CONTENT ADVISORY / TRIGGER WARNING
THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS DEPICTIONS/STRONG IMPLICATIONS OF THE FOLLOWING THAT SOME READERS MAY FIND OFFENSIVE OR DISTURBING:
~ GORE / BLOOD
Libelle sat on her stallion who was heavily sweating. Its breathing was slowing as it stood cooling in the tall wheat grass of the farmer's fields. She was scanning the landscape, seeing Edinburgh not too far in the distance.
The city was still standing, and very little smoke rose from the stone walls. The fields outside the city were another story as scorch marks burned into the soil. Ewe and ram carcasses were left burned and rotting on the soil, some half-eaten and others not. She searched for villagers, but none were in sight, and she could not hear any wails from women or children. It was eerily quiet.
She lightly kicked her horse forward, its feet moving into a walk as it stepped through the field. She continued her search, wondering if she perhaps was too late. She had half expected to find screaming villagers or a dragon roaring about, but all was quiet.
A voice came from the small animal shelter to her left. "Psst! You there! You must seek cover! There's a dragon about!" An elderly man and his wife peaked their heads up from the rubble.
Libelle turned her horse in their direction. "Have you seen where it's gone?"
The husband spoke again, "Yes! It went east into the sun! It burned up the place, ate some livestock and disappeared, but I fear it will come back!"
She looked to the east, then up towards the sun and squinted. She doubted it would be gone for long, dragons never left their supper alone for too long.
"You fool! That's the dragon slayer! He's here to save us!" hushed the old woman as she swatted at his cap. "We have no idea how the town has fared. There was lots of screaming and hollering and lots of fire!"
Libelle simply nodded at the couple who started bickering with one another as she rode off towards the city gates. She pulled the bow from her saddle, securing the leather bit that held it in place as she rode like the demon she was. Reaching to her opposite side, she pulled her quiver from the saddle bag and secured its strap across her shoulder and chest. Tightening the reinforced leather belt along her waist, she adjusted the long blade in its sheath that hung down against her thigh before kicking her feet out of the stirrups to let her feet dangle at the horse's side.
They approached the heavily stoned path that led to the stables and main gates of the city, and the closer she got, the more the quiet began to make sense. Sprawled out across the stone walls, aged and damaged from centuries of battles and attempted invasions, lay many, many guards. Their corpses charred, the smell of burned human flesh stung at her nostrils. Their woven tunics were reduced to ash, and their chainmail was nothing more than a melted chunk of metal that adhered itself to whatever surface it could touch.
She dismounted as she passed the stables, sighing at the one dead horse and another limping beneath the lean-to. Its flank was badly burned and exposing bright red flesh. The poor thing would likely be put down. She released her stallion who trotted away with a nicker and a flick of his tail. Her intelligent horse surprisingly knew when to get out of dodge, and praise the Gods, he would always come back when she called.
Libelle held her bow at the ready, an arrow mounted to the string that was waiting to be loosened. She searched for signs of life outside the gates, not wanting to enter the narrow path of the city and find herself cornered against a wall. She would investigate the dwellings inside the walls later, once she was sure all was clear. For now she needed to scout the area and keep her eyes on the sky, the fire-breathing lizard was bound to return for its meal, and if it sensed her there, it was bound to return for a duel.
A moan caught her attention, and quickly her icy eyes found a soldier leaning against a fencepost. He moaned again, trying to get her attention and form words that she might be able to hear. She rushed to his side and knelt down beside him, quickly assessing his wounds. He had minor burns along his arm and down the side of his face, but the heat from the dragon's breath had quickly heated his chainmail, which was now melted into his flesh. The man needed to see a healer, and fast.
"My lord!" Gaalin's voice echoed out from a distance.
She didn't bother looking towards him, the man in front of her was more of an interest. He reached out, his limbs trembling as he took hold of her hand. His scorched eye was fixed on her as his one good eye welled up with tears.
"Thank the Gods you are here, dragon slayer. Thank the Gods," he whimpered out.
She remained stone faced in front of him, her expression unnervingly flat. "Tell me what happened."
He sniffed back a wail of tears. "It-it happened so fast. The beast sprung over the mountains like an ocean wave in a storm. We all took up arms, we all thought we were ready. But no, not one soul here was ready to face such a beast."
"We could not pierce it with our arrows or with our swords. The mage's magic was worthless, so the cowards fled. Without their protection, we could not do a thing. Slowly, one by one, I heard my comrades fall. Their screams...oh, their screams."
The man wept, then moaned again in agony as his burns ached and throbbed. He leaned forward, resting his bare head against their joined hands. "My lord, slayer. Avenge them."
Libelle nodded at him, prying with only one more question. "What did the dragon look like?"
His good eye widened again, welling with more tears as his lip quivered. "It was the color of gold. I would say it was beautiful if it was not out to eat my innards."
The slayer sighed and stood as her servant skidded to a stop beside her, his horse held by one of the two guards trailing behind him. He focused on the wounded man for but a moment before returning his gaze to her, her expression grim as she wiped her brow behind the metal helm.
A dragon; one who had lived a long time, gained much knowledge, and a whole lot of power. Why such a dragon would attack a town like Edinburgh puzzled her. These creatures tended to remain high on the mountain peaks to avoid such pointless feuds. The war with their kind was becoming troublesome.
She sighed again, "Gaalin, tend to his wounds. Take him to a healer as fast as you can."
"No, my place is by your side," he responded coolly but in a stern voice.
She swatted at him, not wanting him anywhere near the upcoming fight. "No, your place is to do as you are told! Now obey your lord, and tend to this man!"
Libelle rarely shouted, she rarely had a temper, at least one that was expressed. The stunned Gaalin stared back at her and was about to open his mouth to argue with her as she glared at him when a deep, rumbling roar emerged from above them.
The sound shook the landscape and sent quakes through the ground beneath their feet. Gaalin covered his sensitive ears, the two guards holding the horses wailed as the four-legged beasts scattered, tearing away from the weak hold on their reins. The man at the slayer's feet only whimpered, accepting that there was nothing he could do.
The slayer, however, simply squared her shoulders and turned towards the late morning sun to the east. She swallowed hard, eyeing the speck of an amber-winged beast in the distance. She drew her bow and arrow, taking wide steps in the direction of the oncoming creature.
"Gaalin, you best get moving," she snapped.
He tried to follow, "My lord, I cannot—"
"You will do it, and you will do it now!" her voice echoed.
Gaalin gritted his teeth but knelt beside the guard and retrieved a minor healing tonic from his pack. "You two grunts, get your assess over here and cover my hide!"
His rough accent sneaked through with his temper. "That dragon gets near me, you two will be the bait it takes."
The two guards settled themselves beside him as he aided the guard in drinking the foul-tasting tonic before he began a softly spoken chant. His hands began to glow as his spell continued, slowly healing the man's wounds. There was no way he could move him in his current state.
The dragon roared again, this time the sound was followed by a fiery breath; a demonstration of the ancient beast's power. It drew closer, and its large wings sent it soaring through the sky at an alarming speed.
Libelle began to run towards the beast, taking high and wide steps towards it as she let loose an arrow. The enchanted bow increased the power behind every shot, but each shot sapped her strength. There were only a limited number of times she could attack the beast with the petty enchantment. She readied another arrow as the first skidded off the scaled chest of the dragon, knowing she only had maybe two more shots before she would have to switch to her sword.
She let the arrow loose, quickly notching another before the first had time to find its target. The dragon was getting closer and closer, and she could now see the anger and fury burning in its eyes. She gritted her teeth and skidded to a stop.
"Tyr, guide my arrow to its mark."