involved politics, rulers, unions, assassins, and other factors. Some games lasted for years.
In this game, it was him, and a slave boy.
Gault had opened the door to his wagon and slammed it again after he heard the horses depart. He knew that it was his men that were deserting because the lutrai would never know how to ride or possibly even unlash a horse, and no horse he had ever seen would stay calm around a dragon. Two horses had left, suggesting that his other two teamsters were either dead, or had fled on foot, ignoring the other four horses. Knowing how lazy they were, he guessed they were dead, either killed by the dragon or, humorous as it might seem, the lutrai. The dragon was likely dead as well, for its temper tantrum had lasted only a scarce few moments, and even the youngest, stupidest of dragons would have taken a lot longer to exact revenge upon its captors once freed. He knew it had freed itself from its cage, because without its help, the lutrai boy would never have gotten out to issue his challenge. However, simply putting together what had happened was easy. It was predicting what would happen next that was the difficult part.
Gault was waiting upside down, above the wagon door.
Not having hands was a considerable disadvantage to most of his kind, which, of course, was why they had valets. Gault was no exception. Without his guards or attendant, he would have to rely upon his own abilities now. Somewhere far away across the dead fields, thunder rumbled. That was fine, he was safe and dry and warm. He knew the lutrai would come and investigate the sound of the slammed door. They were curious creatures.
"That's right, my dear," he whispered to the terrified fey. "Just stand right there and look pretty."
Both aspects of the neogi were cunning predators. Spiders set their traps and waited. Eels used a swift, sudden strike from ambush. Gault admired both these tactics. He had stripped the fey naked and left her chained to the back wall. He had enjoyed doing it. Her supple, naked form would be the first, and the last thing the lutrai boy would see when he opened the door. It would be over in an instant.
"I don't really want to kill him," he confided in her as she knelt shivering by the back wall. "I could get a fantastic price for that little fellow. It's such a shame the dust didn't break him. I've never been disappointed by chith before."
Gault's hearing was average at best; he had no ears. What he was doing instead was watching the fey. She had great big long elven ears, the movements of which were directed by a part of her brain that didn't take conscious orders. When she heard the lutrai come up to the door, her ears would swivel in that direction. Nothing she could do could stop them. When he saw her ears move, he would be ready to strike. One venomous bite to the back of the neck would be enough to kill the boy. It would be a considerable loss, but he couldn't take chances this late in the game.
Several minutes passed.
The fey had wrapped her arms around herself and slumped down in a corner as the shadows lengthened and the interior of the wagon grew darker. Night was upon them now, and the storm continued to approach. Gault waited, watching her shivering form, leering in the darkness. Thunder cracked, and for a moment, the interior of the wagon was lit up in sterile shades of blue. The fey gasped and huddled further into the corner. As the rumble tapered away, he saw her ears begin to shift. They had perked up at the sound of the thunder, but now they were actually shifting in a particular direction. They were shifting towards the door. Gault tensed. There was another roar of thunder, and this time the door came crashing open, filling the wagon with howling wind. A flash of lightning silhouetted the intruder for just an instant. It was all Gault needed. The neogi's head blurred backwards and then struck out as he dropped down onto the hapless lutrai, his teeth buried at the base of his spine. Gault landed like a cat, rotating his head to keep the grip solid as his poison jetted into the soft flesh. They fey let out a brief, terrified little scream.
Something seemed amiss.
Tearing backwards, Gault stared down at his prey. Another flash of lightning illuminated the headless body of a rotting scarecrow pinned beneath his forelegs. It's burlap head dangled briefly from his lower jaw before falling to the floor of the wagon with a soft thud. The neogi looked up very slowly, and felt the tip of a sword touch the side of his neck. The lutrai was holding the sword. Thunder boomed.
"Very clever," Gault hissed. "I knew I'd caught someone special."
"You better run away before the dragon wakes up," the lutrai growled above the fading thunder. "I won't stop you."
"Of course you won't," Gault hissed, peering up the length of the blade and meeting the lutrai's gaze with his own flat amber eyes. The rules had changed, his poison was spent, but he could see weakness in the boy's eyes. "Your kind don't like to kill."
"Just get out of here."
Stepping slowly to one side, Gault inclined his head towards the fey, "What about her?"
The lutrai followed his gaze, and he seemed to see the girl for the first time. The tip of the sword dropped an inch. So did the lutrai's jaw. Gault sprang instantly, darting past the point of the distracted slave's weapon and burying his teeth in the meat of his bare shoulder. This time there was no mistaking the taste of prey, the hot blood and sinew. The lutrai let out a cry of pain as Gault's weight smashed him back against one of the walls. Whipping his upper body to one side, he flung the boy to the floor and tore his jaws free, splattering blood in a fan across the wall. He was disappointed to see that the young slave had managed to keep his grip on the sword.
"I've eaten your kind," the neogi hissed. "Very pleasant. I'm going to eat you, boy."
Darting forward again, Gault reared up and brought both forelegs down on the lutrai as he tried to rise, slamming him back to the floor with a winded cough. Gault's sinewy upper body snaked down until his sharp, dripping muzzle was almost pressed into the lutrai's ear.
"Prey," he whispered.
Thunder roared, and with a scream, the lutrai whipped his head around and sank his teeth into Gault's snout and muzzle. The neogi felt an explosive burst of pain as his fragile sinus cavities were crushed, and he tried to voice his agony without success. The lutrai had sealed his mouth and nose, with barely a whisper of breath in his lungs. Panic flooded the neogi's ordinarily calm and structured thoughts as he tried to jerk away, succeeding only in pulling the slave along with him. Frantically, he struck out with his weak forelegs, trying to pry to lutrai off. The boy responded by dropping his sword and seizing the neogi's upper forelegs to stregthen his grip, snarling and twisting. Gault pitched forward and jerked his head from side to side in a frantic attempt to dislodge his opponent's locked jaws. Cartillage tore and bone broke, and still the boy's grip remained. Black shapes bloomed behind Gault's eyes as he suffocated, his efforts becoming less rational as tactics dissolved into a frenzy of panic. Each violent exertion brought more pain, and each new pain sapped his fading energy. Shuddering, Gault sank to the floor and groggily shook his head back and forth with what remained of his strength. The grip tightened, the lutrai's sharp teeth digging deeper into the mangled remains of his snout. His eight legs beat at the wooden floor in rough, meaningless spasms. Light and color were collapsing into darkness. The last thing the slaver felt was his own warm ichor oozing out through his clenched teeth and down the sides of his neck. Outside the wagon, the storm raged on.
Marteke watched in horror as her would-be master sank to the floor, shuddered, and went limp. The strange slave boy held on, jaws locked, for nearly a minute before finally letting go. When he did, he only managed to roll onto his side, his dark eyes half-focusing on her. Inky blue-black ichor stained his muzzle and throat, and the look on his face was one of weary sickness. He crawled away from the spider-thing's body and slumped over, panting softly and retching once. For a few moments, the only sound in the wagon was his labored breathing and the driving rain outside. At length, he wiped his muzzle with one paw and looked up at her again. His eyes were very intense, alive and undrugged, but she could tell he was in pain. It was the spider-thing's poison.
Very slowly, she slid forward onto her hands and knees and edged towards the boy. Her ankle was still chained to the wall, but he had fallen close to her end of the wagon and there was more than enough room to reach him. His head rolled back, and his eyes focused on her as she touched his shoulder, where he had been bitten. She winced, and moved her slender hand to his brow.
"I didn't mean to scare you," he said softly. "My...friend is outside in the rain, and he's hurt. I need cloth, bandages, anything..."
Marteke's eyes softened. She touched one finger to his muzzle, and lowered her head until she was nearly eye to eye with him. He fell quite silent, and swallowed softly. She looked into his eyes, her long ears tilted forwards. He did not flinch or look away; he was strong. Still, after all she had been through, trust came slowly.
"I'll get that chain off your ankle," he said, trying to sit up. "Will you help me?"
She felt a slight fluttering in her chest, and repressed a smile. He was kind! Better yet, he wanted to set her free! Her newfound distrust was weakening, and that felt best of all. She didn't like being suspicious. It was nasty.
"There are clothes in the - " he began.
She hugged him, laughing softly, and crying. He stopped trying to sit up and fell back to the floor with a startled, winded sound. His fur was wonderful, soft and warm against her bare skin. She buried her cheek in it and tightened her embrace.
"Thank you," she whispered.
After a moment, she slid back onto her hands and knees, looking at him curiously. The boy didn't have any clothes either, but at the very least, he had a nice warm fur coat. She felt a moment of giddy jealousy, and her ears swept back. The boy was looking up at her with a mute, stunned expression on his face. There was something in his eyes which she had not seen in a long time. It was innocence. Perhaps he wasn't used to being hugged when he did nice things or made people happy. She motioned down at her chained ankle, and then extended one slender, tanned leg along his flank. Sitting up, the boy examined the metal cuff and traced his finger around the lock with a slight frown. She had no idea how the cruel metal bracelet opened, but she saw dawning comprehension in his eyes and felt another momentery flutter in her chest.
"A really small metal tooth," he said to himself.
The boy managed to crawl up to his feet, where he wobbled unsteadily, leaning on the table for support. He then walked over to the spider-thing's corpse and knelt down, searching through the multitude of pouches festooning its lower body. Coins clattered to the floor. A bottle of blue liquid. A golden ring. She made a note of the ring. After nearly a minute, he seemed to find what he was looking for; his face lit up. From a small, black leather pouch, the boy produced a tiny piece of metal and presented it to her. It didn't really look like a tooth. She peered at it quizzically.
"I think this is it," he said, kneeling down and touching the 'metal tooth' to a hole in the manacle. He tried turning it, but nothing happened. It just rattled back and forth. She frowned, feeling a brief moment of disappointment.
"It's not the right one," he muttered. "Just a moment."
She watched as he crawled back over to the dead spider thing and went through more pouches, turning some inside-out. A minute later he was back with a slightly larger metal tooth. He pushed it into the hole and turned it smoothly. There was a delicate clicking sound, like breaking ice, and the manacle came away. Her heart soared.
"That's it," he said, looking slightly pleased with himself. She wiggled her toes and giggled softly, smiling up at him.
"It's raining really hard," he said, looking out the open door into the night. "I'm gonna go try and move my friend in here. I'll be able to help him better."
"Can I help?" she asked, rubbing her ankle where the cuff had chaffed.
He nodded. "If you don't mind the rain."
She loved the rain. Before he could even get back to his feet, she was out the door. Dropping down to the road, she savored the feeling of the cool mud as it squelched between her toes, and the driving downpour against her bare skin. The wind lashed around her body, and she wrapped her arms around herself, laughing, delighting in its chill. Thunder boomed far away across the dark, endless fields, and she threw her arms wide, staring up at the sky and shouting in answer. Her heart was racing, so much that she felt faint. Glancing back over her shoulder, she grinned at the boy, her eyes wide and full of new fire.
"What are you waiting for?" she laughed. "Let's go help your friend!"