Knife appearing in his hand, Reneeke wrapped his arm around Jaikus’ injured one to immobilize it, then pinched the area to either side of the internal intruder.
Jaikus cried out at the pain Reneeke was causing. When his friend looked questioningly at him, Jaikus gritted his teeth. “Just do it.”
Reneeke nodded. Bringing the tip of his knife close, he made an incision. A pale, wormlike body writhed within the newly formed opening. Blood oozed forth as Reneeke dug the tip of the knife into the wound to draw forth the invader.
Jaikus moaned from the pain and clutched Reneeke’s shirt. He buried his face in his friend’s back as the knife dug deeper.
“Almost got it.”
Fine, hair-like cilia covered the parasite’s body, and wriggled under Reneeke’s ministrations. The head had burrowed deeper within the forearm’s muscle and thwarted every attempt at dislodging it. “Brace yourself,” he told Jaikus, then dug deeper.
The pain was excruciating. Jaikus reflexively tried to withdraw his arm, but Reneeke had too firm a grip. Deeper the knife point went, and just when Jaik thought the pain would force him to heave all over Reneeke’s back, it stopped.
“I got it.”
Reneeke let go of the arm and pointed to a small, white, worm-like thing writhing on the ground. Jaikus shuddered.
“I think it might be a glow-moth larva of some kind.” Reneeke then proceeded to grind the parasitic invader beneath the heel of his boot.
Jaikus’ arm was a mess. Blood covered his forearm. The hole Reneeke had been forced to create in order to expel the parasite continuously oozed more. “There’s another healing draught in my pack.”
“Right.” Reneeke quickly retrieved the flask and poured a small amount on the wound itself, just as he had observed Lady Kate do with Seward, then had Jaikus drink a quarter of what was left. Almost immediately, the wound cleared of blood, and began to knit together.
“Now I can see why Charka insisted that the mesh was so important.”
Reneeke nodded. “I still don’t understand why the glow-moths avoid it. Perhaps it’s made of something they don’t like.”
“Or it possesses a magical enchantment?”
“Maybe.” Restoppering the flask, Reneeke replaced it within Jaikus’ pack. “Either way, I think we should keep them handy in case we encounter more.”
Both lads kept their mesh netting out, but had it rolled up and tucked beneath their arms. As Reneeke took the lead to resume their trek to Reakla, Jaikus fell in beside. He couldn’t help but shudder anew at the thought of how the larva had been wriggling around beneath his skin. He couldn’t wait to return to Reakla. How he could use a large mug of ale right about now.
Sunrise was imminent, and Charka paced impatiently before the Swamp Gate as he had for nearly the last hour. Nearby stood two Guild members who had volunteered to aid in the rescue of his two Springers. One was a bear of a man with twin axes strapped to his back, the other, an identical match except for the pair of swords in place of the axes. They were the twin brothers Khuodari, formidable fighters who had adventured with Charka a time or two. The promise of a night of debauchery upon their return had helped seal the deal.
Upon his Troupe’s return to Reakla, Charka’s first order of business had been getting Seward to a Temple. Once satisfied that his man would not only live, but make a full recovery through the ministrations of the priests, he left Lady Kate to keep an eye on him while he set about to gather a few cronies who wouldn’t mind a quick jaunt into the Swamp to save a couple of lost pups. Now, he and the Khuodari brothers waited for the sun to strike the Gate, for the Gate would not open until that time.
There was nothing magical about such an occurrence, rather, the law kept it closed until daybreak. Only two instances would permit the Gate to be opened. One, of course, would be the appearance of a returning band of adventurers. The other necessitated procuring a letter from the Town Council which would allow it to be opened. But since the eastern sky had already begun to brighten, Charka knew better than to try and round up that lazy band of miscreants. By the time he succeeded in corralling enough councilors to make a majority, it would be dawn and their aid would no longer be required.
A glance to the ramparts above the Gate revealed Master Hymal pacing about in similar impatience. He’d been there since shortly after their return. Charka knew the reagents in the packs his Springer’s had volunteered to recover constituted the bulk of his profits for the next few months. Without them, Master Hymal faced some lean times until the moon would once again rise in proper fullness to make another trip to Sythal worthwhile.
Charka caught site of the Watch Leader, the man whose primary responsibility was to oversee the area in and around the Gate, and to ensure the safety of the populace the wall protected. Coming toward the man, he said with no small amount of impatience, “Surely you can open the Gate now. The sun is almost up.”
Watch Leader Reggie understood all too well Charka’s impatience. Having, in the last hour, suffered no less than three separate bartering attempts and one threat of mayhem, his patience had worn thin. “I’m through talking, Charka. When the sun hits the Gate, we’ll open it. Not one second before!”
“But my Springers might be dying out there!”
Reggie was unmoved. “Adventurers are always ‘dying out there’. It goes with the territory. Besides, the law is the law.”
Charka felt like smashing in his face, but knew such an action would not get the Gate opened any sooner.
“Hey!” cried a lookout atop the wall. “I see something!”
Charka hollered, “My Springers?”
“Can’t tell for sure. But there is definitely movement in the deeper shadows along the fringe.”
A second later, Master Hymal yelled, “It’s them!”
“Open that demon-damned Gate!” Charka shouted.
Visual contact of approaching adventurers constituted one of the few instances whereby the Gate could be opened before the rising of the sun. “Open it up!” shouted Reggie. One of his men rushed to the gatehouse. Shortly thereafter, the sound of the massive, internal locking mechanism filled the courtyard as the man threw the lever releasing them.
“Looks like one is hurt,” Hymal shouted down to Charka. “The big one is leaning on the smaller.”
“Reneeke?”
“I think so.”
Just as the final “clank” signaled the Gate to be unsecured, a guard from atop the wall shouted, “Troll!”
In the early dawn, a time of day when night began rolling back in deference to the morn, two lads made their way through the Swamp. One had suffered grievous injury and leaned heavily upon the other.
The effects of the potion had worn off an hour ago, reminding Reneeke that the worst of the injuries inflicted by the troll still had a ways to go before it could be said they were healed. He suffered no great amount of pain, merely a dull ache and weakness. The healing properties of the potion had used a great deal of his energy to do its work. Reneeke had already consumed the last of the second healing draught, its revitalizing effect no more than a pleasant memory.
Legs wobbly, head pounding, and body aching all over; it was all he could do to merely put one foot in front of the other. He desperately needed a hot meal, warm bed, and a lengthy stretch of uninterrupted sleep.
As the sky began to brighten with the dawn, the protective wall of Reakla appeared through the trees.
“Look, Rene,” Jaikus said. “We’re almost back.”
Weary eyes turned toward the towering walls. Nothing had ever looked so good. “We did it, Jaik.”
“Yes, we did.”
Three packs filled with reagents were slung over their shoulders, Master Hymal should be pleased. Jaikus could think of little else than the reward promised by the apothecary. Reneeke, on the other hand, was simply satisfied by a job well done. That, and the fact they returned with their lives intact. Although considering the amount of discomfort inflicting him, he amended that sentiment w
ith “almost intact”.
Clearing the tree line, they started across the final expanse of open area toward the Gate. It remained closed, but hopefully that would change once the guards atop the wall became aware of their presence.
“Come on, Rene. Not much farther.”
With Reakla’s wall now an immediate goal, a small measure of strength returned to him. Although, not so much as to enable the putting aside of Jaikus’ aid. He still required a supportive shoulder to remain upright.
The snapping of a branch prompted Jaikus to glance over his shoulder to the trees from which they had recently emerged. His eyes widened when he saw the troll. “Gods!” He increased their pace dramatically, but such fear-induced acceleration across uneven terrain only caused his weakened partner to take a misstep. Reneeke hit the ground with a groan, taking Jaikus with him.
Jaikus immediately sprang back to his feet. Grabbing Reneeke’s arm, he strove to get him up. “Come on, Rene!”
Reneeke saw the troll coming and knew that though he might be able to regain his feet, he would never sustain an effective flight. Pulling his arm from Jaikus’ grip, he said, “Get out of here, Jaik. I’ll never make it.” He tried drawing his sword, but the maneuver was beyond him. His strength was gone.
“No!”
“Go. There’s no point in both of us dying.”
Jaikus reached out once more to try and pull him to his feet, but Reneeke batted his hand away. “Go!”
“I’ll not!”
How could he leave? To abandon not only the best friend he ever had, but his only friend? Reneeke had always been there for him. When Jaikus left to join the Guild, he agreed to come along. He didn’t have to. Reneeke would have been much happier on the farm. But he did it, because Jaikus was his friend.
Drawing his sword, Jaikus placed himself between the oncoming troll and the single most important person in his life.
“Jaik.”
Glancing back, he saw that Reneeke had managed to draw his sword halfway from the scabbard. “Here,” he said, straining to move the hilt closer to Jaikus. “Yours won’t do any good.”
Jaikus didn’t even hesitate. Transferring his sword to his left hand, he drew Reneeke’s with his right. Wielding the two swords helped to drive back his fear to a more manageable level. It gave him a feeling that all was not lost. Then, the troll attacked.
“What’s going on?”
As the Gate began to open, a familiar voice drew Charka’s attention. It was Viruloxi, a Guild magic user of some power. “I got two Springers in trouble.”
“A troll’s after ‘em,” added the sword-bearing Khuodari brother.
“Need some help?”
Moving toward the opening Gate, Charka asked, “Cost?”
“Say, a third?”
“Done.”
Racing through the opening, he broke into an all-out run. Flanked to either side by the Khuodari brothers, with Viruloxi following on their heels, they raced across the open grassland. Charka saw Jaikus bearing double blades as he faced off against the troll, willing to defend Reneeke with his life.
“Your Springer’s got grit,” said the sword-wielding brother on his right.
“I guess he does,” Charka replied, with just a touch of surprise tingeing his voice.
From his other side, the axe-wielding Khuodari brother said, “May we be in time.”
There was something odd about the troll. Jaikus couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but it didn’t roar like before. Its mouth opened as if the troll wanted to, but naught more than a gurgling sound issued forth.
“Back!” he shouted in mimic of Reneeke’s earlier battle with the mossback. Much to his surprise, his voice was strong and sure. A remarkable feat considering he was a quivering mass of nerves inside.
Charka’s words came back to him in the fleeting moments before the troll’s attack.…Keep your wrist in line with your elbow and the blade. Think of the area from your shoulder to the tip of your blade as one.
The sword moved into proper position.
I’m trying!
A dead man tries, an Adventurer does. Or don’t you want to be an Adventurer? What if your buddy’s life depended on you being able to take out your opponent? Is he going to want you to try and help him? Or would he want you to help him?
Jaikus was through with trying. I am an Adventurer! Firming his resolve, he braced for the attack.
The troll launched itself forward.
Bringing up Reneeke’s sword, he struck with all his might. Before the blade could connect, the troll struck it aside with a mighty swipe.
Snap!
His wrist had twisted slightly out of position, and just as Charka had prophesized, the blow snapped the bone. Reneeke’s sword, the one weapon with which Jaikus could have dealt damage to the troll, slipped from his non-responsive fingers.
An explosion of pain erupted from his broken wrist, followed a second later by even worse as talons ripped into him.
He tried bringing his other sword into play as the troll plowed another set of bloody furrows across his upper body, but it merely bounced off the beast’s hide. His legs gave way, dropping him to the ground as deadly talons again penetrated his flesh.
Time seemed to slow as he gazed at talons stained with blood, his blood, that were being drawn back to rip into him again. Unable to look away, he braced himself for what he knew would be his end.
Thunk!
An axe appeared as if by magic to embed itself in the beast’s skull. A split-second later, the crackle of electricity preceded the blinding explosion of a lightning bolt. The troll’s blow never fell.
As his eyes recovered from the flash, Jaikus saw the charred and blackened section of the troll’s chest. Through vision growing ever more obscured, Jaikus watched the troll yank the axe from its head and stepped forward to continue the attack, only to be hit by another bolt. The lightning strike knocked it from its feet and sent it reeling backward.
The last thing Jaikus saw before his vision failed completely, were Webs of Binding appearing to encase the troll from the neck down.
“See to the troll!”
Somewhere on the edge of consciousness, he heard Charka’s voice.
“Jaik! Come on, lad!”
His mouth was forced open and a sweet liquid passed between his lips.
“We’re too far from town. He’s not going to…”
The last thing he knew before slipping away into oblivion, was being raised from the ground by many hands.
Chapter Sixteen
Quiet conversation drew him from a realm rampant with valiant deeds and daring-do, to one of achy-weariness. He tried lifting his arm to minister relief upon a rather itchy span covering most of his chest, but found even such a meager effort beyond his current capabilities. He did manage to raise his hand an inch above the woolen blanket before weakness drew it back.
If he couldn’t scratch, he’d just as soon sleep. Unfortunately, the voices continued unabated and kept him from descending past the final stage into the welcoming arms of slumber.
Jaikus cracked an eye open to find Reneeke conversing at the foot of his bed with a man in priestly robes. “Rene?” Voice cracking and hardly more audible than the squeak of a mouse he failed to draw his friend’s attention. He mustered more effort. “Rene.”
Two heads swiveled toward him. Reneeke broke into a wide grin and hurried to his side.
“Jaik, praise the gods.”
The priest joined him at Jaikus’ bedside. “I thought he might awaken today.”
“Thank you, Father Balicci.”
“You are welcome, my son.” Stepping forward, he passed a hand over Jaikus’ chest, then paused it momentarily above his head. “He still requires much sleep. Keep your visit brief.”
“Yes, Father.”
The priest gave Jaikus a grin. “I shall leave you in the hands of your friend.”
As the priest departed, Reneeke sat on the edge of the bed. “Man, we didn’t think you were go
ing to survive.”
“We?”
Reneeke nodded. “Charka, Lady Kate, and Father Balicci. Even Seward stopped by once he recovered, to see how you were doing.”
“Seward?” he asked in disbelief.
Reneeke chuckled. “I know. Couldn’t believe it myself when he appeared.”
Three other cots shared the room with his. Two were empty, each having a single, neatly folded blanket perfectly situated at the end. The fourth looked to have been slept in as its blanket was rumpled with half dangling over the side to the floor.
“Where am I?”
“Fjerl’s Temple in Reakla,” replied Reneeke. Fjerl, God of Earth, was one of the more popular and prolific faiths in the realm. The people knew that if they were ever in need, succor could be found within its walls, and at a reasonable price. The very poor rarely had to pay for the simpler healings. For care of a more serious nature, healings such as being brought back from the dead or the removal of a curse, payment of one kind or another had to be given.
Most temples accepted industry as well as gold. If a person could not meet the required sum, the temple offered them the chance to perform a needed service. Often, such services required nothing more than helping to keep the grounds clean or minor maintenance. The Priests of Fjerl turned no one away. Perhaps that explained Fjerl’s position as the patron god of Adventurers.
“I’m not dead, then?”
“It was close, Jaik. If it hadn’t been for Charka appearing with the Khuodari brothers and a magic user when he did, neither one of us would be here.”
“Kh…Khuodari brothers?”
“They’re friends of Charka, you’ll get to meet them later. Nice fellows to have on your side in a tight situation.”
A lad attired as a novice of Fjerl arrived bearing a cup of cool water. Their conversation took a brief hiatus while the lad aided Jaikus in rising so he could drink. Once the cup had been emptied, the novice laid him back down. Then the lad glanced to Reneeke.
Jaikus and Reneeke Join the Guild Page 21
