A Curse of Flames & Blood

Chapter 5

Aerilyn

I study the drawing again. Damn Roclan. The sleeping dragon is located very deep in the forest. I have spend many days in this forest hunting, but never ventured that deep. I trace the path with my eye, before folding the drawing and putting it in the small pouch attached to my belt. I shove my hair out of my face and carefully make my way deeper into the trees. 

The canopy becomes thicker, letting less sunlight stream through and lighting the way below. The bushes around me become denser and more difficult to move through and the surrounding tree trunks grow thicker. The deeper I venture, the darker it becomes. The forest floor becomes more uneven, slowing down my trek considerably. I keep a hand on tree trucks, helping to keep my direction and my balance in the dim light. 

My foot slips on a few lose rocks and I lose my balance, quickly righting myself against the tree. I place a hand over the wound on my stomach breathing through the pain before I move on. Only a few steps later, my foot gets stuck on a stray tree root and I tumble forward too late to grab onto a tree to stop my fall. I land hard on my side, the angled arches of the root jabbing into my wound. A pained moan leaves my mouth and I feel fresh blood rushing out of the cut.

"Fuck!", I press a hand to my wet bloodied shirt, but it's too dark to clean and re-bandage the wound. I sit up slowly, wincing as I move my arms towards my back, drawing the strings of the corset tighter, hoping it would staunch the bleeding for now. After tying the string, I take quick shallow breaths, struggling to draw deep breathes because of the tightness. I place my hand on my knee and stumble upright with a groan. Throwing the long silver braid of my hair back over my shoulder, I continue onward, making sure to keep close to the trees and look down at the ground more often. 

After another hour of careful walking, I come across a small shallow stream. The water is cool and clear, so clear that I can see the smooth rocks and stones at the bottom. I make my way across the stream. After some time, the bushes start thinning, making them easier to traverse and the canopy lets more sunlight through. There in the middle of a big open area, surrounded by trees was a small grey stone castle. 

The castle is much bigger than any building I've ever seen. Although the castle is worn and crumbling with age, forest foliage and trees already taking over parts and covering the surface of the castle, it was still a beautiful sight. It was a simple design, a basic square with some extending spire towers at the corners. There are some big holes in the roof and one of the spire towers has completely collapsed.

Huge double doors, hanging skew on the hinges, two large moss and vines covered mounds on either side of the door. As I get closer to the doors I realize that the mounds are stone dragons. Their maw's open wide surrounded by several sharp teeth. I force the door open slightly with my shoulder, slipping inside. 

It's dull and the air slightly stale inside, but the huge open room was lit by a single hole in the ceiling. In the corner closer to the doors are some worn stone steps leading upstairs. I turn my back to them and head deeper into the entrance room. In one corner, where the wall is completely collapsed, is a tree. Trunk thicker than my legs and the top branches extending past the ceiling. How long has this place been like this? How long has the dragon been sleeping here?

I feel a pull towards a dark entrance next to the tree. Stone steps leading down into the ground, at the end, there is only darkness. I take a deep breath and put down my bag at the base of the tree and slip one of the daggers from my hip, into my hand. Hand on the wall, I descend into darkness.

The chamber is dark. So dark that I can't see my hand waving in front of my face. The pull in my chest is stronger here, I must be on the right track to find the dragon. My foot gets stuck on some rock on the floor and I stumble forward, hand extended to stop my fall. I suck in a breath when I slice my palm on a sharp rock, blood welling up in my hand.

"Shit."

Rahl

I have been in a dreamless sleep for a very long time, peacefully unaware of the world outside my dark chamber. Many years with my senses cut off from the world, my conscience surrounded by peaceful darkness, but a strong alluring scent is the first thing that cuts through my blissful sleep. It's soft and alluring enough to catch my attention, pulling my dragon instincts to the foreground. As sleep recedes to the back of my mind, the scent becomes stronger. It pulls at foggy memories at the back of my mind, but it also lulls my dragon instincts to calm, to protect, to investigate the source. There is a faint familiarity to the scent, a pull, a nagging feeling, but my mind is sleep-muddled and drunk on the intoxicating scent. 

"Shit", a soft feminine voice has me opening my eyes. Zeroing in on a small figure standing bend over near my spiked tail. A low rumble works its way up my throat, that delicious scent wafting from this woman. She is furiously rubbing her bloody palm on her dark cotton pants. I take a breath and release a spark of my dragon fire through my nostril, lighting multiple torches along the wall. 

At the sudden light in the room, the woman lifts her head and takes in her surroundings. She is small and slight. Long silver white hair is braided down her back, with shorter tendrils framing her face. A beautifully pale face, with a sharp jawline, full thick lips, a delicate upturned nose and light violet eyes framed by dark eyebrows. She sucks in a breath, eyes landing on my tail. She reaches out a hand, softly placing her palm on my dark hide. I suppress a shiver as a shock of electricity runs up my spine. 

"Beautiful", she whispers. Her compliment making my chest swell uncomfortably in pride. This woman with her beautifully delicate features and deliciously intoxicating scent had my instincts screaming at me. 

"Who wakes me?", my dragon voice is deep with a slight drawn out hiss on the 's' sounds. The woman jerks her hand back, head swinging towards me. She takes a step back, and I can't stop the rumbling growl of displeasure at the gesture. 

The woman lifts her chin stubbornly, "My name is Aerilyn of Aurea, I have come to wake the dragon in hopes to save this kingdom from the demons".

My gigantic dragon head moves closer to her small frame, my eyes dilating as her scent hits me stronger, "You bleed, human". 

The woman, Aerilyn, lifts her hand, showing her cut palm, "I fell in the dark, I cut my hand on your tail". The cut is shallow and has stopped bleeding, not the source that's triggering my instincts. 

I take a sniff of her again, she bravely stands still as my jaw opens, taking in her scent more, rolling over my tongue, making my mouth water. The reaction to her scent sends alarm bells ringing in my brain, but I am too drunk on her to notice. I press my snout to her stomach and growls when she winces. 

"You bleed here", I pull my dragonic head back, watching as she digs her fingers under her leather corset and shirt, lifting it, sucking in a breath. Blood runs freely down from a large stab wound on her pale stomach, staining the waist band of her dark cotton pants. 

My instincts scream at me to lick her wound, taste her blood, heal her. I have no time to question this strange flare in my dragonic nature, my tongue rolling out of my mouth and pressing against her cool skin. I listen to Aerilyn suck in a breath, her free hand fisted at her side. My focus zeroing in on the taste of her delicious blood on my tongue. She tastes divine, addictive. Her blood a rich flavor on my tongue, the desire to claim this human thrashing wildly against my chest. 

Along with unexplainable desire, the taste of her blood sets something alight in my chest. There was a hint of something strange in her blood. A hint of something not completely human. With one final lick over the wound, watching in satisfaction as the skin stitches together, some distant foggy memory gnawing me at the sight, I pull my head back and watch the woman. She has her head thrown back slightly, eyes squeezed close, biting her lip. She doesn't move, even as a warm white light floods her.