Dneir

Enozarc flies, perhaps the fastest he ever has, away from the mountains and back into his own territory. His head is aching, the wound behind his skull spearing pain into his cranium.

"That idiotic prince! What is he thinking? Allying himself with a human? Why would he bother to protect the little thing, much less try and kill me for exterminating it? And why in the world would he bother to spare my life?"

The little blue dragon shakes his head to clear it, flinging drops of burning red blood into the air. Steam curls from his nose, flying back into his eyes and streaming around the membranes between his head-spikes. Being a water dragon, Enozarc is not gifted with the fire-breathing abilities of his prince, but rather with the ability to spit boiling water.

"My prince. My prince. Not anymore, I think. Allying with a human should be enough to remove him from office," Enozarc growls inwardly, scanning the land below him with a wary eye. He is in the dragons' territory now, but those stupid little soft-fleshed humans are sneaky. They might get past the front lines with those dragon-killing-bows and bring a lone dragon like himself down. Seeing the land is clear, the little dragon tilts his wings and comes sailing down, over the oak forest beneath him. At the edge of this forest, where the trees meet the long flatland of the Maga Plains. Descending from the mountains was not hard, despite the tumultuous winds. Mostly, he just sailed down the slopes, dodging mountain peaks when they came up, then cleared the foothills with minimal effort by staying at a high altitude. Now, covering the small sliver of oak forest between the sparse pine of the foothills and the Maga Plains is going quite well.

The easy travel is a blessing on the small dragon. Any hard flying might be detrimental to his health, with the claw-marks in his sides and the deep punctures behind his skull.

It is a miracle the prince let him live.

And perhaps a curse that the prince has left.

If the King of Dragons keeps to his pattern of appointing his children, from oldest to youngest, then the next in line for the third highest ranking position in Nogaerdytnuoc, the Land of Dragons, is the princess. Princess Noalie. Perhaps the most ruthless, evil individual beyond the King of Dragons.

Not one to keep enozarc on a leash. And not one to allow him to slip outside orders either. There will be no leniency and there will be no mercy, unlike with her older brother. Ausren, while fearsome and intense, was always a little kinder than the rest of his family. Level headed and smart, the prince was a great military leader and was always fair to his warriors.

The princess will not be the same.

"Stupid prince. You messed everything up for me," the little dragon thinks viciously, shaking his head once again to dispel the stinging in his neck. "Stupid, stupid prince."

At the very least, Princess Noalie will be better than the one after her. The third oldest child left alive, Prince Detnesba, is more likely to break his neck walking into a wall then successfully leading a precise strike against a human stronghold. He is not known for his brains. A good executer of orders, sure. But no good at giving them. Enozarc has been on the receiving end of such orders before. It didn't end very well, though the small blue dragon and his team managed to fight their way out by disregarding direct orders from the crown.

"Stupid, stupid prince," the little dragon snarls into the wind, tipping his wings down until his claws dip into the top of the green forest.

They've used up all the good children of the King of Dragons.

"He better start having more. He's going to run out. With Ausren removed, he only has three before he gets to Niskyrovi. Nerhvahnii help us if we get to him."

Prince Niskyrovi, the youngest and runt of the eight egg clutch laid by the first and only queen, is quite soft. He knows how to fight, he knows how to strategize, but he would much rather sit in his father's castle and play the court. He is afraid of killing, afraid of being hurt, and is laughed at by the majority of the Endefe. Once, an assassin broke into the keep, and while his siblings fought the assassin off, Niskyrovi cowered in the corner and whimpered. The Elders think he is a waste of air, his father believes he is a weakling, and the dragons believe he is some sort of curse cast on them by the god Nerhvahnii. To have such a soft, easily scared prince in their ranks during war is obviously some sort of bad omen. And yet, the King of Dragons refuses to banish or kill the prince. He has some other plan, apparently, for the weak link. Or, perhaps, it is that the four eldest princes, including Ausren, have always protected the ivory-skinned prince from birth. For some reason, those four would not allow the youngest prince harm.

Perhaps the poor prince will have an accident, now that the last line of his defense has been removed. No Ausren to protect him now.

"Stupid prince. You would pick a human over one of your own kind? Granted, it is Niskyrovi, but he is still a dragon. Which puts him above any sort of human."

"Stupid, stupid prince," Enozarc snarls. He brings his wings down, enjoying the thrum of air under them. His body rises, his claws coming free of the leaves, the membranes of his wings catching the air just perfectly.

There, on the horizon, is the edge of the forest. And to the right is a large mound of earth, rising from the plains and trees, creating a rather nice landmark. Tipping his right wing down, Enozarc arcs gracefully for the hill. On top of it should be a rather large, moody dragon. The only other survivor of the attack party.

"How in the world did this mission go so wrong?"

It was supposed to be a rather easy target, full of trainees for the weakest part of the human's army. Yet they shot down the prince and killed three other soiraw, or warriors. Very skilled soiraw, nearly ready to take the title of Riorra. The very best in the business.

It must have been that one extra shiny human. The one who shot down Ausren, which is a feat in and of itself. The prince is fast and agile, notorious for his ability to maneuver in the air. Managing to land a blow to him is one incredible act. And, now that Enozarc has time to think back, he knows. That human was the one yelling orders and was the one to take the life of all three of their comrades.

That human was a high-ranking officer that was not supposed to be there. So why was he?

The hill looms below the little blue dragon, who tilts his wings and brings himself in close to the ground. Indeed, the larger grey dragon is sitting, tail wrapped around his feet, watching the bleeding warrior come in for a landing.

At the last moment, Enozarc tilts his wings up, growling against the pain in his clawed side, and black flaps, pushing against his momentum. His back feet touch first, the claws there digging into the soft soil. Then, tucking both wings to his sides, enozarc drops his front feet to the ground.

With a snarl, he stalks across the lightly forested hill, shaking his head to dispel the welling blood.

The grey warrior, massive wings tucked neatly to his body, moves only his head to track the little blue dragon. Neither this warrior nor Ausren have ever liked Enozarc, but neither have ever been unfair to him either.

Until Ausren decided to try to kill him, that is.

"Well?" the grey dragon asks, his fiery amber eyes glowing in the sunny light. So much warmer it is, down in the Maga Plains then up in those wretched mountains.

"What do you mean, well?" Enozarc snarls back, showing a little more tooth than necessary. "What does it look like? Do I have a rather large and noticeable prince with me?"

The grey warrior doesn't take the bait, simply blinking once at the smaller dragon. This warrior, named Dneir, has always been very close to Ausren. The two were friends from their hatching. They've trained together, led missions together, and fought together for as long as Enozarc has known them… nearly his entire life. They were nearly inseparable, not even the King of Dragons daring to rip them apart.

"Why did you pick that human over even Dneir, Ausren? Stupid prince."

"Is he dead, then?" Dneir asks, his voice uncharacteristically soft. He seems mildly confused. He has seen the wounds on the small dragon, has smelled Ausren's blood on the small dragon, and yet he can't compute why in the world Ausren would attack Enozarc.

"Oh no," Enozarc replies, pacing the length of the hill past the other dragon, before whipping around and stalking back. "He is very much alive. And somehow even healed himself."

"Then…" Dneir starts, then trails off. He doesn't seem to know which question to ask first.

"Yes, he's alive. Yes, he attacked me," Enozarc spits, tail whipping behind him as he roams the hill. Steam rolls out of his nose and into the air, the vapor quickly dispersing. "Yes, he is an idiot."

"What, exactly, happened, Enozarc?" Dneir asks, his long tail twitching once where it lays over his claws. Immediately, the little blue dragon stills, watching the larger warrior warily. Dneir is not one to be crossed, despite his usual calm demeanor. He can fight with the best of them.

"Well, you see, I was searching the mountain, as per your orders, looking for our precious prince. I had just arrived when I came across a peculiar human scent and the place where Ausren crashed. A nice pick on his part, right at the edge of the trees. There was blood, a lot of it, and that human scent, but no Ausren. No body. Very weird. So I tracked his scent, up-up-up the mountain. All of a sudden, there I was, and there was that weird human scent. There was this cave, where Ausren's scent was strongest, and leaving it was a nice strong trail of human. So I circled around wide, followed that scent, and found this weird looking little skinny thing of a human. It had Ausren's scent all over it, and a little of the prince's blood on its clothes. So I assumed what any good warrior would… it had killed my prince and therefore it must die," Enozarc pauses, thinking back to his perfect ambush. He had moved, making nearly no sound, until he was behind the human. He had that human dead to rights, was so incredibly silent, and yet the little bugger seemed to have some sort of premonition and turned around right when he struck. Stupid little thing.

"Well, I attacked it, and it proved a semi-worthy opponent. For a little human, anyway. It ran, and I gave chase. I even had it caught, when out of nowhere, there is Ausren. He was looking at me all weirdly, but I assumed it was his injury. So, if the human didn't kill him, perhaps the human was hunting him, or injured him further than the bolt. Either way, it was a human, so I decided to follow through with killing it." Enozarc licks his lips, remembering the taste of the human's blood. Not a bad taste, per say, but not nearly as good as something like deer.

"I had it dead to rights when the prince came flying down the slope at me and ran me right over. I assumed one of two things: either he was trying to protect it, or he was trying to take my kill. Still, either way it must die. It was my kill to take and no dragon would ever think to protect a human. So I teased him about it, pinned it down, and it stuck a stick in my foot," Enozarc lifts the injured digit and runs his tongue over the closing wound once more. "I slashed it open for that, and was going to rip it right in half when Ausren got up. Then, his wound was simply gone. It was there, I blinked, and it was gone. And right after that, I realized I had made a mistake and he definitely was protecting the human."

Enozarc shakes his head once more, sending red sizzling droplets flying into the green grass. "I'm sure you can guess what happened from there."

Dneir blinks once again, before looking the little dragon over. Then, he fills in, "He tried to kill you."

"Oh, no, no, no, Dneir," Enozarc laughs, resuming his stalking. "The prince could've killed me. I forgot how well he fights. He pinned me by the back of my skull. One movement of his jaws and I would not have returned. But for some inconceivable reason, he let me live. He let me get up and fly away."

"So Ausren attacked you to protect the life of a human? Did the human survive?" Dneir asks softly.

"I have no idea. Probably not, with how badly I injured it. Those little things are quite breakable. But, regardless, I didn't exactly stick around to find out. I didn't want to lose my life," enozarc tells him.

Dneir turns from the blue dragon and instead directs his gaze across the swaying grass of the Maga Plains.

"That is a thinking face if I have ever seen one," Enozarc comments inwardly, and snickers because of it. The grey warrior ignores him. However, eventually, Dneir rises to his feet and stretches out his massive wings.

Dneir, as a pure-bred storm dragon, has one of the biggest sets of wings Enozarc has ever seen. Of course, all storm-dragons have bigger wings, which allows them better stability in shifting air currents where other dragons would struggle, but Dneir's are simply massive. He has never complained about them, nor seemed to struggle with them, but Enozarc is sure that other dragons ogle at them the same way he does. They are a sight to behold.

Now standing in the sunlight, his wings removed from his sides, Dneir's true patterning comes out. The warrior has subtle stripes of white winding through his grey scales, resembling a lightning strike. Most storm dragons do, actually.

"Well," Dneir murmurs, "I suppose I will go and confirm the fate of the human."

"Why does it matter?" Enozarc asks, shaking his head once again.

"If the human is alive, then our prince is surely gone. But if the human is dead, then perhaps we can return without disgracing him and risking the wrath of our Princess," Dneir replies, crouching in a readying position to fly.

"We could always kill the human and act like it never happened," Enozarc says easily, sitting to scratch behind his horns with one back foot. He is careful to avoid his wounds, however. Snagging a claw in one could surely be excruciating.

Dneir scowls, turning slightly and abandoning his take-off posture. "I very much doubt that I could defeat Ausren alone."

"Great," Enozarc mutters. "I get to fly all the way back up the mountain."

"No. You get to stay here," Dneir corrects.

"What? You are not going to leave me here and go fight Ausren alone!" Enozarc snarls back, getting to his feet once again.

"I never said I was going to fight him. You suggested that. I am simply going to observe and report."

"Fine. Then I will observe and report with you,"the little blue dragon snarls, lifting his wings.

"No. You will stay here and recover from your wounds. We may yet need you in fighting condition. We need not give up on our mission yet. Now, the faster I get this done, the faster we can decide on a plan of action," the grey warrior growls, once again readying to fly.

"You don't get to give me orders," Enozarc snaps, steam curling from his nostrils. "I am the highest ranking member of our unit left alive."

"Technically, Ausren is," Dneir points out.

"For now," Enozarc replies through his teeth.

Dneir sighs, then turns toward the little dragon and lets his long, serrated claws dig into the dirt. Once again, the little warrior finds himself with the distinct feeling that he should back down. "If you would like, I can make you stay here. That or you can choose to stay and eat, recover from your wounds, and be ready to kill some humans when I get back," Dneir says mildly, his tone only serving to exaggerate the threat behind his words.

For a moment, Enozarc stares him down. On his best day he would struggle to go head to head with Dneir, and might only win on sheer determination alone should they fight. In his current condition, he couldn't hope to compete.

Snarling softly and snorting steam, the little dragon backs down and folds his wings once again, looking out over the Maga Plains.

"That's what I thought. I should return in about four days time. Stay here and catch a deer, or something of the sort. You'll heal faster if that magic of yours has some fuel," stretching his wings out once again, the grey warrior crouches low, his wings spread magnificently high in the air.

Enozarc plops down on his haunches, watching the show of power, and growls, showing his teeth to the warrior. Any annoyance conveyed by the gesture is immediately shadowed by another rigorous head shake.

"And stop shaking your head," Dneir snaps. "You're destroying any blood clots that might form."

With that, the warrior explodes forward, launching into a long lope as he brings his wings down. Once, then twice, and he's off the ground, legs tucking up tight. With two beats of his wings, he loops around, swoops down low, and buzzes Enozarc's head. The grey warrior's foot misses the little blue dragon's head by about two inches. Then with another beat of his wings, he sails gracefully off toward the mountains.

Enozarc growls after him, peeling his lips back into a sneer.

"Show off."