(The Dark Servant)Midnight Matters, A. Ellas [primary phonics books .txt] 📗

down, and let Tebber fussily arrange the table and the contents to his liking. When the servant bowed, Rak said, “Thank you. Please, take the rest of the evening off.”

“Thank you, sir. I’ll be in my room if you need anything. Scorth gave me a book to read, and I’m not sure he was joking about the quizzes.” The servant walked out and left Rak and Jisten alone.

Rak pushed the food around on the plate, not eating. He stared at the congealing juices of the roast as if the secrets of existence could be found in their swirls.

“You must be hungry,” Jisten tried, but Rak gestured negation and shifted his weight again. The captain’s sharp eyes saw the growing stain on the seat cushion. “You’re bleeding!”

Rak followed his gaze, blanched, then doubled over, shoving the unwanted meal away to crash on the floor.

Jisten stroked Rak’s back and wings. “What did the night flames miss?”

“Flames,” gasped Rak, “only heal the surface.” He swayed, threatening collapse for all that he was sitting down.

“Let’s get you back into the bathroom,” Jisten decided. “We can wash the blood off and see where the wound is.” Rak moaned something that sounded like an agreement, so Jisten scooped him up and barged into the bedroom that lay between the parlor and the room he wanted.

Scorth held open the door to the bathroom, followed them in, and helped Jisten remove Rak’s robe. They placed Rak on the tiled floor so that they could reach him easily. Jisten filled a bowl with warm water, dipped a clean rag in it, and started washing the blood off of Rak’s legs.

Rak whimpered and tried to move away from Jisten’s touch, but Scorth’s large hands held him fast. The dragon’s presence calmed Rak and made Jisten’s job easier.

“I can’t find the wound,” said Jisten. “But there’s lots of fresh blood undoing my work.”

Scorth cocked his head. “The wound is inside, Captain.”

“Inside? Inside what? There is a lot of inside of a person!” Jisten said, concern making him terse with the dragon.

“They

used

him, Captain.

That

inside. Do I need to draw you a picture?”

Jisten let lose an impressive steam of invectives that ended with, “We need Forael.”

“I will retrieve him,” said Scorth, his expression solemn, but Jisten swore he saw a gleam in those yellow eyes. The black man swooshed out of the room before the Valer could think it through. Chapter Sixteen: Forael Retrieved

Forael made a note and signed the report before setting it aside and picking up the next sheet from the stack. He was eternally behind in his paperwork, and wondered if his cousin S’Rak had similar troubles. A shadow crossed over the sun. The window exploded inwards, and Forael used the parchment as a shield, covering his head as the glass shards rained down.

There was a black, carnivorous snout inside his office and the sense of something much larger and attached to the reptilian, fanged maw lurking just outside. “I taste terrible!” Forael shouted at the dragon.

In the nave of the temple, the Temple Guardian flared into golden, glorious awakening. The Ylion was in danger. It rushed towards Forael’s office, the fiery feathers of its enormous wings setting the wooden pews ablaze. Soon, the junior priests would be practicing their magic under the direction of those more senior to extinguish the flames.

Scorth withdrew his snout as the Temple Guardian attacked the wall separating Forael’s office from the rest of the temple. Scorth reached into the office with his forefoot as the golden beak shattered the office door. He grabbed Forael in a gentle grip and extracted him through the window before the gryphon was in the office. Its shrieks of rage only grew with the Ylion’s abduction, so Scorth launched for the sky.

Below, the sun priests were running around like ants whose anthill had been kicked over. “I’m fine! Really!” Forael called out uselessly. He waved in what he thought was a reassuring manner.

“He’s being tortured to death! Look at him waving in agony!” Nithios screamed.

“No! Really! I’m fine! Shoo! Go back to the temple!” Forael called out. Arrows rained onto the dragon from the guards below, mainly bouncing off the hard, armored black scales. One nearly hit Forael.

The gryphon was in the air now, powering after the fleeing dragon. It was smaller and more agile, but the dragon had the altitude advantage for the moment. The gryphon had divine will to speed its wings, its Ylion imperiled and the enemy in sight.

Another arrow floated by them with almost no energy remaining.

“Fascinating.” Forael watched the arrow fall back towards the ground. Then they were too high for arrows, and he was mesmerized by the miniature look of the city spread out below. They seemed to be close to the palace. The dragon pointed his nose at the ground, folded his wings, and plummeted. Forael told himself that if the dragon wanted him to help S’Rak, it wasn’t about to kill him. That thought helped, a little. Then the dragon spread his wings and they stopped. It was like hitting a brick wall and Forael was certain that his stomach had shot out of his body and kept going.

Forael noticed that they were in the stable yard. The dragon gently uncurled his toes from around the Ylion before launching skyward in a tornado of grit and leaves. Forael covered his face against the gale, but he could hear the angry screech of the Temple Guardian, still on the hunt. Forael raised his hands and chanted the prayer that would send the Guardian back into dormancy.

The gryphon was on the dragon before the black beast could gain enough altitude to maneuver. The dragon twisted to bite the gryphon that was latched onto his side and trying its best to remove large chunks of his flesh. Forael reached the end of his chant and the gryphon dissolved in a shower of golden sparks that hissed and scorched the dragon’s scales.

* * * *

Rak would be