Gresh woke within the hot bowels of a groaning iron stagecoach. The bone numbing rumble of the road wracked his body with pain. Above the darkness that swam around him, he heard two muffled voices embroiled in a heated argument. Occasionally, their bickering was interrupted by a sharp crack, followed by a groan coming from the hulking reptilians that pulled the coach along, and the splintering of wood as they forced the iron box forwards. The chains and materials strapped to the coaches outer shell rattled loudly. For Gresh, each bump along the pebbled path was agony. Though he could sense the world around him, he was confined to a quiet suffering, frozen for hours within himself.
Eventually, glimpses of the world around him began to return. A single sound lulled him back into consciousness, a soft 'clacking' of claws against iron. With a grunt, he yanked his head out of his dark corner and turned. The inside of the steel stagecoach was completely shadowed, save for a single sliver of light that shone through a small slat on the far wall. Heavy shackles cut into his ankles, wrists, and throat, all were chained to two thick steel poles that went across the box above and below him.
Though he would suffer these restraints only a short while, their markings would last long after he had removed them. The 'clacking' sound was consistent, in tune with the crack of the whip, and the groan of the rolling cart. He strained his eyes in the gloom searching for the source of the sound, and just beneath the window slat, he saw a small figure curled up in the opposite corner. Gresh reached a hand out towards its shoulder.
The 'clacking' abruptly stopped, and the sound of rattling chains rang out from the darkness across from him. Strange, man-like claws emerged from the shadows into the sliver of light, stopping Gresh's arm.
"Careful, corpse-man," said the beast calmly, "Or you'll lose that hand." The arm was covered in a thin coat of grey fur. Scars— fresh and old, cut patterns up and down its forearms. Its thick wrists were clapped in heavy shackles.
The beast bent forward into the light, its neck was long and sloped like a horse, heavily maned with black matted fur from chest to back. Long tusks protruded from its bottom lip, and though the mane covered its dark eyes, Gresh could see a bald face beneath. It was man-like, but the eyes were mischievous against its sharp canine skull. Its snout was angled down and pulled its skin taut. Black gnarled lips turned upwards and night black teeth rowed its crooked smile.
The small figure beside Gresh turned to face them. "Don't touch me, corpse!" it hissed quietly and spat in Gresh's face.
Gresh reeled back in shock, "What did you just— I'll— I—" he lunged for the kid.
Gresh's blue fingers had barely brushed the kid's cheek, when the beast's huge paw smashed into his chest, and held him against the wall. "Hey," the beast said in a low growl, "calm down, or you'll get us—"
Gresh started to struggle out from under the beast's paw. He thrashed against the weight of its heavy hand and pounded against the iron walls. Above them the yelling stopped, and the chains dangling from their bodies tightened and yanked them apart. The three prisoners gasped and choked as the iron closed around their necks and limbs. The box came alive with the deafening sound of boots pounding on hollow metal.
"Quit yer thrashin!" roared one of the heavily muffled voices. "Or we'll pull all you out and shut you up forever!" The iron coach went quiet after that. The three beasts, strung up in uncomfortable angles within, stared at each other in silent suffering. Their throats were crushed for five whole minutes. Their eyes bulged and went red, and before two of them went unconscious, the chains finally went slack. The three figures slumped over gasping for breath. A whip cracked, and the huge reptilians moaned. The voices began to murmur loudly as the droning rumble of the cart continued.
The small figure fell forward into the light, breathing heavily and rubbing it's bloody raw throat, engraved with the edges of the iron ringlets. He had a sharp fox face and dirty red hair, little fangs flared out beneath his upper lip, and his huge pointed ears twitched. The chains around his throat and limbs were so large, that his little body slumped forward, and still he glared upwards in a terrified defiance at Gresh. With large fiery eyes, he waved a small clawed finger in his face. "If you do anything stupid like that again, corpse— Kamino and I will kill you for good." the kid whispered harshly.
Gresh grit his teeth and glowered at the fox boy. "I'd really like to see you try that." he whispered loud enough so they could both hear.
"Stop picking a fight, Gimi," growled the beast named Kamino, "Or next time I'll let 'em hurt you." He rubbed the line of raw, chafed skin around his wrists.
The fox boy named Gimi sputtered and turned to Kamino, "What— Why are you taking his—" the beast-man narrowed his eyes. The boy looked back and forth between them, then crossed his arms and grumbled. He waggled his head and said, "Alright fine, I'll stop," and slunk back into the silent shadows.
Kamino nodded, and turned to Gresh. "I'm Kamino— that's with a 'K', this boy is Gimi. He pointed at the iron ceiling above them. "You've met our captors and their abilities. Do try and speak in a lower volume. Otherwise Gimi and I may actually have to kill you. Understood?"
Gresh's gaze shifted between the glowing spheres that peered from the darkness. One pair flashed like the moon as gresh shifted. The other burned with an umber red fire beneath their surface. Both of them stared at him intensely. "Yes." Gresh nodded solemnly.
Kamino smiled, and huge black teeth shimmered in the dim light. "Good. What do you call yourself corpse-man?"
A dark memory shifted in Gresh's mind, but he pushed it away. "My name is . . . Gresh." he muttered.
"What?" The fox boy sniggered and leaned closer. The chain collar around his throat went rigid. "You said Gretch?"
"No," Gresh leaned into his face. "Gresh." He repeated himself slowly.
Gimi nodded and shot Gresh a sly smile. "I think Gretch fits you better."
Gresh glared at him. "Well that's not my name," he said sternly.
"Gimi," Kamino warned him, "you said you'd stop." The beast kept his dark moonlight eyes trained on Gresh, his long sharp claws clacked rhythmically. They twitched slightly on his seat whenever he moved.
Gimi stared Gresh down, and threw both his chained paws up, "Whatever makes Gretch happy." He spat, and his ember eyes flared.
"Okay, Gresh," Kamino sighed, "What happened to you? Half your face looks like Dracon skakk"
Gresh frowned and shot him a confused look. "Dracon skakk? what is— nevermind, clearly another insult," He said in a harsh whisper, "and what, do I look too road-worn to be a prisoner for you?"
Gimi and Kamino exchanged a quick glance. Kamino rubbed his mighty claws together. "Friend, there is road-worn, and then there's you. I'm not mocking you, you look like a corpse, truly." He moved his face forward into the light and brushed aside his long messy bangs. He stared at Gresh with his sharp eyes, they were pure black from pupil to sclera. He made a mock incision down the middle of his face. "Half your skull protrudes beneath your skin, and the other half doesn't look too much livelier."
Gresh's eye widened, "What—"
"You're all blue and sagging in some places too. You look like you just rose up out of your grave," said Gimi.
Gresh flinched. "That . . . That can't be true—" His fingers shook as he raised them to his left cheek, but he did not feel soft flesh. Pieces of rotten meat fell away at his touch, and hard rough bone scraped against his fingertips. "How is this even possible?" He whispered quietly.
"Surely, you knew what you looked like before now?" But Kamino's voice and the clack of his claws echoed and faded away.
The world swirled and went quiet, save for the sound of Gresh's sharp breathing, his fingers glued to his raw skull. The grooves of his bones were not smooth, but sharp and painful, prickly like the surface of a pantheran tongue. When he moved his hand upwards, the sharp papillae reacted, and stung his skin. He moved to his eye socket, and his breathing began to grow heavy, he reached inwards where his eye might be. Deeper and deeper his fingers sunk, until his fingers brushed something soft and jelly like. A flash of memory flickered in his mind, a golden band being tightened around his skull. His body immediately slumped over, and his chains went fully taught. He leaned half hung and convulsing in the bleak light within the iron stagecoach. The pain was unbearable, the molten vice had returned, and this time it threatened to shatter his skull. His fingers fell out of his socket with a wet slopping sound, coated in greymatter. He squirmed and thrust his hands outwards, grasping at anything he could. "Not— Again—" he whimpered. He gasped, and the world came rushing back. Kamino and Gimi had backed into the darkness as far as they could from him. Only a glimpse of their heaving chests showed that they had bore witness to what he had done.
"Never do that again," said Gimi, breaking the silence, "whatever that was you just did to yourself, I never want to see it again."
Gresh winced and nodded. Breathing heavily, he settled back in his seat, "I thought it would help me remember."
Kamino stared at him intently. "Did that . . . give you anything?"
He turned wearily to Kamino, shuddered and shook his head. "Barely a glimpse and overwhelming pain with it. You asked me if I knew what I looked like before now— the answer is no. I woke up a few days ago half buried in some grasslands without any memory. I dug myself out, and saw on a wood plank stuck near me that my name was 'Gresh'."
Kamino's eyebrows disappeared beneath his hair. "So you actually dug yourself out of your own grave?"
Gresh nodded grimly. "Yes, I did."
Gimi stared at him. "How is that even possible? I mean look at you. You shouldn't even be able to move right now."
Kamino placed a huge fist on his knee and leaned forward, "He's right, you shouldn't be alive, and yet you are. That isn't just some casual occurrence. What happened after you woke?
Gresh clenched the bench and shifted awkwardly on his seat. "I traveled until I found the road. I followed it for a few days and then those huge monsters and smaller beings ran me down. I remember little else—"
"So what then?" Gimi's eyes were sharp, "You figured out the key to immortality and you just forgot it?"
Gresh's whisper turned harsh, "I have no recollection of anything else other than the days on the road and eating grass. What do you expect from me?"
Gimi jabbed a finger at Gresh's chest, "How could you not remember anything?" he said in a hush, "While we were imprisoned in the cart, we stopped by multiple settlements along the road. If you walked for days like you claim, you couldn't have missed them. You're lying to us."
Gresh swatted his hand aside. "I do not lie. It is as I have told you, I struggle with my memory. It may have something to do with the abilities our captors used on me."
Gimi crossed his arms and scoffed, "A convenient story to lighten our guard. Surely you don't believe him, brother."
"I do, the minosaurs and their human masters," Kamino growled, "both a challenge in themselves, but a wholly different foe together. Worse even, these humans have managed to tame the minosaurs. Those monsters roam the far southeastern coasts of Agathia, where all our most savage and bloodthirsty brethren kill each other. This means these humans are either rich enough to trade for them, or powerful enough to make the journey themselves and capture them. It's likely to be the latter."
Gresh nodded, "You know them well. Do you know what they are and what they intend with us?."
Kamino grinned, flashing his black teeth, "Aye, we do, and more as well. My brother and I may be savage looking, but we are patient— and usually we know when to listen, right Gimi?"
Gimi puffed up his chest and nodded, "The one with the cut down his face is called 'Oggin'. He takes a lot of joy in causing things pain. That's how I gave him that scar, he underestimated me, a mistake that cost many others dearly." He shot a dark glance at Gresh and continued, "The one with the beard is 'Gile'. If any beast were to inhale the smoke that he spits from his bowels, they immediately fall under his command. Both are Beast Hunters, humans that catch animals, agathions, even other humans, taking them back to their, and sometimes our tribes to sell them as goods—"
Gresh interrupted, "They called me that before they put me out."
"They called you a goods? Cause you definitely look pretty bad," Gimi said annoyed.
"No, they called me an agathion, what does that mean?"
"Agathions are what we are," said Kamino, "It has come to mean— human-like, referring to creatures like us." He gestured to all of them. "But in ages long ago, it was used to distinguish beings that were the children of Angels."
Gresh raised an eyebrow "So I'm an Agathion?"
Gimi smirked, "Sure are, you're probably the ugliest agathion i've ever seen in my life, now may I continue?"
Gresh frowned, "You are incredibly ill-mannered, but yes you may."
"Thank you." Gimi leaned back and crossed his arms. "My brother and I believe that we are being taken to the far west edge of Agathia, they intend to bring us into the Mid-Isle using the northern causeway to cross the oceans gap. Where they take us then, we do not know. I myself have never ventured as far west as this in all my life, my brother would say the same."
Kamino grunted in agreement. "These lands are new to me, yes. I have only seen them in the distant memories of maps forgotten long ago. But what I do know is that humans like to gather. And where you find two as capable as our captors, a tribe of them is certain to follow. We will be taken back to these great tribes, and sold as their livestock, to be branded and used, as their property."
Gresh's eye widened with horror, "No! there must be something we can do!" he said a little bit too loud, both Kamino and Gimi stared daggers into him. His chest shrunk and his voice came out as a whisper. "We cannot just allow this to happen, we must do something."
"We have been discussing that long before you woke. Luckily, we have devised a strategy to escape." Kamino whispered.
Gresh leaned in intently and nodded eagerly, "Yes well, tell us then," he said.
"Watch it there Gretch," Gimi cut in, "We aren't going to be telling you anything." He motioned to Kamino and himself. That is information shared in our brotherhood, and you are far from gaining our trust."
Gresh shot him a confused look. "But I could help you, why don't you trust me?"
Gimi shrugged, "You look like hell spit you out. And now you've slotted yourself into our schemes as if you've been there at the seed. Well I say no. My brother may be fooled, but I have known many liars before. I know you're hiding something, demon."
Gresh opened his mouth to argue, stopped, and then sighed. "Alright, fine. You're right, I saw more after my awakening than what I let on."
Gimi sat up in his seat, chains clanging. "See brother? He was lying! He must be the humans thing, I knew we couldn't trust—"
Gresh raised his hand. "I did lie, but it was not to bring you harm— I saw something I cannot explain. And I promise I will tell you the whole truth when we have escaped here."
Kamino nodded. "There little brother, will you set aside this quarrel now?" Gimi scowled and Kamino pointed his long grey finger at Gresh, "Lucky for you we might have an solution to our situation. Really, we should be thanking whatever god brought you back to life, you provided the key to our escape."
Kamino's eyes were shining as he bent forward. He stared intently at Gresh's face, his sharp black eyes were unreadable.
"What?" Gresh asked him.
Kamino cleared his throat. "To do what you did, to dig yourself out of your grave, to walk as far as you have come, to be thrown beneath the wheels of an iron stagecoach, to be choked by chains near death and yet despite it all, to still be alive, even half faced as you are now. That takes a wholly unnatural fortitude. That will serve to be useful in our plans."
"I suppose so, but what use is that now? No amount of survivability will break these irons." Gresh rattled his chains and gestured to the walls. "What great plan shall free us from this?"
The light in the cramped room began to dim, and the world turned to night. Two pairs of eyes and one, glowed in the darkness, burning and dancing as if they were damned souls of hell, freed upon the starless black land. Above them, the hunters roared and cracked their whips, the poor minosaurs cried, and the cart creaked and groaned forward.
Kamino smiled his coal-colored razors and resumed the clacking of his claws. "Before we reveal our plan of escape, we must know a few things," he said, "can you feel pain or bleed?"
"I do feel pain, but I don't believe I bleed." said Gresh, his hands hovered over his empty cheek.
Gimi sighed and gave in to curiousity, "What about hunger? You were asleep for a couple days and you only look like you're starving. Do you feel that?"
Gresh scratched his chin and hummed. "I do feel hunger, yes, but if I get no food, the feeling dulls and I only feel incredibly weak."
"Interesting, and your bones should be quite sturdy no? They must be, to withstand the weight of the coach and the trampling of the minosaurs." said Kamino.
"Yes I would imagine so."
"How strong do you think your bones really are? Would they have shattered if there was more pressure placed on you?" Kamino questioned.
Gresh thought back to what he had seen in the endless fields and the black tower. "I believe I am much more durable than any mere mortal. To what extent, I do not know."
"As us all," Kamino said with a smile. "A final question Gresh, how long did you hold your breath before you fell unconscious?"