The Wings Of A Dragon

Chapter Four

Lainathion opened his eyes. Unable to see anything in the complete darkness, he groggily wondered if his eyes were still closed. Feeling himself slipping back into a deep sleep, he tried to fight off the sickening daze. Reaching out a shaking hand into the darkness, he felt around until he grasped a hard structure. As he started to pull himself up, a wave of pain shot through his ribs, so abrupt and agonizing that he gasped and crumpled to the floor, unable to breath. Slowly his mind become aware of what had happened earlier. Not attempting to pull himself up again, he lifted his head and tried to determine where he was. As his mind cleared and his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he realized he was still in the deserted shop in the village. Despite his pain, he smiled slightly; relieved he had not been captured or moved. Taking shallow breaths, he felt his mind and body becoming more responsive and alert with every passing second. Finally, he reached over once more and managed to pull himself up. Supporting himself on a nearby table, he wondered what to do next.

The soft, radiant light of a full moon beamed through the open window of the shop. Looking down, Lainathion noticed his cloak was stiff with dried blood and clinging to his skin. Although thankful that his wounds were not still open, he realized he must clean them to prevent further injury. Taking small steps forward, he realised his tight grip on the table and managed to make his way to the open door. Leaning against it, he breathed a sigh of relief and smiled nervously. This will not be as hard as I reasoned. He thought to himself. Looking out into the deserted streets of the moon-lit village, Lainathion determined the inn would be the best place to care for his injuries. He started to make his way slowly to the large inn down the wide dirt road, stumbling only a few times but gaining more strength and awareness with every step. The pain in his ribs subsided to only a dull, numbed sensation that he ignored as he focused on making his way down the path. He reached the inn with minimal difficulty, and proceeded inside. Leaving the door wide open so the radiance of the moon would light the room enough to look around, he quickly found a small candle and lit it. The inn seemed sinister and forbidding as Lainathion searched for any supplies that would help him care for his wounds. He shuddered slightly as a cool breeze caused the door to creak and lifted the curtains from the windows.

Lainathion looked around the large room, and quickly found a small pail of water to cleanse the wound. Unable to find any dressing for the wound, he started ripping the linen curtains into long strips, knowing they would work as bandages until he could make it back to the Elven Kingdom. Setting the supplies he had gathered on a nearby table, he sat down and lifted his shirt gingerly. Carefully dabbing at the dried blood with a damp cloth, he revealed a gash that extended down his back and side. Although it was large and painful in appearance, Lainathion could tell it was not that deep, for it had mostly closed already. Most of the pain in his ribs was from the impact of being knocked hard to the ground, although the cut did sting a little. Lainathion wrapped a linen strip around the wound after he finished disinfecting it to stop any excess bleeding and to protect it from debris. After he secured the linen tightly, he gently pressed on his ribs to feel for any broken bones. Although they were sore and painful when he applied pressure to them, he thought they weren't broken, but he knew he needed to make it back to the Elven Kingdom to have his injuries checked out to be sure.

Lainathion stood up, taking the candle in his hand, he looked around the large inn once more before slowly making his way to the door. He stopped suddenly, listening intently. Although the night was almost silent, save for the gentle rustling of the trees outside and several night insects, Lainathion caught the muffled sound of something other than nature. He stood alert and silent for several more moments, listening for any other disruption in the peaceful silence of the night. There it is again. Lainathion heard another sound, muffled and very quiet, but distinctly there. Reaching into his cloak, he felt around for his knife before realizing it was not there. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, remembering that he must have dropped it when he passed out earlier. Lainathion sighed inwardly, reprimanding himself for being so foolish. Cautiously, he started making his way up the stairs where he thought the noise was coming from; this time with nothing to defend himself. This is essentially the same way I was hurt in the first place, he mused as he crept slowly up the steps. Despite his efforts to remain as silent and undetected as possible, the stairs had a different idea. Lainathion winced as a loud creak resonated from the old woodwork. The noise he was tracing ceased and the room was once again as silent as before. Lainathion became more uneasy knowing that he would be expected when he reached the top of the stairs, and considered turning back. But he shook his head and sighed softly, cursing his own curiosity.

As he reached the top of the stairs, he looked at the open doors of the five dark rooms. The dim light from his candle cast shadows around him, making the rooms appear forbidding and threatening. Lainathion approached the first room and took a deep breath, preparing for the worst.

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