Ser Patrick Pent
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032 Recovery
🕑 Added 2024-01-30 19:21:17 +0000 UTCWho’s a winner?
You, that’s who!
You have participated in the killing of Primal Dread Monkey. An appropriate amount of XP has been allocated, per your contribution.
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You are now level 15.
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I stepped away from the dead monkey in a daze. My legs quivered beneath me, running on the last dregs of stamina.
I’d risen by a single level for the monster kill. Not exactly fulfilling, but also understandable given that it had taken nine of us to slay the dread beast.
I probably ranked near the bottom in terms of contribution. But, I’d gotten the last hit. That was good enough for me.
“Ben,” I called, searching for the spot where the man had fallen. “Ben!”
“Over here,” Nicola said, locating him at that moment. She knelt beside the wounded swordsman, cradling his good hand in hers.
Ben’s huge chest went through the motions of breath, an observation that filled me with relief. However, a quick inspection of the rest of his features wiped the smile from my face.
His brown eyes squinted in pain, enough to prevent full awareness of his surroundings. A fractured humerus poked out of his shoulder, far enough that it revealed the white of bone.
I fell to my knees opposite them. “Oh no . . .”
Ben moaned unintelligibly, skin turning ashen with pain. Blood pooled from his shoulder, coating his face and neck.
“We need to help him!” I said, retrieving the sole health potion in my inventory.
“Damien, wait—” Nicola said.
I pressed the bottle to his mouth.
Warning: The target is suffering a red potion cooldown.
This action may result in death.
I withdrew abruptly.
Ben had used a health potion sometime during the fight. Further administration would only hasten his demise.
“Y-yeah,” Nicola said, as I slipped the potion back into my inventory. “We can’t do anything to heal him, not for six hours at least.” She turned golden eyes on me, mired in tears. “I’ve not experienced anything like this before, Damien. What should I do?”
What could I do?
I knew basic first aid, but none of it could help treat this kind of wound. “We need to irrigate his shoulder. Water, or maybe saline . . .”
Did germ theory exist in Vizhima? Was it even necessary, considering magic and potions?
“To prevent an infection?” Nicola tearfully supplied. “We can deal with that should it become a problem.”
“Then, we should probably try to staunch the wound—”
She pulled an entire roll of gauze from her inventory and pressed it against his shoulder.
“Not over the bone, no,” I said. “Around it.”
Ben hissed in pain.
“It’s not doing much to help,” Nicola said. “The bleeding won’t stop!”
I stared at her bloodied hands, just as lost as she was.
The bleeding won’t stop . . .
“Goblin ears,” I whispered.
“What?”
“Goblin ears! That’s the best shot we have!”
I pulled a single one from my inventory and crammed it into Ben’s open mouth. After a moment of hesitation, I added one more.
Nicola swung her magic staff at my head. “What are you doing?!”
“Wait! Stop!” I said. “The goblin ears can help!”
Ben made a face and tried to spit them out, forcing me to clamp a hand over his mouth.
“Chew it, man. Please.”
Nicola glared at me in disgust. “Damien, if you just tried to poison him . . .”
“Why would I do that? Goblin ears possess an anticoagulant property. It’s the closest we can get to stopping the bleeding without healing him.”
Nicola quieted down and helped Ben to chew. She poured him a drink of water from a gourd.
Ben’s tightened expression didn’t ease, but I could have sworn the bleeding tapered off a little.
“Here,” Nicola said, offering me another pair of goblin ears. “I can’t find Isaac. Just in case he’s wounded . . .”
“Sure, I’ll go. Keep staunching the wound.”
Nicola trembled slightly, losing most of her shock. She looked even more fragile than Ben did, coated in blood and muck. Yet, it was with extreme determination that she pressed more gauze to his shoulder, intent on keeping him alive.
I darted off across the forest, confident in her ability to handle things. “Isaac! Isaac!”
Where did he run off to? I hadn’t seen him ever since the Primal Dread Monkey attacked.
“Isaac?” a labored voice said. “Is that your other friend?” The scout captain hacked, dribbling blood from her mouth. She propped herself up against a tree, too wounded to crawl any further.
I didn’t exactly pity her . . . but, dammit, we wouldn’t have won that fight without her contribution.
“Your friend . . .”—she winced—“I saw him try to drag one of ours to safety. But, that was before the fight got even more chaotic.” She turned pleading eyes on me. “I can’t move, but Miriel’s still trapped. Help—”
“You tried to kill me.”
The scout captain winced. “No . . . I just wanted to hurt you enough to make you more amenable to capture.”
“Fat lot of difference that makes.”
“We fought together—”
“And, it was a jolly good time, dear. But, I’m not going to offer assistance just so you can try to capture me again.”
Another dribble of blood made it down her chin.
“Please,” she said. “I won’t bother you again! Help Miriel, and I will be in your debt. I swear on my life.”
I studied her as she devolved into sobs, drawing out the moment. A dangerous feeling consumed me in that moment—the sound of vengeance whispering in my ears. I held power over the life of another being. But, rather than scare me like it should have, the weight of power felt intoxicating.
Was this a glimpse of what I could become? The days of clenching my fists and seething against injustice were long gone behind me. I could do more here. Much more. Would it benefit me then to discard all restraints and live exactly the way I wanted?
Fuck you, I snarled to my inner me, slamming a lid over the brew of my thoughts.
I crouched beside the elf. “I’ll take you up on that, but aside from being left alone, there is something else I want in return.”
She glared at me with those almond-shaped eyes, misted with pain. “Speak it.”
“Goblin Scouts have been sighted in this part of the forest.” I searched her eyes for foreknowledge, but she displayed nothing of the sort. “We believe they might be the vanguard of a larger expedition.”
She blinked a few times. “A handful of goblins doesn’t imply the presence of a horde . . .”
“What about a handful of scouts accompanied by sorcerers? They have also tried to kidnap elves, humans, and Alpha dread beasts. And, all of these have happened under the noses of the elves.”
A frown made its way across her face. “That would be worrying, if true.” She paused to cough. “Miriel—”
“I will rush to her aid the instant we are done here. But, we must first finalize the intricacies of your debt.” I took a deep breath. “The Dark Elves need help against the goblins. I’m not asking you to go running to their side, but conveying this message to the rest of your kin might help save all of Dreadwood. Especially if a small force can be set aside to ambush the goblins while they rally to battle.”
The scout captain snorted in my face. “Only the Wood King can mobilize the armies. I am but the scorned daughter of a lowly elf chief.”
“A scorned blade is still a blade.”
She shut her mouth at that and angled her head to get a better look at me.
“If the Dark Elves fall,” I continued, “your village might be next in line. Would you wait then for the Wood King before leaping to its defense?”
The elf-woman stayed silent.
“Miriel,” she said at last.
“After I have your oath that you would help preserve the Dark Elves. Of course, your initial promise of calling off the chase still stands.”
“Miriel,” she repeated.
I didn’t budge.
Realizing that a game of wills would only end in one outcome, she relented with a sigh. “I promise on all that is good and green, I will personally convey your message to the Wood Elves. And, if nothing comes of it, I will visit the theater of battle myself. Now, help my friend or this will all be for naught.”
“Fine.”
I had no way of knowing if oaths were a binding element on Vizhima. Nevertheless, I accepted her promise and approached the heap of rubble that represented the collapsed wall of stone.
A dainty hand protruded from underneath the debris, clacked with mud.
“Miriel? Please, tell me you’re still alive.”
“Help me!” a small voice answered from beneath the rubble. “I’m struggling to breathe!”
I crouched beside her, pulling a boulder out of the heap.
Luckily, heavy lifting was one of my specialties. In no time at all, I managed to free her, leveraging the benefits of [Scaredy-cat].
Miriel crawled her way out from under her prison, gasping for breath. She was stick thin, even for an elf, and somewhat shorter than the heights that I’d grown accustomed to. Her mage robes threatened to swallow her form. Brown hair hung from her hair in twin tails.
“You’re not one of us,” she said with trepidation upon seeing my face. “Is Rilwan okay?” She turned around with wide eyes. “Rilwan?”
The scout captain answered with a grunt.
Both elf-women reunited with lots of hugging. That left Isaac as the only other person that concerned me who was yet to be located.
I found him as the elf had suggested, hidden behind a tree. However, the tree had fallen, crushed to smithereens by a boulder which had also leveled a large swath of grass.
Isaac wasn’t the target of the shot, but he'd been killed by it either way.
I slumped to the ground and ran my hands over my face. I’d only known Isaac for a little over a day, but his death still managed to evoke a strong sensation of loss.
Isaac had been laughing and talking my head off just this morning. Now . . .
I switched off after that, unwilling to linger in the solitude of my thoughts. Miriel and Rilwan ended their touching reunion by weeping over the loss of their friends.
I rejoined my party. Ben no longer bled as badly, though he had succumbed to the lull of sleep. He shivered as he slept, lips dry and forehead sweaty from the anguish he endured.
Nicola caught my gaze. “Isaac?”
I shook my head.
She understood my meaning and pulled her hat low over her head.
The afternoon passed in silence.
A silence that bore the finality of death.
