Tragic Innocence

Chapter 22: Three Goblins and a Turon

            It was dark.  The hollow of the ground scattered eerie echoes everywhere along with the steady drip of water in the great distance.  The air was much colder here and the humidity was suddenly overbearing.  Crow gulped masses of the thickness that lingered about as if he was drowning.

            The deep blackness of the void helped none as he sought recognition to his surroundings.  Just how long had he been unconscious?  How far had he dropped?  It couldn’t have been too--he gasped as he attempted to move, his thoughts shattered from the excruciating interruption.  His leg was seriously injured.  The gasping Turon blindly reached with an unsteady hand to feel his limb, it being numb from a searing pain.

            Crow wheezed again.  He had somehow shredded the skin from his upper thigh to his calf which bled profusely.  His light head still spun wildly as a throbbing headache furiously coursed through his swollen veins.

            “Where am I?” his whisper was barely audible even to his own ears.            Once Crow managed to tie a piece of his cape around his wounded leg to stall the bleeding, he stood upon them unsteadily to test their strength.  After a few failed attempts, he managed to balance himself upon the leg that had suffered no damage.  Though it was strong and unbroken, it trembled nonetheless from shock.  His attempted smile smirked into a grimace.  Well, at least he had one leg that worked.  Thank Enon!  Still, the loss of too much blood along with the great fall made him tumble.

            He shut his eyes as he concentrated upon his breathing, trying to ease the acute pain away that pulsated hotly throughout his body.  He knew that the fall would inevitably break something, but he was very grateful that it had not taken his very life!

            He lay motionless wallowing in his pain as he cradled the tender limb.  If only he had something to support it so that it would mend properly, he thought with dismay as his eyes met only the thick blackness of his surroundings.  Self-doubt began to curl like smoke into his tempest-tossed mind.  Was it supposed to be this way?  Had he foolishly charged in without properly investigating the situation first?  How will he ever escape this predicament now?  Will his caravan ever find him?

            Not for awhile anyway, he snorted with disappointment.  Of course he will walk again--it would be just a matter of time!

            “Zolata--” he winced from the pain in his chest as he weakly inhaled, “I must be daft for I feel that I have done this solely for you!  I only wanted to--”  A sudden peace filled his bosom, as if her presence filled him.  He relaxed and closed his weary eyes.

            Get some sleep...

            Crow then slipped easily into the deep healing of slumber, dreams of his sorceress engulfed his visions.

            A soft glowing torch entered the grotto the injured elf lay in, which caused him to stir from his sleep and open heavy eyes.  His vision was blurred and could not focus on the feminine form that had cautiously entered therein.  It stopped, looming high above him.  Her face was a bright oval with two dark pools for eyes.  He squinted against the brightness.

            “Who are you?”  He struggled to his elbows, but her foot pressed against his chest, pinning him down.

            Her small hands lingered above his wounded leg as a melting heat enveloped it.  He inhaled sharply at the burning pain, his hands longing to cradle its strange sensation.

            The maiden restrained his action with the simple gaze of her eyes, then answered his question.  “Goblin Paradise,” her voice was soft and fragile like the wind chimes that flanked the outside of Zolata’s home.  The mysterious maiden lingered a little while longer before she turned and disappeared, the light’s flame with her.