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Willing his body to move didn’t even so much as make his muscles twitch. Even when the dragonis came startlingly close again before Merritt was swinging the flames between them. And he couldn’t move. His cowardly body froze and stiffened on the frost-covered ground. Blood oozed warmth while the sweat that coated his body was cold as the night air with only the fire-throwing weapon to heat the space around him.
Finally, his vision stopped dancing. His next inhale was considerably more manageable. He winced as he sat himself up. Then hands were tucking themselves under his arms and Percy was dragging him toward the city. His heels gouged the ground, collecting dirt and grass on the backside of his boots. Percy stopped only when they were both safely behind Merritt and the jostling movement poured fresh blood out of Remis’ shoulder.
The dragonis roared and moved left then right and up and down trying to get out of range of the flames. Even when it did, the moment it leapt forward Merritt was on it again. Perspiration was shining on his brow and his cloak was thrown back to reveal the strain of his muscles as he angled the weapon.
With a roar that rattled the cracked windows of the buildings at their backs, the dragonis fed the flames with the wild wind it batted into them from the expanse of its wings. Its tail flicked behind it in an agitated but lazy motion reminiscent of a cat before it returned to the unreachable sky and flew out of sight.
The fire cannon clicked off and the cold of winter returned. All three men stared up at the sky, panting.
“Is that it? Is it gone?” Percy asked, eyes panning the sky.
Remis’ mind wasn’t ready to turn off the full thrum of adrenaline despite the slow creeping understanding that the monster was truly gone. He touched a hand to the place where the talon had pierced him and pulled his hands away to inspect the blood. It ran a brilliant crimson color down his fingertips. He smiled slightly to himself, hoping that was enough. He’d always heard that life’s blood, the kind that made death a certainty, was so dark it nearly looked black. So perhaps, even after being nearly taken by the dragonis, he might live to tell the tale. And have a gnarly scar to prove it.
10
Remis
The bottom half of Merritt’s shirt was pressed against Remis’ wound. He flinched with every step; the terrible pain of the injury fresh every time his foot met the ground again was only slightly numbed by his state of shock. Merritt hovered at his side, occasionally stretching his arms out in case Remis wavered.
“They’ve no patrol. No one watching their city’s borders,” Percy hissed.
Dirt slowly turned to gravel as they walked further into town. If anyone lived in these buildings on the city's outskirts, not one of them had come out to see what the commotion was about. Remis had only spotted a few candles burning in windows so far, suggesting the populace here was minimal.
“They weren’t expecting anyone to be traveling during dragonis season,” Merritt amended.
That didn’t explain why no one stood guard for the city. Sure, they weren’t watching for wayward travelers, but without the guard, the citizens could easily be plucked from the streets like grapes from the vine.
Merritt tugged at the jagged edge of his shirt where it no longer covered his torso. His lean abdominal muscles were exposed to the frigid atmosphere between the unbuttoned lapels of his coat. He curled his fingers into a fist and hissed, drawing Remis' attention. Red welts, white-filled blisters, and shining pink skin were all that made up his palms. Remis felt the blood drain from his face and Merritt straightened realizing he’d been caught.
“I’m alright, though I imagine that those weapons are meant to be handled with thick gloves. I’ll remember that next time.” Merritt kept his face pointed forward, his features held forcefully in a blank expression.
Hopefully there would not be a next time.
“Thank you,” Remis said. That was enough to gain a reaction from Merritt, whose cheeks flushed the same terrible pink as his palms. The words needed to be said. Remis couldn’t let another pain-filled moment go by where his friend didn’t know just how appreciative he was. “You two saved my life. Without you, I’d likely have died not long after the highwaymen.”
“Don’t mention it.” Merritt tried to wave the notion off, though he flashed one of his bright toothy grins. “Or mention it a lot. Worship me as a god if you must.” Percy and Remis couldn’t help but chuckle though it went dry and dusty on Remis’ lips as he caught sight of Merritt’s burns again.
His humility knew no bounds.
The further they went into Olden the closer the buildings began to cluster. More windows held flickering flames, and occasionally they could hear signs of life. Music drifted from one home, a dog barked behind another’s closed door, and eventually, they spotted the first carriage careening down the rocky road.
Two rather large and muscular horses pulled the carriage, much finer than the one Remis’ father had sent them in. The outside had been painted a blue so light it looked more off-white under the pale moonlight. Gold accents were painted along the curved edges and in a pretty spot of trim across the sides, not to mention the gold handles on the doors.
When the driver caught sight of them making their way down the road he pulled the reins tight and called out. His words were caught in the wind and then carried over their shoulders, but it sounded as if the man had shouted, “Who goes there?”
Remis wrinkled his nose. Did Olden always greet its guests with such suspicion? He growled to himself and glanced at the blood-soaked cloth before stepping with purpose before his friends. Using his good arm, he gave the carriage a wave as it skidded to a halt a few feet before them.
A man with waves of thick blond hair and startling bright blue eyes poked his head out the carriage window. “Was it you who warded off the dragonis? You who manned the fire cannon?” There were permanent lines between his brows giving the impression that he was often scowling. Though his mouth was tense, it still arched subtly up into the slightest of smiles.
“Yes.” Remis nodded. “Our apologies for imposing. Didn’t quite make it out unscathed.” Thanks to the guardless borders. He motioned to his shoulder and the red fabric.
“If you could point us in the direction of a physician that would be wonderful,” Percy said, though Remis thought he’d already implied that. It never hurt to be extra clear about what was needed, especially when one was bleeding out.
“Our family has a brilliant physician who could assist you,” the man exclaimed. “Move over,” he mumbled to someone inside the carriage before throwing the door open to reveal his rounded shape. “Come, let us get you out of the cold.”
Turning toward his friends, they exchanged a look that ultimately ended with a shrug of Merritt's shoulders. They needed help. Surely, this man could offer that. “I do have business that requires tending tonight,” the man sniffed at their hesitance. “Please either let me assist you, as you’ve done something of value for our city, or keep moving.”
Remis already felt weak and occasionally dizzy. Panic bubbled at the thought of being left to the streets until they stumbled further into someone or something that might help. He was the first to move toward the carriage. It was a lumbering task to pull himself inside it only using his good hand and avoiding letting his blood drip out onto the fine interior. His friends climbed in after him. Percy took a seat, curling into himself away from the two strangers, while Merritt settled with a charming, albeit tense, smile. The door to the carriage snicked shut.
