Chapter Two

  “This is going to hurt.” Aina cautioned when she looped the rope through the dragon’s maw. It wasn’t the first time she cautioned him of that. She’d spent the last six hours applying painful potions to his wounds. Each time, she warned him again, now she was tying a rope around his lower jaw, and he had…questions.

  “Whuh awr you doing?” He was in agony just trying to speak, and the rope she used tasted absolutely foul.

  She didn’t answer at first, her eyes were focused on the knot her fingers were working. Araghramorn had never seen humans, or anyone else, doing fine work of that sort before, and it was surprisingly deft. ‘I never imagined what those curious little hands might be capable of. No wonder the artwork in my old treasure room was so finely made.’ He pondered that until she cinched the knot and stepped back to take the line in hand.

  “I have to right your jaw. I’m no healer, no cleric or priest. I am a paladin, but all my magic went into my combat skills. I will have to pull your jaw back into place and then bind it so that everything will knit back together properly. Then help it along with the inferior field potions I’m able to make on my own.” She then walked away, holding the line still as she walked around a tree and then toward him.

  Araghramorn was still processing what she said, and the implications of it for his other limbs, when he heard her say [Lesser Strength] [Fortress] [Greater Draw] and then she yanked.

  Fiery pain lanced through the dragon’s body as his skewed jaw was brought back into position. His limbs spasmed and a horrendous howl of pain was cut off only by virtue of the fact that a stream of frost shot out of his mouth as if he were attacking some invisible foe, and two scores of trees exploded from the sudden cold, sending splinters in all directions.

  Aina dropped the rope and began picking stray splinters out of her face and clothing while she approached the dragon. “I’m going to undo the rope now, and then I have to do your broken legs. I will have to splint them. Luckily you’ve given me lots of material close at hand to work with.” Her dry words showed that she was undisturbed by his sudden fit of destructiveness. He didn’t say anything, he couldn’t, even if he wanted to, the pain was still there and it dominated him like the nightmare that put him where he now lay helpless.

  “Not to get repetitive, but this is going to hurt. Only it’ll be worse than your jaw. Your bones are out of your body. My mana will last long enough for me to set them all, but to set them I have to push them back into place, then bind it all up. I’m going to be truthful here, dragon… even after I do all this, you still might die. I can cauterize the last wounds, splint your limbs, sew up your tattered wings, but I’ve seen fever come to strong men after that and they died despite everything I did. Maybe that will happen to you, maybe not. But after I’m done, I’ll have to move my camp here to look after you.” Aina explained and exhaled heavily.

  Araghramorn’s questioning eyes loomed large at her. She didn’t need to have him speak to know his question. “Months. If I had a healer here they could cast a spell to fix you up in a snap. But if I tell any healer about you, they’ll alert the Paladin Order and then you can expect a few dozen of them to show up to hack you to pieces. So we’ll have to make do with my shitty potions and whatever poultices I can manage to put together out of material in the area. Maybe I can cut it down from six months to three, but even if I can it will be rough going. Just…relax your body, and let me work.”

  He did as she said, moved as she said, easing his body over to one side, and did his best to relax his body while she bound up his limbs. He hadn’t understood just what she meant by ‘splint’ at first, and he’d tightened his jaw shut against the pain when she used her magically enhanced strength to push his broken bones back into his body. But when he saw her take a multitude of broken tree limbs and wrap his leg up so that it couldn’t bend, then daub it all with wet mud and more of her potions, it began to make more sense to him.

  ‘I see.’ Araghramorn pondered with a detached interest despite the pain it caused. ‘I can’t accidentally move it, this way it will heal together like new. No wonder it will take time.’ He thought while she wrapped the outside of the splint with vines taken from the forest as improvised rope.

  It still took time for her to finish all his limbs, but when she did, if he were any judge, the work was well done.

  “That just leaves your wings and your other wounds. They may not be bleeding, but we still need to seal them up. The blood in the air might draw other predators, such as other monsters. Even if it doesn’t, open wounds breed sickness. I can’t rely on making enough field potions to prevent that. So…time for the cauterizing.” Aina explained, and Araghramorn was silent.

  Just what that word meant, he didn’t know. But he had a feeling he wouldn’t like it. Still, he rumbled his wordless approval.

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  It wasn’t until she had a fire blazing and was throwing more things from her pouch into the fire that made the fire grow white hot, and stuck her sword into it until the metal glowed, that he understood.

  “Do not kill me.” Aina repeated when she approached the open wounds on his belly.

  All the dragon could do was brace himself and spasm, whining as he smelled his own flesh burning for the second time while one by one, she seared the wounds closed, boiling the blood repeatedly to the point of bubbling, then repeating the process until she said…

  “All done. The wings are unpleasant, but it shouldn’t hurt as much. I just have to sew them up, and even our children can bear that kind of pain. It’s just uncomfortable and it stings a little. Your wings shouldn’t be that sensitive…I don’t think.” Aina guessed and after setting aside her sword, she removed her sewing needle and thread.

  It was strange for Araghramorn to feel the small human clambering over his body as an ant might on a log, but she proved surprisingly nimble in body and he soon felt her hands dancing over his wing. This at least was less painful, he felt only a sharp jab and then nothing as the slashed wings were stitched back together. The potion she slathered on it may have smelled foul, but it was cool to the touch at least, and soon she was done.

  He waited without moving while she hopped nimbly back down to the ground and put herself boldly in front of his face. “Now some bad news.” Aina said directly, “I’m going to have to bind your jaw shut, that means nothing you’d have to chew. Eating is going to be a chore.”

  Araghramorn could still say nothing to that, so he just…waited.

  It was uncomfortable in his mind, more from the fact of having his jaw bound shut than the discomfort he felt from the actual presence of the improvised ropes she used to hold it in place.

  ‘So this is my life for the next few months. Just me and this…human. And me, stuck here on my side until I can fly and fight again. Still, it is better than death.’ He reasoned, and waited for her to do…whatever she would do next.

  “It’s right there, My Lady.” Skara said and pointed to the temple which sat in the middle of the city. She brushed her auburn hair back and dropped her hand back to her side. She looked up and to her right at her mistress, “This temple serves all the forty-one gods, the known ones and the unknown ones alike. It’s the largest in this area, and,” the human woman wiggled her hips a little, “they’re what you’d expect of men who are beyond the common.”

  “Is that so?” Suadela asked and looked the massive square building over with a critical eye. It was nothing compared to the home of the Lord of Mind, but as human construction went, it was the most impressive so far. It loomed large over all the other buildings in the considerable city, and unlike most of the other buildings she’d seen, it was made up of neither rough stone or wood. It was instead carved from marble, what’s more, it appeared to be one solid piece. The only distinction was a dome of glass over the top that gleamed in the light of the sun. A glance at the stairs showed the faint etchings in the local written language. There were forty-one in total, “What are those words?” Suadela asked and pointed to the steps. People venturing up them never walked over the words themselves, but rather the eldest figures walked closest, while the youngest farther and farther away until they were near the edge of the wide steps.

  “The names of the gods, the unknown ones are just given descriptives, ‘Beast Lord’ and ‘Warmaster’ kind of… their domains.” Skara explained, “This is the biggest temple outside of the capital, or so I’ve heard.” The peasant shrugged, “It’s all the same to me though. Our village priest said the gods didn’t care for fanciness, just sincerity.” She snorted with derision, and the silk-clad Suadela glanced down at her servant.

  “You don’t believe them?” She asked and raised an eyebrow. Since finding this particular human, the girl had proved her worth in more ways than one, despite being illiterate, she was a veritable font of information, and cynical enough that even a demon might have told her to have a little faith.

  “Nah.” Skara said with a shake of her head. “Beg’n your pardon, My Lady, but anyone who tells me the gods don’t love fancy while giving cushioned front seats to the rich folk who give a tiny bit of all their gold, and cold, hard stone floor for the arse of a peasant who gives their last copper…well I think they’re lyin.”

  “Is that so?” Suadela asked in a hushed whisper, though it wasn’t a question this time, her tone being more agreeable. Her beautiful golden eyes narrowed when she looked at the temple. Demon or not, the impiety relayed to her by her servant was offensive on a professional level.

  ‘I serve my god incorruptibly, when others do not, it reflects badly on all. This then, is the perfect place to begin.’ She reasoned, and said to Skara, “Return to the inn. Inform the changelings to begin their part. In the meantime, I will do my own.”

  “My lady, you’re not-” Skara cut off her question when the demoness glared down at her.

  “Do not be disgusting. No. I will only test them. Then they will get the reward that befits their choice.” Suadela said, and let out a long, loud laugh that drew the eyes of various passersby until her laughter vanished and a glare at the interested eyes reminded them that she was none of their business.

  “At once, My Lady. But I’ll bet a gold coin that you won’t find one in there that will pass your tests, and I’ll double that with a second gold coin on each of them saying it won’t even be hard for you to break them.” Skara said with her customary cynicism.

  “I will take that bet, a coin per priest it is.” Suadela chuckled. ‘The devotees of the gods can’t possibly be as bad as that.’ She reasoned.

  Skara tittered and covered her mouth in a failed bid to hide her confidence, and her eyes sparkled with eagerness for the easy money. Then, bobbing once at the knees in a deferential manner, her work as a guide complete and her next task given, she turned on her heel and went back the way they’d come, looking back to watch as the disguised succubus entered the temple of the gods to test their shepherds.