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Chapter Twenty-Six
"Kian," Talisac says, "you've been poisoned. You've got to try and stay awake."
It's odd hearing the dreaded doctor attending to me, but it also makes sense as he's the one in our party with any significant medical knowledge. I just hate being in this position because his depravity knows no bounds.
I try opening my eyes. It's a supreme effort, however, I'm finally rewarded with a little light streaming forth from a hooded lantern. Dazed, I recognize several faces: Talen, Angelaria, and oddly...Talisac. Why does it take longer to place the others?
I should remember something as handsome as the face of a silver-haired elf. But I don't. What about the short gnome with pink hair standing on his scalp like a shock of bristles at the end of a broomstick? No idea.
At Talisac's insistence, Talen scoops his hands underneath my back and helps me into a sitting position. Tethyr's teeth I'm delirious. The trees around me take on a drug-induced life of their own, shambling about on roots of pure evil and leering at me with carved demonic faces.
"He's lost a lot of blood," Talisac states. "We need to get him someplace where I can operate. Preferably indoors and not some shitty lean-to you construct out of old pine branches. Cory, hand me a splint so I can immobilize his arm. I'll bandage it and stop his bleeding."
Talisac's voice trails off, and my thoughts drift in a haze of shock. I feel fingers on my face and Angelaria appears. "Kian, you must stay awake. Try and say something. Try talking to me. You're suffering from kuanni poison, and it'll kill you if you fall asleep."
What am I supposed to talk about? I know, maybe I can bitch about how I don't want Talisac anywhere near my body. I don't want to have to thank him for saving my life.
I try voicing that thought, but I slur my words. Fuck. This really sucks.
"Anything," Angelaria says.
She makes it sound so easy.
They put me on a stretcher; Angelaria's holding aloft the lantern, lighting the path. It might as well be a beacon to any enemies out there looking for us. Doesn't anyone have any sense? I look about me but pain flares up in my right arm. It's now bandaged with a splint. How did that happen?
"Where am I?"
"On the road to Rendla Fee. We might be able to find a dream healer there that can neutralize the poison. But we've to act quickly or it may be too late."
I've no idea who even said that.
I watch Angelaria's mouth move, but the words get away from me. I want to sleep so badly that I can taste it in my mouth like a stiff nightcap. It calls me into darkness. Then Talen mops my face down with a cold towel. "Wake up chum," he says. "No sleeping until we get to the village."
I nod, too weak for words.
The poison pumps through my veins like lava. It's a horrible prickly sensation that makes my mouth dry and my eyes boil in their sockets. No matter how much it hurts though, I can't stay awake much longer. Talen must see this because he jolts me awake with a prod to the arm. The pain's so intense it brings tears to my eyes.
Asshole.
"Sorry," he says, "but it's extremely important that you don't sleep. Not right now." He nods to Angelaria. "If it looks like he's drifting away prod his arm. He can't ignore that."
I stop myself from complaining. I've been enough of a nuisance already, allowing myself to get hurt like this. I need to concentrate all my effort to keeping my eyes open. However, just when I thought I'd managed to put myself in a position that would force me to stay awake, a sharp pain lances through me once more.
"Sorry," Angelaria says, "but it's for your own good. Try to remember that."
I'll try but no promises, okay? I may end up biting you.
The sky grows a little lighter in the east.
"Dawn already?" I try asking. My voice is hoarse and I'm just about done. I'm so dead to any sensation that I don't think even another prod to the arm will be sufficient to keep me conscious. But maybe we've arrived at wherever they're taking me. Buildings still cloaked in morning's shadows rise around me, and I'm carried through a doorway.
A man approaches and speaks with Talisac at length. Then he comes over to look at me. He's wearing a clean linen apron and has an honest face. Overweight but nimble, he examines me cautiously. Am I on a table or bed?
Without warning, the blackness I've been fighting with all night consumes me. The last thing I remember are more men. Heavy and foreign, they speak of me.
I awake alone in a room on a mattress stuffed with goose feathers. Sunlight streams in through a window, and I smell fresh mountain air. Laughs beneath my sill betray children at play; it urges me to push myself up from my rest. White bandages wrap my chest and the gash in my arm is sewn up. The stitches are expertly done; there's a little blood on the skin and on the linen sheets but I guessed that's to be expected. I flex my fingers and realize it could have been much worse.
Craving wetness, I look to a stand next to my bed.
There's a glass of water there, and I reached for it with trembling fingers. When done, I try rubbing my eyes to bring my vision back into focus. I'm still very tired though, and I set the empty glass on the table and lay back on the stuffed pillows to sleep off my fatigue.
When next I wake, Angelaria's sitting on the bed, and she's taking a bit of ice and moving it along my lips. It feels cool; the water clings to my tongue. Her beautiful face framed in night dark hair couldn't be lovelier.
Am I dreaming?
Gently I take hold of her hand and kiss her fingers. She smiles and produces another glass of ice cold water, which I take from her fingers and gulp down thirstily. She reaches under the coverlet and strokes my chest, running her fingers over my muscular pecs and around to my back. She pressed her hands to my silky skin and with a warm caress whispers, "Welcome back."
The soreness return to my ribs. "Where am I?" I ask. I realize that as the fogginess lifts from my mind, I've no idea where I am.
"We're in the village of Rendla Fee. You've been unconscious for almost three days now. The village elder was almost certain that you'd passed the threshold of no return. But a dream healer traveling with a merchant from Kaibar happened to have an antidote for the kuanni poison. You won't have any strength for a while, but at least you'll be alive."
"What poison?" I ask. Then it all comes back to me. Once more the sword cuts into my arm and instinctively I look down at the stitches. "Nevermind," I say. "I remember now. This'll make a fine scar."
"Actually, Talisac says it won't. Don't look so disappointed."
I scowl anyway. "Where is he?"
"Under guard just outside of town. Cory doesn't trust him, and neither do I for that matter. Whatever secret you two share he's kept while you slept. Also you've had several visitors while you were unconscious, and girls have been gossiping that you're the hottest guy they've ever seen. It's been driving Talen crazy."
"Are any of them virgins? I love popping cherries," I say as smugly as I can.
She smacks me on the bare chest just above the nipples. "As soon as you're able, the village elder wants to talk with you. He's already talked with us, and we told him what you told us back in the forest. They've been having trouble with the kuanni in this area for months now, but he's concerned about the presence of the dragon. Unfortunately, I never saw the dragon and so I can't give him any details. He's been waiting for you to wake up, checking in upon you about twice a day."
"Where's my armor?" I ask her. I'm not shy, but if I'm going to talk to the man responsible for saving my life, I'll want clothes. I don't even have my boots on, and I've been making it a habit to sleep in them so I'm feeling especially vulnerable.
"Your armor's ruined. Talen has packed it away in hopes that it can be repaired by a master smith. There's no one in the village that can do it though."
Angelaria crosses the room to a wardrobe made from pine and seasoned with a rich varnish. Inside are some new garments: tight leather pants, a loose-fitting muslin tunic, and new belt. "In the three days since you've been asleep, the rest of us have done some shopping. The merchant Calvin had many garments on his pack horses. There's also a tailor quite skilled at making adjustments. I had these taken in for you; I hope you like them.
The pants are a glossy black color similar to my boots. They're made from fine leather with straps for holding daggers around the upper thigh.
"I do like other colors aside from black. Black's just what I happen to wear most of the time. It goes with the territory."
She looks surprised. "Like what?"
"Take blue for instance. It's my favorite color. I could gaze at it for hours without ever wanting for anything else. Blue...well...it reminds me of the ocean, and the ocean is everything to an Atlantean."
She attempts a smile. "You don't like them then," she states.
"No...no...they're fine. That's not what I meant. But someday, I might want to try something in a rich blue. I think it'd suit me."
"You can make anything look good. But I think it'd suit you too, dear," she says. Then Angelaria hands me the garments and returns to the wardrobe to retrieve my glossy black boots. I feel a wave of relief sweep over me as I don them.
Angelaria leaves the room, and I pull myself from the bed and stretch. I walked over to the window and place my hands on the sill and look down on the street. It's late afternoon and quite hot; I love the feel of the sunlight on my naked skin. Nevertheless, I throw on the shirt and slip the leather pants over my legs and bare bottom and tuck my dick down one leg. The bulge is a foot long outline. Some might say a snake has made its home in my trousers, but it can't be helped. At least they're smooth and feel cool against my skin. The muslin tunic helps some because it hangs so low and loose. I fasten the belt around the waist and unless you're specifically looking for the bulge of my cock, you really won't notice it.
That's just it though. People like looking at me. So I know someone will notice, and they'll say stuff behind my back. Ah well, that's just how jealous men are.
Feeling more myself moment by moment, I take hold of the handle to my door and step into the hallway. As with most inns, the hall's gloomy even though it's lit by three different sconces. From each emanates a saffron hue coupled with oily black smoke that draws a line up the edges of the white-washed walls to the vaulted ceiling above.
I close the door and gingerly make my way toward the stair, stepping lightly on the wooden planks. From down below bubbles the usual tavern noise; when I find the staircase, I descend into the main room. The door outside is propped open to allow the summer breeze to circulate among the patrons. Four youths are playing directly outside the door. Talen, Angelaria, Correldon, and Pink Hair are gathered next to a handsome gentleman sporting dark skin and a fierce beard trimmed close to his skin. His eyes are beady black; his hair long and flowing. The stranger wears a moustache so well-oiled it gleams; about his thick wrists are leather bracers studded with bits of shiny metal. A cloak made from rich ermine depends from his muscular shoulders, and my eyes drop to a belt pouch hanging low upon his left side. It's obviously bursting with coin. He has a rich voice and laughs often, stealing an opportunity here and there to look over his shoulder at another smaller man.
This second fellow has little or no muscle. I'd call him gaunt. He has the kind of oily skin and obtrusive nose normally associated with a sexual deviant. Ugly through and through, he's got scraggly hair and dark circles to boot. Also his clothes fit too loosely upon his skeletal frame, accentuating his emaciated figure.
Behind the bar stands a third person.
This guy was present the night I arrived. Joining him at the bar is a fourth individual: a man in his mid-fifties with tan skin and a dark green doublet awash in faux gold studs. He has a potbelly which strains against a girdle of thick boiled leather. Despite this he wears tight buckskin trousers, and they're so faded and spotted to appear threadbare around the ankles. Mismatched socks dip into wide leather moccasins; the man blows foam from his tankard and slurps from the top. As he drains the contents, ale dribbles from his chin spattering both his clothes and the floor underneath his fat feet. Gods what a slob. I can't imagine being pinned under that one as he went to town on top of me. Girls sure do put up with a lot.
The man with the ermine cloak is first to speak. "Ah, our squirrel is awake."
Angelaria motions for me to take a seat at the table next to Talen. My boyfriend is dressed in his splendid-looking killsuit, and he beams happily at me as I approach. He stands, throws his arms around me, and kisses me tenderly. After the exchange, my ribs ache a little. It doesn't matter though because he smells so good; I want to throw him on the table and fuck his tight ass right then and there.
"I dreamt of you," I say. It's a lie but he doesn't know that. And it makes his eyes twinkle.
It's little comments like the one I just made that keep him coming back for more.
"Kian...I'm so glad you're better. You had me really worried."
"I did?" I ask. I almost chuckle. I never imagined him worrying after me even though I've worried about him to the point of distraction.
Pink Hair speaks.
I glance at the gnome who's retrieving a cup of ale from the tankard on the bar. "This here's the merchant Calvin," he says. "The man behind him is the dream healer that saved your life. And that man at the bar sharing his ale with me," the gnome grins, "is the leader of the village. Karandras is his name."
Karandras lifts himself off the stool and hoists the barrel in his hands. He carries it over to the table. "Son of Marcus," he declares, "and pleased to meet you." He extends a hand rough with callouses. I grasp it and he laughs. "You and your friends came upon us early one morning. They spun quite a tale, and I must say that I wouldn't have believed a word of it, only you were taken with the spider fever and would soon be overwhelmed by the poison which is kuanni in nature. You owe your life to the good healer there and to these fine people who claim to be your companions."
I smile and then shift my gaze to Talen's bright baby blues. As usual, they dart from face to face processing every detail. Calvin clasps my hand; I attempt to read the merchant, but I find nothing but my own reflection waiting for me in his eyes.
"It's good to have you with us," Calvin declares. "Now that you're recovered, perhaps you can share your story with us. Your friends have entertained our ears with a plot against the village. We need to know more of this if we're to enlist help from Kaibar. And it's urgent for us to know more of this dragon. Dragons have not been a problem in these parts for almost a century. To hear of one now...well, it's a surprise to say the least."
Karandras stiffens in his seat waiting for me to speak.
"I only saw it from the edge of the hollows. It was a keep...I'm not certain of exactly where it lies...you must believe me in this. Anyway, the keep's overgrown with kudzu and razorvine. It's a square blocky thing with no towers. And the dragon swooped down on its wings, landed in the hollows, and immediately asked to see the ogre-magi."
Karandras interrupts me then. "The keep...you say it was in a hollows? Like a valley?"
"Yes."
"Hmm. I thought THAT keep destroyed. He's talking about Wraith Watch. It's a day or so from here and was abandoned once the mines closed down. The dwarves at one time made us keep a garrison there to watch the hills for the orcs of the Ekthor band. The dwarven miners thought the orcs might strike down from the mountains to sniff out the precious metals they hoarded in the underground realm of Cithek Ingol. To tell you the truth, I'd almost forgotten about it. Hmm," he scratches his chin. "Sounds to me like the kuanni are squatting there now."
"How did you come by this keep?" Calvin asks.
I start to say that I followed a black wolf, but then I think differently. To betray such a secret connection with what I know to be my god in the form of a beast is unthinkable. Something inside me objects to even talking about it with another person outside my religion. So I don't. But I think everyone around the table expects me to say something, because my lips are open as if a word is lodged in my throat.
"Cat got your tongue young man?" Calvin asks.
"No." I shake my head. "I-I just came across it. It wasn't anything special. I got lost in the woods. I-I thought I heard a noise and just wandered up to the rim of the hollows."
Angelaria eyes me strangely.
Talen thinks nothing of it and touches my leg. He fingers the one where my dick rests, and strokes it lovingly under the table while gulping down some cipra. "This is quite excellent stuff," Talen says to Pink Hair, and then drains it before passing it back to the gnome who (I surmise) must have made it.
"Hmm. It's a good thing that you stumbled across it," Karandras mutters. "I have a garrison of two hundred men here in Rendla Fee. How many kuanni could be holed up within that place Calvin? I realize you're a merchant, but you've been traveling these woods for years. I believe you used to deliver goods to Wraith Watch before it got closed down."
"Yes," the strong man says. "I made my fortune back in those early days. I worked with an old dwarf...some codger named Kain Axebellow. Now he was a fellow: carried with him a magical maul named Harbinger...fantastic piece of work. Anything it struck turned to glass...simple crystal. He'd smash the weapon into an enemy's plate armor, and it'd fall right off his back into glimmering shards of ice. And he could hurl that thing like a champion spear thrower. Trailed a bolt of sizzling lightning about as thick as my forearm that could light the valley from here to Cullen's Bridge. A fierce thunderclap always followed that bolt of lightning, and it'd deafen you if you stood anywhere near it. That was always the downside to doing business with any of the Axebellows: most of them were deaf. But Kain...he was shrewd. Now, let me see, I'd been making deliveries to Wraith Watch for three winters before they shut the place down. I had a deal with a priest there that ran a small chapel. I brought him supplies from time to time. I was always mystified at the statue of the black wolf he kept in the nave of the small church. It seemed so lifelike. The keep itself looks small from the outside, but it's deep. I'd say you could house about three hundred men inside there rather comfortably. But that of course could be a lot different with the kuanni. If they've taken Wraith Watch...well, it might be they've improved upon some of its subterranean holdings."
At the mention of the black wolf, I bite my lower lip but don't say anything. Now I know what it wants me to find there: something about the chapel; perhaps the statue. The only thing I'm certain of is that this feeling inside me can only be satisfied if I visit that place.
Karandras rubs the thick bristle on his chin. "I've had my men ready to go since yesterday. We can leave tomorrow for Wraith Watch. I'd like to know a little more about the place, but I fear if I hesitate that I might be giving them the edge. Kian," he says looking to me. Talen skillfully withdraws his hand from my leg. "Your friends say that the green dragon may have taken flight into the hills...correct?"
I nod. "But that was three days ago. I'm not sure if he'll still be in the foothills looking for a party that doesn't exist." My arm develops a bit of a twinge, and I rub it with my left hand.
"Dragons...they're not as sensitive to the passage of time as the rest of us. I don't think he'll be back just yet. Wraith Watch...that's a good hump through the woods...about ten leagues if I remember correctly. We'll encounter armed resistance for sure, but with properly trained men on our side we should be able to rout the enemy and force them to pull back and hole up in the keep. Then we can erect siege engines out of the wood around the hollows. If the dragon shows up, he might decide to leave them to their fate seeing that his plan is exposed. Green dragons can be quite cowardly when they realize the odds are stacked against them."
I'd never known any dragons but I'm willing to bet that a lot of Karandras' words are on the top end of positive thinking.
"Will you be joining us?" Karandras asks me. "Your help would be appreciated even though I know you're not a trained warrior. But this'll give you an opportunity to get your revenge against the kuanni that poisoned you. And, you'll be helping us with a dreadful task. War against kuanni is never pleasant, and we'll most certainly have casualties."
I think everyone assumes I'm not a trained warrior because I've no scars to prove it.
"I don't know for sure, but in truth, I had no plan to join you," I answer.
I search the eyes of my friends. If none speak up, then I'll have to reverse my position. But I don't want to give away anything about the black wolf, or why I simply have to find the chapel. It's like my own personal secret that's simply too good or too dangerous to share with any other.
Correldon leans upon his bow. "You can count me in. I'll not turn my back on any opportunity to kill the elves of the deep earth. They're dreadful creatures that are an abomination against all the Elfhames of Symardiearre."
I want to go along but probably not as a front-line arrow catcher.
Correldon knows this; he also knows I'm depending on him to be my guide to the Isle of the Unslaking Thirst. How else am I ever going to find Bloodbane?
If I say no, he could get captured by his enemy and taken prisoner. Even worse, there's the possibility he could get slaughtered and left under a tree to rot. He knows this too because the edge of his mouth turns up to form a pronounced smirk. By committing himself to their cause, he's volunteered me for this job. The only difference between me and the grunts who get no choice at all is that I'll be riding with confidence. I'm a professional killer. In contrast, they're going to be shaking in their boots. Hopefully an adrenaline boost with the possibility of glory and honor will count in a skirmish. As for me? I need to approach this sensibly and focus on keeping all our hides intact. Without me, this mission is doomed for failure.
"All right," I say, trying to look downcast. I don't want to let on that there's a secondary motivation driving me to take the path to Wraith Watch. "I'll ride up front with Cory."
"Such a change of mind?" Calvin asks, eyebrow raised.
"Yes," Correldon says. His face is dispassionate to my statement. "You could say that it's in his best interest."
Oh you loved saying that, didn't you?
"Excellent," Karandras says, finishing yet another cup of ale. "I'll tell my men that we march at first light. We're used to formation fighting. You're free to fall into formation with the rest of us if you wish, but I shan't advise you on how to wage war. I don't want to be personally responsible for your deaths."
"I'm used to a more delicate approach," I declare, choosing my words carefully. He looks at me over the rim of his cup but says nothing. I think he's beginning to suspect that there's much left unsaid about my PARTICULAR talents.
"Count me in as well," Talen declares. Surprisingly, Pink Hair follows his lead. I thought for sure that a gnome would prefer a day with children to a bloody conflict in an unfamiliar wood.
Angelaria starts to speak but Calvin cuts her off before I can even draw a breath. She glances sideways at the merchant with a bemused expression.
"You, my dear, shall ride at the rear with me. I shall protect you. Aye, I know what you're thinking: that I have better things to do. But I'm an experienced swordsman and stronger than any man in Karandras' unit. I haven't swung a sword in years, but this changes tomorrow. I've been thirsting for a little action for some time, and what better opportunity than to do so in the company of a maiden such as yourself?"
"I wouldn't have it any other way," she says.
Angelaria reaches up and touches his arm with her left hand to give him a playful squeeze. I look into Calvin's face just in time to see a smile break upon his lips. His beard bristles a little. As for my own hands, I think that I'm probably white around the knuckles and very close to making an example of this guy. But I manage to hold my temper and my silence behind clenched teeth.
Nothing fuels some killing quite like jealousy. Suddenly this little war seems like the best idea in months.
Thank you for reading. I'll post Chapter 27 next week.