Rage

She wasn't a noblewoman, but she must have a wealthy family to afford such clothing. She didn't turn to face Ashlard as he arrived and kept her eyes straightforward staring off into the distance. He couldn't think of anything to do, so he gently shook her shoulder, this made her sag and collapse sideways. Now he could see her clearly, her hands were bound and tied to a stake, the stake had been driven into the ground, before the woman's chin was pushed onto the sharpened tip so that she may be posed in her death. Ashlard shook uncontrollably, he was in shock, this beautiful woman died in such a horrible manner, he couldn't understand how someone could be so cruel, who would do such a thing?

As footsteps approached Ashlard, he began to turn, not knowing what to say, he stopped... before him, in the direction the young woman was facing was something dreamt of in the pits of hell itself. It was a large courtyard, with a fountain in the centre, behind the fountain was a huge twisted oak tree, and there Ashlard found the bodies of the villagers, some were hung by the necks from the tips of great branches, some were dismembered and tied to the trunk piece by piece, and some were clearly still alive when they were impaled through the midsection with large steel spikes, it was everyone from the village, men, woman and indeed children, none were spared this horrendous fate. Ashlard collapsed to his knees, he screamed once as a man and feeling power build up inside of him, he screamed again as a beast, his last memory was of Blain calling his name and as he turned to face him, an impact, a sharp crack and empty blackness.

He was angry, so filled with rage he hated the very world and all of existence. The only comfort he could find was the gentle sound of wind beneath his great leather wings, he flapped, enjoying the subtle crack the sound the wind made under such force. The wind shifted, he could hear laughter. He hated laughter, how dare someone be so happy, turning towards the sound he could see light coming from a clearing in the trees, it was a village, he could see a man and a woman dancing on a stage, the man threw himself backwards into a stand full of corn, causing it to collapse and the corn went flying, to a second roar of laughter. He burned with rage, he would teach these fools. tensing his jaw, letting the burning venom dribble from his mouth it cloaked his body in yellow flames and thick black smoke, screaming a high pitch metallic shriek the dancing woman barely had time to look up, before he impacted with her, knocking her flying, he heard with satisfaction a wet crunch as she was impaled on the broken wheel of a cart, she never felt a thing. Turning towards the crowd of people, too shocked and stunned to run, he tensed his jaw, sending flames hot enough to melt iron straight through the crowd... Now he heard screaming...

Ashlard woke balling like a child, the dream was so vivid, he was sure it was real. That's when he noticed he was restrained. Bound in chain, he was lying in a pile of rags in the back of the cart. Beside him was Blain, staring at him with a cold, hard glare.

"What's happening?" Ashlard groaned.

Blain just stared at him for a moment, before sighing deeply and beginning to untie him. "Sorry boy, I saw something in your eyes, I wasn't sure what was going to wake up," he said. "We've been on the march for a few hours."

Blain took off the last of the chains and Ashlard was once again free to move about, he sat up and began rubbing his wrists when he noticed his left hand was a claw, Blain spotted it too and threw a quick glance around.

"Give me your hand," he said.

Ashlard paused for a moment, before offering his clawed hand to him. Blain gently pressed Ashlard's hand into a fist, then pulled out one clawed finger. He drew his finger along the sharp edge of the claw and examined it.

"It's a tad blunt boy, you may want to sharpen these."

Blain then removed a knife and as he moved it towards Ashlard's claws, Ashlard had a momentary lapse in concentration and rapidly extended his scales, with the sound like pulling a knife through mud, his clawed hand was now an armoured fist. Blain chuckled softly and ran the tip of his knife along the scales, it barely made a sound, but didn't leave a mark, he then took hold of Ashlard's claw and ran it down the blade of his knife, leaving a shallow scratch in the metal.

"You'll probably have to sharpen them on your own scales, I don't think I have anything hard enough to even scratch you."

Ashlard smiled softly, he didn't fully understand what he was, but he felt powerful, and power made him feel safe. "So where are we going," Ashlard asked.

"To the capital, our mission is to get you to the king, nothing more."

"What about the village," Ashlard replied.

Blain looked off into the distance and shuddered, "nothing more," he said.

Under Blain's orders, the group continued through the night, there would be no sleep, it wasn't safe, as of yet, they had no way of knowing how large the Knurlig force was, and it would be unwise to hunker down for the night when they could be so close. So it was a slight surprise when Ashlard heard a scream, not a battle cry, but one of terror. Ashlard froze, his sudden shift in demeanour attracted Blain's attention.

"What?" he said.

"I heard a scream," Ashlard replied.

Blain paused for a few moments, "Where?"

With the men hunkered down in a grove, Ashlard and Blain had left to scout out the disturbance, it was immediately clear that nobody but Ashlard could hear the occasional scream, but now, after an hour, Blain began to make out the cries in the dark, as they moved closer to the sound, the person screamed again, only to be cut off, and after several minutes of strange gurgling, silence. Blain and Ashlard slowly crept towards where they thought the screaming was coming from until finally they heard a laugh. Ashlard was now close enough to hear deep stifled chuckling and quiet muffled sobbing followed by the sound of tearing fabric, and a woman crying hysterically. Ashlard stopped behind a tree, Blain stood in front and looked around, being careful as to not being seen. The only thing that betrayed his expression was his sharp intake of breath. This was all Ashlard needed to lean around him to see.

A young man, stripped to the waist, covered in hundreds of small bleeding cuts and a huge gash across his neck. His wrists were bound above his head and he was hanging limply from an overhead branch with his toes barely touching the ground. The man's head was rolled back and there were frothy bubbles slowly dripping from the neck wound, his leg still gave a semi-constant twitch, but it was obvious he was long gone. However, the young woman strung up beside him, in the same manner as the young man, was a different matter.

A smiling Knurlig man was holding her by the front of her tunic, while he used a large knife to disrobe her top half. The terrified woman was crying hysterically while kicking out in a lame attempt to defend herself. The Knurlig drew back a fist and punched her hard in the stomach, causing her to lift into the air accompanied with the sound of cracking ribs. Gasping in agony and fighting to remain conscious she coughed up blood and let out a small pained cry. The Knurlig still chuckling grasped her roughly by the chest, causing the woman to tremble in agony and turn away, and with a desperate and disgusted expression, she locked eyes with Ashlard.

Ashlard, seeing all this happen in front of him, was overtaken with a sense of doom. In that moment, he felt hatred, he hated everything, he hated how cruel this world could be, he hated how he couldn't remember his past, he hated how that woman stared so intently and yet so pathetically.

He felt a rush of energy so mighty his limbs began to twitch violently into a blur or motion, giving the impression he was cloaked in mist. He barely felt Blain punch him, he spun around so violently, the rush of wind knocked Blain to the ground and leaves were torn from nearby branches.

It was as if time itself slowed to a crawl, Ashlard turned back to the Knurlig, and began walking towards him at an even pace. The Knurlig slowly reaching up holding his knife in the air in a pathetic attempt to cut Ashlard down, Ashlard paused, studying the tattoos on the man's face, seemingly familiar, but different, before the rage built itself again. He reached his arm back and slapped the Knurlig across the jaw, ripping it clean off in a single blow, sending bits of bone and teeth flying across the ground. He watched as the Knurlig's expression changed slowly from anger to shock, Ashlard pulled his arm back across, backhanding the Knurlig and completely ripping his head off, showering the young woman in bits of gore.

From Blain's perspective, the boy was moving faster than his eyes could track, and the Knurlig's head simply exploded sideways with a rush of hot air. Ashlard, unsatisfied with the fight turned to take his anger out on the woman, she didn't have time to blink before he was standing in front of her, in a flash, he cut her bonds, allowing her to collapse. Ashlard caught her before she'd fallen more than a few centimetres and picked her up one handed by her throat, now he moved at normal speed. Ashlard pulled the woman's face to his and examined her contorted expression of agony... He wanted this... He wanted her to fear him... And turning her head slightly to the side he could see where one of his claws had cut her neck, letting a thin stream of blood to run down her neck. Now he was hungry, dropping his maw and extending his k9's to inflict the maximum amount of trauma, he ran his tongue through her blood, and like a knife splitting his head open.

FLASH

A beautiful afternoon, her father returning from his shift patrolling the forest, he says there's reports of Knurligs in the area, she and her sister are worried.

FLASH

Her father, stained with blood is screaming at her to run and take her sister, a Knurlig swings an axe at him, chopping into his arm, her father screams and collapses. She finally runs...

FLASH

A Knurlig is holding her by the head, holding her eyes open at knife point, forcing her to watch them impale her sister on a stake and position her to face the monstrosity they have built, her sister doesn't stop screaming until there is so much blood in her lungs that she can't bring it up any longer.

FLASH

The Knurlig carving away at the Priests skin, rubbing a salt on the man after each cut, it makes him scream louder, and stops the bleeding. The Knurlig keeps chuckling, poking her in the ribs with the knife... She's knows who's going next...she can taste bile...

FLASH

Ashlard is screaming now... he's back to reality, the woman is cowering beneath him where he dropped her, he looks down, seeing her face, now he notices her blonde hair and blue eyes, the slight dimple on her chin, the faint rosiness on her cheeks. She was beautiful... And he was about to destroy her... He was a monster.... Blain called his name, Ashlard looked back at him, Blain was holding a sword, pointing it at him. Ashlard looked down at himself, his clothing was torn to shreds, he was completely scaled, cloaked in great, black, leather wings, and realising his teeth were protruding out of his mouth. Ashlard realised he must look like a demon from hell.

So he ran... On all fours, tearing through the forest, not stopping for anything, spending as much time running on the ground as he was jumping from tree branches, he was so ashamed... Ashlard continued running through the night, and well into the morning. As the sun rose, he noticed the trees beginning to thin, Ashlard was nearing the edge of the forest. Beginning to slow his pace, Ashlard noticed a road, skidding to a complete stop, he thought about his situation, what was he even going to do? He may as well go back to looking human and hoping he can find somewhere to go. So that's what he did, unfortunately for him, his tunic was ruined, so he wore nothing but his trousers, that way he wouldn't arouse suspicion if he ran across anyone who would recognise the royal crest.

A few hours passed before he passed his first traveller, an old man leading a horse carrying hay, spat at his feet walking past. Ashlard had the pleasure of listening to the man curse him for being a homeless wretch well out of human earshot. But what was he supposed to do? As he rounds a bend in the road, he can see a bridge, it's over a steep sided river, the bridge is in disrepair and Ashlard thinks twice before he shrugs and begins to cross. But before he can step foot on the other side, a large man steps out from under the bridge and stands in his way.

"Got yer toll laddie?" said the man with a crooked, toothless grin.

"Toll?"

"Aye, toll, yeh crossed the bridge, yeh pay the toll," was the reply, "or... yeh tek a swim."

The man now drawing a large knife starts moving towards Ashlard. The man grabs him by the throat, lifting Ashlard off his feet and dangling him over the edge of the bridge. "Gonna pay yer toll laddie?" Asked the man, before making a mock attempt to drop him. "Yer have no coins do ya laddie?"

Ashlard's mind is racing, this man is dangerous, he's probably been doing this kind of thing to everyone who tries to cross the bridge... And I'm hungry... Ashlard reaches up and grasps the man by the wrist, before kicking off hard from the bridge, causing both himself and the man to topple over and into the water, where Ashlard takes his fill, and a coin purse. It didn't take long for Ashlard to follow the river back to the bridge, it was time to continue his journey.

It took him two days to reach the next town. This one was larger than Thrarv and more busy. There were people everywhere in the main street, they all gave him wide berth, a few more spat at him, someone threw a piece of fruit at him, and many more said derogatory things to him behind his back when they thought he was out of earshot. Ashlard managed to find a sheltered spot out of the way and waited out the remainder of the day.

That evening it rained, it came in waves, Ashlard realised he could use his flames to keep himself warm and dry, but that would surely give himself away. He had to find shelter, so he started walking. There was nobody left in the street any more, the rain drove away the few people that would have been out. He slowly made his way to the outskirts of the town, where he came across a blacksmiths forge. Due to the difficulty lighting large steady fires, it was still burning and the shop left open to provide air. Ashlard slowly made his way in, and finding a pile of hay in a back room, he curled up for the night.

THUMP

Ashlard woke with a start, there was now a large boulder blocking the only entrance to the room. He began to panic when he heard.

"Just stay put now, I've the guards on their way, I'll let you out when they get here."

Thinking quickly, he couldn't imaging the guards would treat him well, realising there's no use trying to hide himself at this point, Ashlard braced himself against the boulder and with a mighty heave, began pushing it slowly out the way. Once he had made enough room to squeeze through, he found himself face to face with an elderly man, who was staring at him in utter disbelief.

"How the hell did you move that?" The old man asked.

At that moment, a middle aged man arrived followed immediately by 2 fully armoured guards dressed in uniform.

"Sorry, sorry, I was mistaken, my old age, you see," said the old man, quickly turning to face the guards.

Ashlard was confused at this point, he was preparing for a fight, and now the old man was sending the guards away? They seemed a bit annoyed, but shrugged and left as quickly as they came.

"Father?" asked the young man, clearly confused at the turn of events.

The old man waved him quiet, turning towards Ashlard he extended his hand, "my name is Quip, this is Hyit, my son."

Ashlard stared at them both before muttering, "Ashlard."

"Well Ashlard, it seems I'm in a bit of a pickle, see, my boy and I have a large order to fill, and in my advanced age, I need the help of my son to help me ply my trade, but that leaves nobody to pump the bellows. You seem to be in a bit of a predicament, so how would you like three meals and a mattress?" he asked with a chuckle, "and maybe a change of clothes."

Quip and Hyit were masters at their trade, Hyit didn't quite have the eye for judging the quality of the metal they worked, and Quip didn't have the strength to work the metal quickly enough on his own, but together, they were marvellous to watch. Ashlard on the other hand, just had to pump the bellows when the metal needed to be heated, for his added strength, it wasn't difficult for him, and he got to watch the creation of some truly master quality metal work. Around noon, there was a loud knocking on the door to the shop, Quip, beaming, beckoned over Ashlard's shoulder, as he looked, there was a middle aged, portly woman walking towards them carrying a large pot. She had an uneasy eye for Ashlard as she walked towards the men. She placed the pot on the work bench beside Quip and she planted a soft kiss on Hyit's lips. She was his wife, they had moved into town to help Quip run his shop, and apparently, she had brought them lunch.

"Who's this then?" she said, motioning towards Ashlard.

"He's a guest, doing some work experience for me," replied Quip as he dipped a finger into the pot.

With a quick crack the woman ran a wooden spoon over the old man's knuckles, "You'll learn one day," she said, with a slight smile.

"Come love, let us eat," Hyit said.

"I don't have a bowl for the young one," said the woman.

"Not to worry," smiled Quip, producing a metal bowl from under his bench, waving over Ashlard, "come on lad, come eat."

Ashlard approached the group, not sure what to do, "I'm Ashlard, it's nice to meet you," he said, trying a small smile.

"Ah, he speaks," she chuckled, "I'm Abertha, you can call me Abe."

Abe scooped up a large helping of what appeared to be broth and poured it into his bowl. Ashlard took a seat on a wooden box beside Hyit, he raised the bowl to his lips and took a mouthful, it was salty and contained various vegetables. He was also pleasantly surprised to find no trace of meat in the meal, so there was no risk of those awful visions.

"So... Ashlard," said Quip, "What brings you to our little shop?."

"I don't know..." Ashlard replied, "I have nowhere to go."

"What about your family?" said Abe.

"I... I don't know," Ashlard said softly, hot tears falling onto his lap, "There was an attack, I can't remember... I'm sorry."

He felt a warm embrace as Abe took him in her arms, it was so unexpected Ashlard's immediate reaction was panic, flooding his body with energy his senses heightened, he could hear her heartbeat through her chest, and, something else, something smaller...

"Are... are you pregnant?" he asked.

Abe stood up with a shocked expression, Hyit and Quip were looking at her intently.

"I... Ah... How?" she stammered, looking at Ashlard in bewilderment.

Hyit got up and taking his wife by the hand he turned her around, "Wha-"

"Yes," Abe interrupted him before he could finish.

They stood in silence for a few moments before turning back towards Ashlard, and at that moment, Quip got up and stood between them.

"What are you?" Quip said, staring at Ashlard with wide eyes.

"I'm sorry..." Ashlard replied, "I don't know," tears welling up again, "I'll go, I'll just go."

Ashlard slowly rose to his feet and backed away from the group, he didn't want to hurt these people, they had shown him kindness, he just needed to make it to the door so he could escape. All eyes were on Ashlard as he rounded the bench, he wanted to escape as quickly as possible without hurting anyone, so he decided speed was better than discretion, he surged energy throughout his body, extending his claws to give him more grip. Leaping into action at blinding speed, Ashlard intended to exit the building faster than human eyes could track, so it came as a surprise to him feeling a strong pair of arms wrap themselves around his torso, spinning him around on the spot and throwing him back into the workshop.