The companions woke up early
the next morning. The dawn air was crisp and comfortable; a sign that winter had
finally drawn to a close. A search of the town by the companions and the Metier
guards the night before turned up no sign of the dark cleric. Everyone now
gathered in the tavern to go over their travel arrangements and to make a list
of the supplies they would be getting.
“Now, what would be the fastest
way for us to get to Tiermane?” Cyrus asked.
“I think we should cut across
the forest and hike back over to Ogre Pass, joining the road to Lockenwood again.”
Talric answered. “ Malkar would have taken the trail through the southern
forest, around the mountain instead of through the pass. If he knew we were
following, that would have been his safest route.” He shook his head. “ Why he
didn't just go straight to Tiermane from Lockenwood is a mystery.”
McGowan looked up from the
teacup he was sipping. “ Talric's friend in the woods knew something. That much
is certain. Malkar most likely stopped here to load up on supplies after
getting the information he needed from Killean.” The cleric paused. “I was
finally able to reach the bishop at the temple library last night. He
remembered Malkar and said that the mage had spent some time there going
through books and scrolls. He has no idea what Malkar were looking for, but a
lot of books concerning local legends had been stolen.”
“Well, whatever it is Malkar’s
looking for, we must keep him from possessing it. It's a good bet that this has
to be something that will aid him in his quest to rule the realm.” Cyrus added,
absently stroking the dragon medallion through his shirt.
“Before we try to stop him, we
have to find out what he is looking for.” Veronica reasoned, still weak from a
sudden sickness she had gotten. “It won't do us any good to follow him on a
wild goose chase. We have to get to this item first if we're to have any chance
of bringing him out into the open.”
Cyrus thought on this for a
moment, his brow creased in concentration. “We need to go to Tiermane and try
to retrace his steps there. That city holds the answers, I know it.”
“I am with Cyrus.” Avengard
agreed. “We may even get there before the mage has even left, giving us an
element of surprise. If not, we should try to get to this mystery artifact
before he does.”
Thordex laughed. “Another
treasure hunt! Who would have thought?”
“If everyone is in agreement
then I guess we'll prepare for our journey. Meet back here by noon and we'll
set out. I want to reach the iron mines by nightfall if at all possible. I
believe you all know what to do.” Cyrus announced as he looked to each of his
friends in turn. He scratched his tattoo briefly without realizing it.
Everyone nodded in agreement
then rose to make their preparations. Cyrus strolled towards the bar where
Eileia was washing the counter. He sat on one of the stools and smiled at her.
She forced a smile as she stared at his face, her eyes pleading with him not to
go. A single tear rolled down her delicate cheek.
“So, I guess you'll be leaving
now that you've found the answers you needed.”
Cyrus caressed her cheek. “I
will be back.” He promised. “Please understand that Malkar must be stopped.
Whatever he's looking for will bring him one step closer to controlling any
place and anyone he wants.”
“But why you? Why can't you let
someone else do it?”
Cyrus lowered his head and
spoke in a near whisper, the harsh memories flooding back. “He murdered my
brother. He also controlled the orcs that killed Avengard's wife and son.
Through his own actions, he has made this personal to all of us. I won't let
someone else die as they did. I have to do this.”
Eileia shuddered, drawing her
arms closer to her body. “You never told me he killed your brother. I’m sorry.”
“So you see that I must hunt
him down myself! He will pay for what he's done.”
Eileia leaned over the bar and
held Cyrus' hand in hers. “Please be careful. You're the only one I have left.”
She paused for a moment, forcing back the memory of her uncle, whom she missed
so much. She looked into Cyrus' eye, a tear streaking down her delicate face.
“I don't want to lose you like I lost everyone else.”
Cyrus brushed the tear away and
kissed her on the forehead softly. He hadn't felt this strongly for someone
since before he left Forge's Den. It was only that short time ago he was to
marry his childhood love, Julietta Munjasa. The claws of a Kith Beast had put
an end to her life, the first in a long list of deaths that haunted his
soul. An eerie sensation made the hairs
on his neck stiffen as he realized how much Eileia reminded him of his first
love.
“I'll be careful. And I will
come back for you. I promise.” He turned to look back towards the door.
Eileia began to cry, no longer
able to control her emotions. “That's what they all say!” She screamed. “They
say that and I never see them again! You'll be gone and I'll be alone. Don't
leave me. Don't...” She pushed away from Cyrus and ran towards her room, her
face in her hands. The warrior started for her, but a hand on his shoulder
stopped him in his tracks. He turned to see Veronica, her face weary, looking
up at him.
“Let me talk with her, Cyrus.”
She offered. “She's scared of losing you now, so soon after Raem's death and
needs a friend to talk to her. Perhaps I can calm her down.”
Cyrus nodded slowly and started
for the front door, hoping she could help Eileia ease her pain. Eileia's not
the only one, Cyrus thought. My heart is heavy with the thought of leaving. If
I had a choice, I would stay. My friend's need me, he thought. Justice for the
death of my brother is needed. Too much is at stake here. He quickened his pace
as he headed for the general store on the corner, trying to ease the agony as
his heart battled to overcome his head.
By noon, everyone had returned.
New gear was added to what they presently carried, stowed away in their bulging
saddlebags. Thordex, as always, sat on his pony, peering around cautiously. He
always said he was 'watching for trouble', but the others knew he just didn't
like the physical labor involved in packing. No one minded. When everything was
set, they mounted their horses, waiting for Veronica. She appeared minutes
later, Eileia in tow, and motioned Cyrus over. As he approached, Veronica
smiled weakly at him and warily walked towards her own horse. Eileia's face was
red and swollen from crying, but her eyes were bright. Obviously, Veronica's
talk had done some good.
“I'm sorry about the way I
acted earlier.” She apologized. “I just can't bear to lose you like I lost my
uncle.”
Cyrus pulled her close and
kissed her affectionately. “I will be back for you.” He paused and gazed into
her eyes, burning her face into his memory. It was very painful parting with
her so soon, but the task at hand was too important to give it up.
“I promise,” He murmured. As he
pulled away from her, she smiled, wringing her hands together. She watched him
as he mounted Avatar and started for the east gate, traveling on the road that
would lead them to the forests to the east and into the great Ogre Pass.
They passed through the woods
without incident and arrived at the bluff by evening. The foot trail they
followed twisted and turned like a serpent, and Cyrus believed whoever had made
the trail had never heard of a straight line. They started up the gently
sloping path that led them across the rise.
By sunset, they had reached one
of the abandoned mining caverns halfway up the west side of the mountain. The
tunnel had once been used for mining of iron, but that resource was gone,
stripped from the mountain that had held it for thousands of years. Cyrus
walked a few yards into the wide mouthed mine, then closed his eyes and rubbed
the black stone on his patch. As he opened his eyes, his surroundings had gone
from total blackness to various hues of black and red. He saw the bright red
heat pattern of his hand, but nothing else of significance was within sight. He
cautiously walked deeper into the mountain, axe in hand, and peered around,
hoping his enhanced eyesight would pick up the glowing body heat of anything
that may be here. When he found nothing, he started back for the entrance,
looking around the mine in awe. He still hadn't gotten use to the magic of his
patch. The colors of the rocks and wood support beams around him were almost
spellbinding. He wondered to himself how elves could completely ignore the
beauty of such a gift. Shrugging, he picked up his pace, figuring elves were so
used to seeing the world this way that it seemed to them as ordinary as human
sight.
Moments later, Cyrus emerged
from the mine, stood for a moment with his eyes closed to switch back to normal
vision, then gave the all clear to his friends.
“The place looks safe. We can
set up camp about ten yards into the mine. I'll take first watch.”
Cyrus started back in with his
pack when he heard Thordex scream Veronica's name. He spun around quickly, just
in time to see her fall from her saddle to land hard on the ground. Talric was
the first one to her, kneeling beside her and gently rolled her on her back.
McGowan was on his knees beside her a heartbeat later. He checked her breathing
and placed his hand on her forehead.
McGowan looked up, a grim frown
on his face. “She's breathing, but very shallow. She's also running a high
fever.” Noticing something odd, Balifore reached down and pulled up the sleeve
of her robe, the scratches she had received during the orc battle bruising a
deep purple.
Talric looked up at him, “What
happened to her?”
Balifore stood back up, shaking
his head slowly. “The battle with the orcs. She was scratched by one of them.”
McGowan glared at him in rage.
“Why didn't you say something earlier?”
“She said she was fine. I never
guessed there would have been anything wrong. I should have known...”
Avengard grabbed the Talisman
by the arm, roughly turning him to face the knight. “Damn you, demon! Your lack
of concern may have killed her! If she dies, I swear I will run you through
myself.”
Cyrus pushed his way between
the two, feeling a confrontation coming.
“Break it up, you two. No one's
at fault here. We all should have seen the signs days before.”
Talric, peering at Veronica's
arm curiously, gasped. Everyone turned to look at him.
“These bruises are heavily
colored. Only one thing could cause the blood to blacken so deeply.”
McGowan nodded. “It has been
about five days. I can't think of any other toxin that would work so
methodically like this. The fatigue over the last few days, the sickness.”
“It must be neutralized! If any
of it reaches her heart, she’ll die!” Talric shot back defensively.
“Excuse me. What are you two
referring to?” Avengard asked quizzically.
Thordex, standing just behind
McGowan, answered. “I see now what they mean. It's a rare but deadly venomous
bacterium called Zentoxin, used by the assassin guilds of Zentar. When placed
anywhere on the body, it is absorbed into the skin very slowly, working its way
to the bloodstream. It eats away most of the oxygen in her blood, reproducing
rapidly, causing vertigo, drowsiness, and high fevers. It's then absorbed into
the muscles of the heart where the toxin begins to do its dirty work.”
“Isn't there an antidote?”
Cyrus asked.
Thordex nodded gravely. “It's
not too common, but most priests have means of removing it, if they get to it
in time. The Zentar use it because of the subtle means with which it attacks
the body, giving any assassin plenty of time to get far away from his victim.
If enough venom is absorbed through the heart, the poison will completely
solidify the muscles in a matter of hours.” Thordex looked down at Veronica,
then back to Cyrus.
“Her heart will have to absorb
more venom to do any permanent damage. If it was already in the final stages,
she would be dead now. I'll say we have at least two days to flush it from her
system before it's too late.”
Cyrus looked to McGowan. “Can't
you rid her body of it?”
“I've already thought of that.
I have slowed the poison somewhat, but I can do nothing more. My faith is
strong but I haven't the strength to do something like this. Only a high priest
or priestess can cure her now.”
Everyone was silent for what
seemed an hour. Finally Cyrus spoke. “We have to get her back into town. We can
drop her off at the church then continue on our way. If --”
“And leave her there alone?”
Talric interrupted. “I will not leave her there by herself.” He paused to calm
himself down. “I know how important stopping Malkar is to you, Cyrus. My grudge
with him is shallow compared to yours. I'll leave with Veronica in the morning
and head back to town. The rest of you continue without us.”
Ignoring the warrior's
arguments, he slipped his ivory ring off of his left ring finger and tossed it
to Cyrus.
“If you think you need any
help, go to the Bera Forest between Tiermane and Lockenwood. Find the forest
guardians and ask to see Feraas. He knows that ring and will help you in any
way he can.”
Cyrus looked down at the ring.
A cluster of three pearls was wreathed in gold on a pure ivory band. Cyrus had
always known of the ring, but he never realized how beautiful it was. He placed
it on his finger and looked back to Talric.
“I really hate to see you
leave, but you're right about Veronica. She needs someone with her.” He told
him. “Let's make her comfortable. Avengard and I will build a litter for the
trip down the mountain. We'll get her horse to pull it.”
“I will go as well.” McGowan
told his friends. “She is my sister. I have an obligation to take care of her.”
Talric shook his head. “No. I
know how you feel about your sister, but Cyrus and the others need your healing
skills. Your place is with them.”
McGowan lowered his eyes,
looking sadly at his sick sister. “You will take care of her, Talric.” He said
angrily as he pointed a finger in Talric's face. “I want nothing bad to happen
to my sister.”
Talric smiled weakly. “I will.
You know my feelings toward your sister. If I--” he stopped. For a moment, his
gaze fell to Cyrus. “I will take care of her, McGowan. You have my word.” He
paused and stepped away from the group, fumbling with the packs on his horse as
he prepared to make camp.
Cyrus walked to his friend,
patting him on one slender shoulder.
“We all know your feelings for
her are deep, Talric.”
Talric glanced up at him in
mild surprise. “Was it that obvious, hellaer?”
Cyrus smiled at him. “You
haven't called me that in a quite a long time.”
Talric looked at the warrior.
“Only seems like a month ago to me.” He turned to look at Veronica, a deep
sadness in his eyes. “I do love her. My soul has been in torture as I fought
what my elven heart told me. She is human. I have been hesitant to tell her
because I know I cannot grow old and die with her. The whole thought is
torturing me even now. Do you think that selfish of me?”
“If you had expressed your
feelings when she first started traveling with us, I would have thought that.
Now I trust you to take care of her like no one else I know. Although years are
like moments to you, at least cherish as many of those moments as you can with
her.”
The ranger looked in his friend
and nodded slowly. “Thanks for helping me understand, hellaer.”
Cyrus patted the slender elf on
the shoulder then turned to begin setting up camp.
Veronica still lay unmoving but
breathing. McGowan carried her into the mine and settled her on a pile of
blankets Talric had made up for her. They covered her up with another blanket
and Talric started smoothing her hair, whispering something to her that McGowan
couldn't quite pick up. The cleric went off to prepare supper, leaving him
there to keep his vigilant watch over her in private. Cyrus and Avengard began
to fashion a makeshift litter to tie to the back of Veronica’s horse. Although
they weren’t sure how well it would work over such terrain, the build kept
their minds off of the fear they felt for their friend. Talric had remembered
the words of the old seer. Although he felt in his heart that the old man was
insane, he had a haunted feeling that what he said could be true. He calmed
when Cyrus and Thordex explained that the old man had said someone would die
'In the final battle'. It seemed obvious this was not the final battle the old
man had spoken of. Still doubtful, Talric continued his watch over her, praying
a silent prayer for her health. When the daylight came, he would get her back
to that town and save the woman he loved.
They had a reasonably good
supper of roasted ham and potatoes that night. They weren't traveling very far, so it only seemed sound that they
should bring the best meals they could carry. Eileia had been able to supply
them with a large quantity of foods she had prepared herself. They all lay
themselves around the glowing embers of the fire, conversing silently. The mood
was dark, but conversations never fell on deaf ears. Everyone was more than
happy to take his or her minds off of the day's events if even for a little
while. As they talked, Talric continued to look over to where Veronica was
lying, worry on his face.
Around midnight, Cyrus was
sitting comfortably on a waist-high boulder, peering through the near
impenetrable darkness. The others had fallen asleep quickly, Talric lying with
a hand on Veronica's arm. Just in case she wakes in the night, he had told
McGowan. Thordex had volunteered to first watch, but Cyrus had waved him away.
He did not feel tired. His mind was on Eileia now, the warmth of her body
against his, the smell of her hair. The sounds of night animals could be heard
in the distant woods, their chorus of chirps and howls giving the blackness an
uneasy calm that seemed out of place.
An unexpected falling rock from
behind echoed quietly through the mine, surprising Cyrus to readiness. The
clansman held his black bladed axe before him; his senses keen as a razor as he
peered cautiously into the mine. He stroked the onyx on the patch and closed
his eyes, waiting for the mental click that informed him his eyes had adjusted
to night vision. He walked past his sleeping friends; the heat of the dying
fire exploding in bright colors, further into the mine. He walked perhaps
thirty feet into the cave when he thought he could make out a subtle trace of
heat, darting from behind one wooden support beam to another. Cyrus backed up
to where Talric was sleeping, nudging him with the heel of his boot to wake
him. Talric was instantly awake and, seeing Cyrus cautiously walking deeper
into the cave, slowly reached for his great bow and quiver. He silently
awakened the others from their slumber and followed the barbarian into the
cave. Talric stood up to the left and just behind Cyrus; close enough to
whisper without the words carrying into the tunnel, his elven vision making his
eyes glow red.
“What do you see?” he asked
softly.
“Don't know. Just caught a
glimpse of heat from behind that support beam to the left there. I thought I-
There! Did you see it?”
Talric glanced in the direction
of the support, his inherent heat vision picking up everything. He caught a
flicker of something warmer than the surrounding wood and rock, ducking behind
a pile of stones. Then he saw another figure dart to the support beam from
which the first had come.
“Goblins. I can tell by the
heat pattern. They must have been on patrol or something when they spotted our
fire.” Talric stated.
Cyrus shivered. “If the whole
tribe is here then we're in big trouble. There could be a couple hundred of
those things in here.”
A hand grasped Cyrus by the
shoulder, making him jump in surprise. No one had ever caught him off guard
like that. He turned to see the ever-silent Balifore peering into the gloom,
the red color of his half-elven eyes glowing ominously from beneath his hood.
“Likely just a small patrol.
Goblins have enhanced vision as well, though not at such a range as elves.
Perhaps I should throw them a little light, just to scare them away.” He said, a
hint of charm in his voice. “Close your eyes.”
Cyrus and Talric did as they
were told. Moments later, they heard the mumbling of a spell coming from
Balifore. The talisman he wore began to glow eerily with green light. With a
rustling of his cloak, he threw his arms outward. The light that flashed into
the cavern could be seen even through their closed eyelids. When they opened
their eyes, it appeared to be nearly noontime.
But only in the cave.
Cyrus, still squinting from the
unusual brightness of the light hovering at the ceiling, could see at least a
dozen goblins, staggering from vertigo, shielding their eyes from the sunlight
that mysteriously appeared above them. Some fell to the ground, screaming in
pain. Their leader, dressed in a mixed variety of armor and wielding a wicked
looking halberd, began screaming in the tongue of goblins, trying his best to
organize his patrol. There were about twenty goblins in sight now. Each one
wore makeshift armor more than likely scavenged from those unfortunate enough
to have been killed by the ghastly creatures. All of the beasts were nearly
three to four feet tall, their grotesque green skin splotched with bumps and
sores. The leader turned to the companions, rubbing the spots from his eyes as
he yelled to his patrol. His halberd pole was sawed to only three feet, making
it the ideal size for him.
“So much for scaring them
away.” Talric shrugged.
Cyrus looked to Balifore then
charged headlong, Dragonslayer raised in a high arc, into the slowly
organizing group of goblins. He brought his axe down on the chief, the goblin
leader turning around just in time to see the great black blade split him from
the head to mid torso. The goblin's body shuddering briefly before crumpling to
the stone, unmoving. Seven goblins charged forward, furious at the death of
their chief, to cut down this human who had rendered the deathblow. Two fell
immediately, green-shafted arrows protruding from their chests and necks. The
goblin in the front, much quicker than his companions, raised his short sword
and began cursing Cyrus in his native tongue. Cyrus quickly deflected the blow
and, dropping to a near kneeling position, brought the axe around in a sweeping
motion, only to be countered by the nimble goblin's shield. To the surprise of
the beast, Cyrus cursed back at the goblin in its own tongue.
Talric shot three more of the
growing number of humanoids, silently cursing Cyrus for jumping so quickly to
attack. He drew his sword and with stunning grace, leapt to the right of Cyrus,
running his sword halfway through an approaching goblin. As the beast fell, he
noticed that he couldn't pull his sword out, the blade managing to hold fast to
its ribs. As he pulled at the blade he heard Balifore's unmistakable voice yell
'Duck!’ Not wanting to argue, he dropped onto his stomach, just as three shafts
of fire shot overhead, Balifore's flame spears slamming into three of the
goblins with a sickening thud. The now smoking goblins fell like stones to the
ground, the stench of burning flesh reaching Talric's nose. Avengard jumped
over his prone form, swinging his massive sword back and forth like a scythe,
cleaving the heads off of one unfortunate goblin too slow to avoid his attack.
Thordex's voice echoed through
the cave. “They're stealing the horses.” Within the same breath, he stood and
threw his dagger in a blurring motion. One goblin pitched backwards, falling
off the horse. It landed with a thud, forcing the knife that pierced the base
of its neck through its throat. The others sped away quickly, screaming
triumphantly as they disappeared into the blackness.
Cyrus cut the hand off of the
goblin he had been fighting and, just as he delivered the deathblow, felt a
sharp pain shoot up from his right leg. He turned around to see one of the
creatures standing at the edge of the magical light, desperately cocking his
crossbow and trying to reload another bolt. The black wooden bolt was stuck
almost to the fletching through Cyrus' thigh, a small point of the steel tip
exiting through the front of his leg. What the goblin didn't know was that
Cyrus didn't even feel anything; his berserk rage was numbing him from any real
pain. He charged with death in his eyes, spittle frothing on his lips. The big
warrior brought Dragonslayer down, cutting the crossbow nearly in half
and, bringing the weapon back up at a slight angle, impaled the goblin through
the chin. The creature's cry of panic was cut short as the axe sliced through
its face and skull, exiting through the top of its head with a resounding
splat. Cyrus brought his left arm around, elbowing another approaching goblin
unconscious. He looked around, hate in his eyes, for the next kill. To his
surprise, none of the little warriors were nearby. The remaining goblins were
fleeing back into the safety of the mine.
Talric stood over the goblin
from which his sword was still protruding. He replaced his dagger in the boot
sheath and grabbed the hilt of his sword with both hands. Placing one foot on
the body of the dead creature, he began prying it back and forth, wrenching it
free with a brutal yank. He wiped the black blood on the limp goblin's tunic
and replaced it in its scabbard. Looking up to Cyrus, he noticed his friend's
eye were wild with bloodlust, froth gathering on his lips. Talric eased his
arms up and walked slowly towards him, trying to calm his friend down. Cyrus
took up an offensive stance, and was stalking towards the elf like a panther
does its prey. A low, inhuman growl escaped the barbarian’s lips. For an
instant, an unnatural fear gripped Talric’s heart. Confused as he was, he
didn’t have time to think about it as Cyrus began to circle closer and closer
to him.
“Easy, Cyrus. Battle's over.
Calm down and put your axe away, my friend.”
Cyrus stared vacantly at him,
confused. He gazed off into the distance for a second, and then shut his eye
tightly. Moments later, he opened it again. He smiled briefly at Talric as he
placed his axe in the scabbard on his back. Noticing that the axe was
completely free of bloodstains, he smiled back. He wondered if Cyrus had ever
noticed that. Giving it no more thought, he turned to check on Veronica.
Balifore was busy sealing up
the entrance of the mine, turning the rock into mud. When it had piled
sufficiently enough, he transmuted the mud back into its original form,
subsequently sealing off the cave just behind their campsite. Avengard was
eyeing the mage cautiously, his mistrust of rune magic still not allowing him
to fully trust his companion.
McGowan was crouched by his
sister, his mace lying on the ground next to him. He and Thordex had stayed by
Veronica's side through the brief battle, but now he had his hand on her
forehead. He turned to Cyrus briefly, a hard look on his face.
“Her fever is rising. We need
to keep an eye on her and give her water every so often. I don't want her to
sweat herself into dehydration.” McGowan told them, as they began to gather
around the twins.
“Talric's horse is the only one
left.” Thordex piped in. “I think we were diverted just long enough for them to
achieve that goal. It looks like that was all they really wanted. We were set
up.”
“I'll start heading down before
sunrise. Veronica and I should be safe on the mountainside. By dawn, we should
reach the forest and have light the rest of the journey.” Talric suggested.
“I’m curious about something, Cyrus. During the fighting, your rage had taken
over as it has before. What’s the last thing you remember?”
Cyrus thought about it for a
moment. “I remember jumping into the battle and killing their chieftain. Your
arrows and Balifore’s magic killing a few more. Everything after that seems a
bit hazy.” A sudden thought occurred to him. “I didn’t attack any of you did
I?”
“No. You were close to
attacking me, but you never actually went through with it. What bothered me was
your growl.”
Cyrus nodded. “I would think
maybe I would growl once my instincts take over. Not really unusual.”
“Normally, no.” Talric
answered. “This time though, your growl was inhuman, almost beastly. It brought
with it an unnatural fear I’ve not felt in some time. The last time I felt this
fear was when sparring with your father.”
“My father?” Cyrus scratched
his head, confused. “I don’t quite understand what you’re getting at?”
“When your father would become
the avatar of your people, the black griffon, his form radiated fear. All
Klah’hin barbarians radiate this same fear just before and after their
transformation. Could you possibly come from one of the other clans and not
realize it?”
Cyrus shook his head. “It may
be possible, but I doubt it. Those with the ability to become avatars are able
to at a young age, even without training. The aura is a natural ability that
comes with the transformation, sort of a defensive mechanism that makes an
enemy hesitate their attack while the transformation happens. You could have
been feeling something else, but the aura of fear is impossible for me, just as
becoming an avatar is.”
“Well, perhaps this will just
remain a mystery to me then.” Talric sighed. “Maybe it was something else. Why
don’t we all get some sleep? We can discuss this at another time.”
Avengard nodded at Cyrus. “I
shall stand watch till then. You must rest, my friend.”
As Cyrus shifted his weight to
his other leg, a sharp pain shot up through his body. “Somebody want to get
this thing out of my damn leg.” he winced, remembering the crossbow bolt that
had burrowed its way completely through his thigh. The tip appeared crudely
carved and was red from Cyrus' blood. Talric knelt by the warrior and carefully
tore the fletching off of the bolt. Without warning, he held the shaft by the
tip and pulled it out with blinding speed. Cyrus clenched his teeth in pain.
“Oh, yeah. I meant to tell you
it would hurt a bit.” a sly smirk played over his elven features. “Sorry.”
“Thanks.” Cyrus said sarcastically. “I guess I should have
known better. You're always trying thinking up new ways to toughen me up. Will
your teachings ever be done?”
McGowan moved to Cyrus and placed his hand on his
friend's leg. The familiar blue aura coursed through his hands and onto Cyrus'
thigh. The wound seemed to seal itself up, leaving only the stream of blood
that had already made its way down the barbarian’s leg. McGowan wiped the blood
away and checked his handiwork with an approving nod from Thordex. The one-eyed
warrior shifted from one leg to the other and, although still slightly sore,
nodded his head in approval as well. With Avengard at his post watching over
his friends, they all lay down to sleep the remaining few hours till sunrise.
