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[Tiergan]

(( Just writing out bits of Tiergan's backstory. Props to Zaius for all the help he gave me in finally getting some of this down.))

 

“My name's Alan.”

 

“I don't care what your name is.”

 

For what felt like the fourth time, the hyur boy sitting across from him in the musty, dark cell, tried to talk to Tiergan. The miqo'te was having none of it. He scowled into the shadows of their tiny shared prison, ears pinned back against the sides of his skull in anger, hands balled into fists. What was the point of getting to know each other? Sooner or later they'd both be marched back out to the mines. The taskmasters would whip you for so much as uttering a word there. Support systems were what helped spark rebellion - it wouldn't do to have slaves bond and form friendships.

 

"Are sure you don't want to talk?"

 

"I'm sure."

 

The hyur was slim, but not starved, with reddish brown hair and earth-colored eyes. All the same, he didn't have the meat on him to make it as slave labor. He'd probably be dead inside of a few months. Tiergan himself, on the other hand? He just hoped someone was stupid enough to give him a pickaxe. His old master had learned that lesson when he'd nearly killed two of the taskmasters assigned to watch the excavation. That thought brought a grim, dark smile to Tiergan's face. At only thirteen, he'd almost taken two lives, and those actions had brought him some of the greatest satisfaction and release he'd known.

 

"Is something...good?" Alan tried again, hesitantly. Tiergan glared, growling low in his throat. The other shrank back, his face taking on an expression of fear. The hyur couldn't have been much older, or younger, than Tiergan himself. But he didn't look weathered. A fresh catch?

 

"Just remembering something. Before I woke up here," Tiergan allowed, keeping his voice low. It was impossible to tell if there were guards waiting just outside the cell, and the last thing he wanted was to get beaten because the other boy wouldn't shut up.

 

"I was on the streets, looking for my older sister," Alan said, shifting a bit closer despite Tiergan's baleful glare. "Something hit me on the back of the head and then...I woke up here." The youth let out a soft helpless sound, like a muted whimper. "I don't know what to do."

 

“There's nothing you can do. If you're here, then you're a slave. No way out except through Thal's door.” The miqo'te replied, his tone flat and somewhat cold. At the wounded, horrified expression on Alan's face however, Tiergan averted his gaze, his voice softening a fraction. “You can survive though – if you're smart. And if you live long enough, maybe there's a chance your family might find you. Buy you back.”

 

Alan sniffled, lowering his head as he nodded. Tiergan felt a sharp pang in his chest as he thought of elder sister the hyur mentioned having - of family waiting somewhere out there, looking for the boy, worried about him...

 

What would it be like to have that? To have family searching desperately outside this prison for him? Would he have been rescued by now? Would they even know he was here?

 

Tiergan snapped his eyes shut, forcing the feelings of sadness and yearning from his chest. When the miqo'te finally managed to look up again, Alan continued to sit in stunned silence, eyes bright with shock and unshed tears of panic. Tiergan knew that look well. He'd seen it hundreds of times on the faces of countless other children: their expressions a soundless cry to the gods, asking why they'd abandoned here, what they'd done to deserve this...

 

When the tears finally came, streaming down the young hyur's face, Tiergan finally felt the cold, cruelty barricading his heart begin to wither. He started to rise, reaching out a hand, ready to give the other boy some measure of comfort. There were things the hyur needed to know if he wanted to live, things that Alan had to do if he wanted to survive and avoid the lash.

 

Suddenly, the door to the cell swung open, firelight cutting a swath of gold and crimson down the center of the room. A towering highlander male, silhouetted by the light behind him, threw something down into the center of the space. It's razor-sharp edge gleamed like a jewel illuminated by flames.

 

A dagger.

 

“One of you will get to leave here alive and become a gladiator, fighting for glory and fame on the bloodsands.” The highlander's voice was harsh and deep, edged with a gravelly indifference. Tiergan couldn't see the man's expression, but he knew from the way the man spoke and how he carried himself that it would not be kind. “The other will die here, rotting away to nothing. You'll have to decide for yourselves who is who.”

 

The miqo'te froze still, his body locked in place as his eyes fixated on the open doorway and the hulking figure standing within it. The highlander was tall and powerfully built, but he was still just one man. One man who had just tossed two desperate teenage boys a sharp, bladed weapon. If Tiergan grabbed the dagger and moved fast enough, perhaps he could get in a quick strike at the man's legs and then Alan could--

 

A flash of steel caught Tiergan's eye and he turned his head just in time to see Alan barreling towards him with the knife. Tiergan barely managed to catch the hyur's wrist in time, diverting the blade's course away from his chest before the two boys collided into each other, tumbling to the ground. The dagger slipped from Alan's grasp in the fall and everything that came next was a frenzied blur of violence and adrenaline.

 

Tiergan's blood came rushing loud in his ears, his heart pounding in his chest like a wardrum sounding off his last moments. The children frantically traded blows, cracking knuckles against each other's bodies and faces, kicking, screaming, and clawing at each other in a frantic bid for dominance and survival. Then Tiergan felt something puncture into his side. Pain blossomed there like a poisoned flower and his entire world suddenly felt as though it were made of glass and fractured bone, every nerve aflame with mind-rending agony. Tiergan heard the highlander's voice resounding in his mind. Only one of them would leave the room alive. The other would die here. Alone. Forgotten.

 

A meaningless end to a meaningless life.

 

The miqo'te felt something within him snap. A potent, blinding rage swallowed him up, consuming every thought and feeling in a terrifying blaze of white-hot fury. He tackled Alan down, straddling him, slamming his fist against the side of the other boy's face again, and again, and again. The hyur child let out a hoarse, howling cry of desperation, but Tiergan silenced him, wrapping his hands around the other boy's neck, squeezing, strangling...

 

When the world finally went still and the heat of his rage finally died away, Tiergan pulled his shaking hands away from Alan's throat. The hyur was still and unmoving, his eyes fixed sightlessly to the ceiling, mouth open in a soundless scream of horror. The miqo'te looked downward at himself and saw the dagger plunged deep into his right side, Alan's hand clutching the hilt in a deathgrip. A rich, dark crimson was soaking into his tunic around the wound, life gradually draining away from him with every breath. Tiergan tried to take hold of the knife only to feel an overwhelming burst of pain push the breath from his lungs. He sank to the floor at Alan's side, the edges of his vision going dark, the scent of blood and steel heavy in the air.

 

Somewhere in the distance, he could hear someone speaking. A stranger asking another if the kitten was worth buying, worth saving.

 

As blackness finally shrouded out his vision, Tiergan heard the highlander male who'd presented the dagger chuckling softly, replying in that harsh, gravelly tone.

 

“Did you see his eyes? He's perfect.”

[Tiergan]

(( Zaius wrote all of this for me after I told him about how I always wanted to write a story about Tiergan in his earlier years, but liked his writing style better. :>

 

Thanks Zaius! ))

 

Tiergan came awake slowly as the creeping light of the day reached him where he lay on the dusty stone floor. His eyes flashed open and he sat up immediately, blinking away sleep and looking around, body tensed, only to relax at the sight of Minthe standing guard by the door, letting the rest of the group sleep. Stifling a yawn, trying to ignore the ache that thrummed through his muscles as he moved, the miqo'te sat up and put his back to the wall of the room, closing his eyes again. Outside he could hear the footsteps and hollers to buy, or sell, or trade in the black markets. There was a younger voice amidst the din and for a few moments he wondered what it would be like outside, wondering if there was a miqo'te his age selling fruits, or maybe jewelery. It would be a day-to-day life, he knew, but he'd trade places with that young voice outside in a moment. He was pretty sure that hammering a pickaxe into stone and being thrust into violent, brutal combat training day in and day out was not what his life should have been like at fifteen years of age. Or was it sixteen? It was hard to keep track sometimes.

 

"Awake?" Minthe asked softly, so as to not wake the other two sleeping figures. Tiergan nodded at the hyur, and then he turned his attention to the rest of their 'band'. Slumbering away on a small stack of hay with a tattered blanket, Raja was small even compared to his three companions, and not a day went by that the young lalafell didn't profusely thank the three of them for aiding him. Raja wasn't his full name, of course, but it was easier, and so Raja it was. Sprawled out almost spread-eagled, seemingly uncaring of the stone he slumbered on, Roaring Pine wasn't snoring for once in Tiergan's experience, the roegadyn instead looking quite peaceful in his sleep. He'd seen that face twisted in anger during the fights for food though, and was thankful to have Pine at his back. "Hey!" Minthe whispered, a bit more fiercely. Tiergan shook his head, looking back at the hyur. It must have been close to breakfast.

 

"Sorry," the miqo'te answered, and then crept over to Pine, crouching and then shaking him by the shoulder. The roegadyn grumbled and rolled over, Tiergan grinning despite himself at the other's reaction. He shook a little harder before Pine jerked and sat up with a start, eyes wide.

 

"Up! I'm up," he growled, and Minthe groaned.

 

"Keep it down! I know it's getting close from the sun," the hyur whispered fiercely, gesturing at the series of scratches he'd worked into the stone to keep track of the day. Sure enough, the moving beam was about to approach one of two lone scratches in the rock, signifying breakfast...and the start of another day's scrabbling to eat. The other long scratch, further away was for dinner. "No bell though...might be something new?" Minthe offered with a shrug.

 

"Which means if we're quiet, we have a chance to grab our share before Zoh is up and around," Pine said grimly, getting to his feet with a wince, and shaking out his leg.

 

"You okay?" Tiergan asked, frowning. Pine was the biggest of the four, and the one with the most experience. Tiergan was the second best fighter, told so by Pine himself, only due to lack of time spent brawling; years and years of hard labor had made Tiergan stronger than any other miqo'te he'd seen, and as much as some roegadyn. Mithren was more of a thinker than a fighter, but could hold his own against most, and Raja was...well, Raja was around.

 

"Fine," Pine grumbled, and stretched out his knee. Zoh had tackled him and twisted his leg, forcing the roe to the ground painfully hard on the point of his kneecap. Yes, Pine was one hells of a fighter. But Zoh's arrival had changed all that. The four had gotten their share of the food, and while there were a few bands of five, they weren't able to manage all four of them, since Raja would run the food back, the lalafell surprisingly quick and hard to catch. They'd worked out a good system, they'd eaten better than they had in years, and then…

 

Zoh.

 

The hyur was a monster, nearly as tall as Pine, and built to break things as far as anyone could tell. With a series of tattoos on his back unlike anything anyone else in the pit had seen, the man rarely said a word, but spoke only in violence, despite only being as old or a little bit older than anyone else in the pit. It was a miracle he hadn't killed anyone. Yet. Sighing, Tiergan rose from the crouch he was in and raised his arms over his head, wincing. Sometimes he missed the mines. Sometimes. He'd had to contend with angry guards, angrier guards, and even some other miners trying to steal from his quota, taking what they couldn't or didn't want to mine themselves. He grimaced at the memory of having to avoid more than a few groping hands on the part of one guard in particular...he cursed, wishing he'd learned his name. One day.

 

"Focus, Tiergan," Pine said grimly, as the sun crossed over the line. During Tiergan's reminiscing it looked like someone had woken up Raja, the lalafell looking worried as always, but just as determined as he was afraid. He'd always come through for them so far. "Still no bell?" The roegadyn asked, and Minthe shook his head...then suddenly started and gripped the handle on the door to their 'room'.

 

"Maybe they just don't plan on feedin' us at all," Raja said, reaching down to rub a hand over his stomach and grimacing. The last three days they'd been fed only at breakfast. The first time had been a nasty surprise, and everyone had gone to bed hungry. The second day the fighting had resumed, Zoh even having to break an arm or two to get first place. The third day had been worse, in some ways, with even more vicious fighting, and most trying just to run back to their 'rooms' with whatever they could carry. In other ways, it hadn't been, since the weaker slaves had gone without food for nearly two entire days. If this continued, things were only going to get worse...

 

"It's coming down. No one's moved yet, let's go!" The four had taken a room at the very end of one of the halls leading to the central chamber. It was a long run, but it was also one of the shorter halls, and it meant they had a clear view to when the grate moved, and the food was lowered down. Minthe opened the door, and together all four began to creep down the dusty stone hall towards the waiting meal. Pike put a finger over his mouth, the other three nodding. This was not the time to reflect on their good fortune. Some had likely seen Minthe's trick of scrawling lines in the stone to measure time, but if each of them could grab an armful of food and make it back, they'd be set...at least for a few days. Enough to avoid the fighting as it got worse. None of them thought what would happen if their owners just stopped feeding them entirely.

 

The time it took to get from their refuge to the main room seemed to stretch on forever but sure enough, when they arrived, their bounty was waiting for them on the center table where it had been lowered; cooked meats and cheese, warm bread, fresh vegetables with some dry spice for seasoning. Tiergan hadn't believed there was food like that until his first day in the pit, and there it was, untouched...no, not untouched. One of the plates had been moved, just a bit, and when Tiergan looked, it was in fact half-empty of the ham that had rested on it. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and his ears flattened to the top of his head. It was perfect, waiting there to be taken up.

 

"Guys, I don't-" He whispered, before Raja ran forward eagerly, the lalafell all but sprinting towards the waiting food. Tiergan and Pine both lunged for him, but too late, Pine's fingers just sliding off of the back of Raja's shirt before he moved into the main room...and Minthe yelled in horror as a bare, calloused foot suddenly appeared, striking Raja with crushing force and propelling him into one of the bare tables hard enough to bounce over it with a loud clatter. Minthe yelled in shock and horror as the little lalafell rolled to a stop unmoving. Before the remaining three could react, Zoh moved around the corner and attacked.

 

Tiergan and Pine both moved in, Tiergan narrowly avoiding a vicious kick and Pine doing the same for an equally powerful bare-handed punch. The latter was strong enough to take a chunk of stone from the corner, as well as leave the skin over Zoh's knuckles torn and bloody. He snarled as he attacked, but the expression on his face was one of mingled terror and anger, his eyes wide and bloodshot.

 

"He's gone crazy!" Pine yelled, and lunged forward, tackling the hyur to the ground and struggling with him. Minthe meanwhile darted around the corner to check on Raja, reaching down to try and roll him over, then hesitating, then reaching a second time.

 

"Is he alright?!" Tiergan shouted, and began looking around for something, anything to use as a weapon: the tables were bolted to the ground, that left- "Hang on Pine!" The miqo'te sprinted towards the table, looking for the heaviest pot or plate he could find.

 

"Agh! I can't-" There was a crash behind him, and Tiergan looked over his shoulder to find Raging Pine scrabbling back to his feet, holding his left arm in disbelief. "He bit me!" Pine said in shock. Sure enough, Zoh's mouth was red as he looked with wild eyes from Pine, to Tiergan and back again. For the moment, he was ignoring Minthe, who had carefully turned over Raja, swallowing hard.

 

"He's alive!" Minthe said in relief, Raja groaning slightly as Minthe shook him. A massive purple welt was already rising on one side of his forehead as he stirred. Unfortunately, Minthe's shout drew Zoh's attention, the hyur's head jerking towards the crouched youth, and then rushing at him with a cry that was more desperation than anything else. Pine and Tiergan both slammed into him, bearing him to the stone floor and struggling to pin him down. Pine had been right though, Tiergan thought; Zoh thrashed and howled like a madman.

 

"Can't hold him for long!" Pine yelled. "Get the food Raja and get out of here!" Minthe nodded and quickly lifted Raja up. When he made it to the table he looked over the food for a few moments, and, after unceremoniously tucking the lalafel under one arm, took hold of one of the plates of meat. When he moved back towards the hallway however, Zoh managed to sneak one leg between his own chest and Tiergan, and kicked out, hurling the miqo'te away and into Minthe's path. The hyur yelped as he went down, and given the choice, kept hold of Raja, while he himself landed painfully on the stone, dazed and groaning. Tiergan immediately sat up, ignoring the new ache in his back from where he'd landed and going back to help Pine. Zoh pushed him away, and as Tiergan approached, stood up to face the miqo'te.

 

Expecting the maddened hyur to move first, Tiergan managed to dodge to the side as Zoh lashed out, and then punched the other youth in the ribs as hard as he could. Zoh staggered, but other than that hardly reacted in pain, instead howling and trying to strike back. Again Tiergan dodged, feeling panic beginning to rise up in him, especially as he kicked one of Zoh's thighs, hard enough to feel it in his own leg all the way up to his waist, and the hyur barely flinched. Tiergan knew how hard he'd hit, but Zoh didn't even seem to feel it! How were they supposed to stop someone like this?! Zoh threw another punch, and Tiergan dodged again...but the punch was a feint, and Tiergan was too committed to his evasion to reposition: Zoh's kick caught him straight in the ribs. Tiergan felt something in his chest give way, and his vision turned red as he staggered back, raising a hand to try and ward off the crazy hyur.

 

Instead, he felt himself propelled backwards by a tackle, no thought in the movement or the attack, and a pain so sharp and hot in his chest that he couldn't help but cry out as he was crushed into one of the tables...that broke with a loud sound, splinters and shattered wood scattering across the floor. Something struck him across the face once, twice, and Tiergan tasted copper in his mouth. Distantly, he heard someone cry out in horror, and then the heavy weight on him was lifted off, tossed aside. There was another cry, of pain this time, and Tiergan rolled onto his side. He felt sick to his stomach from the pain, tears at the corners of his eyes.

 

He was going to die.

 

The red tide around his eyes receded slightly, shaking hands sliding across the stone, splinters digging into his palms, but the pain was barely noticeable compared to the fire in his chest. He coughed wetly, and moaned as that only made it worse...but there was something else besides the pain. This hyur, this...crazy psychopath was going to kill him. Kill Raja, kill Pine, kill Minthe, kill him too. Blood trickled from between his teeth as Tiergan clenched his jaw tightly, eyes unfocusing as he struggled to push himself to his feet. For what? For food? Because he wanted to? Zoh seemed maddened, insane. It didn't really matter though. His thoughts went backwards, drifting to when he'd first killed...he'd been so young, watching the life leave the eyes as he choked it out of them. He'd nearly died there, too.

 

The miqo'te's fingers closed around a broken piece of wood, so tight his knuckles paled.

 

Pine's hands pulled and tugged at the fingers around his throat, but the roegadyn seemed entirely unable to so much as move Zoh's grip a single inch. The hyur was nearly frothing at the mouth now, shouting in a language Pine didn't understand. His vision turned spotty at the sides, starting to do dark...and then the hyur howled in pain and arched, releasing his grip and leaving Pine gasping. Whirling around as he rose, Pine saw a jagged piece of wood embedded in the other youth's back, blood welling around the wound. Looking past him, he saw Tiergan standing, another piece of wood in his hands and the look on his face was…

 

It was so close to Zoh's it was scary.

 

Roaring in fury, Tiergan drove forward, burying another hunk of wood into Zoh's chest and forcing the hyur back onto a table. The hyur jerked sharply, eyes going wide as he driven onto his back, the wood jammed in his back driven further in, blood bubbling at the corners of his mouth amidst the foam. Tiergan reared back and slammed his fist into Zoh's face as hard as he could, Pine starring, as were Minthe and Raja, the lalafell looking on groggily but with dawning shock, and then fear as Tiergan continued to beat the hyur, who had gone limp. After nearly five such hits, Tiergan's arm fell down. Swaying on top of the hyur he'd killed, he collapsed backwards, eyes barely open, close to passing out.

 

"By the Twelve…" Pine whispered, and went over to look at him. The right side of his chest was purple, blood trickling steadily from one corner of his mouth. His breath was raspy, wet, but steady. "I can't...that…"

 

"That was awful!" Raja cried out.

 

"We have company," Minthe said slowly. Sure enough, turning their attention from Tiergan to the other entries, they could see many of the other captives, woken up by the lethal fight. Until now it seemed they'd been too smart, or too scared, to approach. But now they were looking at the four, or rather three, and the dead hyur that had tormented and took the lion's share of the food. "Let's get Tiergan and go."

 

"Wait," Raja asked, voice trembling. "What about the food?"

 

"What about the food?" Pine demanded. "We can't just leave Tiergan there, he-"

 

"No, Pine. He's dying," Minthe said, still speaking carefully. "He's bleeding from the mouth, and I don't think the cut on his lip is that bad." As if on queue, the miqo'te suddenly coughed violently, shuddering, curling up slightly in pain. "We can't...we can't do anything for him. Raja needs to rest. Let's go."

 

"But-"

 

"Come on!" Raja pleaded desperately, standing up, swaying, but keeping on his face. "Let's take the food and go!" He staggered forward past Tiergan, looking down at him with a sorrowful glance before grabbing a tray of bread and heading back towards the hallway they'd come from. Almost like it set off a chain reaction, the other slaves rushed inwards. Minthe ran for the foot table, as did Pine.

 

"I'm sorry, Tiergan," Minthe whispered as he ran back towards Raja. On the way, he scooped to pick up a piece of wood from the splintered table. "Back off! Just BACK! OFF!" He yelled, almost shrilly, threatening the closest people with the jagged, improvised weapon. Pine ran by, not looking at Tiergan, with a plate of meat, and the three edged past the other slaves on their way.

 

Tiergan closed his eyes, feeling a pain very much different from his brutal injuries, and yet just as bad. Now the tears, that had been banished by rage, fell freely. Betrayed. Abandoned.

 

Again.

 

The voice around him were distant, as he rested his head down on the cool floor. What did it matter anymore? Then, his hearing focused in on a single question.

 

"...finish him off?"

 

The miqo'te's eyes flashed open, and he suddenly felt much lighter, much quicker, his pain fading. From behind him. That's where the question had come from. He rolled over, his own blood sticky on his back and chin, and fixed his eyes on the miqo'te that had asked it. The male stared back like he'd seen a ghost, a bloody spectre made real. Tiergan staggered to his feet, hissing. Everyone near the miqo'te quickly moved back as Tiergan raised his hands and reached for the questioner's throat.

 

There was a sharp cry of horror, cut off mid-shout into a sickening gurgle. Far above the pit, a dark-skinned elezen with a tattoo on one side of his face looked over at the slave's equally horrified owner, smiling faintly.

 

"I will take that one.”