The Ember of Life

Chapter 8

Dertharion was vaguely aware that he had been pulled into a house, and set down on something soft, but he continued to stare blankly ahead, his mind racing. They hadn't taken the Ember yet, he slowly began to realize. Perhaps they were unaware of its presence. Zendrayus had noticed it, but the White seemed to possess uncanny senses.

The Mindhide who had greeted him at the gate shooed all the others out of the house, and sat down near the Green on the cushioned house floor. The building was furnished nicely, more lavishly than the best of the Charred's, and more sparsely than the finest Dertharion had ever seen. A single tapestry hung from the opposite wall, its colorful threads depicting two dragons sleeping in a twilight forest.

"Like it?" the Yellow asked kindly.

Dertharion blinked. "I do. It's lovely craftmanship," he said, and meant it. All the threads lay smooth and were not visible as separate parts; they smoothly formed a whole. Nervously, he looked back at his companion. The Yellow's face was full of compassion and friendliness, and Dertharion felt half-comforted. He seemed kind.

"My name is Misery," the Mindhide said with such a cheerful smile that the Green's brows rose in spite of himself. The Yellow caught his look and laughed. "I know, it's a bit unfitting. Or at least, I try to make it so."

"I- I am Venomaw," Dertharion lied.

"Well, you are welcome here, Venomaw," Misery said. His face was full of goodwill. "You may stay for as long as you need."

The words rung in the Green's ears, and he winced, remembering the last time he had heard them. He had been lying bandaged on a makeshift bed, looking into - Ebony's red eyes. He swallowed. The Black had had the exact same kind look. Curse dragons and their pity!!

Are you going to betray these dragons too? his conscience whispered.

He shivered and made no reply. The Yellow's sharp eyes caught the movement, but before he could say anything, Dertharion said, "Thank you for your hospitality."

"Our pleasure," Misery said, standing. "You look a little better already, but I'd best leave you so you can rest."

"No- no!" Dertharion got to his feet. "I've rested enough. I must get back to my travels!" And away from you manipulators, he finished silently. The look of doubt on the Yellow's face drove him to greater agitation. "It's a very important mission. It cannot wait!"

Misery stepped to the door and blocked it. "However important this mission is, it is not worth your safety. You are clearly not well."

"I am ready to leave!" the Poisonhide almost shrieked. In his imagination he saw the Mindhides keeping him there forever - pacifying him with their Chroma... He plunged towards the door. Strove to get past Misery, but the Yellow seized him tightly. Dertharion panted, his frenzied mind seeing his fears realized.

"Listen to me," Misery said, gripping the Green's forearms firmly. Their eyes met, and the Yellow opened his mouth, a plume of yellowish flame curling out. His Chroma. His mental powers! NO!!! Dertharion jerked away as hard as he could, breaking from Misery's grip - but it was too late. A strange feeling slid over him, warm and smooth. It clung to him like honey, and sweetness enveloped his tongue and lips. He found himself smiling happily as the sweetness spread slowly over his body, creeping into his joints. His muscles relaxed suddenly, and he collapsed to the floor.

Misery loomed over him, Dertharion's mind enlarging the Yellow into a giant. "I never wanted to use this on you. But you are going to hurt yourself, carrying on like this."

Dertharion was helpless. He lay splayed there, too happy to resist. Too happy to move. He shot a glance at the door. Although he disliked Zendrayus, he longed to see the White coming. The Plaguehide was the only one who could save him. But Zendrayus did not come.