Hour Of Darkness
Chapter Eleven, Crying, Waiting, Hoping
When George alit near her body, he was shocked to find her in human form. Maybe when someone dies, they go back to their original form… George shook his head to clear it of this thought. He crouched down next to her, grimacing as he noticed the strange angle of her neck. He lifted up her shoulders, cradling her head on his knee. He noticed that the butterfly which indicated her life line was not moving. He put his cheek to her lips, hoping to catch some breath from her mouth, but nothing came. Her pulse was nonexistant, the life drained out of her. The dragon had killed her.
George felt tears streaming down his cheeks. He hardly even knew this girl, but somehow he felt as if she had died and taken half his heart with her. He held her limp body close, stroking her hair, not even caring about the blood that was running down his bare chest. For all he cared, the dragon could swallow the both of them up now. He heard it screeching overhead as he hugged Liryl, not wanting to let go.
"What the hell is he doing?" Paul shifted from foot to foot nervously, watching George and Liryl from fifty feet away. He gently lay Ringo on the ground, and as he did, the dragon screeched, swooping towards George and Liryl.
"George!" Paul screamed. "Look out behind you!"
To his horror, George didn't move. Paul began to realize that Liryl was quite possibly dead, and that George was having trouble coping with this.
"George, you bastard! Get the hell away! Go! Fly!" Paul screeched, starting to cry, the dragon swooping closer and closer, like the pit and the pendulum. George didn't move.
"Paul…" Ringo gasped. Paul quickly dropped to his side. "The dragon is yours, Paul, and yours only. Only you can stop it. Save George, Paul…Liryl cannot be helped."
Fresh tears sprung to Paul's eyes. "But, you…"
"I'll be fine." Ringo cut him off sharply. "Go help George!"
Paul sprung to his feet, transforming in an instant and bounding towards the two human forms. He skidded to a stop next to George and Liryl, snapping back into a human. "George! You've got to get out of here!"
"I'm not leaving Liryl!" He responded, still clutching her still form to him.
"The dragon, George! Liryl would not have wanted you to die!" George looked up, tears streaming down his face.
"Go away! Go save Ringo and John and leave me be!" With that, George stood up abruptly and clenched his fists, his magic springing to his fingers with obvious purpose. Paul was not fazed.
"George, Liryl wouldn't have wanted it like this!" The dragon made a low pass, almost knocking the two men off their feet. George didn't reply, only knelt down on the ground, cradling Liryl in his arms. Paul looked helplessly to the sky, the dragon swooping straight for them. George didn't move, only shouted at Paul.
"Go, Paul! Don't worry about me." Paul didn't move. The dragon gave one final screech and dove straight at the trio. Paul held his breath.
It all happened in slow motion. The dragon swooped, plummeting to earth with terrible purpose. George didn't move, his face grim, awaiting his death. He kissed Liryl softly on the lips, then awaited the dragon's last blow. Paul stood as if made of stone, his eyes locked on the dragon. He put up his hands, screaming,
"NOOOO!"
The dragon suddenly stopped, hovering in midair with huge beats of its graceful wings. It settled gently next to Paul, laying its head at his feet. Paul stared at it in astonishment, then started to laugh. A loud, hysterical laugh. George looked up, seeing the dragon and Paul. He gently lay Liryl out on the ground, then moved to stand next to Paul, grabbing him by the shoulders. Paul just kept laughing.
"Paul! Get a hold of yourself! Paul!" George smacked him across the face with the back of his hand. Paul immediately stopped laughing, tears streaming down his face.
"It's my fault she's gone…I could've done that sooner, but no, bad little Paul didn't think of it, no, he didn't…" Paul started to ramble, babbling nonsense and laughing. George smacked him again, this time harder.
"Paul! Stop it!" George snapped again. Ringo picked himself up slowly from the grass, limping over to the dragon and fellow Beatles. Paul stopped babbling at this sight.
"Ringo! Are you okay?" The drummer nodded slowly, holding his head.
"Paul…do you see that ring in the dragon's forehead? Pull it out." Cautiously, Paul stepped up to the dragon, expecting it to belch flames and roast him alive. To his surprise, it only purred, like a kitten. Paul hauled himself up on the dragon's head, scrambling to keep his footing on the slippery scales. He gained solid footing, and found himself looking deep into the dragon's huge blue eye.
Paul wasn't sure how long he stood there, peering into the eyes of the dragon. They were so beautiful, the azure swirls and midnight blue. Paul shook his head quickly, then looked up to the middle of the dragon's forehead. He saw the golden glint of Ringo's ring, imbedded deeply in the dragon's forehead. He scrambled up to the top of the dragon's head. Paul gazed at the ring, stuck deep in a ring of silver scales. He grasped it gingerly, then, with a whispered 'I'm sorry' to the dragon, pulled with all his strength.
The ring came out with a popping noise, like pulling the plug from a bathtub, Paul falling over backwards on the dragon's head. Instantly, the dragon's form shimmered and began to fade, evaporating into a swirl of blue sparkles. Suddenly, Paul found himself twenty feet in the air, with nothing supporting him.
"Holy shit!" He fell to earth, George flying to catch him about five feet from the ground. Paul exhaled in one long breath. "Thanks, mate." George nodded, then put him on the ground.
Ringo swayed, then promptly fainted from exhaustion and stress. Paul and George ran to his side, and both were eternally relieved when they noticed that the tiny moth on his necklace still fluttered with every shallow breath.
"He'll be alright." George said gratefully. He stood up, leaving Paul to tend to their band mate. Paul cradled Ringo's head in his lap, patting his cheeks gently in an attempt to wake him up. George returned to Liryl's side.
She looked like an angel. Her flowing white dress was spread through the grass, much like her blonde hair was fanned around her face. Her face was serene, but her blue eyes stared lifelessly at the sky. George choked back a sob as he slid her eyelids closed with his long fingers.
****
John wouldn't eat for days. The roll he had eaten was enough to keep him from starving for four days. Mystique came once a day around noon, to check on him, wash the blood from his face, and try to feed him. His coughing spells were more tame and farther between, but he still coughed up blood fairly regularly. Mystique was almost becoming hysterical with his hunger strike.
John! You must eat something! Mystique cried, holding a pomegranate seed to his lips. He could taste the sweet juice, but he still did not eat it or even respond to Mystique's pleas. He noticed from the corner of his eye that a lone tear was rolling down her cheek. She silently replaced the fruit, then left, closing the door behind her. John sighed, leaning his head back against the cool steel.
He still didn't know why he was here, and Mystique wasn't offering any information whatsoever. John had found, much to his chagrin, that the castle had an impermeable, magical barrier that prevented his mind powers from leaving the castle walls. He could listen in on Mystique's thoughts, and was almost touched to find that she worried about him almost constantly. Another, darker presence was also amiss; but John could only touch upon it, he wasn't able to read the thoughts or feelings.
John didn't eat for a few more days. Finally, when he felt as if his stomach would shrivel to the size of a pea, he ate a few rolls before Mystique visited him. When she did come, it still seemed to her that he hadn't eaten for a week. After trying to give him something to eat, she sighed.
Is there nothing I can do for you, John? She asked pleadingly. John turned to her, focusing his dull moist eyes on her distraught face. Mystique seemed thrilled at just this little sign of acknowledgement.
"Could…you…" His voice came out thick and raspy. His throat was raw from coughing so much, but he didn't feel the need to use his mind powers; it would only drain him all the more.
Yes? She asked excitedly, moving closer to hear him.
"A window…please…" He finished, coughing. Mystique nodded quickly, obviously excited that he was talking to her, at last.
Mystique walked slowly to the wall that stood in front of John, humming quietly. She moved the tables with what seemed like little effort, clearing a blank space in front of the wall.
Mystique held her hands out, fingers extended, her legs a shoulder length apart. Her entire body began to glow, a shimmering purple mist wrapping itself around every inch of her body. John watched in astonishment as the stone in front of her began to melt, glowing red-hot. Slowly, it became clear, crystal clear, like a window. After a few minutes, the new glass cooled, and Mystique lowered her arms, losing her purple tint. She turned around, ebony strands of her hair swirling in her face. John had to admit; she was rather beautiful. And from this present display, rather powerful, he thought sullenly. He wondered absently if Ringo had the same amount of power.
Mystique brushed the hair from his eyes, smiling.
Will you eat now? She asked hopefully.
"Don't push your luck." The smile quickly faded, and Mystique left the room, flustered. John sighed, then gazed out the window.
Before him was an incredible sight. Huge, dark mountains towered near whatever structure he was presently in, stretching in almost every direction as far as the eye could see. Black, roiling clouds foreshadowed pouring rains and dangerous thunderstorms. Here and there a bright flash of lightning streaked across the snow-peaked mountains, shooting through the dark sky and vanishing without a trace. John squinted at the horizon, able to catch just a tiny glimpse of the golden, shimmering field he and the others had first arrived in. It looked peaceful and serene, the golden lining to this incredible black mountain range. John invariably thought of his friends.
Frustrated tears sprung to his eyes. He couldn't help them, couldn't see them, couldn't even talk to them He didn't even know if they were still alive. For all he knew, he could be the only one of the four left, kidnapped and held hostage in a dark castle with no way of knowing.
But John wasn't about to give up now. Not now, not ever. They would come. He knew they would.
On to Chapter Twelve!
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