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Fates of the Unicorns - Chapter 61 - Memories

_ SPOILER WARNING : This chapter contains no real spoilers, but may be confusing if you are unfamiliar with the setting of the series. Read on if you wish, or click on Chapter 1 to the left to start at the beginning._

Rahmor smiled to himself. He had big plans for tonight. He walked a slow circle around his bedroom, looking at various items he had collected. Gifts from other dragons and dragonesses. Medals for victories in the war. A piece of his shell from which he hatched. He wandered by a bookshelf, fingering the titles. Manuals on the art of battle, encyclopedias of insect knowledge. He whispered the titles, remembering long nights reading, studying. "By Claw and Fang, Insectoid Biology, The Never Ending Threat", He ran his fingers along the next set of books, erotic stores he had enjoyed, "Beserker, Ragefire, Teacher". Another caught his eye, "The Stallion and the Jenny." He needed to read all of those again. Some to further understand war and his enemy. Some for the pleasure. Some for ideas. He frowned as he saw another item. A sharp quill, about a foot long with barbs along three sides. Several inches were stained in dried blood.

Rahmor reached out with a deep blue scaled hand, but didn't quite touch it. Some things were long gone but the memories... they never left him. He thought back to an earlier time in his life, to a time that seemed like lifetimes ago...

...

The metal leg guards shined like mirrors in the light, curved metal reflecting the distorted green face of an annoyed dragoness.

"Put that down and come to the tavern, Rahmor. We need you in case the 72nd shows up. We are NOT going to let them get the best seats again! You can make your armor all pretty another time." said the owner of the reflection, an impatient dragoness. Letoah leaned down to show off her green scaled cleavage.

Rahmor frowned, his eyes scanning the surface of the polished metal for small cracks or signs of fatigue. They were not polished to be pretty, but to make sure any possible defect was found and dealt with before battle. He had seen more than one dragon loose a leg to those low-slung pincer bugs. They looked small but could dart in and take a foot if you were not watching. He set the metal armor down on his lap and said, "We have a mission tomorrow. You shouldn't be drinking."

"Oh come on, I'm not going to get THAT wasted. Just a little fun before battle or did all the slaves and whores you fucked at the tavern this week tire your little pecker out too much?" teased the green Dragoness. "If you would just buy a slave or two of your own they could polish that crap instead of you."

Rahmor snorted, "Forget it, not tonight. When we get back from tomorrows mission we can pay the 72nd a visit and throw them out of THEIR favorite bar and fuck the hell out of every slave, dragon, dragoness and barmaid in the place. Until then, focus on the mission. I don't want to have to miss all the fun because I'm stuck in some bugs stomach."

"Now that's more like it!" she said, her tail swished back and forth. "Throw THEM out for once and rape the hell out of any dumb enough not to run fast enough."

"Just make sure when you have some poor male pinned under you to keep your tail down. I'd hate to see you get taken from behind by surprise..." said Rahmor.

Letoah planted her hands on her hips, "Oh really? You don't want 'someone' to surprise rape me? Have you given up chasing my tail after all?"

Rahmor gave the green dragoness a smirk, "I don't want you surprised. I want you KNOWING it's coming, and still not be able to stop me. It will make it all the more enjoyable when I DO fuck your sweet little ass."

The dragoness laughed, leaning back on her tail, "Big words, little hatchling. Very well, I'll let the others know of the change in plans. We will see who rapes who tomorrow." She gave a snort, "Of course we wouldn't need a place to hang out if you would just spend some of that gold and credit you have earned. We could use YOUR lair to screw. All those commendations you earned are going to waste. You are part of a drake team now, most dragons would kill to get this high in the ranks at your age."

"I'll spend it when I find something worth spending it on. All the lairs this close to the border are rather plain, I'm not going to waste my money on them. I'm fine living here in the barracks in the meantime."

"I'm just saying, if you had a lair of your own you could sink some of that sweet gold into some juicy slaves. I know you want a nice little harem. You can't just keep them in your trunk under your bed!"

"Actually, that might be fun... but I'll have them when I'm ready, girl. Now get!" He swung his tail out like a whip, aiming for her ass, but the quick dragoness dodged just in time. He snorted. If he was going to go through the trouble of buying a permanent lair, he wasn't going to do it here on the front lines, or in some outpost near the furry lands. No, the only place worth owning anything is the capital and while he COULD afford something modest there, he was willing to wait. Being on a drake assault team had its perks and he HAD earned quite a number of commendations, but he wasn't ready to settle down yet. He would have a lair when he was good and ready. For now... there was a war to fight.

"Hah! Don't wait too long, I might buy em all up myself!"

Rahmor gave a toothy grin to his friend before going back to work. There would be plenty of time for fun tomorrow. Tonight though he had other, more pressing matters to attend to. One could live or die by how close attention was paid to the little things. Big things killed you in obvious ways. Those were easy to know how to deal with, if difficult to actually pull off. It was the little things that got you. He had no intention of getting got.

...

"All right, attention! There is a small pocket of bugs that have been harassing the foot scouts. Estimated force is about a dozen mid sized fighters and assorted support drones. There is a hive nearby, most likely deep underground that they retreat to when threatened. Probably a small breeding den, nothing major" said the burly striped dragon. He looked like a body builder, muscled and tough and he used his size and strength to his advantage when dealing with other dragons. Being mounted between the shoulder blades of a huge drake helped make his figure even more imposing. "Tahet will drop you off in front of the insect forces, then continue on to place himself between the main body of the insect forces and their hive to prevent a retreat." The dragon Captain looked down at the rest of the gathered warriors, watching with a critical eye.

Rahmor nodded at Captain Itham. The drakes were a valuable resource, but some were temperamental. Tahet had a record of going into a battle frenzy and ignoring the orders of his rider. Several dragons had been hurt in the past by literal friendly fire. He had not lost control lately, but Rahmor didn't like how the big creature needed orders repeated at times, or carried them out sloppily. As much as they needed every single one of them, he needed to be taken out and given more training, but his superiors had disagreed, and as a foot soldier Rahmor had little say in how his superior trained his drake.

"Once we clear out the main force of bugs we will return. Another force with a drake trained in queen fighting will dig it up and burn the fucker to ashes. Questions? No? Good. Load up!" said Captain Itham.

Rahmor checked all his gear and moved to the side of the large blue drake. He frowned as the big beast turned its head to watch. That was a bad sign. It should be looking straight ahead, trusting it's rider and Master. Looking back meant it wanted to keep an eye on what was going on and possibly interfere. Rahmor and the dozen other dragons climbed onto the drakes back behind the already mounted Captain. He gave a nod to several fellow members of the squad, ignoring a wink from Letoah. He would deal with distractions later... as enjoyable as such distractions were. He stilled a surging in his groin, then flushed a bit as he saw that Letoah had noticed. He hrmpfed and readied for takeoff.

The drake spread his wings and launched into the air in a single leap, powerful wings beating as he rose upward.

Rahmor's stomach moved and lurched uncomfortably, as it always did with this drake's takeoff. Drakes did odd things to gravity when they flew, and were not always precise enough to keep their passengers and cargo steady during takeoffs and landings. The overly heavy weight on their backs would quickly cause their instincts to compensate and extend, well, whatever it was the drakes did with their own bodies to the passengers it carried. While that effect was reaching out for them, it made for an extremely queasy ride. It was all over in moments, but left Rahmor feeling a bit ill. He suspected the drake did it on purpose, not liking to carry dragons. While some drakes were better or worse than others, most gave a MUCH smoother ride.

He felt the powerful body surging under him and even with the bad takeoff felt pride that dragons could control such powerful and dangerous beasts. Whatever was left of their minds still rebelled at times, making it quite a challenge. However, this was a challenge his race was well equipped to meet. Long, long ago when the drakes lost their minds to disease, or treachery, or simply fate, dragons were the only race that didn't take the chance to wipe them out. When the drakes were in their full glory they were a presence to be feared and respected. They lived solitary lives, only venturing out to populated areas on rare occasions. They caused grave damage and destruction when they did. Huge, powerful, immune to most magic, and most of all, full of greed and cruelty. They were feared by all, all except dragons. While the drakes were never considered friends or allies of the dragons, they seemed to at least SOMEWHAT tolerate their smaller scaly brethren. The dragon empire was mostly left alone and in return the dragons did not go out of their way to provoke the great beasts. If they came, they stood back and let them take, or kill what they wished. It seemed to appease the great beasts.

All that changed when the drakes young began to hatch as mere animals, not the intelligent and crafty drakes so feared by all. It was over in a generation, drakes as dumb as beasts, unable to speak or see reason. They attacked without regards to their own safety and while they were powerful and dangerous foes... without the ability to plan, communicate, recognize traps or danger, they were eventually wiped out. Hunted down to the last and exterminated. All except in the dragon lands. In those mountains and in accessible passes, the drakes found a haven. In time the dragon race found ways to tame them. Control them. The drakes were MISSING something in them. They not only were missing their minds, but their drive... there reason for existence. With proper care and with as much dominance and control as the dragons could muster, they brought the remaining drakes into their lairs. The drakes seemed if not happy, then content at the arrangement. Lost and without guidance, they settled into their new roles as the dragons partners.

Rahmor wondered what those dragons and furries of long ago would think if they could know how vital that decision had become. How, hundreds of years later the drakes prevented both dragons and furries from being wiped out by the sudden insect hordes. How they now served to protect not just the dragons, but the rest of the furry race from their own extinction. Without the help of the drakes the war might have very well been lost long ago. While they were not winning it, they HAD fought the bugs to a standstill, holding the narrow mountain pass for generations. He patted the back of the drake he now rode.

Tahet rumbled at the pat, wishing the little lizards would stay still. When they moved it ITCHED and made him want to throw them off, but MASTER would be displeased if he did that. MASTER might not even give him a treat when they got back! He licked his lips at the thought, and flew faster. He wanted his treat!

"Easy, Tahet..." said the Captain.

Tahet slowed in reflex. He knew what was wanted of him today. Flying. A hard landing. Then standing and NOT fighting. He did not like this last part. He wanted to fight! To rip and tear and chew and stomp. Maybe not so much chewing. Some of the ugly things tasted BAD. Really bad! They did not belong. They all tasted wrong, but some more wrong than others. He wanted to burn them all. Then he could have MORE treats!

Great wings twitched and flexed, correcting his flight as he felt the touches and guiding pats from MASTER on his back. He flew where he was ordered, as he had always done, as he always will. He thought little about the past but nothing at all of his future. His eyes flicked along the ground, enjoying the sight of raw nature. He liked his lair in the big circle, but it was so full of THINGS. He liked it out here, where there was nothing but land and things growing on it. None of those ugly square things that the little lizards hid in.

"Pay attention, Tahet! Circle there..." said Tahet's Captain.

Tahet blinked as MASTER spoke to him. The words were all a jumble, as they usually were but he vaguely understood the meaning and focused on his flying again. There was something down there that MASTER was interested in. He dipped a wing to go lower.

"Yes... there they are. Ready men, I want you off the second he touches down with his hindlegs. Kill EVERYTHING."

Tahet swooped down, feeling the kicks and other signals MASTER was sending. He responded by reflex, by instinct... not thinking but simply reacting as he had been trained, landing, feeling the dragons sliding off him, then taking of once more to land on the other side. He roared at the ugly, WRONG things... they would NOT get past him!

Rahmor gave his own roar as he charged with the rest of the small troop. The bugs were clustered together around a pile of deer, feeding. They were all fast, hit and run types. Deadly for a lone scout, but no match for a squad of trained dragon warriors! He drew his sword and slashed at the nearest, severing it's head and the strip of meat it had been trying to swallow.

Other dragons were fighting their own bugs, slashing and hacking, dodging and crying out when they didn't dodge fast enough. It was hard fighting even a small swarm. Bugs the size of other dragons were the main threat, but smaller ones could be just as deadly. They were the several foot long centipedes. If one got on you it would make its way up to curl around your neck, jabbing it's stinger into the neck and right into the Jugular. It was all over if that happened, the creature locked around your neck, injecting a steady stream of drugs and toxins and poisons right into your brain. The biggest, strongest dragon would drop like a rock as soon as that stinger went in. Helpless and writhing in drug induced fear. Easy prey to be hauled off and into a hive and from there...

Rahmor shook his head, putting those thoughts out of his mind as he fought. Pain slowly built up from blows and cuts. His nose exploded in pain from a hard slam, bringing tears to his eyes but he fought on, fighting through the pain, and every disgusting insect that stood in his way.

It took mere minutes, but Rahmor was exhausted when the last of the squirming things was cut down. Luckily none made it to the drake. A drakes most dangerous weapon was it's fiery breath, but that could easily roast a dragon as well as a bug and it hurt their throats. Only well trained dragons breathed fire in battle, and only to fight the most dangerous threat, a queen hive.

Captain Itham spoke from his seat onboard Tahet. "Make SURE they are all dead. I can see the hive entrance from here, we can take it out before any insect reinforcements come. No need to risk another drake getting ambushed."

Rahmor frowned deeply, speaking up, "Sir... we don't know for sure what's down there."

Itham regarded the blue dragon and nodded. He would not normally have permitted his orders to be challenged, but he himself was about to disobey his own and they all knew it. A little resistance was to be expected. He said, "If this was a queen hive there were be far more guards and warriors. A few scouts means it's just a small support hive. Tahet can smoke them out, no need to do a full burn, and we will kill anything that comes out."

Rahmor shook his head, he didn't like it... but the Captain was right, if this was a queen hive it should have protected itself by now. Should have. Should and might and probably were NOT good enough when dealing with these things. No mere dragon or furry could comprehend what went on in that continent spanning hive mind and while that mind was thin and tenuous here, it still could make plans and plots. "Sir, Tahet is just rated for transport..."

"Enough talk, I have made my decision. Form up! Tahet! Forward!"

Tahet growled in pleasure, he had a vague understanding of an argument, but all he cared about was that his MASTER wanted a fight! He let out a roar and stomped forward, looking around for targets. Was that hole ahead where the prey was hiding!? He would rip them all out and kill every one of them! DIE!

Tahet felt something shift under his foot, spinning around to snap at the air, annoyed at the unseen assailant.

"Tahet! Turn!" yelled the Captain.

Tahet spun back, tail lashing in agitation, the commands overriding his annoyance at whatever had disturbed him. He was halfway around when the dirt exploded under him and something wet and sticky slapped against his belly. He shrieked in rage and surprise, and then let out an ear shattering roar of pain as blue electric sparks crawled along the tentacles, stabbing into his body like pins and needles. The teal colored scales rippled and twitched as the big drake went down, landing heavily on its side, his muscles not responding. MASTER! HURTS! He felt his jaws snapping shut with a thud from the painful jolts running through his body. Then another tentacle burst up in front of him to wrap around his neck. Pain stabbed through him, his legs only twitching weakly when he wanted to rip, tear and KILL the things on him. He managed to claw at the ground, the pain beginning to fade. He could feel the creature's magical sparks weakening, could sense that whatever magic drove it was limited. He snarled as his body began to respond again, forepaws clutching at the dirt... death in his eyes.

A large, fleshy mass rose up behind Tahet's head, moving like a snake and smacking wetly on top of the drake's head, pressing down between the base of his horns. Tahet tried to jerk his head away but was still stunned by the fading electric sparks of the tentacle pressed to his belly. He wanted to bite it, lips pulled back in a snarl, eyes narrowed with rage and fear and then... wide with shock as a pair of sharp fangs stabbed at the sides of his head, driving their tips into his temples. His entire body went limp instantly as the focused physic power of the hive queen stabbed through his skull at into his mind, pupils shrinking to tiny dots as the alien thoughts of the hive began to pound at his own. He withdrew in revulsion and fear, not knowing what was happening, but wanting to get away from IT... from the presence that seemed to surround him. He fought it off, but it was like a mountain pressing down on his skull... he could slow it, maybe stop it, but not fight it off. Every inch he lost was gone forever.

Then... Tahet's world exploded. It had happened before. Like blinking sleep from his eyes. Sights, sounds... everything brought into sharp focus. Whatever was wrong with him, whatever had been DONE to him lifted... for just a split second. A rare moment of clarity that happened to drakes now and then. Often in times of stress. He knew in an instant what was going to happen. The queen had his head in a subjugation tentacle. It was only keeping him paralyzed from the mental attack, it was not strong enough to do what it really wanted... get fully into his mind. Tear down his defenses. Take him over. Corrupt his very essence. His resistance was too strong, but the queen didn't NEED to battle past his psychic barriers. She would simply tear open his skull to expose, caress, penetrate and probe his brain with thousands of thin tendrils... and simply EAT the parts of him that resisted. There would be no fight when his very will to resist was devoured and digested. Then it would be inside his mind... controlling him... slowly eating at his soul until there was nothing left but an empty shell.

Tahet tried to scream and roar his rage and fear, the fuzziness descending once again, leaving him with nothing but the knowledge of what was going to happen to him. All that came out was a small whimper.

Rahmor swore as the big drake went down, some sort of lightning from the ground making crackling noises. He quickly took a step back, leery of the rumbling dirty before him, unsure if more things were about to erupt or if it was simply due to the thrashing of the big drake. He looked forward and saw the captain sprawled on the dirt, thrown when Tahet fell. The big dragon got to it's feet, and Rahmor watched in relief, then horror as something stabbed upward, exploding from the dirt and shooting up between the dragons armored kilt.

Itham jerked and screamed, blood gushing from his dragon muzzle. His whole body trembled as he gurgled, and then another gush of blood as the serrated tip of a tentacle pushed out of his mouth, strips of flesh hanging from the barbs and spikes.

Rahmor closed his mouth, biting back a scream as he watched his Captain jerking and shuddering, impaled on the tentacle.

Another dragon gasped out, "Help... help him!" and took a step forward, eyes fixed on the awful sight.

Rahmor frowned, then firmed his features, staring emotionlessly forward and grabbing the dragon, "No... help Tahet. Save the drake."

"You WILL help our Commanding officer, Rahmor! I am his second, and you WILL follow orders!"

"He is DEAD!"

"No... he... ahhh..." said the dragon as he looked at the Captain. The dragons arms and legs were jerking wildly about, but there was no life in them, only a corpse moving as the tentacle writhed and flailed back and forth.

Rahmor said, "Move! NOW!"

But it was too late. Things were already climbing out of the mouth of the hive. Warrior drones and insect defenders. Rahmor snarled, "Cut that thing off of Tahet, we will delay the rest." He charged forward and met the first of the creatures. It was an ugly thing with too many legs and a large stinger on its head, the back covered in spines. A pair of useless wings fluttered at its back distractingly as Rahmor slashed at it. He snarled as the thing dodged, weaved, and whipped around, throwing spines like knives. One bit into his leg and he howled, it was like fire... poisoned. The pain was like a hot poker driving deep into his leg, but he fought on.

Rahmor slashed and fought as more of the defending insects emerged. Other dragons were fighting, and falling around him. They needed to go before the rest of the hive woke. They needed to go NOW, but there were more of the bugs between them and the drake.

Tahet's tail trembled and quivered, almost buzzing as he felt the thing on his head grinding at his scales, trying to EAT his head. More of the tentacles were coming up around him now, poking at his body... looking for weaknesses. A slimy, slick thing slid up his muzzle and curled it's tip into his nose, pressing inward, seeking a faster path to his brain. He could only tremble as it shoved inward. Another found his cock slit and was squirming inward, probing and invading in ways that made him want to curl back up, like he were back in an egg, safe but he wasn't safe. He saw his MASTER impaled, saw the life flee from his body. Alone! He didn't know what to do. He couldn't do anything if he tried! He fought off the press of the alien mind... feeling it's evil, it's hunger. Feeling so very vulnerable... knowing how little stood between those grinding jaws and his very essence.

Small things ran from the hole, climbed over his face to get to the other dragons. Left painful pointed things in his lips and nose as they crawled past. Somehow those little things hurt worse than anything else and he twitched feebly, wanting to strike out... to fight. Even just to escape. He growled at the things in his mind, knowing that somehow it was from the two stabbing things on the sides of his head, trying to drill into his temples. He snarled and roared, pushing them back, using the pain at the back of his head where teeth chewed to firm his resolve and fight ever harder.

His toes suddenly twitched, curling as more of the slick, slimy things began working into his slit, sliding inward to the cock nestled and tucked away within. The sensation made him want to arch his back and squirm, the feelings far different from the rest of his pained, tortured body. He felt tingles of pleasure flowing up his spine, felt himself swell and lengthen as his cock was caressed and squeezed, slowly emerging against his will. He shuddered, his concentration faltering... the voices and terrible presence pushing on his mind harder. He pushed back again, fighting to keep them out, but the stroking and caressing was so hard to ignore. The drake let out a loud whimper as he struggled, pleasure distracting him where pain could not. The drake shrinking in on himself as the evil pressed closer and closer, slipping past his defenses as they relaxed from the oh so wonderful sensation of a good hard cock-stroking, his shaft now stiff and erect. The terrible, emotionless thoughts pressed ever harder against him, gaining ground as his concentration, and defenses faltered.

Rahmor watched dispassionately as a familiar green dragoness faltered and fell, watching as the green turned to red as her body was torn apart in seconds. Think about later, an inner voice told him. Survive now! He snarled and roared, charging into the mass of quilled insects. He slashed and hacked, spines stabbing into his legs and arms, fire burning him. He didn't care. He ignored every barbed spine as it sank into his flesh, only avoiding those that would be immediately fatal. Nothing else mattered. He hissed as pain flared between his legs, gritting his teeth as his sheath burned in pain. He fought on, ignoring it all. With all of his will he hacked his way to stand before the thick, pulsing tentacle latched onto the drakes head. Letting loose a roar he ran and leaped forward into the air, sword held high above his head he swung down as he landed, sinking it deep into the mass of the queen's tentacle. The entire length shuddered and he held on, using his weight to slide the horrid thing wide open. Things lashed and struck at him, other appendages sprouting off from the mother tentacle. But he held on with both hands, his feet clawing at the thing, just wanting to hurt it. Do what damage he could.

Then he was thrown backward, landing hard. Several spines broke off, several more were driven deeper into muscle. He saw Tahet's bulk thrashing then rise, shaking his head back and forth until the tentacle was thrown off, the drake's head a mass of torn scales and bleeding flesh and tears exposing bone. Movement to his side drew his attention away from the drake, noticing a centipede choker just in time to pull a knife and slice the thing in two as it ran for him. He snarled as he killed the vile thing, then screamed as something grabbed him from behind. Dozens of legs grabbed at his wounded flesh, and he looked up in time to see a large fleshy mouth open wide then descend to engulf his head and shoulders. He screamed again, silently inside the fleshy prison, strong teeth clamped around his neck as things pried at his jaws. He nrrrrgnehed, feeling suckered THINGS attaching to his face and jaw. It was trying to force his mouth open while something vile pressed to his lips, spreading them, shoving against his teeth. Wanting in. Wanting to put things in him. He gripped the knife hard, knowing he only had seconds, knowing if he was to reach the heart he had to stab fast and hard. He turned the knife, and pointed it his own chest.

The great drake roared in anger and pain. He saw the BLUE lizard thing hack at the back of his head, and the tingling paralysis was suddenly gone, as well as the pressure against his mind. He shook his head violently, shaking the thing off as he took a great breath, feeling the fire inside him flare and explode into a seething maelstrom.

Fire erupted from the drake's jaws, aimed first at the tentacles assaulting him. The dozens trying to seduce his cock died first, withering and snapping under the intense heat of dragonflame. He clawed his way back upright, a paw slashing and smashing several insects in his way. He turned his head on the writhing, ichor spurting tentacle that had latched onto his head, now half severed and teeth and suckers limp. He breathed again, vaporizing it, burning it down to the root. He had seen hives before. He knew the THINGS that lived there were underground. He turned his attention to the dark hole in the earth, and lit it up like the sun itself had fallen down it.

Rahmor suddenly found himself thrown back once more, landing hard, the knife flying from his numb arm as he landed on it, a loud snap more felt than heard as his right arm broke under him. He struggled and pushed at the thing on his head, scrambling in the dirt and somehow escaping it. He coughed, spitting out foul fluids and struggling not to pass out as he gasped for air. He saw with surprise that other than the head and neck of the insect, not much was left but a smoldering, steaming mass of burned flesh. He spun at a roar, just in time to see the drake shove his nose right up to the hive entrance and send a blindingly bright stream of flame into it.

Tahet coughed smoke, his throat burning in pain from his own fire. He didn't care. He wanted to BURN! To KILL! Kill it all. Kill EVERYTHING! His body hurt all over, even his mind seemed to be in pain from the aborted assault. He saw something moved and stomped on it, feeling the insect squish under his paw. It felt good. So good to kill and rage. He coughed smoke, his throat raw and looked around for more to burn!

Rahmor thought the fire must have gone deep, hurting, maybe even killing the queen inside. It certainly weakened the mental link with the warriors, he bugs looking confused, faltering... and that was all it took for the dragons to rally, slashing at the hissing and clicking things. Rahmor pushed himself to his feet, wings bruised from landing on them. Stupid wings. Most warriors didn't have them. They were a liability in most fights. If they would let him fly that would be one thing. He shook his head, his focus was drifting. Best not let it or he might think of... things. He wiped a flash of green scales from his mind and faced the raging drake. It was out of control, in pain and it's rider dead. It was liable to kill them all. Rahmor staggered forward. If bugs weren't going to kill him, no drake on his own side was either!

"TAHET!"

The large drake cocked his head, hearing his name. MASTER? No. MASTER was dead. This was another. He recognized him. He had stabbed at the thing on him. In his head. It was blue like him, only darker. Deeper. He snarled and looked for more things to kill.

"Tahet... come! COME HERE! We must go. NOW!" said Rahmor.

Tahet roared at the BLUE and his distracting noises and coughed, his throat raw and hurting. He turned away, slashing his tail in anger, seeing more things moving. DIE!

A dragoness hacked up blood and spit, wiping her mouth on the back of a bruised hand, "Rahmor, I think... I think he hurt it. Whatever was down there. Nothing is coming out anymore. We should make him burn it again, kill the rest... while it's weak, distracted."

"No. We have injured and don't know what else is down there, or coming to it's rescue. We leave NOW."

"We can't run now, not after... it killed our Captain. We have to avenge it. Make sure it can't kill more! We can't run away!"

Rahmor snarled, "We are NOT running away, we are retreating. Tahet is hurt, we all are... we have to go, and we will. Let another team finish it off, one that is better prepared."

"NO... I'm not leaving until we finish this!"

Rahmor didn't even hesitate, he swung a fist into the chin of the arguing dragoness, knocking her back flat on her ass. He hissed in pain, every movement hurt. He pointed at the survivors, "Help those two wounded, get them over here and load up. We are LEAVING!" He turned back to face Tahet and stared into the big, pained eyes, "Sit!"

Tahet watched the dragon... the BLUE dragon. he saw him yelling, and watched as the other dragons obeyed. Through the pain a small feeling of calm emerged. He liked knowing who was in charge, who followed. When BLUE gave the order to sit, Tahet waited for a smack, a yell. A shout. He was ready, ready to roar back. He was not done KILLING! He watched, but all he saw was a stare from tiny eyes. Tiny but... demanding. Eyes that did not flinch. He slowly lowered himself to the ground, focused on BLUE. Now that he was no longer moving he felt the pains creeping back into him, the tiredness of battle, and the burning fire inside him quenching. It left him weak and confused, and looking for guidance. He watched blue give more orders to the other lizards and he calmed further. BLUE would know what to do. He stayed still as the little creatures climbed onto him. He itched to leave now, eyeing the ground with distrust, and only felt slightly bad when BLUE took MASTERS seat. He looked at the impaled body of MASTER and wondered what he was going to do now. He wouldn't have to do what he said anymore. He could do whatever he wanted now. But he didn't know what that WAS. He trembled a bit in pain and confusion. Then a familiar kick made him spread his wings and fly, making him know EXACTLY what to do. Do what his rider wanted. He forgot his worries, and even some of the pain as he simply soared and flew where he was directed. The feet pressed and he turned. The hand pushed and he rose. There was no confusion. No worry. BLUE wanted him to fly back home. That was enough.

...

Dragons scrambled in all directions as the wounded drake slumped to his the stone, dragons climbing off, and being carried off. The teal drake let out a whimper and rolled partially over onto his side, then lay still, bleeding all over, but mostly from its head and face. Doctors and drake specialists came out to survey the damage, the commanding general looking over the damage with anger and concern. "Who is in charge here? Where is Itham?"

Rahmor said, "I am. He is dead."

"What the fuck happened out there? Are there other survivors?" The general looked down at blue dragon in dismay. One arm was clearly broken and crudely wrapped and he was covered in spines, some looking to be rather deep. Bruised and battered with cuts all over. Lucky to be alive.

Rahmor shook his head, "No... we left only the dead. We attacked the hive. It was a queen, maybe something else... some sort of lighting from a tentacle hit the drake, dropped him like a stone. Tried to eat his brain. Got... ngggh... got it off... came back." Rahmor wavered, pain rising through him like a tide of fire. "It... it's hurt, maybe dead... but watch it. Might just be recovering. Ahhh... fuck... ow..."

The general nodded, "Sit down before you fall down. I expect a full report later, once you are fit." The dragon gave a shout, "We need everyone out here. Now! I want each of these dragons being treated by someone, no lines, no waiting!"

Rahmor bit his lip and nodded. The poison was spreading, making every inch of his skin feel like it was being peeled off with a glowing hot knife. Dragons and their furry assistants swarmed out of the base in organized chaos as Rahmor tried to pull out a spine. He let go as soon as he touched it, swearing at the stabbing pain. Damn!

A snarl and roar caught his attention. He saw one of the drake handlers had tried to pull one of the facial spines out, but Tahet was having nothing of it. He swatted at the ground, narrowly missing the dragon trying to help.

"Shit... he's going to kill us all!" said one of the drake handlers.

Rahmor snorted in annoyance. He knew if Tahet had REALLY wanted to kill that dragon, there would be just a bloody smear on the floor now, not a complaining moron. He glared at a doe nurse that had approached him, waving her off. While Tahet may not have killed anyone, if someone didn't get him calmed down before trying again he might not restrain himself next time.

Tahet snarled at another of the dragons trying to hurt him. The things in his face hurt bad but when the little lizards and fuzzies touched them... it was MUCH worse! He hissed, keeping them away, turning his head this way and that. Another approached and he turned his head to snap and growl at a newcomer, and saw it was BLUE. He snorted. Was he going to try and touch the painful things in his face and lips? Tahet growled at BLUE, letting him know that he was in NO mood to be touched! Get away! He glared... and watched as BLUE reached up, and grabbed one of the spines sticking out of BLUE's own side. BLUE grunted and yanked it out, holding it out for Tahet to see, and then dropped it with a disdainful snort of his own.

Rahmor shuddered, swaying on his feet from the agony of ripping out the spine from his arm. He blinked back tears, staring at the drake, and this time when the doe reached out for him he let her help support him gratefully.

Tahet blinked and growled! A challenge! From that little thing? He hissed and glared at the other little lizards, lowering his head back to the ground and stilling his lashing tail.

"Go... get those things out of him. And me too!" said Rahmor, giving the doe nurse a grim look. "Don't hesitate, just do it."

The doe nodded, trembling a bit at all the commotion, but this was what she was trained for. She used a cloth to wrap her hand, protecting it from the barbs on the quills and reached out for one that didn't look too deep or was too close to a major artery or vein.

Tahet watched the tiny furry thing pull one of the barbs from BLUE's arm and put something on it. Tahet looked at BLUE's face, seeing pain and agony, but the little lizard didn't move. Tahet looked cross-eyed at the front of his nose as a nervous lizard walked up, grabbing a spine with a gloved hand and pulled. GGGGGGRRRRROWL! PAIN! He slapped at the stone with his tail, but refused to move. If BLUE could do it, so could he!

One by one the spines were removed from both dragon and drake. Rahmor gritted his teeth, growling and flinching as each one was removed, the barbed quills tearing his flesh, the poisons in his body seeming to cause the pain to grow worse by the second. He snarled as a deep one from his leg was pulled halfway out, then all the way with another yank. He turned his head to glare at the doe. He knew she was just doing her job, but it was all he could manage not to strike out at her anyway. He focused on staring down the drake, keeping the big beast's mind on something other than it's own pain.

Dragons and furries crawled around the big drake, others helping wounded dragons get some distance from the dangerous beast before tending to their injuries. Several dragon vets and their furry assistants were examining Tahet's terrible looking head wound, discussing how best to deal with the injury.

A black panther had noticed the injuries along the drake's nethers, signs of forced entry, of suckers that had gripped tender flesh. "Sir, over here," said Jenna.

One of the dragon handlers said, "What is it slave? Oh... damn."

Jenna had, with difficulty, pulled back the protective scaled hide to reveal an angry looking cocktip covered in insect slime. "He is going to need a full exam and cleaning once his other injuries are taken care of."

The dragon nodded in agreement, "Once he is out of immediate danger you will give him a full going over. I'll supervise."

Rahmor only vaguely was aware of the conversations going on around him. He was focused solely on keeping the big drake's attention, and not passing out from the pain. Agony suddenly flared as a spine was tugged on but didn't stop her, simply letting out a loud moan and a shuddering gasp. This one had gone up into his torso, luckily it followed along his body and not inward into vulnerable organs, but almost all of the spine was embedded in muscle and flesh. Rahmor took deep slow breaths as the doe used a pair of pliers to grab the spine and pull. "NNnnnnrrrrrrgaaaahhhhh!" He clamped his teeth shut and trembled, swaying as the long spiny quill was pulled out, barbs tearing at already red, inflamed, and poisoned flesh.

The doe gulped and trembled as she finally withdrew the last bit of the spine from the dragons flesh. She had been hit and bitten before by dragons in too much pain to control themselves. Every time she grabbed another she was sure that this would be the one where he struck her. The presence of the wounded drake so close made her even more nervous. She worked in the infirmary, and was only here due to the poisoned quills needing immediate attention. If that drake lost control, she would be gone in one bite! She shuddered and dropped to her knees in front of the blue dragon and exclaimed, "Oh... oh my..."

Rahmor looked down, seeing her crouched in front of him and poking at a hole in his crotch armor. Rahmor winced, watching as she unbuckled and removed it. There was blood. That alone was almost enough to make him faint as he averted his eyes, but he stood still as the doe dabbed at the wound with gauze. He grimaced and took another look, feeling relieved at what he saw. A spine had shot clean through the crotch leather, but luckily only nicked his sheath, leaving a long but shallow scratch. An inch higher and it would have stabbed into his cock, possibly a testicle too, both still pulled protectively into his body. He grunted and with effort relaxed, letting them descend again. Keeping them protected for too long would cause some painful cramps, and the last thing he needed was more pain right now!

"Just a scratch, Sir... this... this will hurt..." said the doe medic.

Rahmor nodded with a snort, "I doubt I'll notice... ahhhhnnnnggrrrrrh... FUCK!" He staggered back as the antiseptic the doe applied burned like fire along the outside of his sheath. He stomped and danced about for several seconds before panting, the fire slowly fading to a dull burn... He staggered again as a large SNORT from Tahet blew at him. Rahmor frowned, swearing he could see a smug expression on the drakes face. Rahmor let out a chuckle, "Fine... fine... you win." Then he felt his stomach lurch, the events, and poison finally catching up with him as he relaxed. "I... think... urrrrrgghhhh..."

...

Sweat. Blood. Tears. Vomit. Pain. Lots and lots of pain.

That was all Rahmor could think about for the next day. He had gotten quite a dose of poison from the quills. It took a while to exit his system, and until then, it hurt. It flowed in his blood, setting everything it touched on fire. From toe to snout, tail tip to head, EVERYTHING hurt. Inside and out. His broken arm was the worse, the pain magnified a thousand fold by the venom. He got no sleep for an entire day, and what little he could eat or was forced to drink he tended to lose soon after. It was a humiliating experience to be so helpless, and he hated that even worse than the pain. At times it got so bad he cried. Other times the tears were for Letoah, cut down like so many others. All that could have been, gone. All she could have done, all THEY could have done, never to be. At those times, the pain was a blessing. Though it seemed like it would never end, it was a relief when he finally became exhausted enough to fall asleep.

The a days and nights spent healing were the longest, and most humiliating of his life. He was so weak he could hardly move. It was a struggle just to stay conscious. He even needed help being fed, that doe that had pulled out the spines seemed to always be there when he woke. Changing bandages, checking on his wounds, feeding him. He felt like a hatchling again, but even worse! A dragon hatchling was quite capable of feeding and defending itself. He could do neither. He slept as much as he could, hating being so helpless. He should be out fighting, or something. How were the rest of his comrades? Did Tahet survive, and what was it's condition? Did an attack drake kill that queen, and had anyone discovered just what kind it was? He never had time to ponder much, his strength seemed to only be enough to form the questions in his mind before he slumped back unconscious. Or worse, lost his train of thoughts from the terrible pain then never seemed to go away. he snarled as he struggled to overcome the toxins, and couldn't even growl in annoyance as the doe wiped at the tears of pain running down his muzzle.

It took two days for him to recover enough strength to sit up and get shakily to his feet, slipping on a gown over his bandaged and bruised body. Not that he needed much clothing, he was covered in so many bandages he looked like one of those mummies one sometimes found in ancient caves that were uncovered with new construction. He stepped forward carefully and nearly toppled as a familiar face came into the room with a tray.

"Oh Sir... you shouldn't be up!" said the doe.

"I'll get up whenever I please, slave!" said Rahmor. He looked her up and down. She had cared for him ever since pulling the spines from him. Watched over him while he writhed and shuddered and shivered like a hatchling too weak to break out of its shell. Saw him at his weakest. It was an... unfamiliar feeling, and he didn't like it at all. He smirked, "Perhaps I'll get 'UP' later..." and looked her over.

The doe gulped, but dipped her head, hands moving behind her back in reflex, pushing her chest out a bit, feet sliding apart. "I am yours to command, Sir. In... any way."

Rahmor rumbled... even with the pain and weakness and injuries the lust was rising in him, the desire to show her the STRONG side of him. The hard part. The VERY hard part. He showed her his tears... he could easily make her show hers. A tear for a tear, or even a dozen. He reached out for her, running a finger along her cheek, seeing her stand still, obedient, submissive, knowing her place.

Soft fur trembled at the touch, the doe's eyes wide and knowing. Having seen dragons get that look before. It was a risk one took when dealing with injured dragons. But it was a rick she was willing to take. All she wanted to do was help others. Heal them. Sometimes there were injuries one couldn't see. Injuries to ones pride. She helped them heal those too, at the price of her own pain. Dragons could be rough at their best. At their worst they could be downright brutal. Her status as an expert in dragon injuries offered her some protection. No dragon would kill or maim her, but they things they COULD do, and sometimes did... those were quite enough. She waited, not flinching, not closing her eyes or turning away, but simply standing their, waiting for the dragon to do what he willed with her. To her.

He let out a soft sigh as he watched the doe accept her fate. She had done her job, her duty. It wasn't HER fault he felt so... bad. He DID feel the need to prove himself again. Dominate a female. Rape her. Taking someone so willing, so... accustomed to it? No. It would do him no good, and... it would not do HER any good either. He would find a nice, strong dragoness and show HER what he was made of. He needed a challenge, not a handout. As much as he would enjoy watching her helpless under him for a change, he was unwilling to damage a valuable resource if it wouldn't even cure him. He dropped his hand. "Thank you."

The doe nodded quietly, watching the dragon leave, trembling from the encounter. She slowly relaxed, relived that the dragon's psyche wasn't as damaged as she had feared, and glad that she wouldn't have to endure a revenge rape. He was a handsome drake though... she had PLENTY of time to admire his form as she cared for him, but like a thorned rose, which was pretty but nothing you wanted to cuddle with, dragons could look nice, but they had thorns of their own...

Rahmor made his way to the generals office where he was led right in, taking a seat gratefully and only wincing a little.

"I'm surprised you are up so soon. You still look rather beat up, Rahmor."

"So I have been told."

The general chuckled, "I can imagine."

"I'm ready to make a full report."

The elder dragon waved a hand, "Yes yes, you can file all the details later. I've talked with the other survivors. Quite a mess. Four dead, a drake badly wounded."

"Is he all right?"

"Yes. Surprisingly. They told me he had wounds down to the bone. His skull had teeth marks in it. Deep ones. It was a very close thing."

Rahmor winced, "Glad to hear it."

Leaning forward in his chair he said, "I was impressed with your actions. I have no doubt that without you, nobody at all would have returned."

Rahmor nodded quietly, thinking of the ones who, despite what he did, failed to return.

"Especially how you handled that drake. He has been a tough one you know. Borderline uncontrollable, almost sent off to be breeding stock several times."

"I have been flying with him for several moons. He knows me."

Hrmph. "He knew his rider for much longer, and others that flew with him and none of them could have talked him down from a rage. The medics tell me they were about to put him under before you stepped in later and calmed him down."

Rahmor only nodded.

"Being the Master of a drake... it takes a lot of things. A strong will, an understanding of how drakes think, or how they DON'T think. Able to make command decisions. Able to make others follow them. But none of that is ANY good if the drake doesn't WANT to obey you," he said. The dragon regarded Rahmor, "I'm giving you command of Tahet."

Rahmor blinked, "Sir? I'm..."

The general interrupted, "You are someone who seems to have a way with this drake. That is by far the MOST important aspect of being a drake's owner and Master. He has been asleep and recovering, but it's good you are up now. It is vital he have a new Master there for him when he wakes. Decide now."

Rahmor said without hesitation, "I accept, Sir."

The general nodded, "Good. Tahet is still here, recovering. Will be for some days. You will keep him company, keep him under control, assert your dominance over him until it is time to take him back to your lair. I want you to train him to be a fighter. We need all the fighting drakes we can get, and queen killers especially. He's a big, strong drake with a lot of spirit. A waste to simply be battle transport. Put that beast in his place and keep him there, understood?"

Rahmor said, "Yes Sir!" He cocked his head a bit, "What... where will my lair be?"

"Greedy thoughts already? Maybe you ARE ready to be up and about." The general laughed.

Rahmor let a toothy grin show. No dragon was embarrassed about the desire to horde, collect and possess things. It was their nature. As natural as breathing, or dominating the weak.

The general said, "Your Captain's old residence of course. Tahet needs familiar surroundings. Getting a new Master is enough of as change."

Rahmor let out a whooshing breath, "That's... extensive!"

"Yes, it is. A bit much for even a drake Captain, but I suspect you will grow into it. His slaves have all been sold or given to others as dictated by his will. He left one for each of you under his command. Although I doubt he suspected any of you would be getting his lair. Drakes and Masters tend to die together."

Rahmor nodded, sitting straighter up. Captain. He had forgotten the rank that came with an assignment.

"It will be rather empty at first I'm afraid. Captain Itham had much of it closed off and mothballed, but even so you will need to find and buy some household slaves to take care of the rooms currently in use. A drake commander has a BIT more of a slave allotment than your former rank. I'm also putting you in for several commendations. A drake is a valuable asset, as are the warriors you saved."

Rahmor nodded again, "Thank you, Sir." He thought back to a conversation that seemed like was years away. "Time to sink my sweet gold into some juicy slaves..." he said softly.

The general nodded, "That's the spirit. Now get your ass down to your new drake. I'm sure he will be glad to see you. Oh, and here..." The old dragon opened a drawer, picking out a long, slim object and flinging it at Rahmor.

Catching it with reflexive ease, Rahmor gulped a bit, looking at one of the spines from the insect warriors he had so recently faced, still covered in his own dried blood. He winced, the after effects of the terrible pain and poison still in him. He glanced up at the general.

"Consider it a lair warming gift. Something to display in a trophy case."

Rahmor frowned and looked at it, "It's... umm..."

"It's not just a conversation piece. It's a sign that you tangled with something terrible and walked away. It will remind you that you did it before, and can do it again. You're a drake rider now, Captain. You can't live out of a travel trunk anymore. If you want the respect of your subordinates and your equals, you have to be more than just a good commander, more than just a good fighter. Everything you do must be the best. Everything you posses."

Rahmor nodded, he knew full well what it took to lead, and be followed. He had always planned this, wanted it. He just had not planned on it happening so fast. He was not the youngest drake rider, not by far... but had expected to have the opportunity so quickly. He straightened up, saluting the general.

The older dragon nodded in satisfaction. "Dismissed!"

Rahmor turned sharply, ignoring the pain and walked out of the office. He had old friends, and an old life to say goodbye to, and a new one to plan.

...

Rahmor blinked and shook his head with a smile. He had been so sure of himself back then. Medals and commendations under his belt, a new drake to break and train. A new lair to fill with treasures and slaves, and of course his harem. He wasn't any LESS sure of himself now. In fact, he was even more confident of his abilities. Of his strengths, but he had seen so many more deaths in the decade since he had become Tahet's rider. He thought he saw, and endured losses before... but the higher one rose, the more one saw. A simple solider only sees his close friends and comrades die. As a leader, he saw his fighters cut down, replaced by fresh faces only to loose them as well. The higher one rose, the less death touched you personally, but the more of it you saw. The more aware of it you became.

Rahmor snorted. No dragon joined the military with any illusions of how dangerous it was but when you were not simply fighting battles from day to day but planning campaigns and events into the future, it made one even more aware of how easily it could all end. He could 'feel' his place now. He would never be one of the inner council, or a general in command of entire armies but he could see himself as one of the leaders of the drake wings. Maybe even be in charge of them all one day. That was where he belonged. If he survived. There were others just as worthy to lead. One day, one of them would have the experience and strength to take over for an ailing or retiring dragon but there was no guarantee he would ever live to see that day. He didn't mind. His fate was set long ago when he pledged to give his life for the survival of dragonkind. That debt could be called at any time. He only hoped it would be quick. He snorted again, eyeing the barbed quill. Wishful thinking!