|| Book One of the Dragonkind Duology ||
𝙄𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙨𝙣'𝙩 𝙖 𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙤𝙛 𝙞𝙛 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙗𝙚 𝙨𝙥𝙞𝙡𝙩; 𝙞𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣.
For years, dragonkind and humankind had been at war, alternating between short-lived truces and all out...
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The gatekeeper poked his head out of the tower as the party approached. "Is he dead?"
"He is not," Iver called up, ignoring Darin's sarcastic, "Not yet, but this headache might finish the job." "He has exhausted his mana supply, however, and needs urgent care."
The gatekeeper nodded before disappearing into the tower, and the gate slowly began to open. Iver was glad for the lack of a crowd as they stepped back into Rokor, but he doubted it would last long as word spread of the harbinger's defeat. Ideally, they would go straight back to the inn, but he could see the subtle strain in Noctifer's face as he continued to carry the wizard across the town's threshold. Even Darin had (reluctantly) put his arm around the warrior's shoulders to lift some of his weight off of the other's arms while Iver carried his sword.
"We can stop over there," Iver said, pointing to a fountain. No water flowed from it in preparation for snowfall, but there was still water in the basin. Noctifer said nothing as he followed the elf to it, setting Darin down carefully so he could lean back against the fountain's side.
"You're heavier than you look," Noctifer said as he straightened, rubbing his arms with a grimace.
"I prefer the word 'compact,' thank you very much," Darin replied pettily. He watched as Iver kneeled beside him, pulling out the cloths from a side compartment. The blood had since dried, but he still looked between the stained fabric and the fountain's water with a frown, wondering if the fountain was connected to the town's drinking supply. Darin tapped the elf's knee to get his attention. "I have a spell that can clean clothing. It's still fabric, so it should work on those as well."
"You are not using magic," Iver stated sharply.
Darin laughed. "I wasn't planning on it. I promise." He pulled his spellbook from its carrier as he flipped through the pages, saying nothing as Iver laid his hand at the base of his skull as an extra precaution. When he found the spell, he motioned over to Argent for the boy to sit next to him. "It's not very long, but it's in an old Paraglian dialect. Repeat after me."
It took a few tries and repeats for Argent to work out the correct pronunciations, but Darin was a patient teacher. Iver mentally rehearsed the lines as well. While elven and human magic differed greatly—elves being a race formed by the fae and long-extinct nymphs—there was a chance he would be able to trigger the spell thanks to his partial human lineage. The ability to clean rags without water would be handy to keep around, especially as a medic. If he couldn't use the spell, then he would have to keep an eye out for the elven equivalent. For now, however, he would let the boy perform the spell. Argent still held a fair amount of mana, and it would be good for him to practice on something practical. With the cloths laid out on the ground him and the spellbook in hand, Argent concentrated on the odd words he uttered—Iver allowed Darin to help regulate the boy's magic—and the blood slowly drew away from the rags, coagulating into a small, solid orb. Darin picked up the orb once the spell was complete and tossed it into the grass.
