Randall rolled his head around groggily as he dreamed of running water. The water in his dream was a river of some kind like he had never seen. It seemed as though he was a bird, flying not far above the rushing waters and heading upstream.
He passed beneath a huge, stone bridge which spanned the entire river. On each side of the bridge was what looked to be a heavily fortified keep made of blue and white marble stone, and the keeps looked to be identical to him as he continued to fly past.
He continued soaring above the river, as he imagined a bird might, until he came to a wide, majestic waterfall. He flew up and over it before continuing onward when he came to another, and then another until he arrived at the river’s source: a gaping valley between a pair of mountains which looked like they belonged to the Binding Chain range.
Before he could fly into the valley, he awoke with a start as he felt his scalp go numb.
He tried to sit upright but was restrained for some reason from doing so, and then he remembered the arrow wound and their subsequent flight from the Fleshmongers.
Looking down at his wrists, he realized just how badly his back and leg hurt and knew he needed to get his hands free to deal with his wounds.
After a few minutes of fumbling, he managed to undo his wrists and shoulders from the saddle and sit back up gingerly as he felt his back erupt in tight, angry pain.
Again, he felt a flash of numbness across his skull and he realized the sword must have been trying to contact him. Reaching up, he drew the weapon from its scabbard and almost immediately found the sword’s voice within his mind.
We must treat your leg, were Dan’Moread’s first words. If your nose is to be trusted, the wound has already begun to fester from the Fleshmongers’ poisonous filth.
“How long have I been out?” Randall asked, feeling a headache forming which was similar in strength to the one the Senatorial Guard had given him with his magical interrogation.
Two days, the sword replied. Even with your Ghaevlian blood, I fear too much time may have elapsed to save the limb.
“What?!” Randall shouted, looking down at his leg in alarm. Almost immediately he felt his stomach turn at what he saw.
The wound’s dimensions were essentially as he remembered: a ragged hole, nearly two inches across. But between the time the wound had been inflicted and now, an area nearly four inches across in total had turned purplish-black and there was a green, purulent discharge weeping down the side of his leg.
The Fleshmongers use this particular concoction for their nefarious, unspeakable rituals, Dan’Moread explained. I am surprised they coated arrows with the material, as it is considered sacred in their culture for its ability to reduce any flesh it comes into contact with into a syrupy—
“Enough!” he gasped, clutching the edges of the wound tightly with his free, right hand. “What can I do?!”
Do you have any Redrika leaf or Feldspain extract? the sword asked.
Randall quickly opened the saddlebag, causing Storm Chaser to snort in protest. Only then did Randall realize they were beside a gently babbling creek, where the warhorse had apparently taken a break from its journey—wherever that might have taken them.
He rummaged through the contents of the herb bundle and felt a wave of despair rising within himself. “I have no idea what Redrika or Feldspain even look like,” he despaired. Am I really going to lose my leg?! he wondered with more than a hint of fear.
Redrika leaf has seven points, with the two nearest the stem shaped not unlike the top of an egg and the others narrowing almost to a needle-tip shape, Dan’Moread explained. Feldspain extract is a yellow or light brown powder which smells faintly of the ocean.
Randall looked through the pack for any bits of powder, but found none. After just a few seconds of looking, however, he did manage to find a couple pieces of leaf like the sword had described.
“Ok, what do I do with the Redrika?” he asked anxiously, casting nervous glances down at his leg as the foul odor of rotting flesh filled his nostrils.
You must make a paste using roughly equal parts Redrika leaf and your blood, replied the sword matter-of-factly. When you have done that, you must then cut away the bits of flesh which are already dried and hardened. Continue cutting until you reach areas with moisture, at which time you must apply the Redrika paste. Bind the wound, and wash with clean water thrice daily, re-applying Redrika paste after two days’ time.
Randall felt all the color drain from his face. “I…I don’t think…” he stammered.
You must do this, the sword replied in its maddening, monotonous voice.
“No…” Randall said, swallowing the knot which had just formed in his throat. “I really mean it…I don’t think I can.”
Then we will die, Dan’Moread said bluntly.
Randall stared blankly at his leg, realizing that the sword was probably right. “How did it get so bad?” he asked tremulously. “My kind aren’t even supposed to be able to get infections!”
Your physiology prevents mundane infections from taking hold within you, Dan’Moread agreed. This infection is anything but mundane, however; I have seen it at work before.
Randall tried desperately to come to terms with what he needed to do, but he knew that this was simply beyond him. If Yordan was here, he might have been able to let her do it, but by himself…“I really don’t think I can do this,” he said, feeling more than a little pathetic as thoughts of lying down and dying rather than carving into his own body filled his mind.
It is possible I can assist, the sword said after a long pause.
He shook his head adamantly. “I don’t want you spending the last of your strength on this,” he said in a rising voice.
It may not be necessary for me to draw on what little remains of my reserves, Dan’Moread explained slowly. Normally I would believe such to be impossible so soon, but our bond seems…different somehow.
Feeling a surge of hope, Randall nodded rapidly. “What can I do?” he asked anxiously.
You must relax your body and allow me to take control, the sword began, and when that process has begun, you must not stop me. This requires a great deal of concentration on my part, if it is even possible, and should you break my hold I doubt I can reestablish it before…
“Ok,” he agreed, doing as the sword had suggested. Almost immediately he felt a buzzing sensation in his hand, and he had to force himself not to recoil at the odd sensation. It was similar to the jolting feeling he had experience when Dan’Moread had taken control over his body before, but it was also somehow different. It seemed much weaker, but also less painful and jarring.
He saw his right hand begin to twitch, and he looked in wonderment as his wrist rolled slightly.
Amazing, he heard Dan’Moread say faintly, our bonding is nearly completed.
Trying to keep from panicking at the sword’s revelation, Randall focused on his breathing and closed his eyes to relax.
I must have use of your eyes, Randall, the sword said after only a few seconds had passed. Place me in your right hand.
Randall opened his eyes and looked blankly down at his left hand, which was unmoving. He lifted the sword and found that he still had complete control over that limb and his brow furrowed in confusion. “Why don’t you do it?” he asked in honest curiosity.
It seems I cannot yet control your left arm in this manner, Dan’Moread said matter-of-factly. I suppose you could say that I am ‘right-handed,’ since that is the classical posture and the only way I have ever known.
“Ok,” he said as he placed the long, leather-wrapped tang of the sword in his right hand, which grasped it almost immediately. Randall felt a momentary pang of panic at seeing his body, in broad daylight, seemingly acting of its own accord.
Relax, Randall, the sword said in a faint, distant voice, perhaps you should employ some Helia seeds?
“Good thinking,” Randall agreed absently as his right hand continued to flex its grip on the sword. He flipped open the bu
ndle with his free, left hand and almost immediately found the small pouch of Helia seeds. They were tiny, with each barely a quarter the size of a grain of rice. The total quantity he had would have easily fit inside a thimble—but that was more than enough to dull the senses of an entire ox team if distributed correctly.
“How many should I use?” he asked, uncertain of how many to use.
I honestly do not know, Dan’Moread replied. I would advise against overly many…perhaps four?
“Sounds good,” he agreed, carefully opening the tiny bundle of seeds and sticking his fingertip into the tiny, black seeds. When his finger came up, there were six seeds stuck to it. He carefully flicked one, then another, back into the bundle before placing the other four beneath his tongue. Their bitter taste disappeared almost immediately, and he felt his tongue become warm as the seeds’ powerful toxins worked their way into his bloodstream.
He had taken two of them when Yordan had removed one of his teeth a few years earlier, and they had done the job adequately enough.
Are you ready? the sword asked after a few minute had passed.
“I guess so,” he said as he felt the seeds bring a sense of euphoria over him. “What do you need me to do?”
Firmly hold the flat of my blade near my tip between the thumb and forefinger of your left hand, Dan’Moread instructed before adding, careful to avoid my edge, of course. Then place the tip near the edge of the wound.
Looking down the length of the blade, Randall did his best to avoid looking at the wound as he gripped the flat of the blade a few inches back from the tip.
That will do, the sword agreed.
Randall closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he readied himself for the inevitable, but when it failed to arrive he opened his eyes and looked up curiously. “What’s wrong?” he asked with mounting dread.
Nothing, the sword replied hesitantly before adding, I am sorry for the pain this causes you, Randall.
Randall shook his head. “You’re helping me more than you know,” he said, the words sounding hollow to his own ears even though he knew they were true. “Let’s just get this over with.”
Very well, Dan’Moread agreed. I would advise biting down on something pliable.
No sooner had Randall placed the bit of rope between his teeth than the sword went about the work of debriding the wound.
Amazingly, throughout the nearly twenty minutes of work Randall never once cried out…but by the time it was over his cheeks were covered with tears and he was fairly certain he had cracked a pair of teeth, as well as having bitten cleanly through the rope twice.
I am finished, Dan’Moread said after the last of the dead tissue had been cleared away. We are fortunate the muscle is undamaged, but you must apply the Redrika now and then bind the wound so we may continue on our journey. There is no guarantee the Redrika will dispel the infection entirely, but it should buy us enough time to reach one of Greystone’s outer forts.
“Alright,” Randall said drowsily. The Helia seeds had actually done less for him than he had expected, although he doubted he could have maintained his focus without them. He was simply exhausted after the ordeal, and knew he would sleep well that night—in the saddle or on the ground, it made no difference.
He pulled out the Redrika leaf and looked around for something to cut himself with before looking at Dan’Moread’s razor-sharp edge haltingly. “Is it ok to use your edge?” he asked numbly. He just wanted to get this over with.
Of course, the sword replied. But take care not to cut too deeply and be sure to apply plenty of Redroot afterward.
“Right,” he agreed as he ran his forearm over the star metal blade’s white, nearly translucent edge. A small drip of blood flowed from the wound, and he did his best to guess how much blood he would need to match the leaf’s size.
When he had gathered what he thought to be enough, he ground the bloody leaf in his hands and then shredded it with his fingernails until it was a pasty consistency. He then rubbed the paste into the edges of his wound, stifling a yelp more than a few times as he did so.
When he was finished, he had used nearly all of the leaf and he sat back in the saddle to take a breath. When he thought he had gathered enough strength to continue, he chewed some Redroot and applied it to the leg wound, as well as the fresh cut on his forearm.
“Did I forget anything?” he asked wearily. He had never felt this tired in his entire life, and he was beginning to suspect there was something else at work than simple exhaustion.
No, Dan’Moread replied quickly, that should suffice once it has been dressed and prepared for travel.
Randall used the yellowberry cloth as gauze and packed it into the fist-sized hole in his leg before tearing the bottom of his shirt off and bolstering the cloth with it. He then used the short bits of rope he had bitten off to bind the makeshift dressing to his leg, and sat up to appraise his work.
You have prior experience in dressing wounds, the sword said, and it took Randall a few moments to realize it was probably a question rather than a statement.
“No,” he said hazily as he swayed in the saddle as a wave of vertigo swept over him, “Yordan always did the bandages…”
Then I must congratulate you on your courage, as this is likely the most impressive thing I have ever seen a person do, Dan’Moread said. Now, you must stay awake long enough to reach Greystone for I fear our mount has already brought us far afield of our destination. Can you do that?
“I really doubt it,” he said as he felt his eyelids threatening to close against his will.
Then perhaps you could tell me of your life in Three Rivers, Dan’Moread suggested. We are only one day’s hard ride from the nearest Greystone outpost, and it would be good to learn more of your life prior to our acquaintance.
“I appreciate the thought,” Randall slurred, “but I really need some sleep…” His eyes closed drowsily, and for a brief instant he was at peace as he felt the stress of the day begin to fall away.
His entire body was wracked with a powerful shock of energy, which caused him to cry out wordlessly in surprise. “Hey!” he protested after regaining his senses.
I apologize, Randall, the sword said in its infuriating, monotonous voice, but I cannot allow you to sleep now. When we reach Greystone you may rest, but until then you must remain awake; I can no longer protect us should you fall asleep.
Blinking his eyes to clear them somewhat, he looked down at the sword and shook it angrily. “I was just resting my eyes, dammit,” he grumbled, almost instantly losing the sudden urge to berate the sword. He knew it was just trying to help in whatever way it could, but he desperately needed rest.
Perhaps there are some Hruvina leaves within the satchel as well, the sword offered after a moment’s silence.
“What are those?” Randall asked, having never heard of them before.
They are a powerful stimulant which has been used by Ghaevlians since their discovery many centuries ago, Dan’Moread explained. They appear as an ordinary, ovular leaf but they have a strong, sharp sensation associated with their relatively mild odor. Chewing on one will help sharpen your senses and keep you alert, at least for a time.
Randall scowled as he grudgingly looked through the pack. It was good to have at least the majority of his wits about him again, after nearly falling asleep, but he was still more than a little peeved with the sword’s gruff manner. After a few moments of searching, he found a leaf which resembled a gently pointed oval and sniffed it, recoiling almost immediately as the inside of his nose flashed with a powerful, tingly sensation.
“Found it,” he said dryly. “Do I chew it like shredded smoke-weed?”
I believe so, the sword replied, but I have never seen it used, having only heard tell of those who employ such herbal supplements. I do know that it will make your mouth numb and that swallowing the leaf will provide no positive effect. It should help to keep you awake for several hours if you are careful not to tear it.
“
Alright,” Randall sighed in resignation. He had spent his entire life avoiding things like smoke-weed and its many variations. Most half-elves could enjoy the benefits of such herbs far more readily than their pureblood human counterparts due to the differences in their physiology. But Randall had never felt the need for assistance in achieving his desired mood, so it was with more than a small sense of defeat that he placed the leaf inside his cheek and let his saliva cover it.
His cheek went numb almost immediately, followed by the nearby gums doing the same and soon his entire mouth had lost sensation. “Wow,” he said no more than a minute after placing the leaf inside his mouth, “that was quick.” No sooner had he said so than he realized his heart was beating slightly quicker than it had been, and all thoughts of sleep had been banished.
Good, the sword said neutrally, now we may continue on our way. Follow the mountains to the south until we arrive at a field of broken stones—you will know you have arrived as soon as you have done so. I suggest avoiding the roads whenever possible, which should not be an issue given the terrain before us.
Randall gripped the reins tightly and nodded as he felt like he had received a second wind. “How is this stuff not standard issue for soldiers?” he asked in wonderment as he spurred Storm Chaser on in the desired direction. “I can understand not wanting civilians to get used to this kind of high, but I would have thought the military would have some kind of application for this stuff—it’s amazing!”
My understanding is that the effect is significantly lessened for a pureblood human, Dan’Moread said evenly. The Ghaevlians of old were renowned for their utilization of such supplements to maximize their physical and mental abilities during times of need, so one would assume that a Pure Ghaevlian should experience an even greater effect than that which you currently feel.
“That makes sense on all counts,” Randall agreed as the massive, black warhorse made his way up the hill. “And hey…I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier.”
Think nothing of it, the sword replied curtly. With the Hruvina leaf’s benefit, I can rest and return control of your body to you for the remainder of the journey. However, I am still very much interested to hear of your life in Three Rivers if you are inclined to tell of it.
Joined at the Hilt: Union (Sphereworld: Joined at the Hilt Book 1) Page 33
