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

Twelve: Family

Oh my THOR this took FOREVER. Sorry. In this is one of my super ancient theories. And PLOT TWIST HAHAHA. And apparently I overshot my word limit. Oh well... Yeah, by about 400 words. Sigh. There is no end note for ultimate dramatic chapter ending.

                                                  Heather

She blinked blurrily and tried to remember what happened. Everything was unfocused, and the room she was laying down in was swimming.

Wait, room?

Heather sat up fast, wincing at a bolt of pain in her shoulder. Then she jumped as she realized Dagur was standing by the door, looking bored. He was polishing an axe with a flat, small rock. He glanced up as she moved, then said, "I was hoping you would get up soon."

"Where am I?" She whispered.

"Berserker island," he answered as if it was obvious. Heather flexed her arm, which was sore. Actually, her whole body was sore. Probably from running so much, she reflected.

"Would you like to see the place?" Dagur asked.

"O-okay," she said, sliding out off of the bed, almost immediately falling back down. "Ack!" she yelped and Dagur stepped forward to help her up. "Thank you," Heather mumbled and he pulled her to her knees. She wobbled for a moment, then took a step toward the door. Dagur opened the door and stepped outside, striding ahead as Heather appeared at the opening. Bright sun dazzled her tired green eyes as she stepped onto the hard ground. It seemed blindingly bright to her, but it actually wasn't as much as it appeared.

Wispy thin but dark clouds cluttered up the sky, and the dry air crackled like electricity. Doesn't that mean there's a storm coming? she thought uneasily. How long have I been sleeping? It was around noon, with the sun glowing exactly in the center off the sky, behind a cloudy haze.

Heather cautiously edged closer to Dagur, who started off in the direction of a cluster of huts. They followed a trail made of packed dirt and cobblestones, with small huts on the side. Heather couldn't help but notice that there were carved Skrill heads mounted on the top of every one, painted dark purple and grey with beautiful winding wood patterns on them. She even spotted a few Skrill flags. Wow, Berserkers basically worship that dragon. Then she thought of all those chained Skrills, who were probably bred for years just to be used as slaves for fighting and her insides twisted in an upset way.

She was surprised to not see very many actual vikings, and those she saw often saluted to Dagur and gave Heather curious looks, or ignored the both of them. A few whispered to eachother as they passed, eyes locked on her, in a way that made Heather both extremely curious and nervous. Did Dagur already announce that 'his sister' was here?

Either way, she was too shy to ask him.

"This is the healer's hut," Dagur said, pointing at a wide house lower down, surrounded on almost all sides by a sturdy rock wall. Heather followed him obediently, listening in silence. "Those are the training grounds." He gestured toward a wide flat area, a few buildings, and Heather glimpsed part of an obstacle course through gaps between huts.

Dagur rattled off a bunch of other things, and she listened, though her mind wandered sometimes. But as they walked up a set of stairs and onto a huge platform, Dagur stopped talking. Two flags with rearing Skrills and red lightning fluttered in the breeze, and between them was a sort of majestic chair, with a wooden carved dragon perched on the back, spiky wings outretched as its tail snaked down the back of the throne. Dagur stepped to the edge of the platform and looked down, where a few Berserkers were milling about. Heather hung back, nervously wondering if she should follow him.