Oathbreaker

VIII: The Betrayed, Part I

Drakarax and Naramir began their journey back down the mountian of Nel Ulihm towards the Valley of Green. Drakarax found himself saddened as he left the majesty of the beautiful dwarven city, but felt an excited meant as he knew that he would see the wonders of the valley again. The beginning leg of the journey was agonizing for Drakarax, the wheels of Naramir's handcart seemed to bounce on each stair that they descended from. If the Dragonborn raised his pace only the slightest amount, the sorcerer would notice and chastise him. He would berate Drakarax, saying that he was making the ride uncomfortable for him. This tripled the time for them to reach the bottom of the stairs, and by the time they had reached the bottom of the stairs and found smooth trail again, it was nearly the next morning. They had descended the stairs all night, and Drakarax was exhausted. He didn't even bother to set the crossbeam support in place before dropping the crossbeam and the handcart all together, forcing the cart forward and spilling its content, sorcerer included, onto the ground. Naramir, being somewhat asleep when they reached the bottom, rudely awoke as he found himself in the dirt. Drakarax stumbled away from the cart, dropped to his knees and face-planted into an open patch of grass. Naramir rose to his feet and began raging at Drakarax. He threw insult after insult at the Dragonborn, all that fell on uncaring, sleep filled ears.

The two awoke the next morning, a distinct scowl spelled across Naramir's face as they readied for their journey through the valley. Drakarax ignored the sorcerer for the most part for the morning, choosing to keep his own tongue in check. The two ate a small breakfast of bacon, fried eggs and tea that to Drakarax tasted awful, but that Naramir couldn't seem to drink enough of, then the two loaded the cart and began walking again. The journey through the valley was shorter than expected, due to the fact that Drakarax was distracted by the constant bickering of the man riding in the cart. If the man was not complaining about something, he was busy practicing incantations, and Drakarax didn't know which he preferred less. Either way, the man's mouth never stayed closed for more than a moment at a time. This, he understood, was why the dwarves wanted him gone so bad. 

Drakarax and Naramir reached the foothills of Mount Stormscale around midnight that night. They could see the lights from the clan's fires from the base of the mountain, and Drakarax yearned to be back. This was the longest he'd ever been away from his home, and he so desired to crawl into a warm bed roll and tuck into the night. But he couldn't, for he still had a day's journey back up the mountain, with a nagging sorcerer to boot. After reaching the apex of the foothills as the snow began to deepen, Drakarax set the support of the crossbeam on the handcart, turned and glared at Naramir. The sorcerer met his glare and replied with a sinister scowl.

"What? Have you more need of rest, hatchling? Think you haven't wasted enough of my precious time already?" Naramir barked. Drakarax curled his nose and bit his tongue. He knew the man could incinerate him with just a thought, and he knew if any harm came to him, his trial would be failed and he'd be banished from his clan.

"Your cart won't make it through that deep snow. We'll have to walk from here." Drakarax explained. The look of absolute befuddlement that spilled across Naramir's face from that sentence amused Drakarax a bit. Naramir stood from his seat and pointed a crooked finger at the Dragonborn.

"I was told specifically by your clan's grand elder, Voldroken, in his dispatches to me, that a path would be cleared for this very cart to make it up that mountain. Are you telling me that your grand elder is a liar? That no path has been cleared for my cart to get to the top of this mountain?" Naramir yelled, a torrent of spit flying from his lips with every hard consonant he pronounced.

"No, no that's not what I'm saying." Drakarax began.

"THEN WHAT ARE YOU SAYING?" Naramir screamed, his face now turning visibly red from the anger coursing through him. Drakarax balled his fists, closed his eyes and breathed. The volley of yelling from the sorcerer didn't relent. He cursed and he swore at Drakarax, calling him lazy, useless and good for nothing. Drakarax could feel a well of anger developing in himself, starting from his belly and rising up through his throat. The felt the energy gather in the base of throat, and the beratement reached its apex, Drakarax kicked the crossbeam support out from under it and forced the crossbeam into the snow with his hand. The angry sorcerer tumbled from the cart and into the snow, where Drakarax then stood over him. He felt the energy well in his throat as arcs of lightning sparked from his jaws. He kept the breath back, but spoke his mind to Naramir.