My Love
Page 210
"Where's the King?" she shouted.
The servant should have argued with her, asked who she was and demanded proof. But even out of armor and carrying a basically overgrown cheese knife, Reiss was not someone you argued with. Her eyes blazed with ferocity to try and bury the guilt and fear lurking below, and her voice bellowed louder than the most assured Teryn. She was not about to be turned away.
Shaking like a leaf, the servant pointed up the stairs. Reiss didn't take the time to thank her, just nodded and ran as fast as she could up them. What was she going to say? She'd thought of a few sentences on the trip out, most of them amounting to "I'm sorry, but your life is in danger and even if you hate me let me keep you from dying." It wasn't poetry but it'd get the job done, assuming he didn't throw her out the second she opened the door.
As Reiss' boots skittered to a halt on the floor she faced a multitude of doors, each of them shut tight. She threw open one, peering inside of a broom closet. The next a plain bedroom with no one inside. "Maker take it all. Why didn't I ask what room he's in?"
"Ma'am?" another servant wandered into the hall at her outburst. This one looked familiar but so many had the same plain look to them for the sake of uniformity it was entirely possible she'd never met him before.
"The King, where is he?"
"He's..." the hand paused a moment, the man not as easily bowled over.
"Please, it's a matter of life and death," she gulped, terror growing that she may get kicked out without even talking to Alistair. All this way, her life upended and they could still get to him. Her only consolation was that he couldn't be dead yet if the servants were pointing her towards him and not a body.
The man eyed her up before lifting his finger to point at the third door down the hall. "There."
"Thank you," Reiss gasped, already jogging towards the room. Her heart beat so loudly, it drown out nearly all sounds as the blood rushed in her ears. Time to see if you were right, Rat.
Swallowing down the quiet urge to turn and run, Reiss lifted the latch and stuck her head inside. The entire door rattled away from her as she watched the children's bodyguard jam a dagger through Alistair's ribcage.
"NO!" the scream ripped out her throat, ensnaring Brunt's attentions to her. Alistair stumbled out of his hands, skittering away under his own power but the blood... So much blood coated the floor, too much.
Snarling, Reiss raised her sword and came at the man. He bent down and faster than she thought possible, snatched up a dropped one and deflected her blade. The clanging ran up her arm, her piece of shit sword barely keeping in the hilt from his defense. Use your brain, Rat. You can do this.
"Alistair," she called out, praying he'd respond.
Brunt dropped his shoulder back, and she mimicked the pose. This wasn't going to be easy. Sword clanged against sword, Reiss the faster draw but not fast enough against his greater reach. Each thrust from her, even with vengeance whetting her vision, was quickly parried away. Worst of all, she could feel the edge of her sword biting and chipping with each blow. For Andraste's sake, why didn't she bring a shield?!
"Gah!" Reiss cried, twisting in a circle from the force behind Brunt's attack. His eyes lit up as he realized she was bluffing with her power. Heaving his massive arm, Brunt's swings broke again and again upon Reiss' waning sword. Sweat poured off her hand, slacking in the cheap grip. One more and she was done for.
She had to, to get him to jam his sword...
Brunt lifted his blade high over his head and in one fell swoop drove down towards her. She had no choice but to block with it, the power reverberating through the barely holding steel. Shrapnel exploded out of the grip, pieces of her sword slicing through the air. One nipped her cheek, another embedded into her thigh, but Reiss shook off the pain, barely letting it settle.
Sweet merciful Maker, one of the shards ripped right under Brunt's eye, the bastard shrinking back. Rushing forward, Reiss tried to grab at the sword in his hands. Her fingers dug into his, her nails trying to draw blood, but he swung his free arm around and grabbed onto her wrist. Powerless, her fingers lost their grip on his as he yanked her left arm nearly out of the socket. A sneer rolled up the man's face and she knew he was going to pay her back for the eye.
Reiss barely had time to breathe before he hurled her body downward. With one hand on her wrist, he stepped his massive foot onto her forearm and lifted. Screaming in agony and rage, Reiss tried to grip onto any flesh she could reach but it was all padded in armor. The same fucking armor she wore day in and day out. Brunt shifted his foot back and forth, digging it in deeper until a cracking erupted from below. Pain battered Reiss like a ship in a hurricane, blood welling out of the shattered bone prodding up from her forearm. Fuck. Maker damn it! She drew her arm to her, the unending agony knocking so hard her vision swam. Whistling roared in her ears, she knew a faint was quick on its way. Sitting on her knees, Reiss watched helplessly as Brunt picked up his fallen sword, but he didn't turn it on her.
She was broken, her arm useless. She could put up no more fight. No, no, no, he grabbed onto Alistair's hair and tugged him up. He groaned, still alive despite the blood, but not for long.
Damn it, Reiss. Don't fucking give up now. You've done this before. Ignoring the pain, the blood slicking up her arm, the white haze fading the world around her, Reiss stood up. Brunt was too busy with his work to notice, or care. She was the little elf no one noticed.
But she wasn't just fighting for herself, she was protecting the one she loved. Reiss's fingers wrapped around the grip of the dagger in her hair. No one ever asked why she wore it. It was handy, was her go to excuse. She never told anyone about the night in the refugee camp when thunder crackled the dark air and a solitary Tal Vashoth tried to steal their only food. Reiss walked away with a broken hand, he didn't walk away at all.
Knowing she had once chance at this, Reiss waited until Brunt drew up his arm for the final blow. Alistair whimpered at the man yanking his golden hair out. Only a single snicker erupted from the assassin as he lifted his sword for the finishing kill.
Reiss launched forward, her dagger biting far into the man's armpit up through the weakness in the armor. The one place she knew she could strike him, because she too wore that armor. Ignoring the blood and with only one hand, she drove the blade in deeper until it struck bone. Brunt shrieked, trying to whip around and slash at her, but Reiss was faster.
Yanking the dagger out, she popped up right beside him and staring deep into his eyes, drove it right through his throat. Past the yards of beard, Reiss didn't stop shoving until blood spurted down the metal chest plate. Watching the panic rise as Brunt tried to throw her off, Reiss heaved her all against him, knocking the giant backwards. She twisted the dagger back and forth, widening the hole and cheering the blood pouring out of the wound.
That's right, she snickered as the panic faded to a debilitating realization. You were killed by a rat.
Without any flourish, Reiss tugged her dagger out. Air gushed from the hole, the man's final breath before blood gurgled bubbles across the floor.
Alistair.
Forgetting the pain, Reiss scrabbled across the floor to him. He had his eyes closed, his head thrown back, but she could see a breath rattling his chest up and down. Her bloody fingers drifted across his cheek, so cold, so pale. "Alistair, stay with me. Okay."
He groaned as if she was trying to wake him from a pleasant nap. One eye rolled open, but it looked glassy. "Reiss?"
"Yes," she couldn't stop the stupid tears, her brain panicking. "I'm here to..." Maker damn it, she was here to save him. But she was too slow, too weak, too stupid.
"Good," he sighed before his head lolled forward.
"Hey, stay with me. I'm going to...I'm gonna," she had nothing, she knew nothing. What was she going to do? Unable to stop the tears, Reiss threw her head back and shrieked.
"Ma'am," a voice spoke up from behind her.
She didn't glance away from Alistair, terrified that if she did he'd
die on her. "What, what is it?" Oh Maker, were they going to think she killed him? The elf that burst in on the King only to kill him and his bodyguard. It'd be the end of everything.
"Here," the man scuttled forward through the blood. "This will help," he passed a red bottle to her fingers.
Reiss yanked the cork out with her mouth and scooted forward, placing the lip to Alistair's cold mouth when a thought struck her. What if it was poisoned? What choice did she have? Tipping it in, most of the liquid gurgled down his throat. And what didn't make it washed down his chin to join with the blood pooling down him. It seemed to revive something in him, more groans of agony erupting from the once deathly silent throat.
Placing the empty bottle down, Reiss' fingers circled around the hilt of the dagger lodged inside him.
"No, Ma'am!" the man grabbed onto her elbow, trying to pull her fingers away. "Leave it in, until we can cauterize the wound."
"Cauterize? You know of medicine?"
"A little," he bobbed his head, "I served in the blight."
"How?" He couldn't be more than twenty if that.
The man blushed at that and sighed, "Bandage boys they called us, but we have to move quickly to close this. Can you help me carry him to a bed?"
"I..." Reiss' aching arm finally struck her and she stared in horror at the mutilated bone. "No, I can't."
This war hardened boy followed her sight and the blood drained from his face. Compound fractures were not for the light of stomach. The pain ransacking her body somehow made her arm go numb, as if she was staring at someone else's forearm prodding up through the tear to her shirt.
Cupping a hand to his mouth, the boy bellowed for his fellow servant who upon skipping into the room and getting a good look at the bloated corpse with a dagger sticking out of his throat screamed her head off. The boy waited a minute for it to die down before he shouted that she get over and help him with the King. While whispering prayers to Andraste for having to touch so much blood, the woman and part-time medic both heaved Alistair up and carried him to a bedroom.
The King's head lolled against his chest as they carried him, almost no life left inside. Please. Hang on. When the pair dropped him to the bed, an aching groan broke through his paling lips. Reiss was drawn to it, her fingers cupping against that cold skin. She could feel the tears rattling through her soul, but had to focus. He may look like he was about to cross the veil, but she wasn't going to give him up.
"What do we need to do?" she asked, turning to the boy. With one foot he cranked on a set of bellows, bringing life to the fire, while tossing the end of a poker into it.
"You're not going to like this bit. We've got to stop the bleeding and without a mage here I only know one way."
Oh Maker. She'd seen this done before, on the battlefield when mages were only meant for offense and there weren't enough potions to go around. Those who weren't vital to the cause had to suffer with amputations and prayer as their medicine.
"Alistair," Reiss leaned closer to him, hoping to get a glimpse into his eyes but he was too far gone. Barely a breath passed through his dangling lips. "This is going to hurt," she explained despite him clearly being lost to a faint.
The boy looked over at Reiss. "You're gonna have to pull out the dagger and tug up the shirt so I can..." He made the motion of pushing the poker to skin.
"I..." Reiss didn't want to break her fingers away from Alistair's face, convinced she was the only thing keeping him alive, but one look at the poor girl about to hit the floor and she knew it had to be her. Grimly nodding, she lifted her broken arm higher against her chest. Pain burst through her gut, threatening to splatter out what little food she scrounged on the road, but Reiss managed to tamp it down. Grabbing onto the dagger's pommel, she glanced once back at Alistair and mouthed 'sorry.'
Drawing it out quickly, blood gushed from the wound. Freed of its dam, red pooled over the King's side and stained upon the bed sheets. Reiss chucked the dagger that killed...nearly killed him to the ground and tugged up his shirt. She barely had time to look away as the boy jammed the poker against the wound.
Alistair didn't scream, even as the scent of his burning flesh and boiling blood filled the air, but he groaned in agony, his body trying to roll away from the pain coursing through it. "It's okay," Reiss drew her fingers over his cheek, "it's going to help. I hope. Right?"
The boy's shaking hands pulled the poker away from the burned skin and he dropped it to the ground. "I, uh, I think so. The bleeding's slowing, I should, uh...Patrice?"
Wide eyed the scared woman scampered over from her corner to snatch up the errant poker as if it was vital it be returned to its place.
"No, get some towels and bandages. I'll try to do the only thing I know to do."
Patrice was terrified, and rightly so as she barreled into the hall to fetch the supplies.
While the still nameless boy did his best to clear off the blood and try to patch up the mess, Reiss kept drawing her fingers down Alistair's cheek. That cold, whiskery cheek drawing deeper into itself as if Alistair was fading away. Someone passed her another potion, which she was careful to get more down his throat. If it helped, she couldn't tell. "Will he be all right?" Reiss whispered to the Maker.
"I don't know," the boy sighed. Blood coated his hands which he kept wiping across his forehead to try and combat the sweat that came from someone attempting to save their King's life. "This is bad, really bad. If we had a healer here, a proper one then maybe..."
"Proper?" Reiss' mind was having trouble focusing, her fingers unable to stop petting Alistair's cheek as if that could somehow revive him.
"You know," he tipped his head back and forth, "a mage."
Reiss turned away from him to stare out the window. Could it? Maybe. Oh Maker, it could be her only hope. "Is there an abbey near here?"
"I don't..." he began before Patrice sweetly spoke up.
"Aye, down the road a ride. Takes in all kinds of sick."
"We can't move him," the servant interrupted.
Reiss nodded, her steps shoring before her. "I'll go." She knew it was the right path, but she'd have to leave him and what if...? What if he died while she was gone? Thinking she'd left him again?
"Ma'am, you're hurt," the boy pointed out.
She glanced down at the broken arm and sighed, "It has to be me, for...reasons. You, Patrice, can you belt this to me like a sling? Good and tight."
The poor girl blanched even more, but she unhooked the flimsy belt around Reiss' midsection and with delicate fingers wrapped it first around her shoulder and then moved to pick up the bone. Pain shattered Reiss' body, sending her almost pitching backwards, but she dug in tight with her good hand to the bedpost. Patrice paused, but Reiss bit on her tongue and nodded her to keep going. Wrapping the belt twice, she knotted it off.
"No," Reiss grunted, "tighter. Real close or I'll bump it."
"Blessed Andraste, please guard us in our hour of need," Patrice mumbled while doing as told.
Even with pain blinding her sight and shredding apart every inch of her skin, Reiss hung on until the girl stepped away. Turning her head fast, Reiss vomited on the ground, the pain too much for her. She felt herself sinking to a knee, when the medic's hands grabbed onto her shoulder and held her in place.
"Drink this," he jabbed a health potion to her face, but she shook it off.
"How many are there?"
"Three more remaining."
Reiss tried to hand it back, "You'll need them all to keep him alive."
"And you need to not die on the trip to the abbey," he rightly pointed out.
Groaning at the logic, Reiss tipped a quarter of the liquid into her mouth. It tingled against her tongue and a gentle cocoon wrapped around her body, trying to wash away the pain. With such little the best it could knock down were some of her bruises, but it would have to be enough. "Ration these out, keep him alive as best you can. You," she pointed at Patrice, "I'm going to need you to help me get onto my horse."
"What about...?"
"I don't know who all is involved in this, so until the King is...until he's on his feet, no one." Reiss suspected she knew the truth but doubted anyone she told it to would believe her. If Alistair died...
Her resolve dissolved away as she stared back at the man she had to leave to save his life. Stumbling through his blood and her vomit, she bent down and placed a single kiss against his forehead. Her lips brushed over the cold skin as she whispered, "Don't you die."
It wasn't easy stuffing her ass up into the saddle, but Patrice managed. Without turning back, Reiss dug the horse into a gallop down the road. She had little to guide her beyond the woman's vague suggestions to keep going west until smoke appeared in the horizon. The potion wore off about an hour into her ride, pain seizing up and down her arm with every jostle, and since she was on horseback those occurred every other step. A few times her vision swam, and Reiss feared she was about to tumble right off the horse to the ground, but then what? She'd be stranded in the woods, unable to mount alone and Alistair would...
Snapping her head up, she tightened her lone grip to the reins and focused down the road. Little more than a deer trail at this point, it seemed almost no one traveled it to keep the woods at bay. Tree branches littered the path, shed from a storm that was recent or... Reiss felt her breath constrict as the woods leaned tighter and tighter around her. Was this the right way?
Her daylight was dipping down right into her eyes, all but blinding her to whatever lay ahead. She tried to shield her vision with her one working hand, but that tugged the horses head back -- and the poor thing already hated her. Closing her eyes against the light, Reiss turned her head to the north to try and get a glimpse of the darkness when she spotted what looked like gold dancing in the air. Not a sunbeam, but speckles of gold glittered against the sun as it buffeted upward to the clouds.
Was that the strange smoke?