Mark of the Erios

Chapter 1: Dragon Rider

Krysian Yelt Point of View

The cracking of the fire spreads through the air, almost resembling the noise of moving leaves in a strong wind. My lungs fill with black smoke, deep breaths flowing through my body. I try to calm myself as the Everything's take the last of our rice, the final bits of our rations. I press my teeth in my tongue, almost bleeding from my canines digging deeper and deeper into my soft tissue. What right do they have to do this?

Mother drops to the ground begging to be spared from the Giving, the one night a week that the Everything's bombard our deteriorated shacks snatching part of our rations in favor of their feasts, the ones we cannot join because our status would practically kill them.

The Everything glares and slaps my mother across the face a dark whelp developing slowly across her sunken features. Her and I have never been close, but no man should harm a woman. Not even one that has neglected to provide since the loss of her mate.

"Get the fuck away from her you good for nothing bumpkin!" I grab the only knife we have in the house and chunk the smooth, sharp blade towards his temple.

The knife does not hit intended target lodging itself in his eye as he backs away from my mother throwing the last bit of rice on the floor.

Either we get it, or no one does.

"You just signed your death certificate." The young Noble yells and points at me sending the castle guards my way, my father's training snaps through my muscles preparing me against these men twice my size.

I watch as the first dark haired guard swings at my legs to cut off my foot, the punishment for speaking to a Noble without permission. Clenching muscles, my body shoots up onto the highest surface in the house, my dad's old rocking chair. The single room shack seems to get smaller as fellow guards run into the room, I jump over his next swing, my knees knocking into my chest. My last attempt to swing my leg to land a hit on his chin is futile, another male grabbing me midair pulling me to the ground. My face slams against the dirt, a bunch of joyous hollers moving through the small space. I hear the screams of my mother but tune her out to focus on my last moments.

My hand naturally lands over my three tear drops on my hip, my mates mark. While I hate the idea of having someone perfectly matched to me, the thought of never having felt the chest breaking pain my mother goes through, or the endless love she used to feel, settles a deep pain in my stomach. Even the weak deserve to feel love.

Tears streaming down, legs hurting, stomach growling, I watch as the guards grab their ropes, high fives and smiles throughout. They snag my mother, pinning her against the wall to tie her like we would a pig, all over a few mediocre grains of rice.

The ropes dig into my wrist as they drag me to my beheading. Mother cries as she is also dragged behind me, her ropes pinching against her skin. Does she ever pull herself together?

Our kingdom is one of old laws, outcasts, and the 'in' groups. Once you find yourself on the bottom, you tend to never work yourself back up, a fate more sealed than mate bonds themselves.

Taking in the surroundings, I watch the guard's sword nearest to me shifting out of his cover. Such an easy thing to forget, clipping in a sword, however when in such situations as these it leads to problems.

I use most of my strength to pull myself against the ropes lifting my feet off the ground to swipe the sword from the satchel. Pulling it to my mouth, the guard screams turning towards me. I use my mouth to adjust, grabbing the hilt with my feet and shoving it between the knot and the pole snapping it from pressure rather than sharpness. When I fall, my back slamming back against the dirt, my hands are free with the sword laying between my feet.