A Life of Lost

Chapter 2

"Well?" A harsh voice speaks. "What is your decision?"

I squint in the bright light, waiting for my eyes to adjust. "What do you mean?" I mumble sleepily. My eyes start to drift close again when there's no response.

Suddenly someone slaps me in the face. Hard. 

I jolt back fully awake, rapidly blinking in the harsh sunlight. "What is your answer?!" The person half-shouts, half-snarls at me. "What..." I say, confused.

The mystery person slams their hand on the table. "Give me a real answer!"

I blink, trying to put two and two together. It's only after a full two minutes that I finally get some sense of what they're trying to get from me.

This is how fast my brain processes after being dragged out of a dark cell and plopped down on a table in full sunlight, without warning, after a full night of fitful sleeping. And don't forget the broken wrist.

"Give. Me. Real. Answers!" The stranger yells in my face. I flinch back instinctively. "Who are you?" I say instead.

They push back their chair and rise to their full height, towering high above me. "That is none of your concern." They hiss. Now that my eyes have adjusted to the sudden change of light, I can tell that the they're actually a she, with a long dark purple hooded cape, a dark red leather shirt and brown arm guards, black pants, with dark brown dragon-skin boots. 

"Stop staring!" She growls, startling me from my thoughts. I blink at her, dumbfounded at what she wants me to do. She gives me an exasperated sigh, giving me a death stare. "Fine then, we'll do it the hard way." Then she whistles loudly.

At first nothing happens, but then the earth starts to slightly shake. I ignore it when nothing else happens, dismissing the rumbling as something from my imagination. I'm quickly proven wrong when suddenly something huge and twisting burst out of the ground. I jerk back, tipping over my chair in the process, and crash onto the floor.

The creature turns to face me and gives me a deafening roar, revealing rows of rapidly spinning teeth. Long, dark green-gray, bristling spikes cover it's entire body, which resembles a plant bulb, with a long root.

A Whispering Death.

I shudder inwardly, swallowing nervously. The mystery girl holds up a hand, and it settles down, curling it's tail around itself like some sort of snake. "Rune, meet Bladespike." The girl says. "Bladespike, meet Rune." Bladespike hisses at me.

What a sociable dragon.

"You do know this is a Dragon Hunter camp, right?" I raise my eyebrow, trying hard to conceal my fear.

The girl smiles at me coldly. "That, I am aware of, yes."

I take a deep breath, then shout, "Then why in Thor's name did you bring a dragon?!" 

Kidding. I only say that in my mind, instead stuttering, "Then, why did you bring, uh, Bladespike...?"

She looks at me oddly. "Because he is a very valuable asset." Her voice is clear, not a drop of hesitance or a single hiccup in her sentences, as if she were rehearsing lines she had practiced for years. I blink. "Why do you sound so... Weird?"

Suddenly I'm thrown back as something hard swings at me, sending me flying back. I land hard on the dusty ground, on my left arm, and grit my teeth together, trying to stop the tears as a fresh wave of agony washes over my wrist. "What-" I try to say. "What was that- For?" I say through my clenched jaw.

"Sorry." The girl says, not sounding very sorry. "Bladespike, is, say, a tad bit protective." Next to her, Bladespike had risen, and is now growling at me. "A tad bit?" I mutter, getting up. When I turn, there's a long dagger at my throat.

I stumble back, confused, but I'm stopped when something, or rather, someone blocks me. I turn to see who the person is, but stop when they growl, "One move and you're dead." I look down instead, and see... The girl's boots?

"What the..." I mumble, furrowing my brow in confusion. What's going on?

I get my answer-Well, half an answer- a moment later, when something hard knock against my head, and everything fades to darkness.

The last thing I see is Viggo walk up to me, shaking his head. "So predictable, Rune. Too predictable." He says, his voice sounding blurred and weirdly distorted in my ears.

~~~

I sit up quickly, gasping and panting. What... What happened? Where am I? I scan the room, and find myself in a cell, but with wooden walls instead of the rocky cave ones. Another difference is that the cell seems to be rocking slowly. Suddenly I remember what had happened.

I reach up to touch my head gingerly, which is still sore from where I was hit. My hand comes back with blood. I look at it for a moment, completely dazed. Then a voice says, "I hope you're happy with your choice."

I leap three feet in the air (Metaphor, of course), and scramble as far back as I can. Viggo stands at the 'door', watching me.

"Why would you-" I say, trying to calm my racing heart. "Who would- Why are you being such a creep?" 

Viggo doesn't seem to hear me, or he simply ignores it. "We are near your destination, my dear." "My... Destination?" I blink at him, even more confused.

Viggo takes out his hands from behind his back and turns slightly away from me, inspecting another Maces and Talons piece. "Ah! Did you not realize. I'm truly sorry, Rune. We are going to the island chosen for your abandonment." I blink again. "What." He looks at me. "You chose to be left behind on an island, rather than become a Dragon Hunter."

I frown. "I never said that!" He raises his eyebrows. "Ah, so you'd rather be a Hunter?" "What- No, I- I never said that either- I-" I stutter, embarrassed.

Viggo smiles slightly, seeming amused. "I could see it in your eyes, my dear. From the second I met you, I knew you would never give up the dragons. Or, your dragon-riding friends." He looks at me out of the corner of his eye. "Alas, that last one is a little too late to commit to, am I correct?"

I growl in rage and race towards him. "You- How dare you, you little- Son of a half-troll, rat-eating, munge bucket!" I slam against the 'door' of the cell, the cold, hard metal the only thing keeping me from tearing that man alive.

Viggo chuckles lightly, then turns and grabs my injured wrist, so fast I never saw it coming. I stifle my cry of pain as I look up at him, terrified. His eyes have turned cold, hard, his mouth set in a straight line.

No words need to be said.

After a full two minutes, Viggo drops my hand, turns, and walks away, hands behind his back.