Chapter 3
You guys are incredible at commenting already!
Dedication to: @Nerdy_But_Cute, @SmilingNiallxxx, @smiley_miley_, & @obsessedwith5boys (because glasses is such a close third that I just couldn’t not give it to you.)
Enjoy!
~Harry~
Today was the day. To say I was slightly excited wouldn’t be a lie; I was going after the biggest rider alive today. He was their leader, like a king, and the second I took him down, everything else was bound to follow. With no leader, there’s no chance of making it. Riders all over England will be running around like chickens with their heads cut off: completely and utterly helpless. They wouldn’t have anyone to turn to, no one to make rules, to solve the problems, and no one to tell them how to hide.
One by one the clans will fall, one by one they’ll come out of hiding and one by one they’ll become normal citizens that don’t ride dragons and wreak havoc. Then everything will be as it should be, normal.
I slung the bag over my shoulder and slid on my boots, the early rays of the sun shining through the window alerting me that it was time to go. It was a day journey, traveling northwest to get to the town that ‘Greg’ lived in.
I needed information, and a location, and so far Greg was the only one I know that would be able to give me that. And if he didn’t give it willingly, well, let’s just say I have many ways to be persuasive- violence probably being the most effective. I couldn’t really lie about that.
I stepped outside, closing the door tightly behind me. I made my way over to the stables before groaning in frustration. I forgot I couldn’t use Stallion, my horse, because he was hurt. Damn dragon almost ripped off his leg, thankfully it was just a severe cut and nothing worse. I stopped by the stables anyways, grabbing a bucket of oats from the corner and bringing it over to where he was laying.
“Here boy. I’ll be back soon.” I muttered, placing the bucket in front of him and pet his mane. Stallion went to go eat, ignoring me with a sort of fond indifference while the food was in front of him. I laughed, giving him one last gently pat before turning and making my way out of the stables.
I sighed, fixing the bag on my shoulder before making my way away from my town and my home again. I was ready to be done with this already, but I couldn’t deny the innumerable excitement that this task has given me. Sure, at first I really couldn’t care less, but this man has avoided dozens of Slayers, some of the best in the game. Of course, it wasn’t me, but they were still a little better than decent. The king doesn’t take lightly to failure, meaning a lot of Slayers have been executed due to this hippie. And if he thought my name was going to be added to that list then he was damn wrong.
Then again, maybe that has been his plan since the start: have the king kill off his enemies without even having to lift a finger. He then has no blood on his hands and he looks like a saint- in a war without a drop of blood on his hands.
There have been rumors, of a fearless dragon riding leader, that’s slain many. That nothing scares him. So maybe he does have blood on his hands, but he would hardly make me shiver in fear if ever I saw him. Stories and reality are two different things, and maybe before I kill him, I’ll get him to help me distinguish between lies and reality.
The only memory of him that will live on will be that of him begging for mercy at the tip of my sword, the only stories told of him would be of his extreme cowardice and the stupidity of the riders to make him their leader. It really would be quite the spectacular tale, and I’d be able to tell my children and grandchildren the exact one. How I heroically did what no other man could do: slay the evil dragon rider trying to rule over the whole of England. And they would look up at me with the utmost awe gleaming in their cute little green eyes; mouths open in a circle in shock. And then, when that story was finished, they would ask for it again because the monster was slain by me, and they would be in awe, glad that they could brag to their little friends that their father or grandfather was a hero.
I was getting rid of these nuisances. Following orders from the king, and following in my father’s footsteps. All I can hope is that I’ve made him proud, that’s all I ever wanted to do in my life.
The dirt and rocks crunched under my boots with each step I took, the worn path soon leading into the open grass clearing, before it would lead me to the forest and mountain areas were the trail would fade and I would have to maneuver all on my own. Not that finding my own way through all of that was a problem; it wasn’t in fact because I knew my way around these parts. I have used them often when going after a rider, and I may not know it like the back of my hand but I knew it well enough to get through. I wasn’t worried at all about going through the forest and mountains. I was more cautious about what the forest and mountains would bring, including bandits- criminals that attacked and stole from others. They disgusted me more than riders and my job and talent was to exterminate the riders. They took from people, people with families and taxes to pay people that don’t have much else if anything. Bloody crooks were just a bunch of bastards.
It was funny though, how the people that don’t have much tended to be happier. They seemed to appreciate the little things, like their children’s laughter, or a small meal, or even having an extra pound or two for a warm loaf of bread or a piece of cake. They were happiest, happier than the king with his giant castle and abundance of money and jewels, happier than anyone else with money pouring from their ears. They were even happier than Midas, the poor or lucky Greek bastard (depending on your point of view on that one) that turned everything into gold with just one touch. Sure, he was dead ages ago, but his story kind of sticks with a person you know? It’s not every day you hear about some Greek lad born ages ago that can turn anything into gold by just touching it. In fact, you only here about one, and maybe that was why his story always stuck around.
I continued to walk further and further, the trail now fading quite a bit and I knew I was getting close to the edge of the forest. I smiled lightly, just enjoying the warming sun caressing my exposed skin and my back, while a small cooling breeze danced around me. Birds sang in the nearby trees, crickets chirped, and the clicking of the clicking beetles added to the tune. Nature was making its own song, and I had to admit it was pretty good. I hummed along with it, bobbing my head slightly to the beat. I smiled slightly, the whole place having a serene kind of aura, a peaceful air about it.
I continued to walk further, the trail now gone, and trees began clumping together more. The area continued to grow more crowded, larger trees coming into view, and then I was in the forest. There was moss growing off some large trees, roots begging me to trip, over turned rocks, fallen trees, stumps haphazardly lying around, and low hanging branches threatening to hit you were common things to see. The forest allowed the sun to stream in through the leaves, making it a more approachable place. It wasn’t dark, and gloomy, and it didn’t set off a dark and dangerous vibe. Not that something like that would scare me, pfsh, I’m the Harry Styles, Slayer extraordinaire, a little dark forest doesn’t scare me.
I coughed glancing around nervously, like someone could hear my thoughts, like someone could see my fears and laugh at me for it. Call me a fake; call me a coward, or a wuss. And I wasn’t any of those things; I was brave… at least that’s what I tell myself, that people think that way. I was a hero to some, to most, and that’s all that mattered, right?
As long as people didn’t forget their place, nothing bad would happen to them. Of course I would protect those I love, protect the ones that had taken care of me, and had stuck by me. I protected my family, protected the ones I cared about and nothing would change that, no matter what the situation.
A butterfly fluttered past, distracting me momentarily with the beautiful sight. The wings were a delicate green, blue outlining the edges of the wings in an intricate pattern, while the bases of the wings were orange almost like a flame, slowly fading into the green. It fluttered with such grace, like it was dancing to music that no one could hear. I watched as it fluttered away, graciously dancing around trees and leaves until it was gone. Smiling at the place the butterfly was, I thought over how something so small could be so magnificent.
I had always had a soft spot for things of beauty.
I took a step forward unconsciously, continuing on with my journey. I didn’t have much time to waste. But, before I knew it I was falling, my foot hooked on a giant root protruding from the ground, and landing face first with a grunt. I was now happier than ever that no one travels this far into the forest, glad no one could see me embarrass myself so thoroughly.
That was until I heard a loud cackling. And then I was cursing under my breath. I was hoisted up by a pair of big burly arms, attached to some very big burly men. They were also very hairy might I add, they could have been related to sasquatch with all that hair, or maybe they were apes with the capacity to speak but not really understand.
“We’ve got ourselves a looker boys!” The man in front of me cackled loudly, earning cheers from the two holding me up. “Now, what’s a pretty lad like ‘ew doing ‘round here? In this big ‘ole forest here?” He questioned mockingly, face inches from mine. His yellow rotting teeth contrasted greatly with the bright red facial hair he had, and I almost cringed at the disgusting smell of his breath.
“Looking for over grown apes that can speak, looks like you found me first.” I muttered back smartly. He growled, throwing his fist into my stomach and I grunted. Okay, so I admit that being smart wasn’t really the best thing to do in a situation like this. It is actually a death sentence.
“Wrong answer.” He hissed.
“Look, I don’t want any trouble, I’m just trying to get to my destination. We can all walk out of this one yeah?” I tried again, my reasoning coming back to me. He seemed to think it over a bit before smirking wickedly.
“You give us the pack, and we’ll let you leave with minor injuries.” He compromised, and I used that term extremely loosely considering I couldn’t exactly say no unless I wanted to die before I became a hero. I sighed darkly, vowing that once I had killed this Niall guy that I would come for them next. I nodded, and they laughed, nodding and patting my cheek like a child.
“Good choice.” The two let go of me quickly to jerk my bag off of me, before grabbing me once again, holding me in place. The guy in front smirked wickedly, before his foot came down on my calf. A sickening crack echoed through the forest, as I screamed in agony. My screams caused the trio to laugh delightedly at my pain.
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So what’s going to happen with Harry?
Where does Niall come in during this, if at all?
How do you feel about Harry so far?
How do you feel about Niall?
Do you enjoy the switching POV’s every chapter?
Are you seeing any trends, insights, or foreshadowing yet?
Comment: Harry if you liked the chapter.
Comment: Cupcake if you want Harry to be okay?
3o Comments and votes for an update?
P.S things will start speeding up pretty soon.
Xx Val