Ghost Rider

CHAPTER XXXI: Betrayal

   The sound of the uneasy waves repeatedly smacking the sides of the ship, which has become my prison, resonated in my ears.

It had been about a week, since the news of the death of my entire tribe was relayed to me. Even idly laying on the sturdy, but unforgivably uncomfortable floorboards of my cell, I was never presented the opportunity to mourn the loss of my family, friends, and people.

Everyone I knew, except Restrund, was gone. Forever. My body, mind, and soul was enveloped so much in survival mode, for so long, that I did not fully comprehend how to free myself from that state of mind. Nor did I posses the will power to do it, anyway.

Viggo has not returned since our game of Maces and Talons. Not even to forcibly bestow yet another one of his irritable monologues about how unfortunate his life was, and how much he hated it. It seems I have to constantly remind him that I am the one rotting in a makeshift jail cell.

However, I have come to believe that Viggo himself is confined to his own prison; although, his is much more figurative. His bars consist of his reputation which he must uphold, the lofty expectations of his family, and, most of all, his vast pride which prevents him from escape.

Pride, at times, can be the thickest of cell bars, so I've witnessed. However, these prolonged moments of solitary have allowed me to drown in a metaphorical sea of endless thoughts, plots, and, above all, questions.

It did not make sense to my malnourished mind, as to how Viggo knew I would be at that specific port, and what room exactly.

Grimborn possesses many ports, all of which he manages from afar. Most of them, including the one I invaded, were run by his employees. He had many responsibilities, much more important ones than keeping track of an insignificant Dragon Hunter port. He normally stayed at his main base.

No one knows the location, or even the name of the island. All of the Dragon Hunters I've come in contact with, who gossip a great deal, merely refer to it as Head Quarters. He managed all of his operations from there, so why on Valhalla's green slopes would he make port at that minuscule, unimportant island?

There would only be one reason, of course. That reason being me. What Dragon Hunter could resist the temptation of capturing a mysterious dragon rider, who had previously destroyed an island holding much more importance than the other one I was targeting, after its demise?

None of them could. I knew this of course, and was prepared for the whole 'grab your torches, and pitchforks' scenario. A bounty would most likely be placed on my head, which didn't bother me much; I was good at hiding. Valkayda has taught me that well. What I was worried about, is wether or not they would get my picture for the wanted posters right. I would have to store that away, in the 'worry about this' section of my mind, however.

I had many questions, most of them revolving around my unusually uneventful capture. The most prominent one being: How did they know which island I was going to attack? Nobody knew. I didn't tell anyone. I didn't even have anyone to discuss my plan with. Except Restrund...

It all made sense now. In a disturbing, betraying way.

At first when I thought about the possibility, it seemed completely out of the question. It seemed impossible.

However, the more I dwelt on it, the more I realized that this, as in all things, are not impossible. Not probable, possibly, but not in this case. It was the only way they could have known I was coming from, quite literally, miles away.

He was the one that planted the seed to attract my brother's attention by attacking his possible targets, since he was known for destroying many Dragon Hunter operations, same as me.