Something was not right.
"Saroth," Tish tried to smile, "I may be a Saintess but I know so very little about dragons. Can you teach me your ways? How are you planning to help the Dragon Prince transform back into his human form?"
Saroth didn't look angry or nervous. He smiled back, genuinely pleased, "Why ofcourse. Were you not supposed to marry the Prince? You would have been my successor in the Royale Palace had you stayed behind instead of leaving, Saintess," there was a hint of sadness in his tone, "I would have taught you my ways anyways."
He stepped aside, gesturing at the deeper parts of the cave, "Would you like to accompany me? It is easier to be show you than just verbally explaining." His hands were moving wildly as he talked, "You see the Prince always had an issue with his Draconic Core. Infact, he also struggled with his first transformation and I had to help him make a breakthrough," he started. He stepped closer and closer to Tish until she could smell him. He smelled like bitter medicines, "The Prince's draconic nervous system is weak I believe. So in vulnerable situation, he can transform without his will."
Percival stepped in ofcourse. He held a hand between the healer and Tish, reminding him of Tish's personal space. She, in return, threw him a glance of gratitude.
Saroth stepped back but his eagerness to teach Tish didn't die down. "I personally developed a very surgical method to safely help him to shift his form when he is struggling by himself," he opened his mouth. His teeth were yellow, tongue pale.
"So you see the soft palette here-"
"What is going on?"
It was Mamon. He looked exhausted. But his eyes were sharp, "Saintess," he bowed to her respectfully and gave Percival a dismissive snort before he glared at Saroth, "So this is the healer we have waited so long for. Why are you here instead of doing what you have come to do?"
Sometimes Mamon could be too straightforward. A thing Tish both loved and hated. He needed the man to keep talking to figure out why her instincts were screaming danger .
"I was just heading inside," Saroth bowed to the Prince, "I was excited to see the reknown Healer of Benevia, daughter of Rāva herself!" He chuckled good-naturedly and then he looked back at Tish, "So. You are coming inside with me, yes?"
"No."
"No."
Both Percival and Mamon spoke together. They paused and looked at eachother.
"I will come with her."
"I will come with her."
They looked at eachother again. But they didn't start arguing like usually they do after suggesting to do the same thing for her. "We will be coming with her," Percival said. He exchanged a glance with Mamon. He nodded. For once, both of them were on same page.
But Saroth's face fell, "Too many people will agitate the Dragon," he sighed, "And it is such a sensitive procedure. I am already putting my life on the line by agreeing to do this....."
He looked at Tish and smiled, "Perhaps another time then. Dragons live longer than human beings anyways. We will have plenty of opportunities."
What an odd thing to say...
General of Partha followed Saroth, "Let me come!" She urged, "I won't crowd him and he knows me so-"
"General," Saroth's voice dropped, he looked disappointed, "We are in a foreign place crawling with our perils," his tone became quieter, "I need someone to guard the door when the Prince is vulnerable."
Tish stood frozen. Her heart pounding for reasons she didn't understand.
The man took a torchlight, a coil of chain and a harpoon and marched deeper into the corridor which supposedly led to the bigger cave where Rudra probably was.
He paused and looked back once. His grin looked too big for his face, "Ah, if the dragon prince does loose control, prepare explosive and bury both of us under the stones!" With that horrifying advice he resumed his grim procession.
His words set everyone in panic. Mamon started barking orders to transport explosives in the cave back from the armory. Soldiers ran to follow orders. The Vedaris looked at eachother's faces- a silent agreement passing among them and silently made their way to the exit- deciding they had put their life on the line enough for tonight.
"Saroth," Tish spoke before she could stop herself. The Healer paused and turned around. Even the soldiers running around frantically to obey Saroth's order paused.
Everyone was looking at Tish. Everyone.
"....Make sure His Highness gets better," Tish said. Her throat felt dry. Saroth smiled and nodded. Then he resumed his walk. The rest of the people became busy again to make the barricades and fetch the explosives.
Only one person stood still. The Parthan General.
Tish caught her eyes. She stared back at Tish, mouth open but no words came out. But Tish knew what she was thinking.
Dragons could not die. Not without Mamon's sword. And certainly not by a man carrying a harpoon and a few feet long chains. But both of them felt something was wrong.
"We should wait outside," Percival whispered in her ear, "Barricade the exit of the cave in case Rudra looses control."
But Tish's feet were rooted to the stone.
A dragon couldn't die so easily right? Right?
Then she recalled the death and destruction Rudra had caused just by his mere existence. The amount of people who had got hurt because of his attack on Benevia. The cold way he had treated Tish during her time in Partha.
So now, why should she care if he died?
"Let us go," She grabs Percival's hand.
"Saintess!" It was Mamon ofcourse. He greeted Tish with an awfully awkward amount of enthusiasm. Then he gestured at the corridor and stuttered out, "D-dragons.... am I right?"
Tish only stared. Since the reveal at the Royal Court, Tish had thought time and again what she would tell the Benevian Prince for hiding such crucial plot of poisoning Rudra from her. But now. Seeing the Prince being awkward and sweating profusely, she decided silence is a far better torture.
She tugged Percival's hand, "Let's go outside." Percival's lips twitched. And Mamon made a sound like an wounded animal.
Then all the hell broke loose.
Suddenly Tish felt a pressure, like a fist squeezing her heart until she couldn't breath. Beside her, Percival stumbled as well. Then her vision went blurry, her eyes vibrating in her sockets. And her stomach dropped even before the sound hit them.
"GREEEEEEGGHHH !!"
Rudra's roar vibrated in the cavity of her chest and her knees went weak. "T-Tish..," Percival also fell, but he threw a hand on her back trying to protect her from danger they didn't understand yet. Dusts showered from the ceiling while small stones and pebbles skittered away.
And the torchlights just blew off plunging everyone into pitch black darkness.
And the roar cut off abruptly. The silence rushing in to feel the place, making Tish's chest feel even tighter.
The screams started a few seconds later. Nobody cares about strategy- Barricading and bringing Explosives. Everyone just ran.
The Parthan General also ran. But she didn't ran towards the exit. She ran towards the sound. Towards Rudra, dashing faster than a cat and disappearing into the darkness
Mamon came closer crawling on all his fours, "Saintess, you're alright?" He breathed out a sigh of relief, "Let us get out of here."
"No!" Tish snapped, "We need to check on Rudra and the healer!" She realised how ridiculous it wounded even to her own ears, "What if the Dragon Prince had gone mad and eaten the Healer! Who will treat Rudra then?"
Even though she was scared, she was shaking so hard her teeth chartered. And that was exactly why she couldn't run. Rudra's roar had been more chaotic than any warning roar should have been. It wasn't a controlled roar full of authority and power. It was something broken, torn. Something ugly.
And Tish needed to see exactly what had caused it.
For strategy. She told herself, it was just for strategy. Nothing. More.
Mamon inhaled, "Fine!" He gritted through his teeth, "But if I smell even a whiff of smoke, I am going to throw you on my shoulder and run."
"Fine!"
Because honestly? She wasn't confident she could run fast enough if Rudra suddenly started spitting fire.
Percival stood up and offered her a hand, "Ready to rescue a dragon?" His voice was filled with dry mockery. As if.
Tish took his hand.