Forced Together

Part 1

The passages of the cave were dark and damp, lit only by the masses of phosphorescent plants and worms that lived on the stone. Dagur's torch had burned out hours ago, and the berserker found himself slightly grateful; it made it easier to ignore the blood staining his skin. He was starting to feel sick, but forced himself to continue. There had to be an unguarded entrance somewhere.

It was stupid really, how Dagur had gotten trapped down here. He had come with the other dragon riders a day ago... or was it two? There was no way to tell down here. The riders had been lured to a remote island on rumors that an unidentified species of dragon resided there, and the team had split up to cover more ground. Dagur had taken his triple strike to the north tip of the island, where he found a cave entrance with promising signs of dragon activity. He was ready to remount and find the others- then someone shot him in the leg.

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Viggo stomped through the stone passages, still fuming with rage. The nerve of those men! They really thought they could take down a Grimborn? Well, they had another thing coming. Viggo had visited the island after hearing of an undiscovered dragon species. This in itself was enough reason to investigate, but after his spies had reported that the dragon riders were going for the same reason, it was irresistible.

The trip had gone well until he had gotten shot at just as he found a cave that could have been possible habitat for the unknown dragons. Viggo's men had panicked, and in the chaos Viggo found himself separated from everyone else- deep, deep, underground. He had tried to wander back up to the surface, but only succeeded in getting completely lost. Thank Thor that he had been the one carrying most of the survival supplies instead of Ryker.

Panic was starting to claw at Viggo's chest- he knew that he'd been in the caves far too long. If what he suspected was true, that the strange men were assassins sent to kill him, then they would soon tire of waiting and enter the caves to finish the job. Ryker's forces, since they hadn't found him yet, likely couldn't get close enough to even try. So, Viggo was on his own in this mess then.

Viggo continued his march.

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Dagur groaned, head swimming. He had only stopped for a minute, but it had been enough; the determination that had forced him on for an unknown length of time had finally run out, and he was feeling the true weight of his exhaustion now. The redhead sank to his knees on the floor of the tunnel. The motion strained his injured leg, and the spike of pain, combined with nausea from his dizzy head, was enough to make him vomit.

It hurt. Everything hurt. It was strange; Dagur had been shot before, and it hadn't felt like this. What his brain was too muddled to realize was that this likely meant infection. He hadn't taken the arrow out- it had pierced the middle of his shin, possibly hitting the bone, and protruded out the front of his leg a few inches below the knee. This meant that he wasn't bleeding to death, but having a foreign object (like a wooden arrow) stuck into him for an extended period of time wasn't the best thing either. It also meant that his leg was quite possibly fractured, but he tried not to think about it. He needed that leg.

Dagur laughed, wheezing and shaking. All of a sudden, all that he could think of was how mad Mala would be when he came home all beaten up. He could see it so well- she would tease him for being such a baby over a simple arrow wound. Then she would would kiss him, and say that he ought to give her a ride on his dragon to make up for scaring her. Dagur would, and everything would be okay...

It took far too much effort, but Dagur forced himself to his feet. He had to survive; if not for himself, than for his wife. Besides, if Dagur couldn't survive a few days with no supplies and a wound, who was he to call himself a berserker?

Dagur didn't even make it ten more feet before collapsing. The momentum of his fall was too great, and the berserker was unconscious before he even hit the floor.

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Viggo had had enough. He was cold, tired, and sick of stumbling around in the dark. Sure, the glowing lichen and stuff helped, but it was only enough to see about an inch from the tiny light sources. He did actually have some fire supplies and one last torch, but considering how lost he was, the younger Grimborn didn't want to risk wasting them. He had also found a cave with a tiny bit of sunlight streaming into it, but it didn't have any exits- still, it might do to spend a night in if he had to.

Crunch. Crunch. Scraapppeee. Viggo froze. He could clearly hear footsteps up ahead. The viking gripped the pommel of his sword, ready to fight for his life, and waited. Crunch. Crunch... crunch. Wait- the footsteps sounded strange. They weren't the efficient, confident steps of an armed killer. These footsteps were slow and dragging, as if the person they belonged to was badly hurt.

Thump. The sound of a heavy body hitting stone soon followed. Was this a trap, or was someone else trapped down here by the assassins? Viggo kept his hand on his sword but crept towards the sound.