Chapter Twenty-Two
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I opened the shutters to let in the early mornin’ light, despite the chill, still. Iza glared back, crouched in the clearin’ where she had crashed through the trees, her anger still keepin’ her dread at bay it seemed. If Lucas hadn’t been in the cabin, she would have brought the roof down on the other three of us. Taiz’lin remained completely silent and still, lyin’ feet from Iza, unwillin’ to try calmin’ her again. When she landed, Iza gave her mate a slashin’ that sent Ike to the ground in shared pain.
Ike certainly couldn’t go to Taiz’lin, and I was certain she would kill me even faster than she would Ike. Delia wouldn’t even consider goin’ out to treat the poor dragon bull’s wounds. So he lie there for a day, flies pesterin’ his wounds mercilessly. When he dared move to lick his hide, Iza snarled. She wished to make everyone pay for her mental turmoil. For not followin’ her demands.
Taiz’lin shivered noticeably, but didn’t open his eyes.
“I can’t leave him like that.”
I turned to first check on Lucas. His forehead was sticky, hot, but not as hot as the previous evenin’, maybe. I rinsed out the cloth in the basin and mopped the human’s face and throat. Ike turned under his fur by the fire. He’d sat by the human until the early hours of the mornin’.
Under her own fur, Delia lie facin’ the wall. The majic we worked together the previous mornin’ for Lucas exhausted her. She lay down near sunset and never budged again.
As quietly as I could, I drew together the herbs needed, pilin’ them into my large mixin’ bowl. I guessed at the portions. Had never treated a dragon before. I liberally splashed steamin’ water over the blend, which raised a mighty stink. Stirrin’ it made me clear my throat. Might burn the bull’s wounds, poor thin’.
I emptied the rest of the kettle in the water bucket, set the bowl atop it, and gathered cloth strips to clean Taiz’lin’s wounds. I peered at Bacchus, not fondly rememberin’ the discomfort her pull from the ethereal had been the prior day.
“Don’t stand here,” I mumbled to myself. “If she’s gonna kill ya, get it out of the way.”
I picked up my thin’s and slowly pulled the bar away from the door. I flipped the latch with my knee and the door screeched open. Bacchus felt cold in my hand, asleep, drained of power. What Taiz’lin needed most was the purgin’ of fly larvae from his wounds. Required Bacchus, not for healin’, but protection from an angry dragon.
I stepped out onto the porch and took in my adversary. Iza raised her head and dropped her jaw showin’ two rows of teeth that looked like the tips of dozens of deadly spears.
“Ya best not come near,” Taiz’lin whispered.
Iza arched her head toward her mate and growled.
I thrust my chest out and walked toward them. Iza swung around, her mouth openin’ wide, hissin’. I raised Bacchus at her. The staff’s aura stirred, but nothin’ to coach me with confidence. The feeble blue mist that formed was not gonna calm the creature.
“Kill me if ya must. Allow yar mate to garner an infection and die. Ya’re the one to live with the memory for a century or so.”
“Will be easy to do, ogre.”
“Matin’ for life isn’t much for ya then is it, if ya kill ’em off every couple years?”
“A mate worth keepin’ is a mate who obeys.”
“Maybe he listened to counsel that was more reasonable at the time.”
I took three more steps. Still alive. Was surely within her reach, if she wanted me. Or maybe she just wanted to play with me, like a cat plays with a condemned mouse.
Iza tilted her head and peered at Taiz’lin with one fixed eye. The bull didn’t look back at her, but did share me a glance. He shook his head in warnin’. I took two more steps anyway, and set the bucket with the bowl fitted atop it, onto the ground. If she was gonna move against me, it would be then. As I expected, her neck extended, her mouth wide. I grasped Bacchus with both hands. She awakened, angry, ready to battle.
Reality told me I didn’t have a chance. But I’d go down fightin’. I swung Bacchus with all my strength, catchin’ the enormous dragon on the side of the chin. Bacchus rocked in my hands as though I’d just struck a solid block of granite, numbin’ me up to my shoulders. I closed my eyes as Bacchus fell to the ground.
The seconds ticked by. The harsh smell of the dragon’s breath turned my stomach. I tasted the scent that filled the air around me. Other than birds far away, all I could hear was the rhythmic breathin’ of the creature. I finally opened my eyes. Iza’s snout hovered inches from my face.
“He’s still alive?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Will he live?”
“I think so. His fever isn’t what it was just hours ago.”
“He better survive. If he doesn’t I’ll kill ya and Ike, maybe that silly woman stayin’ with ya. Depends upon my mood.”
I stood still. Wasn’t gonna argue with an irritated dragon queen.
“Care for that disloyal bull if ya must,” she said. Her neck arched as her head pulled away. “Then ya can stitch up my wings. I have tears from the trees.” Her head lowered again. “Before ya do that though, rub my chin. Not that the twig ya teased me with hurt. Just an itch.”
Of course. Just an itch.
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