The Aftermath

There weren’t always dragons in the valley. The crackling and popping sounds coming from the corpse of the one at the feet of the three men was the second in as many weeks. Small flames and embers still licked the scaled flesh of the burnished red beast as it still cooked in its own fire, and the smell was something akin to a dead deer being cooked weeks after its death. Jory made hacking and coughing sounds again, as if he would empty his stomach a third time.

“Sebastian, are you nearly done with the fire? We don’t have much time” a gruff voice said to one of the three men surrounding the beast. Sebastian, a smith’s apprentice of 17 years, was blowing furiously on an improvised campfire started from dried wheat into moderate limbs from the edge of the nearby woods. It took a lot of dried wheat, but the limbs were well lighted and finally had a heat of their own.

“Yes, Thorne, I think the fire is nearly ready.”

“Good, go ahead and place a rock for my axe to lean on and let’s start to heat it up.”

“As you say,” Sebastian said.

Sebastian did as bid, and as the fellow known as Thorne turned back to Jory, he removed the clumped rags surrounding the stump of his left leg. He looked up to another man still mesmerized by the dying dragon-spawn, and hollered, “Jack, quit staring at the fucking lizard and help me over here! We have a kid that needs all of us right now.”

Startled out of his reverie, Jack made his way down the short slope of plowed soil created by the beast’s descent, to the scene of Jory and Thorne, surrounded by a halo of blood that obviously came from the severed limb of Jory’s leg.

“Dear gods, what the hell can I do, Thorne?”, Jack said.

“I’m about to take these dirty and bloody rags off Jory’s leg, and you’re going to tighten down on that strap along his thigh to keep him from losing too much blood. I know you’re a stable hand Jack, but you’ve seen blood before, which is why I asked you to come along. Don’t you faint on me, and I’ll buy you a pint when it’s all said and done. Now, be ready to really crank down on that leather strap when I take these rags off, and we’ll hopefully save Jory from the Underworld. You ready?”

“Absolutely not, but I’ll do my best, Thorne…”

“That’s all you can do. One, two, and go!”

Jack yanked on the leather strap around Jory’s thigh, and Thorne pulled the soaked rags away and tossed them onto nearby rocks. The clean rags he reached for were obviously cut up tunics and trousers from the packs of the party, not having been worn yet. It didn’t take a lot, but soon the wound was covered again. It was at this point Thorne yelled at his apprentice about the status of the axe.

Sebastian answered, “It’s nearly white, like a very light pink.”

“That’s good enough,” Thorne bellowed, and reached out for the wrapped handle of the axe. It was covered by at least one cloak, if not two, to guard from the heat of the glowing blade. As he grabbed it, he motioned with his other arm for the three men to secure Jory while he went to work.

“Jory,” Thorne said, “I’ve been through this myself, as you know.” He motioned with the arm not holding the cloak-wrapped axe. It ended just above what would’ve been the elbow, with a tasteful leather cap and thong that contained the sleeve of his tunic in a respectable manner. “I can’t stop the blood leaking from you, and it’s the thick and bright kind. That’s not good, and this is the only way I know to do it. Hate me after, but for now, bite down on the limb Sebastian has prepared for you, and we’ll take it from there.”

The flat of the axe head managed to cover the stump, but the screams of Jory covered the entire valley. None of those men would ever forget those screams.