Murtagh rolled the dead bodies over to check the dead
Murtagh rolled the dead bodies over to check the dead. Almost every dead body that littered the edges of the camp were soldiers, only three men from the Varden were among them and they had been taken away. He finished the section, and hollered, "Nothing here!" Everyone else doing the same job grumbled an incoherent response.
He looked out into the distance and saw a large green smudge. At first, he took it for a large shrub, but the green was too light, it was unnatural. Squinting, he realized it wasn't grassy, but scaled and glimmering under the remains of twilight and beginning of starlight; it was Kazryth. He crossed the plain, almost dainty with his leaps over each dead body, and headed towards Kazryth. He seemed to struggle with moving his head to look back at Murtagh, but there was no blood, not even a scratch, anywhere noticeable. He couldn't have been wounded.
"What happened?" he asked.
Kazryth moved his wing and curled it into his side, revealing Darcie below. There was a long, ugly gash that stretched from above her ankle and up to the middle of her thigh. The blood that soaked a line through her skirt proved it was longer. Her face was almost pure white from the loss of so much blood, and it still kept trickling out.
Murtagh ran around Kazryth and crouched down in front of Darcie. She seemed to know he was there, but momentarily couldn't see him, like a blind man locating a noise. Her eyes then found his, and she edged her arm further out in attempts to reach out. The pain and struggle on her face as she did so was obvious. He took her hand and with his marked hand, he held it overtop of the end of the long gash, opening his mouth to start speaking in the Ancient Language. Darcie finally spoke as soon as he did.
"Don't... it's no use."
"You'll die if I don't."
"I'd rather die than slow down everyone else... I'm only alive now because of Kazryth's strength, and I can't live off of him my entire life or let him be known as 'the dragon of a cripple'."
You would never shame me Kazryth added, knowing what Darcie was implying.
"You aren't the only 'cripple'. You can live normally..."
"No," Darcie cut in, her voice being quieter. Her voice seemed to fade as she kept speaking. "I'm not normal, and I never will be. That was made clear to me when I was barely old enough to comprehend anything. My father... the low-life bastard, just using some woman to have me... all I ever had was a nanny that's probably already dead because of me. The only times I've felt like a real person was..." she stopped momentarily to take in a shaky breath. "When I was out of the capital with you, Kazryth, and Thorn... now I'm going back to a place... a place I've loathed my entire life. I don't want to live there again, I don't want to be held responsible for… for everything bad that's happened. I'm already held responsible for destroying a nation because of... because of... who I am. Just let me go... and things will be better."
Murtagh slowly shook his head slowly in response. Before he could say anything, Darcie cut in again, her voice barely a whisper, "I love you... tell the twins I love them... and I'm sorry."
As soon as she spoke those words, her grip on Murtagh's hand loosened, and Kazryth's head fell with a sickening thud onto the ground, causing the earth around him to tremble, his eyelids shut.
"Darcie..." he shook her limp arm. "Come on..." Tears pricked his eyes. "Don't leave me. Please."
It was too late, and he knew it. Murtagh's emotions became too heavy to bear and tears then fell from his eyes, flooding his cheeks and hitting the ground where Darcie's blood had dried. Everyone he ever loved died, and it was because of him.
One chapter left after this everyone. Just a reminder. This was short, the next is a bit longer.
I had another idea for another fan fiction and, since I've been improving in my writing it might be... better written, so to speak. That is, if I get through it enough to start posting. You might see it later on this year or early next year.