"Can you sleep like that?" Reginald asked Feirult.
Feirult, still keeping Daisella buoyant and resting peacefully, answered back with a devious grin, "I can stay awake like this for weeks."
Holding his hands in front of the fire, Reginald nodded, "I see. Well, luckily for you, my dear boy, I'm not planning on letting you stay like that for more than a few hours or so."
"Daisella needs to be kept here." Feirult said, grimacing.
"Not necessarily; I know of a potion that might cool her body down much more, like northern river water, but it'll take some... concocting," Reginald said the last grimly.
"She'd be able to rest in her own bed again?" Feirult asked, hopefully.
"She would, and she would not need any more treatments like this ever again. It is a fairy potion, but I'm sure it will work."
"Fairies?" Feirult asked dubiously.
"Yes, I know the preconceptions on fairies, Big Red, but I think it will save her."
Feirult gazed at Daisella. He ran his red, scaly fingers through her soft, golden hair and glided his obsidian claws lightly over her red yet delicate skin. Looking back at the knight, Feirult asked firmly, "All right, what do we need?"
A small, nervous laugh came from Reginald. "Well, we would need a few things. Most of it can be found around here. Lake bed sand, dragon's tongue—the flower, not an actual tongue," Reginald quickly explained. "Blue rose pedals, water from stones that have gathered over night—all that's the easy stuff," Reginald sighed, knowing the last two ingredients.
"Then we should get it right now to—"
"Not so fast, Big Red; there's the last two."
"Easy enough, I'm sure."
"Nightshade and essence of an ice wraith."
Feirult thought for a minute. "But... ice wraiths, don't they occupy cemeteries?"
"So does nightshade. And the closest cemetery—or likes there of—is Gurgan's Void."
Retracting his neck and breathing heavily, Feirult slowly stated, "But... that's.... the resting place of the black knights of Stennakar."
"Precisely."
"No one can enter that place," Feirult said angrily. "It's sealed off by magic sigils. Even the latest tales tell of not a living thing entering that place."
"You're not telling this old knight anything new," Reginald growled.
"So, how is it, exactly, we're going to get those ingredients for her?"
Taking a deep breath, Reginald looked at the fire, saying, "I don't know."
Feirult looked away from Reginald, disappointed. "Good thing you came up with a great idea; otherwise, I might be worried."
"I didn't say it was a great idea. Just an idea, a maybe. If you have a better one, let me know."
"I can fly pretty far, pretty fast. There has to be a closer cemetery. You knights are always dying off." Feirult then shrugged. "No offense."
Reginald shot a fire-outlined ire of annoyance at Feirult. "Well, if you dragons left some remains, we might have need for more cemeteries."
Feirult turned from Reginald, trying to hide a sly grin. It didn't work.
"We will take Daisella back to the castle at first light and then head out," Reginald told Feirult, laying on the ground with his head somewhat cushioned by bits of grass and dirt.
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Sir Reginald
FanfictionSir Reginald Macehammer of Lythgowen is a lonely dragon hunter who has encountered a lot in his life. These are his tales of dragons & damsels, of fairies & folklore. In his world, prejudice is everything, and nothing is at seems. Cover art by Waves...