by Toni Cox
There was a growing pool of blood forming on the ground under his stomach and Maia suspected that he had at least one severe injury on his underside. She would have to get him to turn in order to heal that injury, but she doubted that he had the energy for that at this moment. She would have to see to some of the other injuries first in order to give him some strength.
His right wing was stretched out wide to his side, but his left wing lay in a crumpled heap beside him. Blood was dripping from numerous puncture marks all along it. His tail curved around him, almost touching his head, and even that was covered in scratches and bite marks.
Despair gripped her as she beheld the extent of his injuries. Never in her life would she have thought to see her dragon so. She had never met a beast bigger or stronger than Midnight and she cast a wary glance in the direction of the prone, white dragon. She felt nothing from him and was sure that he was dead, yet she was still afraid of him. Bile rose to her throat as she thought about what Kanarel had done to that dragon and now, inadvertently, to her own dragon.
“Jaik,” she said, turning to her brother, “I will not be able to do this alone. His injuries are extensive and I do not have enough energy to heal him by myself.”
“You know I will lend you whatever strength I have,” he answered.
“It will still not be enough,” Maia said sadly, suddenly unable to voice her request.
“You can have mine as well,” Rothea said, stepping forward.
As Maia looked up, another of Jaik’s Guard stepped forward.
“And mine, Lady Maia.”
“Aye, mine too.”
One by one, the men stepped forward and Maia felt her eyes fill with tears as the emotions overwhelmed her. Taking energy from another person was not done often and she did not enjoy doing it. But then she remembered that she had probably healed most of these men from their Syphon stings using Midnight’s energy and she suddenly realised that it was their way of repaying the dragon.
“Thank you, my friends,” she finally managed to say. “I will try to heal as many of the larger wounds that are visible to us first. Once the blood loss has slowed, I hope to be able to get him to turn on his side, so we can see to the large wound on his stomach.”
The men around her nodded.
“Jaik will stay in contact with me, which will be the link. Rothea will hold on to Jaik and the rest of you can then all hold on to each other in whatever order you feel comfortable with, as long as you do not let go of Rothea.”
There was a murmur of agreement and the men shuffled around to find their positions.
“I will start with this wing,” Maia said to Jaik. “Let us hope the bone is not broken.”
Together they walked over to the wing that lay crumpled next to the bulk of the dragon. The men shuffled after them. Carefully Maia examined the areas she could reach. The main wound was close to the shoulder and not within her reach, but as long as she was in contact with the wing itself, she could channel the energy to the wound. She closed her eyes and laid her hands on Midnight’s tough skin. The White’s teeth must have been extraordinarily sharp to cause such damage.
“Brace yourselves,” she said loud enough for everyone to hear, “I am going to start.”
She heard a few men gasp as she began to concentrate, but then they were still and she felt their energy flow through her. She would use only what she absolutely needed and she would have to monitor each and every one of them individually while she healed Midnight to ensure that she did not kill one of them in the process. Midnight was a large animal and the extent of his injuries would require large quantities of energy.
She felt her way along the wing with her mind. She ignored all superficial wounds; they would heal by themselves with time. She concentrated instead on all the wounds that were bleeding profusely and especially the large bite mark at the top of Midnight’s wing. She was relieved to find that, although there were teeth marks on the bone, the bone itself was not broken. Some of the flight tendons, however, were torn, as were several muscles. She had never had to heal such an injury on a dragon before and she now had to draw on all the knowledge she had gathered while studying dragons with Silas on how to put the pieces back together.
The wing alone took them close to an hour to heal and when it was done she gave the men a short rest.
“Hold on for me, my darling,” she whispered to Midnight, resting her head against his muzzle for a moment. She felt a brief flutter of recognition, but he was still too weak to respond.
“My Lady,” Rothea knelt down beside her, holding up a small object. “I have this small flask of Silva which I always keep in my saddlebag. Can I share it out between the men?”
“Rothea, what would I ever do without you?” Maia said joyfully; this was exactly what they needed right now.
Once everyone had had a sip of the potion, Maia continued along the left side of her dragon. She healed the deep gashes in his neck and his flank, as well as on his legs. Even though they were deep and bleeding heavily they were only flesh wounds and fairly simple to heal. The tail was more complicated, as one of his spikes on the lower third of his tail was hanging by just a thread. Holding it in place she tried to reattach it, but the complicated connection of tissue, sinew, nerves, and bones was impossible for her to replicate. There was nothing else to do. Drawing her knife, she severed the last bit of sinew that was holding the spike to the tail and then simply concentrated on sealing the wound. Midnight would not be happy about losing one of his spikes, but there was nothing else she could do.
Without breaking contact, the group moved over to the other side of Midnight. With this wing spread out, it was a lot easier to see exactly where the injuries were and it went a bit quicker. The wounds on this side of Midnight’s body were as severe as on his left side and by the time they had reached the hind legs and she was healing the last, large gash, she felt a sudden drop in energy.
Immediately she stopped and told everyone to rest, drink and eat. They would not be strong enough for the type of wound she suspected Midnight had on his stomach. Tiredly she sat down next to Midnight’s head; she would have to get him to wake up, so he could turn onto his side for them.
“How is he doing?” Jaik asked as he sat down beside her.
“He is still very weak,” she replied, “but his heartbeat is more even and his breath is coming stronger. I can feel a flicker of awareness from him, but he has not responded to me in any way yet.”
“All right, let me know when you are ready. There is no more Silva, but we have rations of travel bread and meat. Let us hope it will be enough.”
“Let us hope,” Maia repeated in a whisper.
Jaik rose and went to join his men. Rothea had taken a seat not far from Maia and was giving her an encouraging smile. Maia nodded her thanks to her and then concentrated on Midnight.
Awake, o mighty dragon, she thought. Flattery always made him feel good. You are strong and we need you now.
She waited and then repeated her thoughts. Eventually she was rewarded with a deep breath from Midnight that stirred the grass in front of his head. Encouraged she kept up her stream of thoughts. But when Midnight eventually came out of his stupor, his first thought caught Maia off guard.
Calm-Blue-Waters?
She did not have to reply; Midnight was instantly aware of Maia’s feelings and a deep rumble emanated from his chest. There was a murmur of encouragement from the people around her.
It was another half an hour before Midnight finally managed to get his legs underneath his body. He stood there for a short moment, his great bulk wobbling dangerously, before he eventually settled down on his right side, exposing his stomach. Maia sucked in a sharp breath as she beheld the mess the white dragon had made. Midnight’s stomach was in shreds; flesh hanging off in large chunks and in more than one place Maia was able to see some organ showing through.
Someone gagged behind her and Maia herself felt like throwing up; they would not have the strength to heal this
. With shaking hands, she approached the tattered mess in front of her and reached out to lift a flap back into place. It squelched as the sticky, bloody meat slipped off Midnight’s stomach.
“Bring the horses,” she finally commanded, but she did not turn to see who followed her order.
She tried to shield her thoughts from Midnight, but he was well aware of the extent of his injuries. It was him that now calmed Maia down and let her know that he had faith in her. She waited impatiently as it took nine men to bring the frightened horses close to the dragons, smelling not only the predators before them, but also the blood in which they lay. She reached out with her mind and tried to gentle the frightened animals, but there were many of them. She only managed for them to stand still, but was unable to alleviate their fears.
“Everyone take a horse,” she commanded the men. “Do not just hold the reins; it will not work that way. You will need to be in contact with their bodies. So, use one hand to touch your horse and the other to touch your neighbour. Do not break the chain; we will need every bit of energy we have to make this right.”
Everyone nodded in agreement and then, still trying to maintain calm amongst the horses, she set to work on Midnight’s stomach. Wolf came to sit by her and she used his strength too.
It was grisly work; the underside of a dragon was criss-crossed with muscles and sinews, as well as veins and arteries, and she had to mend them all. Finally conscious, Midnight growled in pain as she worked and more than once did he frighten the horses by emitting clouds of thick smoke. Everyone had to work together to hold the horses, hold the contact and maintain a constant stream of energy. The work went painstakingly slowly and even with the horses’ extra energy, Maia soon felt tired beyond words. By the time she set the last pieces of skin into place, everyone was pale with exhaustion and the horses were sweating and shaking.
Carefully Maia severed the link that drew on their energy and all around her people and horses collapsed on the ground.
There was nothing she could do for them now; she was just as exhausted. She took one last glance at Midnight, who had his head up and was inspecting his underside, and then she closed her eyes.
He had already been away longer than he had planned. He was anxious to get back to Maia; if the attack on Stoneloft was anything to go by, the rest of their army would not be far behind. He was weary; the past few Quarters had sapped his strength, but he pushed on through the mountain. He would shadow travel as soon as he was on more even terrain, as it was simply too dangerous in the mountains. Once out on the plains he would make up the time, but he would take a boat across the lake; shadow travelling over water was not something he wanted to experience again.
The scenes within the courtyard of Stoneloft kept repeating before his eyes every time he closed them. How could he have let it happen? In the past, there had been situations where the Prime within him had taken over; always in self-defence; but never had there been innocent casualties before. He cursed his lack of self-discipline. The news would surely reach Lord Longshadow long before he managed to get there and Maia would be lost to him forever. Twenty-four innocent people dead. Surely even Maia would hate him for that.
He wandered through the wilderness of the mountains; not seeing the beautiful vistas of slopes of evergreens, or towering waterfalls, or the herds of mountain goats balancing gracefully on the sharp rocks of the cliffs above him. He saw nothing but his own failure and he wondered if he was doing the right thing. Going back to Shadow Hall would not end well; somehow, he was convinced of it; but he had to warn them, tell them everything he had learned. Even if Maia would never speak to him again, he would still protect her if he could. One day, he would redeem himself, even if it took him a lifetime to accomplish.
Within six days, he reached the lowers slopes of the mountains. He made camp that evening in the shelter of a tall cliff, which was surrounded by thick brush. He allowed himself a fire and even roasted a hare. If he wanted to shadow travel across the plains he would need the extra energy. It was over a hundred miles to the coast, but he would be able to cover it in less than an hour. Once there, he would take a boat to Crook Island, shadow travel to Crook Harbour and then take another boat to Braérn. Both sea voyages took only a few hours, but would give him a chance to rest and once in Braérn, he would be able to reach Shadow Hall within two to three hours. In Braérn, he would rest and eat again; without sufficient energy, shadow travelling such distances could kill him. He tried to calculate; one hundred and twenty miles to the coast, one hundred and seventy miles from Arrow to Crook Harbour and then two hundred and sixty-five miles to Shadow Hall. He had never shadow travelled such distances before, so his rest periods in between would be crucial. He had nothing to trade with, except his weapons, which he would need to trade for passage on the boats. Therefore, he would need to hunt for food every time he had the chance and, without a bow, he would have to hunt as the wolf. The longer he thought about the journey ahead of him, the more harrowing it seemed. Nevertheless, getting to Maia on time was the most important thing right now; there was no time to lose.
Early the next morning he erased the signs of his camp and was about to leave when he felt a disturbance. The feeling was strangely familiar and the hairs on the back of his neck stood erect; this was whom he had been hunting in Shadow Hall. This was the elusive one that had given the order to attack the delegation of Stoneloft. This was the one that he had warned Maia about.
This man had slipped through his grasp so many times before that Blaid now proceeded with extra care. He silently took his clothes off and stashed them within the shrub next to the cliffs, then changed into the wolf; his senses were sharper.
It took him over an hour of tracking before he discovered the man’s camp. It was well disguised and had it not been for his keen sense of smell he might have missed it. There was a strange disturbance in the air around the camp that made it almost invisible to the passing eye. Blaid had to focus hard to see the man hiding behind this curtain of distorted air. Blaid finally realised how the man had managed to slip through his paws so many times and he cursed himself for never having mastered the art of invisibility himself. There was a lot he could do with Air, such as shadow travel, but his old master had died before he had been able to teach him how to manipulate the air to make one invisible.
Carefully he circled the man’s camp, stalking on silent paws through the trees. Even through the hazy curtain of air, the man seemed strangely familiar, as if he had met him before. Blaid wondered if the man would notice if he broke through the barrier, but if he wanted to catch him, then he would have to take that chance.
He circled further until he was behind the man and waited there for a short while, watching as the man drank his tea. Bile rose to Blaid’s throat; how could the man sit there so calmly when all around him Grildor was in danger. He was a traitor and suddenly Blaid wanted nothing more than to rip his heart out of his chest.
With a low growl, he jumped through the curtain of air and immediately the man was on his feet and turning towards him. At the last moment, Blaid saw the glint of metal in the man’s hand and he turned in his jump and narrowly missed being impaled by the man’s sword.
Landing lightly, he turned and faced the man, who stood before him in a crouch with his sword held out before him. They considered each other for a moment. Almost at the same time, they recognised each other. Kanarel Swiftfisher, Blaid thought. He was the son of Lord Swiftfisher of Braérn, a noble born. What would drive a man of such status to betray his own people? Although he had never had many dealings with the man before, he had never much cared for him. Blaid remembered the time Maia had visited Braérn and Kanarel had been Maia’s table partner for the welcome celebration. It had been obvious to him that Maia had been bored with the man’s table talk and Blaid had thoroughly enjoyed revealing himself at that time, which had promptly ended the evening for Maia. He wondered how she had spent the night, as he had lain awake thinking about her.
He also knew th
at Kanarel had gone to Shadow Hall as an ambassador to Braérn, as he had seen him there attending the many meetings in their Elder Hall. Now, as he thought about it, it all made sense. As ambassador, Kanarel would have been privy to all the information and would have known any plans, routes, or numbers. It was the perfect disguise for a spy; no one would have expected such a thing from such a weak-minded individual. Blaid had to hand it to the man; he had played his role well. It was obvious that Kanarel was a man of many talents and well versed in the art of his magic. Blaid wondered what other magic besides Air the man possessed and he now watched him wearily.
“So, Death, you have finally found me,” Kanarel sneered at him.
Kanarel's thin, reedy voice was scraping at Blaid’s raw nerves and he just growled at him.
“And what will you do with me now?” Kanarel asked. “Eat me?”
Blaid watched as Kanarel drew a hunting knife from the sheath on his belt. Now, with his sword in his right hand and the hunting knife in his left hand, Kanarel carefully approached.
“Or maybe I shall just make a nice rug out of your fur. It would look really good in front of my fireplace.”
With a vicious growl, Blaid sprang at him; Kanarel’s blades narrowly missing his hide; and he sank his teeth deep into Kanarel’s shoulder. The man screamed and dropped his sword, but then swung with his left arm and sliced Blaid across his back.
“You filthy mutt,” Kanarel screamed at him as they separated again and pressed his hand against his bleeding shoulder.
Blaid smelled the man’s blood, but also his own. He felt the sharp pain of the cut on his back, but he knew it was not so deep as to be serious.
They circled each other again and Kanarel tried to retrieve his sword. Thinking quickly, Blaid made the change and now, as a man, picked up the sword and faced Kanarel. He could now feel the blood run down his naked back.
