(DISCONTINUED) Legacy of the Thunder and Fury--Book 1--Shock of Betrayal

Eleven: Rescue

So sorry for giving a cliffhanger last chapter and taking forever to update, so here's a super long chapter to make up for it.

                                          Heather

The next thing happened in a blur. As Savage swung his axe again, a club flew by and whacked him in the head. Before she could blink, Savage was lying in crumpled heap in front of her. His axe was cast of to the side, and even through the thick, smothering fog she could see it glint with silvery light. Heather frantically looked for the source of the flying weapon as the Outcasts scattered in the trees like before.

Behind Savage, slightly to his side, stood a tall, muscular figure, with his arm half outstretched as he was wreathed in more fog. Not knowing if he was friend or foe, she inched backwards, eyeing the shadowy figure with fear.

"Who are you?" he demanded, stepping out of the shadows. He had a metal helmet with two long, curved spikes jutting out of the top, metal shoulder pads, and he had green eyes the shade of her own.

And with a jolt of pain and fear and sadness in her heart, Heather shuddered and collapsed as everything tilted sideways and faded into darkness.

                                   . . . . . . . . . . . .

                                           Dagur

He had wanted to go straight to Berserker Island, but apparently the storm and ocean had other plans.

Dagur surveyed the unconscious girl lying in front of him. He just saw the Outcasts about to kill her, so he stepped in before they could. Her hair was raven black and tucked into a neat braid, and he glimpsed leaf green eyes just before she fainted. Her clothes were patchy and blood-soaked. On her shoulder was a nasty looking cut, oozing more blood. Her skin was pale and a few leaves and twigs were tangled in her bangs. Suddenly something clicked in his head.

Black hair.

Green eyes.

Could it be his sister? She was about the right age. Whoever she is, she needs help, Dagur thought. I'll just ask her when she wakes. Suddenly a name popped into his head.

Heather. My sister's name was Heather.

He stepped forward and slipped an arm under her knees, and the other under her back and lifted her off the ground. He had found a crate of useful things in a compartment on the boat; among them was a bandage. Her head lolled to the side, and more blood trickled down he neck and shoulder. Dagur walked to the small ship that was docked at one of the beaches, which happened to be not far from where the Outcasts had tried to decapitate his maybe-sister. The water already looked much calmer than a few hours ago, when he had tried to sail but then promptly almost shipwrecked right back where he started.

The boat was firmly docked on the shore, also tied by a rope to one of the nearest trees. Dagur maneuvered the girl onto the back side of the boat, where there was a strip of wood like a table rising off the boat floor. She sprawled there and Dagur rummaged through the crate under the his table. He plucked the bandage from the box and unrolled it, kneeling beside the injured teen. He slipped the bandage under her back, under her arm on her uninjured side, and over the cut. She winced and shuddered as the stretchy fabric pressed against the axe wound. The Berserker tightened the bandage, then tying the two ends together. He stepped away and sat on his end of the boat, glancing up at the sky. A storm was brewing overhead, flashing with forks of lightning.

It reminded him of the Skrill, which he had lost to the Berkians. Nothing made him angrier.

I will get my dragon back... And hopefully get to know my sister, he thought with a glance at the girl.