Attor walked into the small outcropping that the warriors had marked off as their own space. The central area had been made into the warriors’ common space, and a number of thin corridors led off to the smaller rooms that housed beds. Attor had gone straight into his room to have a shower. Again he was amazed at the power his father had pulled with the wiccan community. Here they were, two miles under the surface of the water, and with some wondrous help, they had a home embedded in the volcano. It had running water, showers, toilets and power, and the air filtration was the same set up that they had in the oasis. Attor had asked his father about the bathroom amenities, but his question had been brushed away with a simple, ‘Don’t ask questions, son. Just say thank you and shit in peace.’
Turning the tap, the cool water cascaded down upon his hurting muscles, and Attor sighed. Nothing he did seemed to relieve this underlying feeling of impending doom. Every time he shut his eyes, the face of a phoenix stared at him with pure black eyes that sparkled with the promise of death.
Attor placed his hands on the open rough surface of the wall, the shower head from which the water came was inserted directly into the rock, and it needed no temperature control. The water was always warm, it was one of the perks of living in a volcano. He shut his eyes, letting the splashes hit the back of his shoulders and neck. While enjoying the heat of the water, he hung his head down between his shoulders. Leaning his exhausted body heavily forward, Attor used the rock wall for strength to stop from falling. The tight ridges of his muscles carried the water down his back, over the toned curve of his butt cheeks and down his thick muscular thighs to the waiting drain at his feet.
Attor wanted the water to wash him away. He wanted the water to take his anger and frustration down the drain in its escape. Reaching out, he turned the tap off and growled. Unfortunately, he wasn’t getting his wish today, but still, he wanted to rip someone’s head off.
Toweling off, he slid on a pair of dark blue jeans and grabbed a black T-shirt on his way to the common area. Threading his arm into the shirt, he pulled it over his head and walked around the corner. Ladon was sitting on the dark navy-blue sofa. He had some game on the screen and was busy trying to kill an unidentified alien species.
Attor shook his head dismissively. “Lucky you know how to fight, Ladon, because you’re the laziest fucker I know.”
Ladon flicked a glance. “Huh?” He pressed pause and looked at his brother. “Fuck off, Attor. I might be lazy, but as far as pains in the ass go… your sitting top of the heap.” Ladon laughed “I thought Jo was bad, but man, since the move…” he rolled his eyes, “… you’re like a bear with a permanent stick shoved up your ass.”
“And let me guess…” Attor said a warning tone laced his words as he locked his eyes on the brother currently wasting time killing fictional aliens, instead of protecting the clan from a real and impending threat. “You think I should relax?”
Totally ignoring the venom leaking from Attor’s words, Ladon’s eyes went wide with relief. “Exactly. Fucking glad you agree.” Settling back on the sofa, he went to press the un-pause button. “Was worried you’d get all angry and shit. But if you can see it too… then that’s great.”
Attor’s mouth opened, about to unleash the utter rage begging to flow over his tongue and reap unrepairable damage to his brother’s mindset.
Cough.
Snapping his mouth shut, he flicked his head around to look from where the sound had come, his eyes falling on the youngest of his brothers who was sitting at his desk. He flicked a look back at Ladon who was already lost in the game once more. Attor shook his head with frustration and walked over to Wyvern.
“Ungrateful winged bastard.” He rolled his eyes. “He owes his life to your interruption.” Pulling up a chair next to his brother, he looked at what was on the screen of his open laptop.
Wyvern snorted. “We save each other’s lives. It’s what brothers do.” Shrugging. “Besides, being bottom of the totem pole, I’d get stuck cleaning up the blood.” Wyvern pulled his chair into the desk further and turned the laptop to face Attor. “Do you see this?” He pointed to a conversation which was playing out on the screen.
“Who are you talking to?” Attor asked.
“Not talking, watching.” Wyvern grinned as he said, “People amuse me, with their thoughts of protection. Firewalls. Passwords. They sit there all content wearing their metaphorical Wi-Fi rubbers to prevent STI’s…” he chuckled to himself. “Wrap it, before you tap it.”
“STI? Please don’t tell me you’re fucking a keyboard,” Attor said. “I can’t handle that level of weird right now.”
Wyvern laughed. “STI? Server Transmitted Infections.” He laughed again. “Nothing will keep this dragon out.” Linking his fingers together, he flexed them, the cracking sound of his knuckles made Attor flinch.
“No more weird crap, Vern…” Attor’s head tilted toward the screen. “What’s the go?”
“Q,” Wyvern stated proudly. “He’s finally surfaced again.”
The sound of Attor’s hand slapping against the desk was like a whip cracking around the rock surface. “I knew the bastard wasn’t dead. I told you he wasn’t dead.” Attor jumped up and started to pace, his energy crackling like a barely contained fire. “Tell me where he is?” Attor demanded as he came to a stop, facing his brother his hands clenched with readiness.
“Where who is?” Volos walked in from the Nest’s common area, he had a small towel and was rubbing what looked like grease off his hands. Volos was a tall and commanding dragon to behold. Not only because of his height, but the muscle he carried was impressive. All the dragon warriors prided themselves on being strong and worthy of the roles the clan had placed upon them. However, they also wanted to be visually intimidating to outside dangers. Seeing a six and half foot man, with a chest that resembled a bear, and arms that could rip a fully-grown tree from its bare roots, would normally be enough to make any predator wary of proceeding.
Volos was wearing the required warrior uniform. It consisted of black leather pants, a black leather vest that had extra hidden boning on the chest area, helping protect vital organs from surprise attacks, and a pair of black shit-kicker boots which completed his intimidating look. And knowing under all that leather there were numerous weapons hidden from view, added to the feeling of security for the clan.
Attor looked up at his brother, a sneer of satisfaction pulled at his lips. “Q… the bastard is alive.”
Volos shrugged as he walked past him. “Never said he wasn’t. What I said was… that I didn’t care.”
Attor’s brain shut off, as his mouth took full control. “And you call yourself a leader?” he spat. “We as a collective are told to follow you. Listen to you. Let you guide us into a safe future.” He took a few strides toward his brother who’d turned to face him. Ignoring a small whimper of something coming from his subconscious, begging him to stop, Attor had waited long enough. He’d bitten his tongue for far too long. It was time V heard some home truths. “I call bullshit on that, V. Knowing that…” flicking his hand back toward the computer screen and Wyvern who was taking a few steps back out of the crossfire, “… knowing you don’t care our enemy is alive… not just alive, but talking… well, it’s way beyond my comprehension.”
“I guess that’s why I’m the leader…” V steeled his stare at his brother, “… and you are not.”
Attor’s anger had reached boiling point, so he took a breath and readied himself for the storm that he was about to unleash. “Volos, you may have been birthed first, but if you can’t see the danger which is unfolding right before your fucking eyes, then perhaps it’s time for you to…” the internal whimper pleaded for him to stop, “… step aside, and let a real leader take over protecting the clan.”
“What the fu—” Ladon leaped from his seat, his body automatically reacting to the threat being laid at his leader’s feet. He fought as a band of brothers on the battlefield, but threaten the leader of the clan, and he would protect V with his life. Even at the cost of another brother. The king had semi-retired after the decimation of the Oasis. While he still took control of the clan’s business dealings, the full responsibility of security had been laid upon Volos’ shoulders. As far as the brothers were concerned, V was their leader.
V held up his hand to stop Ladon’s response, his eyes not leaving the threat being thrown down by his brother. Volos sized up his brother. Attor was an inch shorter, but with his daily workouts, he’d become a mountainous monster of angry muscle. The thing about anger, though, when it was not carefully controlled, it could be your downfall. Volos needed the brothers controlled, fighting within the clan would guarantee their defeat in the next attack. This threat from his brother couldn’t be ignored.
“Think you can take me?” V challenged the threat.
“I know I can,” Attor growled.
V nodded. “In the ring. Thirty minutes. No weapons. First to yield.”
Attor agreed to the terms and took off for his room to get ready.
“V…” Wyvern asked. “What if—”
V snorted. “Wyvern, your brother is filled with too much anger to fight with any accuracy. I’m just going to teach his ass a lesson, by dropping him on it… hard… repeatedly.” V grinned and walked calmly off toward the ring.