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Brothers	By : Koori Category: +S through Z > World of Warcraft Views: 1830 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own World of Warcraft, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Chapter Forty-Two – Foster Conway, Age 23
"Two weeks!" Gilbert shouted. "There ain't no way in hell I'm giving you a two week vacation, lizard!"
"It will be anything but a holiday," Zalashji hissed. "And after those weeks I will be ready for battle and hungry so very hungry … you will not see a more ferocious fighter. Surely you can use that towards your advantage and pocketbook?"
Gilbert spit. "No slave tells me what to do …"
"I will kill any creature I see which isn't my slaaf during that time. Do not think these puny bars will prevent that." Zalashji said. "Go now and bar the outer door, should you open it before those weeks are done, there will be much death on your hands."
"What about your slut?" Gilbert said, gesturing toward where Foster sat on the nest. "Humans can't go that long without eating."
"And who is to say he will be here in two weeks," Zalashji said, followed by a barking laugh. "He can draw fresh water from the pump you so graciously added. He is no concern of yours"
"Ain't that the truth," Gilbert said with a shrug. "All right, lizard, you'll have your two weeks reprieve. But you best be ready to fight afterwards."
"Master," Foster said after Gilbert had left, "what now?"
The naga looked over at him; Foster noticed again how the once brilliant eyes were a dull bluish-white. "Now, I rest … you may eat from the stash and drink as you desire. Do not under any circumstances bathe these next weeks. My scent must remain on you. As the days pass I will become rather unpredictable and aggressive. You may use the skills I taught you to defend yourself. For your sake do not take my hostility as signal to joust with me. If you attack me even in jest you will die." The naga slid over to the nest and using his tail picked Foster up and moved him out.
"Sleep in your own nest for now," it hissed.
"My own?" Foster blinked, in the months he had been under the naga's care he had never slept anywhere but within serpent's coils. Zalashji motioned over to the large pile of hay that had been added to the cage.
"Make your nest," it hissed, "on the far side of the cage. It would be wise for you to be still and quiet now. Your reason for being here is almost upon us."
The days passed slowly for Foster. Zalashji spoke very little to him, leaving him hours to fill on his own. There were only so many push-ups and sit-ups he could do, though he did them until he was exhausted so he would sleep some of the time away. He rationed the small surplus of food they had squirreled away; some of it had spoiled. Zalashji had no interest in eating, leaving it all to him, what little there was. Hunger was his constant companion, he feared running out of rations. A week into their exile Zalashji started making a strange crying noise, startling Foster from slumber. Watching from his bed, he saw the naga was rubbing its snout up and down across the cave wall.
"Not ragged enough," the naga hissed. "Can't get it off!"
"Master?" Foster asked cautiously.
The naga's talons tore at his mouth, leaving behind bloody slashes. "Help me slaaf, get it off!"
Approaching the thrashing naga carefully, Foster tried to assess what was causing the pain. He noticed a layer of scales loose from the top fin. The naga was shedding and having difficulty getting rid of his old skin. Using his fingers Foster pulled down on the loose scales, it was hard to remove. He managed to get one large patch off, freeing the naga's left eye from its milky gaze. The eye underneath was now brilliant and enraged. He barely brought his arms up in time to block the attack. Dodging the next two blows he moved close grabbing another section of loose skin and tearing it away. After freeing the naga's muzzle and head from the dead scales he retreated back to his bed and watched.
The naga went back to scraping itself against the rock wall. It took Zalashji hours to fully remove his old skin. Afterwards he lay panting in the nest. "Water," he croaked.
Foster filled up a pail brought it over to the naga, pouring it slowly into the open mouth. He guzzled down the whole thing and asked for more. After it had drunk the second pail, Zalashji closed his eyes and seemed to be resting. Foster took this chance to feel the newly exposed scales. They were soft and vulnerable.
"Yes my armor has a chink in it," naga hissed startling him. "Are you going to act upon it, slaaf?"
"For what purpose?" he asked. "If I was to defeat you in your weakened state I'd still behind these iron bars and at the mercy of Gilbert. Best case scenario he would kill me, more than likely I'd take your place back in the ring using the skills you have taught me this past year. Under your protection, my life has been dull but not overly violent. I get to see my … Nignath almost daily."
Foster's hand continued to pet the scales, he liked the how smooth they felt. The other skin had become so dry and brittle. Zalashji nuzzled his neck and cheek seemly affectionately. "This is your purpose, my slaaf," he hissed. "To defend your master if needed while he is unprotected, though the humans seemed to have respected my wishes. Now I must sleep again, leave a bucket of water nearby me but do not attempt to refill it should I drink it. Cower in your bed unless you are needed. I will be regaining my strength these last few days and between resting I will hungry and irritable."
"Not a good combination," Foster agreed.
His food ran out two days before the iron door was unlocked. They sent Nignath down first. Zalashji looked up from where he was coiled on his nest but didn't move. Foster motioned her to the far end near him.
"My eyes are filled with joy, Brother," she said keeping herself an arm's distance back. "They spoke as if the master would devour you."
"Won't say that hasn't crossed his mind," Foster said. He had been unable to call her Sister since the night they shared. "Did you bring food?" he asked. "I haven't eaten in what feels likes days and didn't have much prior to it."
"I did not," she said looking down. "I was merely sent in to test the water. I will return to the kitchen and see if there are any scraps."
"How are you doing?" Foster asked.
"I am well, Brother," she replied. "The brand still protects me from their torment. As long as I do my tasks they leave me well enough alone."
"And what of the child?" Zalashji hissed as he sat up, stretching his full length.
"Child …" Foster asked, confused, "what child?" Nignath's hand moved to her belly and Foster's breath caught.
"She didn't tell you?" the naga barked out a hissing laugh. "She was in heat that night; of course the union produced a child."
"A child?" Foster pleaded with her silently that the naga was lying. "Here? Why … what will become of him?"
The naga let out a barking laugh. "He will sleep in his father's embrace and grow up to take your place as my slaaf."
"You alive, slut?" Gilbert shouted down.
"Yes sir," Nignath replied. In a lower voice she whispered, "Forgive me." She then turned and fled.
Gilbert passed her in the hall as he and half-dozen armed guards walked into the cell. Foster swore there was disappointment in the other's gaze when he saw he was still alive. "Enjoy your vacation?" Gilbert asked. "What the hell is that?"
Foster followed the gestured to the pile of scales. "Garbage," Zalashji said. "Make sure my pen is scrubbed tonight while I am in your dueling cage. It smells like my slaaf has been using the same straw for two weeks to defecate in. Please tell me you have matches set up; I'm in the mood for gizzards … oh and hearts … still beating."
"Aye, you sick lizard, you'll have a smorgasbord tonight … orcs, trolls, ogre … the main event will extraordinary. I assume you'll want to bathe like usual?"
"Of course and food for my slaaf, the poor thing is starting look more like skin and bones every day."
"Useless waste of flesh," Gilbert mumbled as he and his men departed.
Foster sighed and stood moving toward the naga. Without asking he climbed over the tail and settled into the coils, there was a ripple of muscles and scales and he found himself knocked hard out of the nest. "Master, please," Foster said. His head and heart still reeling from the thought of Nignath carrying his child, he needed the touch of another living thing even if it was cold-blooded and cover with scales.
"The warmth of your flesh, the beating of your heart, so living … succulent …" the naga's tongue slipped out of his mouth. Alarmed Foster retreated back to his private sleeping area and to his relief Zalashji didn't follow.
A short time later Nignath appeared with a tray of food. She set it down and stuck her arms through the bars. "Master, please …" the famished naga struck before she could finish but Foster was a moment faster. He knocked her arms away and took the brunt of the attack. Zalashji grabbed his ponytail and jerked it back hard, exposing his neck. Sharp teeth grazed against his beating pulse, as the cool tongue danced across his flesh. Foster went limp in the hold; it was beyond him now to free himself. All he could hope for was reason to return to the naga before the teeth closed.
"Stupid stupid stupid slaaf," Zalashji hissed as he continued to work his tongue up and down Foster's neck.
"You were going to hurt her," Foster said, "There was bloodlust in your movement."
"Your purpose is to defend me, slaaf," Zalashji said as he slowly pulled back. "Not my dinner."
"She's the mother of my child!" Foster said.
"Don't split your loyalties now, slaaf," the naga hissed. "You are expendable and I could raise your child from birth."
Foster knew better than to point out had he not interfered the child the naga spoke of would have been killed, instead he looked down and whispered, "Yes, Master."
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Brothers