Dragon's Blood -- Chapter Three
Author's Notes: Not much, since I'm bangin' these out one after another…
Disclaimer: Again, I own nothing, thanks for the lovely reminder. :kills self:
A half an hour went by, with the terrain getting rockier and harder for Iolaus to take with his injured leg. Let alone uphill. The adrenaline in Iolaus' system ebbed away, leaving his whole body throbbing.
He was till running because some of those hunters were merely unconscious, and if he judged them correctly, they would be after the dragon, as well as himself. He hoped he was wrong.
Iolaus winced when his leg flared. Blood still welled from the wound, puddling into his boot. He staggered when he stepped on a loose rock and fell hard. Red clouded his vision when his chest hit the ground. He lay there for a minute, panting, fighting to stay conscious.
In the very back of his mind, a little voice told him that he was an idiot for climbing up a mountain without at least a rope. He almost wished Autolycus were here with all his grapple hooks, cords and whatever the hell else he had stuffed up his sleeves. Then Iolaus remembered how much the thief liked to hear himself talk and didn't wish he was there anymore.
'Oh, well. You're here on your own, so deal with it,' Iolaus told himself, getting to his knees unsteadily with a groan. Blood trickled down the back of his neck from the wound to his head and he grimaced as he wiped it away.
He dragged himself to his feet and started off again. He didn't realize he was going a little slower now. It didn't matter. He'd been up this mountain once before and knew the ground would be leveling out soon.
'Or now!' Iolaus stumbled as the ground abruptly righted it. He almost landed in the dirt again, Iolaus managed to stay standing this time. Not without a price of course. The impact jarred his ribs and he gasped for air again.
There were a few deep caves on this ledge that overlooked the forest beautifully. They'd be a perfect hiding place for, say, a dragon.
He knelt down to try to relieve the pressure on his injured leg, if only for a moment. Iolaus' head seemed light and fluffy..
"Is anyone here?" he called out, fighting off a wave of dizziness. "I'm here to help!"
A low growl erupted from the cave in front of Iolaus and he froze. Two glowing green points of light about a foot apart appeared.
"I'm here to help…" he repeated. "There was a group of hunters… I took care of them… I hope…"
To himself, Iolaus' voice sounded very far away, and he knew he was going to pass out very soon. If he could just stay awake a few minutes longer…
Another growl and the points of light bobbed in the darkness. A nod. Iolaus hauled himself to his feet, gasping at the sudden pain the movement caused. He pivoted on his good leg to scan his surroundings for unwanted tails. The last thing he wanted was to have led those hunters straight here. There was no way he'd be able to take on even one of them in his current state.
Iolaus opened his blue eyes as wide as they would go, trying to take in as much light as he could when he entered the cave. It wasn't enough. He could barely see his bloody hand in front of his equally bloodied face (at least his nose had stopped bleeding.).
He had flint and tinder in his pack, that much he knew. But he'd have to go out and gather firewood; something he wasn't sure he could do at the moment. Iolaus rooted around through his pack until he pulled out the flint. The tinder was proving elusive.
"I'm gonna have to go find firewood," Iolaus said to the twenty or so foot long shadow.
The idea of him going out like this was laughable. If he went back out into the forest, he'd either a.) pass out in the woods and not make it back, or b.) encounter the group of hunters and they'd finish him off.
The blonde got to his feet with difficulty. Before he could go more than a step, a stream of fire spouted from a mouth lined gleaming white, three-inch-long, razor-sharp teeth. Iolaus had the terrible thought that they could easily rip off his arm if the teeth's owner felt compelled to do so.
The line of fire ended, yet a ball of flame continued to burn on the floor. It crackled as merrily as if it were in a hearth on the beginning of Winter Solstice.
"Or that would work…"
The fire let him see just what he was getting into, and Iolaus almost passed out right there.
Instead of a twenty feet, the blue-white dragon was thirty, including the tail wrapped around the stalagmite. It's scales were about the size of Iolaus' fist and glittered in the firelight.
From the tip of its tale, to the base of its very long neck, short, dark blue spines erupted. As Iolaus' eyes followed them, he saw a streak of silver on a jet black, folded wing. A crossbow bolt, much like the one Iolaus'd been stuck with, was embedded painfully in the wing joint.
"Did they get you anywhere else?" he asked, rooting around again in his pack; this time for herbs and bandages.
With a soft whine, the dragon showed him a back foot, holding it close to the fire so Iolaus could see it clearly. Another bolt went through and through, just above the ankle.
"Bastards…" he mumbled, reminded of his own leg injury.
It may have been Iolaus' imagination, but it looked like the dragon nodded it's triangular head in agreement.
Iolaus took hold of the bolt and snapped it off as close to the skin as he dared, then put his other hand on the dragon's foot to hold it still. He noticed how sharp the claws were and estimated they could tear through pretty much anything they wanted to.
"Okay," he said, looking up. "I'm going to slide this out, clean it, and wrap it up, all right?"
Really, the hunter was talking to himself to help him focus, so it surprised the Tartarus out of him when he got a reply.
"Do what you must, Little One,"
For some reason, the voice didn't alarm him. It came from deep within his mind, but he didn't recognize it as his own. It reminded him of the sound of rain pattering against the earth.
As steady as he could with shaking hands, Iolaus pushed the bolt towards himself and pulled it out of the dragon's lightly scaled, tender flesh. At the same time, another whine echoed throughout the cavern.
He bent close to examine the wound.
Before his very eyes, the severed tendon stretched to connect again, chords of red muscle wormed their way towards each other and the blue skin melted back together. Tiny, ice-blue scales began to bud over the newly healed area.
Iolaus tossed a glance at the herbs and bandages he'd laid out and smiled a little.
"Guess we won't be needing those," he mumbled to himself.
He eyed the other bolt in the wing joint. It still bled.
"They knew where to get you, didn't they?" the blonde said.
The dragon rustled its wings and lowered the injured one to the floor. Iolaus took hold and leaned close.
"Those mortals are descendants from a clan of dragon hunters, and know a dragon's weak points."
"Were," corrected Iolaus. "There were three left when I got away."
The head of the bolt was buried deep into the joint, Blood welled out. Iolaus grasped it by the base and looked up into the dragon's eyes. They reminded him of a lush forest under a full moon.
"This one is gonna be more difficult," he said. "I think the head of the bolt may have hit bone."
There wasn't much that he could do, considering the circumstances, but Iolaus checked the angle of the projectile, and then jerked it out. He prayed that the head would still be fixed to it. He didn't think he could stay awake long enough to dig it out.
He brought the arrow close to his face. His head went light with relief when he saw the pointed end. He tossed it to the ground with a clatter. Iolaus watched the wound heal itself seamlessly.
"Hah, good," he muttered.
"Thank you, Little One"
"I'm, uh, just gonna sit down for a minute…" he said, settling heavily onto the ground.
Iolaus' eyes clouded dangerously. The world tilted at a sickening angle. He groaned and scrabbled for hand holds on the rough cave floor. The dragon held out a claw, as if for a handshake. Without thinking, Iolaus grabbed hold. Instantly, the world righted itself.
"You are badly injured, Little One."
"I've had worse," Iolaus responded automatically.
"I can return the act of healing, if you wish it."
"How?"
With it's other claw, the dragon lifted a scale on its chest and slit the soft skin underneath. A large drop of silver blood seeped out.
"I apologize, Little One. If we were at my home, I would offer you a goblet."
"You mean I'm supposed to drink it?" asked Iolaus.
"Yes, but make haste! While it's still hot!"
Iolaus hesitated. He'd done a lot of strange things in his lifetime, but drinking blood definitely wasn't one of them.
"Hurry, Little One. As it grows cool, the magic fades."
A particularly nasty throb from his head made the decision for him. Iolaus leaned forward and gently lapped the blood away. It'd cooled just enough not to scald his tongue and had a taste that Iolaus couldn't even begin to describe. It tingled as it went down his throat. The feeling spread into his arms and legs, followed quickly to the tips of his fingers and toes. A pleasant, drowsy feeling was beginning to overtake him.
Now the dragon gripped Iolaus' hand to keep him upright. His own hands we suddenly lax and he could barely keep his eyes open.
"Lie back. You are falling into a healing sleep."
"Sleep…? For how long?" Iolaus struggled to keep his eyes open. If those hunters were on their way and he was unconscious… Panic made his heart flutter.
"Peace, Little One. I will watch over you while you slumber. You will be safe. Do you trust me?"
For some unexplainable reason, Iolaus did trust this dragon. With his very life. The blonde nodded and lowered himself to the floor, with help from the dragon. He used his pack as a pillow.
'I wonder if it has a name,' thought Iolaus, closing his eyes.
"You cannot pronounce my name in your mortal tongue. The closest translation in your language is 'Ravenwing'"
'Ravenwing…' was Iolaus' final conscious thought.
Author's Notes: I love how Ravenwing talks! And I'm proud of this chapter! emails seemed to have been down. Did anyone else have a stretch where they didn't get any update notices?