Chapter Twenty-six *NEW*

CONTENT ADVISORY / TRIGGER WARNING

THIS NOVEL CONTAINS DEPICTIONS/STRONG IMPLICATIONS OF THE FOLLOWING THAT SOME READERS MAY FIND OFFENSIVE OR DISTURBING:

~ BLOOD

~ VIOLENCE

"A slayer?"

A loud and deep voice, one rumbling as if the sound echoed from the pits of Hel, snarled from above. Libelle and Gaalin looked upwards, feeling the strange gust of winds against their skin. The cheering men ceased, and instead screamed. Running while shouting the words "It's Eskil!" "The death bringer!" "Everyone runs!"

Gaalin released Libelle as she struggled within his grasp, watching as she stepped past the two fresh corpses and approached the hovering black dragon. The beast hovered above with jagged black scales and bright eyes; its size was incomparable to the two dragons she had just slain. Eskil, the very first dragon.

Eskil snarled, barring his teeth. "The last slayer I killed was over fifty years ago. I am impressed to see another one of your kind."

Why? Why was the first dragon here? Now?

"Libelle, you cannot defeat Eskil. He is too powerful." Gaalin said, glancing at the warriors who were attempting to slip past the dragon's gaze to scale back down the cliffs.

"Slayer, your actions today... they are unforgivable." Eskil snarled. "You will pay."

Eskil roared, the ancient beast unleashing his mystical force upon the mortals on the cliff plateau. From the eruption of his roar, the mountain shook, breaking apart the rocky surface. Storm clouds appeared behind his great black wings, with strikes of lightening crackling within them. Eskil soared downward, soaring like a strong wind. He was fast and fierce, an ear-piercing whistle coming from his large wings as they cut through the air.

In an instant, before she or Gaalin could react, Eskil snatched one of the warriors from the cliff side as he was attempting to climb down its deadly surface. The man screamed as he was pinned within Eskil's long teeth, his scream lasting up until Eskil bit down, slicing the man in three. Blood rained down over the soil, and the remaining warriors shrieked like terrified women.

She smiled weakly at him, "Give me your sword Gaalin."

Reluctantly he did, helplessly watching Eskil kill the warriors one at a time. Some with his fangs, some by collecting them and dropping them from a height that gave the men plenty of time to contemplate their life, while others were fortunate enough to perish instantaneously by his flames.

Libelle held the unfamiliar sword in her left hand, and in her right focused her energy into forming a blue orb filled with her magical energy. She focused, keeping her eye on her target, and the unleashed the orb. It doubled in size the moment it left her palm, growing in size rapidly as it hurled towards the unsuspecting dragon. Yet when it collided, all he did was smirk.

Gaalin as hurled backwards when Eskil roared, the back of his head striking a rock hard enough for him to feel faint. Through his hazy vision, he watched Libelle jump from a ledge towards Eskil, trying desperately to swing his blade through the ancient dragons hide. Then his vision faded.

For how long, he did not know. Because when his foggy eyes opened, his vision locked onto Libelle who was kneeling on one knee in front of Eskil. She was clutching her throat, gasping with a pain expression. It was only after he had forced himself to his unsteady feet, that he was able to see the wounds the two had inflicted upon one another. Both faced each other, both with severe wounds over their bodies where blood seeped from the tissue beneath their skin.

He glanced around the area, looking from one corpse to another until his gaze fell onto his bow. He darted for it, reaching the elven wood and knocking an arrow in one swift move, he aimed and released. The arrow flew through the air, piercing a small gape in Eskil's scales on his neck. The dragon roared, turning its blood thirsty gaze to him while hissing like a serpent.

Gaalin released another arrow, this one striking the seeping wound on his chest. Eskil howled, stretching his neck to turn and pluck the arrow from the wound. This was his chance, he needed to reach Libelle, and they needed to withdraw. He ran, he ran as fast as he ever had in his lifetime to reach her, dropping to his knees as he slid to her side and wrapped his arms around her.

Now that he was so close to her, he could see the severity of her injuries. "We need to go. Now."

She shook her head, "No, I can still fight."

"Libelle! He has practically torn out your throat! We need to go, now!" He felt her struggle within her grasp, watched as Eskil crept towards them along the ground, his eyes fixated on them.

"I will feast upon you slayer." Eskil growled.

"Libelle, please retreat."

"I cant." She wheezed.

Gaalin ground his teeth together, clenched his eyes shut and took a deep breath. "Forgive me."

Libelle's eyes were wide with shock, desperately clinging to Gaalin as he lunged forward just as Eskil went to bite down upon them. He lifted her up in his arms, clutching her tightly against himself as he ran forward, running straight for the cliffs that were almost as equally deadly as Eskil. Yet he knew he had to get Libelle away, if not, she would die in this battle.

"Gaalin!" Libelle cried. "Don't!"

He didn't listen to her, he knew Eskil was right behind them preparing to bite at them again. He had to. He had to jump.

To his surprise, they survived. When looking up the mountain he leapt from, the one he tumbled down, he couldn't fathom how. Yet he awoke against rough gravel, bruised and sore, but alive. Libelle laid unconscious beside him, she was breathing, but barely. The single young warrior who had remained behind with the horses was rushing towards them, screaming something about having witnessed the black dragons arrival high up in the clouds. And then having watched a cloud of dust roll down the mountainside. When the black dragon flew away, the young man rode his horse and led the others to them.

Gaalin practically ripped the lad off his horse as he tore through the packs strapped behind the horses saddles just to find the one tonic he so desperately needed. A glass vial, one with red liquid stored within it. He one vial that he could heal Libelle with, even in her unconscious state. He felt like he was never going to find it, after tearing apart several pack he wondered if the single vial had been lost. That was when the young man lifted it up, staring at Gaalin as if he were now the thing to fear.

He snatched the vial from the boy and rushed back to Libelle, breaking the seal on the glass and pouring the liquid into her mouth, yet she didn't, she couldn't swallow. Staring at her wounds, the worst being the large wound from her chin to her collar bone, her throat having almost been ripped from her neck. She was still bleeding, and if she didn't receive any amount of healing, and fast, she was going to die. He poured the remaining liquid into his mouth, placing his lips to hers and forcing her to drink. Forcing its healing properties into her.

"She needs a healer."

"We will have to reach Edinburgh, all the healers are there." The young lad said, stepping towards Gaalin and assisting him in lifting Libelle into his arms once more.

"Which horse is fastest?" Gaalin asked, walking quickly to the saddled steeds.

"The grey one, she's the fastest."

Gaalin climbed into the saddle, accepting the boys help in cradling Libelle in front of him where he could hold her in his arms and the horses reins in one hand. He kicked the horse hard, causing it to squeal at the sudden impact at its sides, but it moved forward. Running at a gallop that the other horses struggled to keep up with, yet they still managed. He urged the horse to continue the pace, knowing Edinburgh was not far from the base of the mountain, knowing that a healer would be able to help Libelle. He didn't give a damn if the horse collapsed from a failing heart, only if he was able to reach Edinburgh in time.

Fortunately, the sturdy horse was able to carry him to the gates of Edinburgh, although it was drenched in sweat and was breathing hard, where he was met by hesitant guards. They questioned their identity, initially not believing that he was the housecarl of the dragon slayer, and that the female elf was indeed that very person. It wasn't until the young warrior was able to catch up to him, to confirm their identity, was he allowed to pass through the gates.

On foot he ran to the home of the healers, to where the men and women skilled in the art of healing magic dwelled. There, they could treat her wounds and her life would not be in peril. Or so he thought.

The female mage who tended to them, was able to successfully heal all of Gaalin's wounds, leaving not a scar behind. However, Libelle's most severe injury could not be healed. Every other wound on her body regenerated throughout the warmth of the magic, the tissue fusing back together and returning to a state as if the injuries had never occurred. Yet no matter how hard the mage tried, the horrific wound that traveled from the corner of Libelle's jawline to her collar bone would not heal.

The bleeding could not be stopped, and the tissue could not be sewn. The female mage exhausted herself, and then another and another tried. All failed to heal the final wound that risked claiming the life of the slayer. So they resorted to methods of the common folk, dressing the wound and praying to the gods. It was all they could do at that point, and it pained Gaalin to see her like that. For days he sat beside her bed, changing the dressings on her wound and keeping it clean from infection.

It was then... that he realized, he was falling in love with her.