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The following novella was written as a collaborative effort between myself and Dragonatic for the People. Project started March 2010. All characters and content are copyright to their respective owners.This series will only be made available for reading in its entirety for a limited time only, with parts released periodically!! All comments, critiques, and criticisms are welcome.

During the early hours that night, King Tyrannio sat in his private chambers, glaring into a fire set into the wall. He had plenty of time to reflect on what had happened some days prior, and what disturbed him the most was that he didn't know what to make of the current situation.

Whenever news reached his ear of a slain noble in neighboring countries, a certain chill ran down his spine, seeing Donichus's face behind the murders. He knew some of them personally, and while he could agree that their reputations and methods weren't the most respectable, often he wondered if their ends really justified their actions. Was he really so comparable to the rest of them?

There was a part of him that understood Donichus's vindictiveness - at least, to an extent he believed sufficed to explain why he chose the path he did. And yet there was another part of him that reasoned Donichus should have known what obligations he was expected to keep to as king. There were responsibilities and a reputation to uphold - and not the Donichus would know what any of that meant to him. Though he'd broken his back many times, keeping his kingdom happy, safe, and secure, he would never be so willing to break his heart nearly as often.

Of course, with the attempt on his life came many propositions to go after Donichus, but King Tyrannio waved them off after several repetitions, sternly insisting that whatever manpower they had left would be allocated to doubling the city's defenses. It'd taken many years for him to build the confidence to defy what others thought he ought to do and instead, go with what he felt was best for everyone; though he did want to see his brother again, if ever he was to, no doubt it would be with him in chains being led to the gallows. He shuddered at the thought. It was a great pity their first reunion in twenty years had to go so sourly, to put it in terms dreadfully understated.

There were a lot of things King Tyrannio thought he knew about his brother, Donichus, but all that he once took for granted was now calling itself to question. Needless to say, though it was his decree not to take any action against him, deep down, he was furious at what happened. To think Donichus would be so foolish to believe that killing him would automatically set things right! All this time, he'd wanted to believe his brother knew what he was doing, and if ever possible, to perhaps bridge the gap that time and their circumstances chasmed between them. But now... now, he just wasn't sure anymore.

His thoughts were interrupted by an echosome knock at his door.

"What." King Tyrannio snorted.

One of his guards entered, stiff and stoic as ever. "Forgive the intrusion, my king, but there is a guest here to see you. He says you would be expecting him."

The king sat in ponderation for a few seconds before the realization struck him. He nodded and gestured at the guard. "Bring him in."

From behind the doors stepped a tall figure wrapped in dark garments. His stride was powerful, confident. And he crossed the room as though entering King Tyrannio's personal study was a regular occurrence to him.

Again, the king gestured at the guard. "Leave us."

"My lord, that man is armed! For your own safety, I highly suggest that you-" The guard's sentence was halted by a glareful quarter-turn of the king's head. Taking a small step back, he slipped in between the doors and quietly closed them without another word.

The figure took its own liberty of filling the seat in front of King Tyrannio's large desk.

"I tire of these long arrangements," stated the king, "The more we sit and discuss, the more complicated things will turn out to be. A final conclusion must be drawn tonight."

"It shall be. At any rate, I don't plan on continuing this any more than is needed," replied the guest. "But you of all people should know... complications happen regardless of the hours spent planning in spite of them."

"You speak of it so fluidly. I would hope that despite what you do, there is still some small measure of reason within that forces you to consider the value of every life you take. Our business together could never hope to succeed if this plan is to be executed as messily as it was when my brother tried to kill me. Your skills as a supposedly trained assassin were made less apparent that night."

The guest neither moved nor spoke. It was then Tyrannio noticed the fabric of the guest's cloak didn't trace the outline to one side of its body. He clicked his claws against the arm of the chair he was sitting in. "What happened to your arm?"

"Incapacitated," the guest snapped.

"Hmm." was the extant of Tyrannio's reply for some minutes until he finally spoke again. "I can make you a better deal than Talos has. But I see no reason to up the ante when we both have common goals. Do try to realize what's at stake for the both of us here."

"I have," the guest finally replied. "Let's save the lecture and return to the matters at hand we have to discuss."

Tyrannio took a breath and straightened himself. "Very well. I've said this before, but I feel I should reiterate that I very strongly prefer we not bring Talos into this. He is... unstable."

"You return too far, King Tyrannio. Talos is our means, as well as anyone else's desperate enough to make two ends meet. In such cases, he knows that he is the only option people have left, and that's how he is able to continue his operations."

"You only say that because you're still working under him," Tyrannio spat.

The figure stiffened in turn.

"Nonetheless. If there truly is no other option, I suppose we must resort to that measure. Are you absolutely certain that you can uphold your end of the bargain?"

"Your br... Donichus is... quite independent. But I'm sure he'd be well inclined to arrange another meeting with Talos when the situation calls for it."

"And how will you manage that, pray tell?"

The guest shuffled around before replying, "Getting to Donichus is simply a matter of getting to those he feels close to. Though he has a loyalty to the people... it's his apprentice that he has especially close ties to. ESPECIALLY... close ties."

The king's eyes narrowed. "You haven't answered the question. You must understand I have a reputation to uphold. I can't have that sort of mess on my cl-"

"No mess, I promise you that, King. It will be simple. You will have what you need by tomorrow night."

Tyrannio grunted. "So my brother will return to Talos. And with our new alliance forged, we'll be able to take him down together."

The guest nodded.

"And you will be the one to deliver Donichus?"

For a period of time, the figure sat in still silence before sealing their bargain in plain terms: "I can give you Donichus... you just make sure we be there in time."

Donichus cracked his eyes open and lay staring up at the jaded ceiling of the run-down inn he and his friend were staying at for some minutes. He wished the thoughts he found himself thinking would just go away. They only allowed him sparse intervals of sleep at a time, overshadowing the comfort provided by the young jaguar safely nestled under his arm. His bare chest heaved in a heavy sigh as he raised his other arm to rest under his head and turned to face his sleeping apprentice.

Donichus could only wish he was as confident as the boy was in all his convictions. But instead of succumbing to the bitterness, a faint smile upturned the corner of his lips. At least someone around here knew what they were doing.

His fermented mood caused by retelling the account of his past had smoldered over the night, and Donichus found it in himself to lick over the boy's cheek before quietly lifting himself out of bed. It was twilight, and the sky's inky hue was only starting to diffuse into an orange dusk, making it appear as though the day had ended before it even began. Even so, Donichus rose early to attend to a few errands in town. There was the matter of preparing for their next destination, as it was becoming all the more apparent that they couldn't continue to dwell in such close proximity of their assassination attempt. He needed to pick up a few provisions for their journey farther west.

Jaqaran seldom stirred as the raptor threw on his cloak and clipped it at the brooch. Keeping a low profile meant carrying around as few weapons as possible, and so he kept two small knives clipped behind his back, concealed away by his cloak.

Before quitting the room, he looked back at Jaqaran. It wouldn't be the first time he'd left him alone, and though Donichus knew the boy was more than capable of fending for himself, the sense of personal responsibility for him that developed the night after they mated made him want to finish his tasks as quickly as possible. He knew Jaqaran would understand if he woke up to find him not there.

He closed the door quietly and trekked for the reminder of the morning to the kingdom's small village in search for a small shop whose owner was within Donichus's miniscule circle of trust. He'd almost run out of friends over the years, but at the very least, it was a comfort there were those who were capable of keeping a secret.

He strode up to a humble two-story abode whose first floor was comprised of a sort of general store and knocked on the door. No sooner, two yellow beads of eyes peered through the light fabric covering a side window, then promptly disappeared.

The door remained shut.

Donichus knocked again, harder this time, and waited patiently.

"Ssaran," someone called out from the other side.

"Iviereiss ssivien colass," replied Donichus lowly. "Farress ssojen."

"Kieviss ssaloma ssaan."

To this, Donichus took a breath and slowly exhaled. "Ssivichen."

Another brief hiatus of silence clouded the air before Donichus heard chains rattle from the other side of the door. A whole series of locks were released from their hinges, before the door cracked open and the same pair of small, yellow eyes raked over him studiously. When the door was pulled all the way back, what stood before Donichus was a naga. She was a cobra anthro whose lower torso was that of the snake's and upper torso was covered in a long shawl draped over her shoulder. Her head was also that of a snake's, behind which, her cobra's frills featured a hypnotizing pattern of orange tribal designs over black scales.

Upon recognizing the worn figure at her doorstep, she flicked her tongue out and the sides of her mouth curled upward. "Donichus," she smiled. "What a fancy it is." One of her hands lifted to softly caress a side of the raptor's cheek, gliding from under his jaw to around the back of his head before recoiling back and striking him across the face. "I thought I told you I never wanted to see you again," she said in a thorny voice.

Donichus's neck cracked as he slowly turned his head around and grunted. "What a reprieve to know some things never change."

"Do you know how much trouble you're causing, just being back here? Avaunt!" She attempted to close the door on him, but Donichus quickly lifted a broad arm to stop it. The naga glared at him.

"Ssrayia... I need some things."

"To the fires with me if I ever help you again on your little vigilante adventures! No more." She pushed on the door again, but Donichus's grip held firm, a serious growl involuntarily escaping him.

"It's not about that anymore," he affirmed. "Things are different."

"How can I believe that? After all those people you killed, it's not always so much of a good thing when things never change like you said."

"There is someone," Donichus said in a slightly louder voice. The two locked eyes for a brief moment, and then it softened again. "Someone I care about. I have to help him."

"Him?" Ssasha's brows lifted.

To this, Donichus shifted uncomfortably under his cloak and stared at her expectantly. At last, the naga gave a sigh. "You were always the eccentric one in your family, Donichus. Back then, you were as difficult to read as a book in another language. Now, you're a tome with all blank pages. When did you decide to rewrite your life?"

Donichus blinked off to the side. "As part of the banishment, no one was ever to show me kindness. I was hardened from it. But then, someone showed me they cared. And suddenly I wasn't so alone anymore." He turned back to see Ssasha staring at him in an odd sort of way. "...Does that answer your question?"

"I suppose it'll do," she said quietly, then pulled the door back again for Donichus to gain entry. She slithered across the floor as Donichus quickly shut the door behind him and looked around.

The small store held many provisions that would sustain Donichus and Jaqaran until they could both establish their new lives. Personally, Donichus was a little afraid of it. The longest he'd ever settled down for was a week, and by then, he was eager to get moving again. Hopefully, he could still find some small measure of purpose in the lifestyle he was about to adopt.

He scanned up the shelves. "Ssasha, do you mind if-"

"Take only what you need," she hissed at him from behind a counter.

Donichus nodded and slung a large sack of dried food over his shoulders. He could feel the snake's eyes on him, but tried not to take notice.

"So who is he? What'd he do?"

"I saved his life," Donichus said, slinging another bag over his shoulders. "And he saved mine."

"It's unlike you at all to have someone tagging along by your side. I'd know."

"Yeah, well, I couldn't leave him. He was as good as dead, even if I did."

Ssaha flicked her tongue at him. "And you couldn't let him die... despite the many deaths you had already caused."

Donichus didn't have an answer.

Some time later, he left the naga's abode lugging two sacks of dried food, a coil of rope, his refurbished weapons, and many fresh thoughts in his mind atop a sturdy horse on loan Ssasha didn't expect to get back anyway. Knowing that there were still a few individuals who knew him better than the image he tended to put forth was a comfort to him. Warmed by the aspect that he had everything he could ever need, he walked with a powerful and confident stride, though his facial features were shadowed by the cowl still draped over his head. The early morning risers were already beginning to set up their shops, and Donichus wanted to be out of their midst before the streets became unbearily crowded and pickpocketers were likely to take from his new stash.

His mood lifted him out of the present for a brief moment, which proved to be a mistake when he accidentally bumped into a middle-aged woman holding a pail of milk in her hands. It splashed to the ground in a messy white puddle from which the woman looked up at Donichus with bloody murder in her stare.

"I-I'm sorry," Donichus recovered quickly. "Here, let me pay you for that."

"It's you," the woman whispered, her eyes snuffed.

Donichus looked up. The woman staggered back form him as though he were the host of some highly contagious disease. "It's Prince Donichus! Oh, it's the prince! Guards, guards! Come quickly, it's him!"

Before Donichus grabbed the reins of the horse and throw himself on its back to gallop quickly away, the image of that woman pointing her crooked finger straight at him burned itself into his memory. Though it happened only moments before, he was seeing over and over again the way her finger wagged, how shrill her voice became, how fiercely she was determined to be rid of him from her presence; to turn him over without hesitation.

Before he knew it, Donichus was riding hard for the kingdom's edge, people dropping their things and staggering out of his way as he drove past. And when he did, Donichus made sure to trample their things under the horse's hooves. Had he not been in such a hurry, he'd had stomped on it all himself. He'd have overturned the vendors' tables, strewn their belongings all over the muddy road and crushed them under his feet. He'd have roared out with a ferocity that exceeded even his brother's, demanding of them why he could never be as good as the great King Tyrannio to them. For years, he'd helped to free people from the destructive ways of evil rulers, sadistic dictators, and perverted nobles... all for what? To be cast out time and time again from his own home country by the very kinds of people he thought the was helping?

It was a relatively small action that dawned a new meaning for Donichus and his outlook on the way he lived his life. How he was so convinced that he was doing these people a favor. But they couldn't distinguish him from the very tyrants he destroyed. It hurt him immensely and filled him with a familiar burning rage he was desperately trying to snuff out.

How Donichus could switch temperaments so rapidly was beyond even him, but as of now, he was convinced more than ever that he wouldn't ever deal away with such rulers when it was really people who were their own oppressors.

He'd left quite a stir behind him, but when Donichus looked back, he was relieved to see that he wasn't being pursued. For the remainder of the time, he rode without looking back. It gave him the time he needed to calm down a little and stifle the flare in his nostrils. When he had gotten a safe distance away, he pulled back on the horse's reigns and slid off. Though the endeavor was long over, he found that he was still breathing rather deeply and his heart was still pounding in his chest. He walked the rest of the way, hoping that he'd be able to find some small measure of peace in his careless strides.

But peace would no sooner be a luxury Donichus would've paid anything to afford as he raised his head to the small, abandoned shack he and Jaqaran had set up for themselves. He abruptly stopped and cocked his head, his eyes carefully scrutinizing the simple shape just over the next hill. The raptor's olfactory chamber fished out a change in the air. Something felt oddly misplaced.

And then he drew out his sword from the shadowy bowels of his cloak and broke into the fastest sprint of his life. He saw that the door to their abode had been forced open, hanging slightly ajar, and when Donichus kicked it completely free of its hinges, so too hung his maw at the sight that greeted him.

Strewn about the floor were all of his and Jaqaran's belongings, the table on which they'd eaten together overturned and splintered. The bed in which they made love in parted in two, the sheets shredded and thrown. Some of the walls featured long scores that only a broad sword unlike the one Jaqaran carried could have made. Donichus entered with his sword raised, but nearly dropped it to the floor after taking a single step in dismay. He blinked at the individual parts of the room and attempted to recreate a scene from the signs of struggle he encountered.

There must have been a skirmish on the floor. Since many of their furnishings had been broken, it seemed like these were used to keep the attacker at bay. But it obviously wasn't enough. He was led over the one of the far corners of their abode, where a small slash of red was seeping into the wall. Falling to his knees down in front of it, he slid a clawed finger through the stain and his olfactory chamber seized up at the familiar scent of Jaqaran.

At first there was sorrow. A deep sorrow of abysmal depth in which Donichus felt that he could instantly drown in. It made him want to wallow in self-pity and remorse, lamenting the fact that he must already to prepared to accept that his best friend, his lover, his student, was gone.

No, he affirmed to himself. And instantly, all that sorrow turned to rage. Like a meteor flash-boiling an ocean, the sorrow was gone, and what remained was a burning conflagration of anger, wrath...

And that familiar feeling of revenge. A hunger for it unlike any Donichus had ever experienced before rose up in him once more. The inferno he thought he'd snuffed out with Jaqaran burst back to life, and all was consumed within him. There were times when such rage was nothing more than a burden that posed a fatal threat to anyone and everyone around Donichus - a problem more than an asset - but now, he was seeing the better side of having it on his side.

He needed an immediate release, or that anger would surely destroy him or cause him to loose his mind completely. The air around him suddenly clouded over and Donichus found it difficult to breathe. Though the door was still hanging ajar, he somehow feared that it was locking him in, threatening to suffocate him. After kicking it completely free of its hinges, he burst outside and fell to his knees on the grass, taking long, deep breaths. And like an explosion diffusing out from a single point of concentration, Donichus raised his head and roared out a ferocious peal of thunder that was sure to have radiated out for miles around. It shattered the air, and the sharp shards of silence tinkered at his feet. The roar lasted for five full seconds, and left him panting when he finished.

After that, Donichus felt unusually exhausted. A measure of his sanity told him that Jaqaran was gone and that any pursuance of him would only lead to more pain. But then another measure told him that he wouldn't know what happened for sure until he searched out the answer himself. Thus was Donichus's dilemma: standing by and doing nothing simply wasn't an option. But if he were to seek out what happened, he feared the familiar rage of revenge and bloody murder would consume him yet again, and he would be in no better position - if not worse - than when he started off. Was looking for Jaqaran worth loosing his mind over?

He needn't answer himself. It took him but only a few minutes to saddle up the horse he brought with him with just enough provisions for a journey back to the old country and ride off, concentrating on the task at hand to distract him from having any more second thoughts.

This was something he had to do alone.