The dragons, p.5
The Dragons, page 5
part #2 of The Onis Chronicles Series
After several minutes of anxious anticipation, the front door flew open, and Davion came stumbling in with Salyaman’s assistance and Hort hobbling close behind them.
“Sit ‘im at the table, Sal. I’ve made ‘im some tea,” Glondora said, heading to the kitchen counter. She poured the hot water from the stove into a mug with herbs for quelling the effects of too much dwarven mead.
“No!” Davion shouted. “I need to see her! Where is she? LAILA?!”
Hort helped Salyaman force Davion to a chair. “Not like this, me boy,” he said. “Ye need ta get yer wits ‘bout ye.”
“I will check on Lady Laila,” Glondora said, biding their time. “I need ta make sure she be decent first.”
Rattling softly on the door, Glondora creaked it open just a crack and stuck her nose in. Laila, hearing the commotion, wiped her eyes and sat up in the bed, trying to collect herself. She didn’t want to face Davion. He had believed in her wholeheartedly, and she let him down. Regardless, she knew that she would have no choice; she would have to face him and say how sorry she was that he had put his faith in the wrong elf.
“Davion can see me now,” she told the dwarf while she straightened the plain white gown Glondora had dressed her in after healing her wounds and bathing her.
With all the grace of an elkan stampede, the door was thrust open as Davion clambered his way into the room and shouted, “You’re awake! I can’t believe you’re actually awake!”
Staggering across the small room in a few long strides, he fell to his knees before her and buried his head in her lap, crying hysterically as he clung to her, relieved beyond words that his angel was alive and well.
Laila was startled, unsure of how to respond, but she brushed her fingers soothingly through his brown wavy locks and said, “I’m so sorry I failed you, Davion. I’m so sorry I worried you.”
Confused, he looked up into her eyes, wiping his face with the back of his sleeve, “You have nothing to be sorry for, Lady Laila. We are all so proud of you. But, I thought I had lost you forever…” He grasped on to her tighter, burying his face in her dress and breathing her in.
The others came into the room slowly, and they all gave her a gentle embrace, telling her how happy they were that she was well, how relieved they were. Then, in their over-excitement, they began telling her about everything that had happened while she was recovering. They told of how her dragon gathered others to help save them all and that they were still outside of Lochlann, guarding the mountain against any Silvers that might come looking for her or her dragon, Turathyl.
Laila began to feel saddened again as she recalled her battle with the dragons and what Aeris, the monarch dragon, revealed about Turathyl. She finally knew the truth that the precious dragon that guided and guarded her on her journey, and the vicious Silver that savagely killed her elven mother when she was just a baby, were one-and-the-same dragon. She had trusted Turathyl, had believed that she was good and that she was being truthful when she told her that she, Lady Lailalanthelus Dula’Quoy, was the prophesied elf, the Omi Méa, that was meant to stop the war. Obviously, she had been mistaken. Laila couldn’t even convince one dragon to put aside her hatred and anger; how was she expected to convince them all? And how could she trust any of them again after learning what Turathyl had done and how vicious and hateful the dragons were?
As everyone jested and chuckled around her, rejoicing her lucidity, she found herself quickly wanting to be alone again and told them that she was feeling quite tired. They all hesitantly agreed to leave so she could get some more rest. Although fearful of leaving her side, Davion was escorted by the others and convinced to get some rest himself. They all hugged her before departing, leaving her in peace. That is, all except for Nikolean, who no one had noticed lingering in a darkened corner as he remained behind.
“My lady,” he said, stepping out of the shadows when they were alone. “Are you really alright?”
Having sensed him there, she was not at all surprised by him. “I am…not,” she replied. She knew she couldn’t hide anything from him, so there was no point in trying.
“What is it?” he prompted.
Sighing, Laila laid back down on her side, her arm resting under her head as she gazed at him. He pulled up a chair nearer the bed and took a seat.
“This was all a big mistake,” she said despondently as she focused on his blood-red irises and the two scars streaming from his right eye like tears. “If I truly was the Omi Méa, then I don’t understand what I could have possibly done wrong. I did everything I could think of, but Aeris just wouldn’t even listen to me. The hatred I felt from her was so strong and unbreakable. I should never have gone there. I should never have gone anywhere.”
Looking on her empathetically, Nikolean asked, “What do you mean?”
“I should have stayed home in my woods with my family, but it’s all too late now.” Pausing for a moment, Laila recalled their earlier conversation from before they reached the Silvers. “Do you remember telling me that you would go anywhere with me? That you would take me somewhere without hate or danger? Somewhere that would only bring a smile to my lips?”
Nikolean grinned and nodded to her. “Of course I do.”
“Did you mean it?”
Taking her free hand in his, he kissed the back of it tenderly and said sincerely, “If that is what you wish, then that is what we shall do. I will accompany you anywhere, my lady. You know that.”
Laila recalled that he had pledged himself to her as a life-debt from when she saved him from their now-comrades and healed his fatal wounds. She wondered if that was what he intended by his comment. However, regardless of his reasons, the elf maiden smiled back at him briefly, wondering if it were possible. She was tired and ready for somewhere nice where no one was trying to kill her or expect the impossible of her.
“Does your dragon know you’re awake?” Nikolean asked, interrupting her daydreaming and instantly tearing the smile from her lips. “I hear she cries out for you often.”
“I have not spoken with her,” Laila responded curtly. “I am not ready to.”
Nikolean looked at her, confused. “Why not? She went up against her monarch for you and saved your life; saved all our lives. What has she done to anger you?”
Laila replied bitterly, “She killed my real mother.”
Not wanting to press, Nikolean somberly nodded his understanding.
“I think I need some rest now,” Laila told the drow, not feeling very sociable.
Nikolean kissed her hand again before letting it go and said, “Yes, my lady. As you wish,” then turned and headed out the door, leaving her in solitude.
Sighing, Laila stared at the wall aimlessly for a few minutes while she thought about her conversation with Nikolean. She was angry and hurt, feeling defeated beyond measure and betrayed by Turathyl. However, she couldn’t deny that the dragon had saved her on more than one occasion. Was that supposed to make up for killing her elven mother? Who knows what her life would have become had she never lost her mother or father? But dwelling wasn’t going to solve anything; she was where she was, and there was nothing to be done now. Laila had faced the dragons and failed in her quest. All that was left to do was to go home to her wolf-god mother and tell her the stories of her adventure.
Heaving out another sigh, Laila could sense someone poking at her mind like a knock on the door, and it was irritating her.
‘Yes, Tury, I am awake.’ Laila sent coarsely to the dragon that had been waiting anxiously for her to rouse.
Emitting a sense of great relief, the dragon responded, ‘Thank you for telling me. I have been worried. I shall thank the gods for answering my prayers.’
Not in the mood to communicate with her further, she sent the dragon a feeling of exhaustion before putting up a mental block, keeping her from her thoughts before she could say anything else. She knew it was inevitable that she would have to confront the dragon about what she had learned on top of the Silvers’ Mountain, but it would not be today.
Curling into a fetal position, feeling every part of her still hurting, both physically and emotionally, Laila closed her eyes and prayed for sleep to come. A part of her wished that she had never woken up. It would have been easier had she just died on the mountain than to have to face everyone, humiliated, and run home with her tail between her legs in shame.
CHAPTER FOUR
Decisions
The clattering of pots and pans woke Laila from her slumber, and the smell of cooking meat made its way through the door cracks and into her senses. It was an inviting aroma to her while she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She attempted to stretch out her limbs, but cracking bones and aching muscles quickly reminded her of her reality and the series of events that had befallen her. Despite that, she decided it was time to get out of bed and test her legs.
Hobbling over to the door, her white gown swayed only to her knees, and she realized it must have been one of Glondora’s garments. When she managed to make it across the room, she slowly cracked open the door to peek through. Laila winced from the subtle squeak it made, nervous of the attention she would receive the moment that they discovered her awake. Peering through the crack to the main room, she could see Glondora cooking away in the kitchen while humming some dwarven ditty and Salyaman standing near the back door sharpening his swords. She squinted, pressing her face closer to the crack against the door’s rough wood surface, but was unable to find Davion, Hort, or…
“My Lady,” Nikolean said softly from somewhere on the other side of the door.
Blushing, she opened it the rest of the way, and everyone in the room turned to look at her. They had all been in a much better humor now that she was well. Smiles and cheer had taken over their worried wrinkles and frowns, and they were all eager to help bring her to the table. Nikolean held out his forearm for her to grasp, and Salyaman pulled out a chair for her after hastily putting away his blades.
“M’lady, yer lunch tis jus’ ‘bout ready. I can only imagine how starved ye must be after havin’ slept so long!” Glondora called while she finished up and started preparing a plate for her. Glancing over at the table, she hollered, “Niko, dunna’ jus’ stand there gawkin’ like ye be seein’ a ghost! Get the lass some water already! My oh my, these boys.” The dwarf shook her head, tsking at Nikolean while carrying over a plate of food, and he headed for the kitchen to get her water.
“Here ye are, then. Come now, eat up, m’lady. Yer skin and bones, ye are!”
Laila smiled at her host and looked down at the plate before her. While she inhaled the fragrance of the cooked meat and vegetables, she forgot for a moment that the two-leggeds use utensils to eat their food and tore into it hungrily. The wolf child ripped the flesh apart slovenly with her hands and teeth, swallowing large chunks at a time, unable to remember when she had ever felt so famished. Even though Glondora’s cooking tended to leave much to be desired, in Laila’s starvation frenzy, she was convinced it was the best meat she had ever tasted and couldn’t stop ripping more bites off, gobbling up the succulent pieces.
“Thank you,” she managed to get out between bites after she was nearly finished with her meal.
“Yer most welcome, m’lady,” Glondora replied. “There be plenty more if yer interested. Ye need but say the word.”
As she emptied the plate and sucked the remaining flavor remnants from her fingers, the front door to the little house swung open, and Laila turned to see Davion and Hort entering. The look on Davion’s face even lifted Laila’s spirits for a moment as he beamed at her like she was the most incredible vision he had ever seen.
“Laila!” he called out as he made his way over to her. “I see I’m just in time!”
Davion enthusiastically brought forth a sack that he laid on the table next to her, and Laila could smell its contents the moment he opened it. “I knew you’d be hungry, so I wanted to get you something special.”
He placed a marbled loaf cake on the table, which she recognized instantly as the famous dwarf Barden Cake she had enjoyed before they left for the mountain. It was a real treat to her palate, holding true to Davion’s promise of being the sweetest thing she’d ever taste, and she was thankful for the gesture.
Hort walked up beside the human and put his hand on Davion’s shoulder. “Nice ta see ye up and ‘bout, lass. Now, dunna’ worry ‘bout havin’ ta eat all that cake there yerself. I be ‘appy ta take whatever be left off yer plate.” He gave her a wink, then headed over to his wife, Glondora, kissing her on the cheek.
“Thank you for the cake.” Laila smiled at Davion as she ripped a piece off and began indulging in its deliciousness.
As she became less ravenous and started to fill up, she was eerily aware of everyone watching her intently and suddenly felt uncomfortable under their stares. Davion was seated across from her, and Nikolean close beside her, while Salyaman and Hort maintained a respectable distance. When they saw they had her attention, Glondora stepped forward to take her empty plate and asked, “‘Ow ye feelin’, m’lady? Better now?”
Laila smiled sheepishly and nodded. “Yes, thank you. Much better.”
She could sense Turathyl tapping at her mind now as well, but she still wasn’t ready to talk to her and continued to ignore the dragon.
Everyone was peering at her as though waiting for something; perhaps some great revelation or reiteration of what she faced on the Silvers’ Mountain, or her tale of her closeness to the phantom realm as she nearly lost her life, but no one said anything.
Feeling awkward and discombobulated under their stares, Laila pushed her chair back from the table and began to stand. “Thank you all for your help.” She politely gave them a forced smile. “I think I’ll go change now. Thank you, Glondora, for the gown and the food,” she added while they all watched her.
“Of course, m’lady,” Glondora replied, returning her smile, concerned for the young elf.
Before her discomfort could increase any further, Laila excused herself and went back to Davion’s room. She closed the door quickly behind her, latching it delicately. There wasn’t much she wanted to tell them. There was nothing that she was proud of, and she was just ready to go back home. She didn’t want to wait any longer or put anyone out any further with their hospitality and pity.
Unable to locate her armor, she discovered one of the elven gowns folded nicely on top of a chest of drawers and decided that would have to do. When she grabbed hold of the coral gown and pulled it forward, something small fell and clinked on the ground at her feet. Staring down at it, her eyes fixated on the reflective silver dragon scale attached to the chain Davion had bought for her in Má Lyndor. Laila bent and picked it up. Thumbing the scale in her palm for a moment, her heart hurt in her chest as she recalled when she obtained it following her first encounter with Turathyl. Although, her brow furrowed as she realized that it hadn’t been her first encounter with the deceitful creature; she had only been a baby when she first met the dragon.
Heatedly planting the chain with Turathyl’s scale back on the dresser, Laila turned away then began to change into the gown. She kept expecting Glondora to barge in to assist her or check on her, but everyone seemed to be respecting her privacy. Even so, she could hear them all whispering on the other side of the door, undoubtedly about her, but too quiet to understand what was being said, and she had no desire to eavesdrop into their minds. She told herself it didn’t matter, that she’d be out of the way soon enough, and they could all have their lives back.
As Laila dressed in the elaborate elven garment, she became easily flustered with all the pieces and straps. Struggling with the tie, she felt tears welling in her eyes again, making her angry, and she threw one of the clasps on the ground in frustration. Curling her fingers in her hair, Laila took a deep breath, blowing out through pursed lips as she tried to calm herself. She knew it wasn’t the gown that was the problem, but her hands were shaking and her world spinning, making even the simple task of getting dressed overwhelming. After another deep breath, she shook out her hands and tried to fasten the gown again while blinking her eyes up at the ceiling in an attempt to reabsorb the pooled tears. With a little patience and a gentler effort, the elf royal at long last managed to conquer the dress.
Searching the room in her overly adorned gown for its current purpose, she gathered up anything she could spot belonging to her and put them in an old sack of Davion’s she found, hoping that he wouldn’t mind. Hesitantly, she even grabbed the scale necklace and tossed it in amongst her other possessions. She wasn’t able to locate much, but it was still more than she had left her home with.
Re-emerging from the room, she saw that no one had left their spots, and they all went back to watching her intently as before. Except, this time, noticing the sack in her hand, Davion jumped up promptly.
“What’s going on, Laila?” he asked.
Nikolean also jumped up, but instead of joining the others in gathering around her, he went over to the far corner and began loading his things into his own sack.
“It’s time for me to go home,” Laila said nervously, unsure of how they were going to react.
“What are you talking about?” Davion probed.
Salyaman and Hort were also drawing closer to her, and Glondora folded her arms over her chest, watching the young elf curiously.
“I failed. I am not the Omi Méa. It was a mistake, and now it’s time for me to go home, back to the Sacred Forest.”
Letting out a loud belly laugh, Hort smacked his knees as he stared at her in disbelief. “Are ye crazy, lass? Does ye really think that? Could someone please talk some sense inta this ’ere elf?!”
“My uncle’s right,” Davion said. “You really believe you failed? Aeris is just one dragon! We have a whole score of dragons above our very heads protecting us as we speak, waiting for you!”
