Page 2 of Henry & the Dragon
A soft whimper drew Henry’s attention. The first sound he’d heard would, of course, be one of pain. He tried to move, and still found himself unable to do so. His feet seemed to be anchored to the spot, refusing to travel any farther. Then the whimper grew louder, and Henry couldn’t help but try to assist any creature in pain, so he forced himself forward.
He headed in the direction of the noise, uncertain why he wasn’t fleeing. Though still afraid, he pushed himself to keep going. The deeper he went, the more his eyes adjusted to the dimness. When he came to a small clearing, the darkness receded and there he discovered the source of the pained sound.
He’d seen the pelts of Virbolg before. Hideous creatures with razor sharp claws that the old blacksmith used to prepare leather. Their teeth he’d forged into a knife, capable of cleaving through bone. Even their eyes were of use in alchemy, although Henry refused to dabble in that kind of so called medicine. He believed nature provided, and that all one had to do was look, and they would find answers that would allow them to heal without the need to harm others.
This Virbolg was comparatively tiny, likely a baby, and it seemed stuck in a fissure. Though still nearly as big as Henry, it shrank back at the sight of him. He could see bloodied lacerations on its face, and concluded it had been in a fight ofsome sort. Another shudder jolted him. What creature in their right mind would attack a Virbolg?
And yet, here was Henry, still getting closer. If he died, he deserved it!
“Good morrow, little one.”
The soft bleating stopped as the baby Virbolg turned in Henry’s direction.
“I won’t harm you, I give my oath. I would like to help you, if I can.”
Closer he crept, and the Virbolg appeared to settle. Henry gave a prayer to the heavens, then knelt beside the creature. He could see the leg twisted in an odd manner, and from that he deduced that the Virbolg had gotten stuck, and a predator had tried to take advantage of that fact and eat it.
“I’m going to try and get you loose, okay? Please, don’t devour me, because I’m certain I would taste very unappealing.”
He reached out and touched the leg, only to jump back when a sonorous bellow erupted. He covered his ears, then froze at the realization the noise would draw others to this spot. Henry knew he should flee while he could. Let the animals have the Virbolg, and while they ate it, he could make his escape.
The beast’s burnt umber eyes bored into Henry, almost pleading with him. He wanted to run, but he knew he wouldn’t leave this Virbolg to the whims of nature. Returning to the creature, he stroked a hand over its head.
“I’m sorry that I hurt you. I shall try not to do it again.”
He put a hand on each side of the leathery skin, astonished at how soft it felt. A gentle twist and the Virbolg whined, but didn’t cry out, for which Henry was grateful. He was able to wrest the leg from the hole, and winced at the shape of it. There was no doubt in Henry’s mind that it was broken. The mending of bones was an arduous process, taking several fortnight. This creature wouldn’t survive on its own for that long.
Henry opened his pouch and reached inside, pushing a few bottles of yellowish fluid aside, until he found the crimson vial he needed. An unguent made of merrimac and blisterbark, he’d crafted it after seeing the healing effects the plants had on the animals who partook of it. He had no idea if it would work, but he had to try something. He withdrew the cork from the bottle, wrinkling his nose at the overpowering smell of the salve. Even if this didn’t work, the stench alone should keep other creatures away.
“I’m going to try and help,” he placated the beast again. He poured the liquid into his hands, then rubbed it gently over the surface of the wound. The soft whimpers lessened, and then the beast made a rumbling chuff.
“Does that feel good?” Henry asked, trying to keep his voice even. When the Virbolg opened its mouth, Henry bit back a cry. So many teeth. He knew what they were capable of, and the thought of it biting his head off resonated within his mind. “Please, don’t hurt me,” he pleaded, though not sure who he was talking to.
The Virbolg nudged Henry with its big, bulbous head, knocking him down. Then it did the most extraordinary thing. It stood over him and flicked out the deep blue tongue, and licked his face! Henry couldn’t help the giggle that burst out of him. The thing wasn’t scary in the least. It was more like an overgrown house cat.
The first thunderous footstep echoed everywhere. Henry tried to push free from the Virbolg, but it seemed intent on laving him, despite the potential danger. The leaves on the tree fell as the stomps grew closer and branches splintered off the highest parts, yet the Virbolg continued to partake of Henry’s flavor. Oh, by the gods, was it tasting him? Was this what they did before they ate their food?
A huge oak not more than a short trek from them cracked and crashed to the ground. When Henry looked up, he couldn’t help the scream that escaped. It was another Virbolg, but this one was far taller than the trees, and three times as thick. It was at least ten times the size of the pelt the blacksmith had. It opened its mouth and roared. Only then did the one on top of Henry move. Was the small one preparing him for the other? Henry feared he was going to die this day.
Then the little Virbolg did the most curious thing. It stood between Henry and the giant and chittered as it moved side to side, the sounds rapid and high pitched. The larger Virbolg stood, as though entranced, and listened to the little one.
When the larger one moved closer, the little one snapped at it with a menacing growl. Henry tried to scrabble back, but his hands kept slipping on the damp soil.
“She won’t hurt you, you know.”
Henry whipped his head around, and found himself staring at the most beautiful being he’d ever seen. The man who was sitting on the fallen tree the Virbolg had knocked down. He was probably around Henry’s age, with golden hair that fell to his shoulders, and eyes the color of honey. When he smiled, Henry was sure his heart would stop.
He jumped down, alighting on the ground so gently, Henry would have thought he’d flown. Perhaps this was an angel from on high, come to see Henry to his final resting place.
“She’s protecting her baby, but he’s telling her you helped him. He said you healed his foot, and how grateful he is to you.”
What? Had Henry already died, and now was lost in purgatory? That would explain the strangeness of this conversation.
The man smiled at him. “Are you mute? I think not. I did hear you speaking to the little one.”
“N-No. I…”
The big Virbolg bent and wrapped a claw around Henry and lifted him up. The man watched them, but he was obviously not bothered at all by the fact Henry was about to be eaten.
