Green passed as mist before their eyes. Demetri was out of breath, but Fidelma still rushed as though the dragon chief himself was behind her. The light in the woods had faded, and pale strands of pink and red penetrated the walls and roofs of the trees as dusk broke upon them. At last, Demetri's foot gave way under him and he stumbled into the root strewn ground with Fidelma's hand still yanking on him.
"Enough-" he gasped. Fidelma halted, realizing she dragged him behind her. Her own breaths were exhausted, and as she stood there checking on her companion the air felt dry and sharp in her throat. But she at least could stand, while Demetri lay sprawled out on the earth, huffing and coughing on his back. "We can't be in any danger now," he said hoarsely. "...Can you see anything?"
She erected her neck and cocked her ears. "It's getting dark, so it's hard to see anything, but..." she turned and scaled the nearest tree and surveyed from the tallest limb. Her little voice called down, "there's nothing but smoke on the horizon in the west, but it's old and stale, and the fire seems to have died down. I can't hear anything, neither the stirring of a dragon nor the warbling of a bird. The stars are coming out." She dropped back down in front of him like a droplet of rain, her torn and tattered dress floating about her. "What should we do?"
"I don't know. Duhra may send scouts. He doesn't like to leave survivors."
"Oh..." She shivered terribly, beginning to grip at her elbows. "What if there are no survivors but us? Dara, Terran, Ohraan, Eva and Lacia...Bobbin-!" She froze up, and her eyes were watering in place, as a flower petal holds a bead of rain, unwilling to let it drop. Demetri sat up in silence, staring ahead into the woodlands. He couldn't look at her, not right now, lest he start tearing up himself.
"We, we have to go back," she stammered.
"No!" he snapped, "don't be daft, there's no good you could do if you were to return now, the city is in ruins. Duruileon is gone."
"But if there's any chance there are still people fighting to escape-"
"I'm taking you somewhere safe, that's what I was told and that's what I'm going do. You have a cousin that rules in a neighboring forest, right? Do you know how to get there? We can seek him for help."
Fidelma trembled 'till at last she dropped to her knees, both her hands and her hair hiding her face as she wept out loud. Demetri turned to her and sighed, then crawled over to her reluctantly, trying to see her face.
"Fidelma?"
She couldn't stop crying, nor would she lift her eyes to look at him.
"Fidelma, please don't cry." Slowly, he wrapped himself around her in an awkward but tender embrace, and instantly she squeezed back. He rubbed her back as he stifled the tears swelling up in his weary eyes. "It's going to be okay."
"What if-if Papa didn't make it out, or Mama, and there's nothing I can do about it, and w-we'll never see them again. I almost lost you, and I had to kill it..." She choked on a tear, then sniffed hard. "I still have its b-blood on my hands...I could hear the life leave its body when it hit the ground."
"Fidelma, you did an amazing thing; you were protecting your own, like a princess should for her people. I only wish I could have been of more use."
"I hate killing things! It's hard enough hunting animals but now I've slaughtered something with a conscience."
"You can hardly call a dragon something with a conscience."
She pulled back and glared at him. "A life is a life!"
"Look, I know what it's like to take someone's life for the first time. But you did what you had to, and now what we have to do is move forward, alright? We must at least find somewhere safe to sleep."
She sniffed again, her hands still shaking as she dried her eyes. "Okay."
They arose together and journeyed into the night, staying close under the sweeping breezes of the icy winter air. The sky was black, for many of the stars were hidden under cloud and smoke, yet the air was biting brisk, and the wanderers' legs were stiff from having run for so long. They wrapped their arms around themselves but it only did so much to block the frosty breath. They discovered a ditch resting within the cover of a long-fallen tree, and they seized it for shelter. Fidelma slipped in first, and then helped Demetri down to the bottom. The soil was cold, but at least the basin blocked the wind. They lay beside each other, their stomachs empty and aching. Fidelma curled up on her side, her teeth starting to chatter. She tried pulling at her long, ripped sleeves to make them cover more of her arms but it didn't do much. Demetri behind her removed his coat and covered her with it.
"What about you?" She craned her head to look at him.
"I'll be fine."
She turned back to stare at the earthen wall, huddling inside the heavy coat, savoring its fresh warmth. She nodded off a couple of times but couldn't stay asleep. Something troubled her deep inside. She prayed multiple times for the anxiety and the images of her burning home to be erased so she could rest, but something else stirred her heart. She eventually turned over to check on Demetri, and found him also curled up, back toward her. She laid her hand on the side of his face and it felt as ice to her. She started. There's no way he'll last the night, at least not without getting sick. She sat upright and pondered for a few minutes, wrapping the coat tightly around her self....We won't both fit under the coat, nor would he be willing to share body heat...and we have no food, and I don't recall how to find Breon's house...That settles it then!
Without further hesitation, she tucked the coat over Demetri's body, climbed out of the hole, and hasted back after the lost city. She pumped her feet against the ground - her muscles were stiff and tired, but the running kept her somewhat warm. In time, the moon disclosed its self beyond the tree tops, breaking through the old smog, lighting her path. The air had tamed some, and the crickets were quiet. There came a rustle in one of the trees, but it stirred her not. She was fixated on one thing: reach Duruileon, find resources. She slowed to more of a jog as her feet threatened to fail her. She ignored the loneliness she felt, journeying all alone in the dark, and prayed every hour or less – she wasn't entirely certain this was the wisest choice, but she knew no other course of action to take. She was small and light on her feet, she thought, and surely none of the dragons expected any sane dryad to return to the occupied domain, so she might slip through unnoticed, especially if she made it there before daybreak.
She could smell the sulfur and charred wood, mingled with the odor of scorched corpses. Her feet hit something soft and limp on the ground. She knelt warily to examine it, and it was Demetri's satchel, which he had tossed off his shoulders earlier to ease their escape. She felt her way through the bag's contents, and found the research journal her father had composed on weaponry. She choked back a tear, then quickly closed everything up in the bag again and slung it across herself as she pressed onward. Since I'm going back anyway, perhaps he'll be happy to have it back.
The stench of death loomed over her senses as she drew closer. Something crawled over her nerves as she walked, 'till she arrived at the ruins, and she crept through the veil of trees to see several of the scattered lamp posts with their crystals still aglow. The iridescent shades of reds, purples, blues, and yellows softly lit the crumbled towers and the crushed houses, the shambles of fountains and glades. As she stepped onto the city streets there were dozens of bodies left abandoned, who had sought to flee for the wilds – many of them were hard to make heads or tails of among the burns and maul marks. Fidelma tried to keep her eyes upward, as she surveyed the landscape, searching for any Thyrians who might be awake and about.
She thought of scouting the corners of the city to see what had become of everyone, to see if even the dragons were still there, but the winter air had cut into her bones, and she no longer shivered. She had to find warmth of some kind, and her best bet was her family's house, so she pursued the furthermost north point of Duruileon. She stayed close to the remains of buildings in case a dragon showed itself, and stayed on the tip of her toes as she sprinted. In an hour she found her castle, partially singed but still standing. White flakes floated about the sylvan palace which she took at first to be ash, but once they touched her she realized it was snow. She held out her frozen hand to catch one, as if the snowflake might warm her. She clutched at her dress with her other hand and shuddered. She felt she might be getting sick, but she was so close to home. She trotted up the walkway and then stopped with a start; upon the front step of the castle door, a dragon slept.
Many dragons were large enough to scale to the top of the dryad palace in a few steps, but this one was barely the size of a small cottage. His snoring warmed the air around her, and his boulder-like body lay sprawled out down the front step, his hindlegs stretched into the broken doorway, leaving an opening at the top. Fidelma crept closer toward the hot air of the rumbling nostrils, tilting her head to survey the state of the Thyrian. She couldn't be hasty...or could she? She backed up a step then ran towards the beast, her bare feet patting straight up his scaled body, and leapt the second half of the way over the dragon, landing flat on the floor. She checked over her shoulder to see him stir slightly, scratch his belly with his foreclaw, then snort contentedly and become still again. Fidelma dared a soft sigh, and toed her way up the stairs.
She scavenged the kitchen and dining room, stuffing the satchel with all the food it could hold, then searched her father's study nearby, packing one of his maps as well. She made her way up to the bedroom floor and hunted through her own chamber, which was still intact. She retrieved a sack and filled it with blankets and whatever else she could squish into it. She pulled out a cloak from her wardrobe and laid it across the foot of her bed. At last she dropped the bags and sat on her bed, breathing heavily, the adrenaline dying down inside her. She leaned on her arms, but they trembled under her weight. Her belly was so empty she couldn't feel it anymore, and her eyelids were sacks of rocks pulling down her head. She turned and glanced out her window, staring at the moon hanging high in the sky. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad if I took a little nap...just a short one...I can't very well run back to Demetri feeling like this, or I might collapse. She moved her hand along the bed covers. So warm, so soft...She let herself drop upon the bed, wrapped herself all about in the wool blanketing, curled in a ball within its toasty warmth, then drifted easily to sleep.
She opened her eyes, and the sun broke through the window over her bed. She respired deep and slow, savoring the sweet light. She shot upright. Oh no! The morning, the dragons, and I'm still here! She got up and donned her cloak, then grabbed the bags, strapping each one across her chest from either shoulder. How could I have been so stupid! She slipped into the grand corridor, looking every which way for any lurking foe. She rushed down the winding staircase, all the way to the bottom and made a headlong dash to the front door which was still wide open. The sleeping dragon was gone. I just have to go for it. Her toes touched the front step. A giant claw slammed into the ground in front of her. She shot her head up and there stood a great bronze serpent ramming its head into the side of the castle. It ground its face with a hungry growl, and a second dragon of equal towering size climbed the opposite side, rummaging through the bridge between the two main towers of the palace, where the dining hall and kitchen rested. Fidelma spun herself around and raced back inside before she got stepped on, and started to head for the courtyard, thinking she might slip past the second dragon through the garden, but the beautiful place was already crushed, and the beast itself had already jumped back down to the ground in a scrambling fashion. Splinters of wood and dust poured upon Fidelma's head. The ceiling was shifting. The Thyrians' raid of the palace was too harsh for the trees on which it was build. The structure was collapsing.
She slid clumsily in the dust to turn herself about, then darted back inside and up the stairwell. The stairs were stable enough, but she could hear the creaking and cracking of the halls nearby. She made it to the floor she had started on, and found her bedroom, but not before she witnessed the crashing of the corridor just a little further down. The dragons must have been running a rampage on the rooftops, hunting for more food and any other goods they could get their claws on. The cracks in the walls and ceiling reached out for her, as she turned into her room. She jumped on her bed and peered out to find a safe place to leap out onto; she knew there was a tree off to the left whose branch tips almost touched her window ledge, but she had never tried to jump all the way on its boughs before. She spotted the lone tree, and crouched upon the sill. The earth seemed to move as she readied to take the leap. She realized the room was leaning sideways. The tree limb was flying away from her. She backed up on her bed, her heart pumping wild, then ran with all her might up through the window and sprang into the air, stretching forth her hand for the branch.
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