Chapter 17: CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Kellan sat in front of his communication stone, tapping his hand on the table impatiently as he waited for it to connect. His other hand was hung in a cast by his side, and he would surely get revenge on the beast. Beside the stone lay the eggs— all six were healthy and well-formed, soon to be hatched.

It was clear that they had been well nurtured and were still warm and pulsing even now. Dragon eggs away from their sires or mothers tended to go cold after an extended period. This doesn't always mean the eggs are dead or useless; sometimes, it is a defence mechanism to have people let go of them.

These eggs have been fed so much essence that they simply couldn't follow the norm of pretence. Was it the woman who gave the eggs her essence? Why would it be this effective? Thinking about it, this made sense as to why the woman was so adamant about protecting them. Was she and the dragon together as partners?

A grin spread on his face at the thought. This could mean many things for him.

The stone finally connected with a hum, and Hagar's unimpressed face appeared. "Kellan, it has been two months since you started your 'hunt' with nothing to show for. I hope you haven't faced any issues?" he said, his voice cold.

Kellan grinned. "Hmm, things were not as planned, but that's what makes the hunt so great!" he countered. "I also have other news," he grabbed one of the eggs and held it in front of the communication stone.

"Is that what I think it is?" Hagar asked, curious, as he leaned closer to the stone to get a better look.

"Indeed," Kellan confirmed, his excitement palpable—a dragon egg, ripe and ready to hatch. Just imagine the possibilities—their scales, skin, talons, organs, and even the eggshells are costly! Someone might even want the whole hatchling." His grin spread wider the more he described their potential uses.

"An enriching venture," Hagar hummed; the implications were not lost on him.

"Plus, wherever the eggs are…" Kellan trailed off.

"the dragon is sure to follow," Hagar concluded, following his train of thought. His eyes widened as he realised what that meant.

"Exactly!" Kellan slammed his hand on the table, watching the rattling eggs. "It's like killing two birds—no, seven dragons—with one stone," he said, his intentions darkening his expression.

"How many eggs are there?" Hagar asked.

"Six, all in good condition and soon to hatch. I shall return to the capital after closing all loose ends here. I thought I would let you know my plans." Kellan replied.

"Very well, then. We shall await your return to the capital. Let us know if you need anything else," Hagar said, waving him off.

"Of course, you'd better have my money ready," Kellan reminded him.

"Money is not the issue. Get the job done and get paid," Hagar said, ending the connection.

Kellan grunted. These people from the capital always thought they were high and mighty, especially those from the smuggler families. He never really cared much about how they behaved, so he ensured they were always transactional.

He stood up and walked over to the side of his tent, where he had a chest on the ground. He always had artefacts handy as he never knew when he might need them. The eggs had been shrunken, probably the dragon's magic, which made things easy for him.

He placed the silver chest on the table, opened it, and gently arranged the eggs on the soft, velvety cloth. Then he closed and locked the chest by cutting his thumb and dropping his blood on the ruby interior. With this, no one could see the chest except him.

He rubbed his hand over the chest's twisting design. Ironically, dragons were carved all over its body, and it was now holding dragon eggs.

He placed the chest in a safe corner and cleaned his bloody thumb. They couldn't stay here for too long. While there was no way the dragon would come after them immediately, there was also no reason to tempt the fates.

He opened his tent flap and walked out into his campsite, ready to hurry his men so they could begin their journey. They would have to travel the traditional way by horseback as they need to wait for the transportation spell to charge before using it again.

"Alright, men! Let us make haste!" he shouted.

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In an unassuming village out on the outskirts of Soras, in the southeastern part of the kingdom, a group had suddenly appeared in a massive courtyard. The inhabitants paused, waiting for the light to fade from the teleportation rune before jumping into action.

They quickly provided blankets and clothing for the returnees, hovering around the victims to avoid frightening them. The injured were quickly attended to, and those who were mainly shocked or scared were coaxed inside to escape the cold.

The elf's gaze swept across the scene. The space was surprisingly large. Torchlight flickered against the stone walls. He had only known humans to be cruel and deceitful, yet here he was, surrounded by humans who fought against the system that had oppressed him.

As he observed the bustling activity around him, the elf's gaze fell upon the woman who had cut him loose at the auction. She had gone to speak to someone he guessed was the leader because he had taken charge during the operation and was now walking over to him.

"Hey! Thanks for your help back there. That guy had me on the ropes," she beamed.

The elf regarded her with curiosity and caution, still trying to make sense of the situation. He had always been taught to distrust humans, yet here was one who had risked her life to save him.

"It was nothing," he replied gruffly, his gaze flickering away. He wasn't used to receiving thanks, especially from humans. "I only acted to ensure my own escape."

The woman's smile faltered slightly at his response, but she didn't press him further. Instead, she leaned closer. "Regardless of your reasons, I'm grateful for your help," she said earnestly. "My name is Siman. What's yours?"

He frowned; why would he give his name to a stranger, helper or not? He ignored her and turned to the side, looking for a way out. Where were they? He needed to return home. The bastards had taken his family. His frown deepened as he remembered the terrified cries of his younger siblings.

He couldn't imagine them facing the same things he had experienced. His fists clenched. He didn't have time to waste here. He looked around the courtyard again. The walls were very high, probably to keep people from knowing what was happening inside. He flexed his fingers. Would he be able to scale them?

"I don't advise you to do that," the elf turned to the woman standing behind him; she was still there. His eyes narrowed. What did she mean by that?

She held up her hands. "I'm not saying you can't leave, but you can't scale the walls," she said, stopping him from interrupting. "You didn't say anything out loud, and I didn't read your mind, but with the way you were looking at the wall, it was clear what was on your mind," she said, smiling.

The elf glared at her. "There are wards on the walls, so you can't climb in or out. If you want to leave, that's fine, but you need to get checked first and get some supplies." she pointed at his injuries.

He looked down at himself. She made sense, but he couldn't bring himself to trust this Siman woman. In his years with the smugglers, he had seen the double faces of humans. He wouldn't be fooled again.

Before he could talk, another elf walked up to him. "Hello. You look pretty banged up. Let's get you healed," the newcomer said gently, holding his hand and walking towards the buildings.

"Great, see you around! Maybe you can tell me your name then," the injured elf frowned at the woman as he was led away.

The injured elf looked around as the newcomer led him down the halls; the torches lit the faces of the creatures being healed and helped in the other rooms.

His thoughts were cut short when he entered an empty room. Looking around, he saw a small cot, a table, and a chair with medical supplies in a cabinet. "Come sit," the newcomer said. "I'm Sorik, from the east. What about you?"

"Noriel," the newly released elf said, walking in.

"That's a lovely name; let me see your burns. Those chains are really something else, huh?" Sorik smiled gently as he patted the bed in front of him.

Noriel frowned; what did he know about the chains?

"Everyone here is either a rescue or has had family who were taken," Sorik held out his hand. Noriel's eyes widened as he saw the faded burns of the chain shining in the light.

"What is this place?" he asked, walking over to the bed.

"A resistance base. I know it's a lot to take in," Sorik said softly, "But you're not alone. Others like us, scattered across the kingdom, are fighting against those who seek to control us."

As he sat, Sorik began to heal his burns immediately. The two elves sat in silence, both lost in their thoughts.

Noriel thought back to the man at the auction; why had he been so adamant about taking him? The money hadn't even been paid yet. He hated sick fucks like him who thought they could own a being. His fists clenched and flinched when he felt a sting on his hand.

The room was quiet, save for the occasional crackle of torches outside and the soft rustle of cloth as Sorik moved around. Noriel's mind raced with thoughts of his family, the attack on his village, and the uncertainty of what awaited him upon his return.

He leaned against the bed, looking up at the ceiling. He would have to travel back home, if there was a home to return to. Last he remembered, the smugglers had razed the whole village to the ground.

"Was there any news from the villages in the east?" Noriel asked absentmindedly.

Sorik paused in his healing to meet Noriel's gaze, his expression sympathetic. "I'm sorry to say that many villages have been targeted. But there really are others who have escaped, seeking refuge here or in the nearby hideouts. I can help you find out if there's any news of your family."

"If they have escaped," Noriel mumbled under his breath. The sights and sounds of that horrible night filled his mind. Blood and flames as they fought for their lives, only to be taken in the end. The image of his siblings' terrified faces haunted him every night he spent in the smuggler's hold.

Sorik finished healing the last of Noriel's burns and moved to the slashes on his sides. He spoke softly, "There are other villages, other places your family might have fled to," he said, his tone sympathetic. "We have networks in the east, hideouts where those who have escaped the smugglers find refuge."

He clenched his jaw, his resolve hardening. He had to find his family, to ensure their safety and reunite with them, no matter the cost.

"I need to find them," Noriel said, his voice firm. "I need to know if they're safe," his hands shook, "if they're still alive."

Sorik nodded understandingly. "I'll check with the others. We have networks spread out, and we share information whenever possible. It might take some time, but I promise to do what I can to help you find your family, Noriel."

Noriel's eyes narrowed, "Why would you help?" he asked, disbelief in his voice.

Sorik replied, a reassuring smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "We elves must stick together, especially in times of crisis. Besides, no one should face such trials alone."

Noriel closed his eyes and sighed. "Thank you for everything," he whispered.

"Don't mention," Sorik squeezed his knee gently and returned to healing him.

This was good news for Noriel, at least. He hoped his younger siblings, Mera, Farin, and Lynx, were still alive. He would need to gather information first before he left. ' Hold on, guys. Your brother is coming to save you.' he promised.