The Rogue Rider (An Inheritance Fanfiction)

Chapter 4: Akaysha

Ragin stumbled up against a large stone, grunting with the effort it had taken to stand. He was breathing hard and his right shoulder was bleeding heavily. The dragon was still perched on his good shoulder, showing slight alarm as he nearly fell over. It peeped concerningly, causing the thief to smile at it. He looked at the dragon and gave it a comforting nudge with his mind.

"It's alright," he said softly, "I've gotten through worse."

He wasn't entirely sure if that were true, as he had no idea what had hit him in the shoulder or the damage it had caused. He was quite sure that it wasn't serious though. As much as it pained him, he was still conscious and able to walk. Though he doubted he would for much longer.

He had stumbled into a ditch with stone on one side and Gil'ead's wall on the other. The alcove was covered in dense trees, making it so the guards on the wall couldn't see through at the stranger on the ground. In fact, the entire area was covered in dense forest. There were a few small tracks that Ragin knew, and had followed to get where he was, but other than that it was quite close to impassable.

Ragin's head shot up when he heard men's voices and dogs barking. They were still looking for him. He reckoned that Tharin hadn't been entirely pleased when they had failed to locate his body, and even less pleased that they hadn't found him alive either. So the search parties were desperately trying to catch him. He had thrown a few concealment spells to throw them off track, like ones to hide his scent, but he couldn't staunch the flow of blood from his shoulder.

"Don't worry dragon," he said when it peeped nervously again, "We're safe now."

Hauling himself from the rock he placed his hand against it then muttered a few words in a strange language. Not at all like the ancient one. His Gedwey Ignasia pulsed under his hand at a flow of magic. After a moment or two of silence the wall suddenly shook and groaned, before sliding downwards into the floor, leaving a dark opening of a man-made cave.

Ragin stumbled inside, muttering a few more words that made the door close. He made a torch hanging from the wall set itself alight with magic, revealing the inside. There were a couple of steps that led downwards, with a couple more torches that were quickly lit. At the end it opened up into a small room, with a bed at the back, an old chair, a table with a plate, a weapons rack holding a sword and a couple of different sized daggers, and lastly a black unstrung blow with a quiver of arrows.

The dragon blinked as it looked around at its new surroundings, as if confused. However it sensed Ragin was far less worried now, and decided to leap of his shoulder and onto the table with a yawn. He watched it for a moment, before sighing and sitting down on the chair and clutching his shoulder again.

He threw the sword he had been carrying rather carelessly toward the weapon rack, only to have it clatter on the floor with a bang of steel. He jabbed his dagger into the wooden table, more to make sure that the dragon didn't accidently skewer itself on the tip, then continued to the difficult task of removing his shirt.

It was painful to lift it over his shoulder, but he managed, and turned his attention to the wound. There was a small hole there, no bigger than the width of an arrow shaft. Most of the bleeding had stopped, thankfully, but every time he moved his shoulder he felt something against the bone.

He winced slightly at the pain and took a deep breath. He didn't really want to use magic to remove whatever was inside, considering he had no idea what it was and didn't want to risk causing more damage. So instead he gripped his small knife, wiping the blade on his trousers, then, with absolutely no hesitation, stuck the point into the wound. He hissed softly in pain and the dragon let out a panicked yowl, shaking its head and staring at him as if he had gone mad.