Tish almost vomitted in Rudra's blood.
Once she had noticed, a roll of nausea shook her to her core to the point the holy light coming out of her palms almost flickered out.
The blood was everywhere.
It was like a vast lake of dark red liquid which had settled into the uneven depression of the cave floor. And in some places, it found grooves in the limestone like a river finding it's channels. The lake of blood stretched from wall to wall, it's edges already darkening, taking a sicker shade of black.
The smell was worse. Heavy, metallic- that seemed to already cling to Tish's skin and pours. Tish tried to take shallow breaths through her mouth as she stood absorbing the living nightmare she had just stepped in.
This much blood couldn't be from just a wound. This was something much deeper, darker- a reckoning of flesh- the catastrophic cost of a body forced back into something it wasn't ready for.
Tish had to mentally prepare herself before she took small, determined steps towards Rudra. Her friends followed her ofcourse. But they were quiet as ghosts - probably because they must be as shocked as Tish herself was.
The blood around Rudra's body was .....alive. The red liquid moved around him in a sluggish manner- as though, his body hadn't decided which form to take even now. It made Tish's stomach twist and turn and she had to swallow down the bile rising up her throat.
Rudra was half submerged in his own blood, his eyes shut- definitely passed out. However there was a deep frown on his forehead that hinted his mind was in distress even though he was unconcious. His chest moved barely, barely - which looked more like a reflex and less like intention. His dark hair, eyelashes looked darker being matted with blood. He had no clothes ofcourse. He looked less like a man and more like something - boneless and half-liquid - which had been just poured there.
Tish stared at him for several seconds. The cave was awfully quiet except the soft breaths of the four people (Rudra's breath was almost inaudible).
"Is he healing?" She asked to Nayan, trying her best to ignore the faint trickling sound toward a drain somewhere not so far. There was a horrible sense of dread to it. The Cave had already started to absorb the violence and blood as a part of its own. It was cold, indifferent, patient -as if it had already decided to hold everything which had enfolded here as as a chapter in its own history - for a very very long time.
Nayan didn't answer immediately. She carefully lifted Rudra's head, "I see no wounds," she announced, "But he's clenching his jaws tight."
She looked at Tish, her face screaming- Help.
Tish only felt numb. These people had once ignored her, insulted her, neglected her. And now they wanted her help.
"Let's just get out of here first," Tish said, tearing her eyes away from Nayan's face, "Take him back to the room he was given in the Benevian Delegate House. We can check what is wrong with him when he is not drowning in his own blood."
Nayan nodded. She stood up and pulled Rudra by his arm to throw him over her shoulders. But all the blood was making her boots slip.
"Percy just help her," Tish urged, feeling a little impatient. Percy didn't move. Tish looked at Percival's pale face, eyes fixed on Rudra's unconscious form. He had gone still like he did whenever he decided to prey on someone.
"Percy!" Hissed Tish, her heart has started beating faster, anxiety spiking with a mixture of horrible anticipation. It was a war between her want and her values.
"He is weak," said Percival, "If we separate his head from his body, can he grow a second head? Or will he..."
"Percy!" Tish protested weakly. Part of her just wanted Percy to take the reign and do the thing Tish herself was so scared to do.
"Yes," Nayan answered, "He will grow a second head. You can cut him to pieces smaller than your fingers but he will still come back. That is the most terrifying thing about dragons," with a grunt she managed to lift Rudra's entire six-eight figure over her shoulder. It was awkward- the proportions were all wrong. Rudra's legs hung off to one side of Nayan and they didn't end where they should. They just kept going, his knees well past Nayan's chest, his knees coming to swing somewhere in level with Nayan's thighs. Rudra's arms hung infront of Nayan's chest, his head bowed to somewhere beside Nayan's own head.
"If you cut his head now, he will grow his head," Nayan warned again, "Tomorrow or next week or next month....maybe a year," her voice suggesting an omnipotent fact, "And when he comes back, he will come for you. Do you have a head to spare, little soldier?" She asked Percival, "When the dragon takes your head like you are planning to take his?"
A small flame of pity which towards Rudra who was taking root in Tish's heart immediately withered and died. Even bleeding, unconscious and vulnerable - Rudra was a threat. He was always a threat.
She didn't ask Percival to help Nayan as she less walked, more grinded towards the exit. Her stance was wide for balance, her jaw set. The tendons on her neck was visible even in the dark.
A few minutes later Mamon followed. So did Percival and Tish. Like a secret, Percy stole Tish's palm and gave it a gentle squeeze. It was a silent thanks for holding him back when he had been about to risk it all.
But Tish couldn't bear the gratitude. While the man beside her thanked for not letting him harm a dragon, Tish had been silently praying he did that.
Tish felt like a coward. A selfish, petty, cruel coward. Cruel because seeing Rudra broken and bleeding hadn't ignited any concern or kindness in her heart. Rather, she had thought the exact same way Percival, a soldier, had thought. To kill Rudra. Or atleast to hurt him so bad he wouldn't be able to come back for a decade or two.
It was such an unlikely thought for a child of Rāva. Rāva, who was the very mother nature around them - the symbol of unconditional love, nurturing and forgiveness.
But can you truly forgive someone so selfish, self-centred and cruel like Rudra.
She told herself had it been someone else, not even Percival or Mamon - some random stranger- Tish would already be running to help him to her best ability.
It was just Rudra who always seemed to bring out the worst in her character.
As they headed outside, Tish noticed something small but equally disturbing. It was the trail of a clean set of boot prints which led to a single spot a few feet away from the pool of blood. There was a sharp corner of a rock- the limestone jutting out at a natural angle.
And on it were two clean, deliberate smears, one for each boot. It looked like someone had scrapped off the blood off their footwears with precision. The marks were economical - not messy, frantic wiping- but scraping. Heel first, then the inner edge. It was marks left by someone who had done it before or someone who simply couldn't leave the room without being neat about it. The marks were so tidy Tish stopped breathing. It was Saroth. It had to be Saroth.
Percy noticed ofcourse. He always noticed whenever Tish was in distress. He couched down for a few seconds to look at the marks like someone taking notes of an evidence. Then he stepped back. Said nothing.
Mamon just placed a hand on Tish's shoulder, "This is not your fault."
Tish wanted to argue she wasn't regretting following Saroth into the act of violence. She wanted to argue that she was glad that for ONCE Rudra had been at the receiving end of pain and misery.
But all she wanted to do was just crumble into a ball and break down crying.
She had never felt so exhausted in her life from doing nothing.