Percival's eyes fluttered open from the scent of copper and burnt flesh. His mind raced, and vision blurry.
Where…?
His eyes shot open.
"The battl— AH!"
He swiftly sat up, but a jolt of pain answered his action, making him fall back on the pillow. Grunting, he breathed through his teeth.
"Curses, I really outdid my strength."
A familiar voice sounded from his left.
"Ah, thou art awoken."
Turning his head, he saw Aelindor sitting up on the ward bed, his back resting on the pillow against the headboard.
"We be now within the infirmary; methinks he did convey us hither, when our strength was wholly spent."
"I see…" He looked behind him, seeing an elven nurse bandaging a wound of a guard.
"What about him?"
"He is not here, so spake the clerics; perchance those wounded that lie do possess some knowledge of him."
Percival turned to the roof.
"Haaah. Then let us begin our search."
He tried sitting up again, but the soreness prevented further movement with another jolt of pain.
"Tch! This soreness…"
Aelindor gave a nod and looked away, raising his hand.
"Ho, cleric! A man hath need of thy aid anon!"
A young elf cleric jogged over to Aelindor.
"Who is it? Who calleth for aid?"
"Aye, he doth. His grievous soreness doth restrain his motions, and we must be elsewhere with all haste."
"Elsewhere, sayest thou? Shouldst thou not be at rest? Surely whithersoever thou dost journey may well abide thy coming."
Percival shook his head.
"No— Ah!"
He sat up again, failing. The cleric rushed over to him and Percival grabbed his arm.
"N-No, I— we must find him. He is not in the infirmary."
The cleric looked from Percival's desperate face to Aelindor's resolute one. He sighed, his head slightly lowering.
"Haaah. Verily, the minds of ye warrior folk brook no change. Very well; I shall ease thy soreness, that thou mayest be on thy way."
The cleric went to work, his hands glowed with a soft green light as he hovered over Percival's sore body, then massaged his arms and legs. A wave of soothing coolness washed through the muscles, unknotting the deep aches. After his treatment, Percival stood up and stretched.
"Thank you," Percival said, bowing.
"It is my charge and… I do pray thou findest whomsoever thou dost seek," replied the cleric with a slight bow before leaving their side.
He turned to Aelindor, also standing.
"I will begin the search from my side of the bed to the far end. You will do the same from your side to your end."
Aelindor nodded and the search began.
Refusal after refusal. Every person—guard and mage—he asked knew nothing of him nor his whereabouts.
Haaah. Only a handful remain. My hope rests upon Aelindor's discovery.
"Ho, thou there!" Someone called out from behind. "In the maroonen cote!"
Me?
Percival turned around, spotting an elite guard with an arm raised, the other arm and hand covered in bandages. It was the other guard that protested Oswald's return to the battlefield, now injured.
Percival walked up to him and the guard began.
"We did guard the garrison before the castle's gate. Thine fellow we espied, bearing thee and an elf of this place."
This… This is a lead!
"A companion and I did bear thee and the elf hither ere he departed. I did entreat him to tarry, for he appeared sorely forspent; yet he heeded me not, but went forth unto the battle."
Percival pinched his chin. "He left despite his exhaustion. Anything else?"
The guard's head hung low, his voice quietening. "Forgive me, I… that is the sole knowledge I possess. After his departure, only the Goddesses do ken his whereabouts now."
That is it!?
Percival took a deep breath, closing his eyes. "I see…" He then opened it, returning a bow. "Thank you for sharing."
He left the guard's side, a sad smile on his face.
The rest of the search yielded nothing, making the two meet on the beds they woke up on.
"I did espy thee in parley with yon guard; what tidings did he impart unto thee?"
"Haaah. Nothing conclusive—only the knowledge that he was aware of our arrival in the infirmary, and that he departed despite appearing languid. Let us leave and commence our own search."
The duo left the infirmary to begin their own search, leaving the copper and burnt smell of blood behind.
* * *
Walking in the grand hallway, the two spotted elite guards—donned in gold armor and armed with spears—and the commander—clad in silver armor—ran past them.
What?
"What's happening?" Percival pointed at the guards.
"Let us ascertain, prithee."
Aelindor ran to match their speed, with Percival shortly following behind him. The commander noticed him, recognizing him as Oswald's friend.
"What aileth it?" Aelindor asked. "Wherefore are thou summoned?"
"Lo, a dragon clad in sable armor was espied in the far reaches of the forest, by the warders upon the northern parapet, circling and bellowing."
A black-clad dragon…
Percival's eyes widened as the description clicked into place.
"Wait! That is his dragon—Oswald's, the savior's."
He pinched his chin, head lowering.
If it is circling and bellowing, then it is attempting to indicate his whereabouts!
"Take us with you, for I believe it is acting as a beacon, revealing his location."
The commander dipped his head. "Thy logic is sound." He turned to his squad. "You there! Bid thee summon another carriage, and likewise an ambulance cart!"
"By your command!"
The guard dropped behind and ran in the opposite direction, the clanking of his armor swiftly fading into the distance. The elite guards and the two friends continued toward the exit.
At last, a lead…
* * *
They emerged into the courtyard, where their transport awaited: two armored carriages, each hitched to parrotraptors clad in iron armor, and a third ambulance carriage with a wide, open back and a step rail.
"Ye twain!" The commander looked at the two. "Take thy place within the ambulance carriage."
Both gave a nod and stepped into the ambulance carriage from the back. Inside was a three-person seat and a wooden stretcher with a pillow stitched into it. One of the guards manned the cart, grabbing the reins.
"Proceed forthwith!"
Snaps sounded, and the carriage jolted forward before settling into motion, the parrotraptor's footsteps a war drum as it moved. The convoy exited the courtyard and the kingdom through the Northern gate, turning toward the dense forest.
Hours jostled by on the rough terrain.
A yell sounded from the lead vehicle. "Halt, halt! Let the line be stilled!"
The ambulance carriage halted, jolting the two inside.
"What be this?! For what cause is this stoppage?"
"Thou wilt not believe me, sire. Thou must needs alight from thy carriage to behold it."
Doors to the carriages swung open, followed by a chorus of shocked gasps.
"What did they witness?"
"Let us go forth and discern it."
Both dismounted the ambulance carriage, joining the baffled elite guards. Before them an extremely wide clearing. A path of devastation had been torn through the forest, leading toward the dragon circling in the sky ahead. The path was blocked by a massive pile of destroyed giant trees and shattered timber, forming a small, brutal hill with broken branches between the carriage convoy and their destination.
"What in the name of the Goddess hath here befallen?" The commander exclaimed.
Both Percival and Aelindor looked at each other, the same thought occurring in their mind.
OSWALD!
The duo bolted to the dragon, cutting through the forest to go around the blockade.
"Hold fast, the both of ye!"
The two arrived at the natural clearing, the dragon's shadow circling beneath their feet.
"I can't believe it." His eyes fell on Oswald's slumped form on the other side of the clearing far away, the bark where his back rested cratered inward. "There he is!"
They sprinted, pushing their exhausted bodies, until they arrived at the other side, to him, with raspy breaths and sweat drenching their faces.
Percival lifted him, his state shocking the two.
"What… happened…?"
Oswald was a wreck—his muscles trembled uncontrollably, veins bulged beneath sweat-slicked, white skin. Blotches of angry red mottled his face, and his lips were cracked and bleeding. Percival dropped to his knees and pressed an ear to his chest. Slow, weak thumps filled his ear.
On cue, a crescendo of thuds sounded from behind them. He saw the convoy skidding to a stop, the drivers' faces plastered with bafflement. The doors of the carriages opened, the elite guards and their commander looked at Oswald with the same horrified expression.
"H-He is alive, but in an extremely weakened state." His head slightly lowered. "Although I… I fear we will require faster transportation."
The commander gave a nod. "Aye, I do concur. Let us remove the parrotraptor from the armored carriage, and set him within the ambulance."
Aelindor shook his head. "Nay, sire. Methinks there lieth a better—nay, the best choice within our possession." He pointed above them. "Yet I wot not how to summon it hither, for its master is Oswald, and unto his call alone doth it give heed."
The commander craned his neck up. "So the dragon is his, sayest thou? And we know not how to summon it hither…?"
He turned around, his gaze shifting between his men. "Ho, men! Set alight the Beacon Call!"
"SIRE!" The guards yelled in unison.
CLANK! CLANK! CLANK!
The elite guards began tapping their forearms in a rhythm, producing clanks of metal that were deafening, making the duo cup their ears. Hearing the loud metal's colliding, the dragon looked below itself.
"So, they discovered my master. Good. This… noise they are producing, I assume they are calling to me. Understood."
It began its descent, the flap of its wings, thunderous, kicking up a storm below it. The duo and the elite guards shielded their faces from the maelstrom the dragon produced.
BOOM!
Its setdown trembled the Earth, the shaking caused everybody—even those with "elite" in their title—to stumble. The storm settling, Percival stood up, dusting himself.
"Immediately, place him onto the dragon!"
At his command, one of the guard lifted Oswald on their shoulder. Percival and Aelindor ran ahead, climbing the dragon first and, together, hoisting their friend onto its back.
The commander looked at the duo on the dragon. "I shall announce thy arrival."
"Understood. Thank you for your assistance, Commander," he said, bowing slightly.
Percival tapped the dragon's black armor, and shortly after—WHOOSH!—the dragon took flight with a single flap of its wing.
I sincerely hope that we are swift in aiding his recovery. I trust that the castle's maid will attend to the remainder.
* * *
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