by AC Cobble
With her arm still in the sling, it would take Amelie half the afternoon to uncover all of the man’s wounds.
Ben started peeling off the man’s clothing. Creegan’s torso was covered in a thick mat of red fur. It mirrored his bushy beard. Shirtless, he looked more bear than man.
“How any claws cut through that mess,” muttered Amelie, probing at the exposed wounds. She gave a cursory glance at the injuries on his arms, and one Ben hadn’t seen on the man’s back. They would require cleaning and stitching but weren’t deep enough to threaten his life.
The bite on his shoulder was another case. As soon as she removed the wadded shirt that Ben had tied around it, blood started leaking freely from the open wound. She poked near it with one finger and grimaced at as the blood flow increased. Ben built up the fire and checked on the water while Amelie located needle and thread.
“This stuff is coming in more handy than I expected,” she muttered. “My sewing tutors in Issen would be proud.”
Ben nodded tersely. She’d stitched him and Corinne, and now had a new patient.
The water began to boil and Ben removed it from the flame. They spent a few minutes ripping Creegan’s clothing into strips then began to work. Under Amelie’s instruction, Ben poured hot water from a ladle over Creegan’s injuries. She said they needed to rinse any foreign materials out of the wound before sealing it.
She heated the needle to sterilize it then handed it to Ben. Gesturing to her collar, she remarked, “You’ll have to do the sutures this time.”
“I thought you would…” he trailed off. She was right. She couldn’t stitch one-handed.
Ben swallowed a lump in his throat and set to work. He wasn’t much of a seamstress, but he’d done minor repairs on his clothing back home. He kept telling himself that knitting flesh wasn’t so different. Amelie eyed him closely, offering suggestions and encouragement when he hesitated.
For a bell, Ben sewed an ugly patchwork of patterns across Creegan’s body. He stitched the man’s shoulder first, then his back, and finally his arms, about seventy stitches in all. Luckily, the man remained unconscious for all of it.
Ben sat back on his heels and met Amelie’s eyes. “What do we do now?”
“I try to heal him.”
“Are you sure that’s wise?” Ben asked. She needed her energy to recover from her own injuries. “Should you heal yourself first?”
“If I don’t heal him, I don’t think he’ll make it,” she replied flatly, “and I cannot heal myself. That energy is already at work. Amplifying it would be, unpredictable. The body is complicated and frankly even the most skilled healers in the Sanctuary do not understand it well. Manipulating one’s own energy is just as likely to make the situation worse.”
Ben looked at Creegan. The man was pale and his chest was barely moving with each labored breath.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Ben asked.
“Not right now.”
“Don’t overextend yourself,” he warned.
Amelie nodded then knelt by the woodsman, placing one hand on him. She closed her eyes. For half a bell, she sat there silently. By the end, Ben thought Creegan’s breathing had improved, but the man remained unnaturally pale. His skin was still clammy to the touch.
Amelie’s eyes flicked open and she mumbled, “Help me to the bed. I need to rest.”
Ben helped her up by her good arm. She shuffled to the bed and lay down, fully clothed.
“Will he be okay?” asked Ben.
“I don’t know,” she answered sleepily. “He’s lost a lot of blood. If he wakes, he may have a chance. He’ll need food, water, vegetables, and fresh meat if you can find it.”
She yawned and her eyes sagged shut. In heartbeats, her breathing became steady and deep. Ben glanced between Creegan and Amelie. Both were sound asleep, and neither seemed to be in danger of waking anytime soon.
The small cottage was silent except for low breathing and the crackle of the fire. Ben bustled about, straightening up as best he could. He tried cleaning the dirt floor where Creegan had bled, but the blood was already soaked in. Ben emptied the water from the pot into a bucket Creegan kept for drinking and then sat down.
He looked around, wondering what he should do. He supposed he should find them all something to eat. Amelie mentioned Creegan would need it if he woke.
Ben bundled himself back up and walked outside to Creegan’s storage shed. It was filled with foodstuffs and items the woodsman would need outdoors. As he had claimed, there were half a dozen axes hanging on one wall. On the other were an equal number of hams. Ben sorted through the food supplies and found a small variety of root vegetables, dried beans, salted meats, and not much else. The lack of diversity was a little disappointing.
Jars of herbs and dried flowers covered the back wall, but Ben saw nothing substantial that would make a meal. He gathered up a few things and walked back to the cottage. Inside, he sat his findings on the table and saw the rope he’d used to drag Creegan to the cottage. They needed fresh meat. The hog was still out there.
He was worried about the risk of demons but more for his friends than himself. Fast asleep, they’d be defenseless if the cottage was attacked. He woke Amelie and forced her out of bed to bar the door behind him. Then he left.
He hoped he could bang on it hard enough to wake her back up when he returned.
Outside, he turned and surveyed the cottage. The door was designed for cold winters in the north and it was stout. It was possible it would hold against a small demon, for a little while. It was a risk worth taking. Fresh meat could go a long way toward helping Creegan recover and the only other option was the man’s chickens. They couldn’t eat too many of those without sacrificing the supply of eggs.
The quarter bell hike to where the demons attacked passed quickly. On the way there, he was only encumbered by his sword and the coil of rope slung over his shoulder. It’d taken six times as long when he was dragging Creegan. It was easy to find as well. The woodsman’s body left a clear trail in the snow.
Everything was like Ben left it that morning. Four dead demons and one dead pig. He’d thought about it on the walk over, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to drag the entire pig by himself. He and Creegan were barely able to move the huge animal together. Ben dropped the coil of rope and unsheathed his longsword. Probably not a purpose Rhys would suggest for the elegant blade, but he knew the mage-wrought steel could butcher the pig a lot more efficiently than his hunting knife or a wood axe.
With a sickening crunch, Ben’s blade hacked into the neck of the hog. A normal blade would be fouled by the animal’s spine, but the mage-wrought steel cut through it. One more easy slash and he separated the head. He then proceeded to chop the beast into three more pieces; shoulders, sides, and legs. The shoulders contained fatty meat suitable for stews. The sides held the ribs and loin as well as the belly where he could make bacon. The legs would become hams.
Ben didn’t have the strength to drag it all back to the cottage so he selected the sides. They didn’t need any more ham from the legs, and there was more useable meat in the sides than in the shoulders. He dragged the unused portions away from the dead demons and placed them where they’d be easy to find. In the cold, it would take weeks for the meat to spoil. If he had time, he would come back for it.
Tying quick knots around the mid-section of the animal, he started the arduous walk back to the cottage. The portion of pig wasn’t quite as heavy as Creegan, but it wasn’t light either. By the time he finally reached the cottage, darkness was falling.
Ben realized he’d spent the entire day hunting the hog then dragging bloody cuts of meat, man and pig, back to the cottage. He was exhausted. Leaving the butchered pig and rope, he hammered on the door and waited patiently until a bleary-eyed Amelie opened the door.
When he entered, she headed straight back to the bed. The injured woodsman stirred on the floor. Ben knelt beside the man and tilted the ladle for him to drink. Eyes closed and lying on his back, Cr
eegan slurped down water until deep breaths told Ben he’d fallen back asleep. Hesitant to wake either of them more than necessary, Ben made himself a quick dinner then lay down on the floor beside the bed. Within moments, he was sleeping too.
He woke early. The dirt floor was uncomfortably hard. His entire body was sore and stiff from the previous day’s activity and the sleeping conditions. Amelie and Creegan were still snoring.
Ben rose to his feet and quietly began the first Ohms sequence. While traveling in the snow, he had not had much chance to go through the motions, but by now, they were familiar enough that he naturally fell into the rhythm of the poses. By the third Ohm, his muscles were stretched and feeling better, but the ache in his shoulders from pulling the rope remained. Only time would heal those bruises.
After checking again on his companions and seeing no change, Ben stepped outside and set to butchering the hog. He wasn’t a skilled butcher by any means, but growing up in a small town like Farview meant he was familiar with the process. He knew the different cuts.
He cut out the ribs, loin, and bacon. He wasn’t efficient, and he knew he was wasting good meat, but with just the three of them, he still had plenty for several days. After setting aside the ribs and loin, he sliced the bacon into thick strips then collected half a dozen eggs from the henhouse. The birds squawked at him and one tried to peck his finger. He took two of her eggs.
In the storage shed, he collected a small sack of salt he’d seen the day before. Creegan never used the stuff in his own bland cooking. Presumably he kept it for preserving meat. Since the big man was unconscious, Ben decided to make a decent meal. All that was missing was a steaming mug of kaf and a honey-slathered piece of toast.
When the bacon began to sizzle in the pan, Ben heard Amelie stir in the bed behind him. He gave her time, not wanting to disturb her if she needed more rest. Soon though, she joined him by the hearth.
She whispered, “Now this is the proper way to wake up.”
Ben smiled at her. He’d been worried the day before at how worn out she seemed after the healing. This morning, she was almost back to her usual self. While he finished cooking breakfast, she checked on the woodsman.
“How has he been?” she asked quietly, trying not to disturb the man.
“I gave him water once yesterday,” responded Ben. “Other than that, he hasn’t stirred.”
“Let’s try more water,” she suggested.
They propped the unconscious man’s head up and slowly poured a stream of water into his mouth. Involuntarily, he swallowed it. They gave him some more until he started coughing.
“If he doesn’t wake by afternoon, we should consider trying to get him up,” suggested Amelie. “He needs to eat to regain his strength.”
Ben agreed. They tore into breakfast. He was shocked at how famished he was. Afterward, he tidied up and Amelie pulled out the wooden oval they’d found in the Wilds.
“You have any luck with that thing?” he inquired.
She looked up. “Every now and then, I think I feel something. Like a pull through the link, but so far, that is it. I know there is something there.”
She trailed off and bent over the artifact. Ben would have been worried she was wasting her time on it and stressing herself unnecessarily, but until she healed, she had nothing else to do.
After the cottage was in reasonable order and he’d changed Creegan’s bandages, Ben cycled through the rest of the Ohms. He only knew twenty-five of the thirty, but it was enough to keep him busy for two bells. While he did it, Amelie stayed focused on the oval.
Ben finished the Ohms and moved to the water bucket to get a drink. In the warm cottage, he’d worked up a sweat during the challenging final positions. He was about to ask Amelie if she wanted water when she sat bolt upright in the chair.
“Ben, get over here!” she demanded.
In three quick strides he was beside her.
“Place a hand on the oval,” she instructed.
He nudged her hand aside and placed two fingers on the wood.
Inside his head, he heard her voice. “He’s here.”
“Good,” answered Lady Towaal.
Ben stumbled back, stunned. “What was that!” he exclaimed.
“Come on, Ben, hurry! We don’t have time for you to be amazed,” chided Amelie.
He stepped back to the table and touched the device again.
“He’s back,” he heard.
“We have to be careful about what we say and we must not speak long,” Towaal instructed. “Eldred may be able to intercept this communication. The way she spoke in our heads feels similar to how this device works.”
“It’s good to hear you are alive,” sounded Amelie. “We were worried.”
“I am alive, though it was a close thing,” replied Towaal. “I’m with our friends the rogue and the huntress. They are both okay. I’ve been unable to travel but I am recovering now. Eldred is still in Northport looking for us. She could leave at any moment. If you see her, you must run or hide. Do not face her. There is something going on with her, something wrong. She’s unnaturally powerful, stronger than anyone I have faced in combat or practice. I worry what the Veil has done to her.”
Ben and Amelie looked at each other.
“If she is in Northport, we are safe. We fled,” responded Amelie. Her familiar voice echoed like it was down a long hallway inside Ben’s mind.
“You are not safe,” snapped Towaal. Even through the device, Ben heard the warning in her tone. “Lady Anne and likely others will be looking for you. After Kirksbane and Northport, the Veil will spare no resource finding us. Never assume you are safe.”
“What should we do?” asked Amelie.
“I will not command you,” Towaal answered, “but I suggest you go somewhere they will not think to look. Somewhere that is dangerous but is also a place you can find answers. Whatever risks you face there will be safer than falling within the grasp of the Sanctuary. We will come find you when we are able.”
“I think I know where you mean,” replied Amelie.
“We must go now. We’re changing locations,” called Towaal. “Use this device only to reach us in an emergency. As I said, I believe Eldred may be able to intercept our communication and use it to locate us if she is close. We cannot be found by that thing.”
A subtle buzzing Ben hadn’t noticed ended abruptly. The room was silent. Without asking Amelie to confirm, he was certain Towaal was gone.
“They’re alive,” Amelie breathed with a sigh of relief.
Ben nodded grimly. “So is Eldred.”
The rest of the day, Ben paced back and forth in the small room.
“Ben,” complained Amelie, “you have to stop. Please, sit down and rest. If you can’t rest, at least stop moving around.”
Ben grumbled and sat, but within minutes, he was back up again. Their friends were alive. Eldred was alive. All of the discussion about whether going to Irrefort was the right thing was settled. He was impatient and ready to move.
“Ben!” exclaimed Amelie. “I need to rest. I know you want to get moving, but until my collarbone heals, the smart thing is to stay put. Besides, I think we owe it to Creegan.”
Ben glanced down at the motionless woodsman. She was right. She needed another week to recuperate and Creegan was in no condition to care for himself.
“Why don’t you find something to do?” she suggested. “You could go back out and finish cutting down the tree. We’re eating enough of the man’s food. We should do something for him.”
Ben sighed. “You’re right. It’s getting late, but tomorrow, I’ll go back and finish.”
The next morning, Ben and Amelie made porridge and spooned a couple of bites into Creegan’s mouth. The man swallowed and his eyes fluttered, but he remained unconscious.
“What do we do if he doesn’t wake up?” asked Ben.
“We keep feeding him until he does,” answered Amelie.
Ben headed outside. He took Creegan’s wood
axe and hiked to where the tree was still tied and standing tall. They’d chopped almost half the trunk away but had not reached any wood underneath the dark bark. He checked the rope they’d tied to guide the tree down. Satisfied it was all arranged as safely as it could be, he began to work.
Bell after bell, he hacked at the tree. Small dark woodchips rained around him as he cut through the tough surface. Despite the bitter cold of winter, the physical activity kept him warm. His muscles strained with the effort of swinging the axe. Even with thick gloves, he could feel small blisters forming. He kept at it, determined to finish the work. Creegan had saved them when they needed it, and now it was time to return the favor.
Also, he didn’t have anything else to do.
That evening, sore and exhausted, Ben returned to the cottage. Amelie was preparing a stew. She was limited by her still-healing collarbone, but she could stick a log on the fire and stir a pot. When Ben entered, stomping his feet to clear them of snow, she looked up with a worried expression.
“What’s wrong?” asked Ben.
“Creegan,” she said, gesturing to the woodsman.
Ben knelt by the man and saw he hadn’t moved since Ben left that morning. His breath was coming light and shallow. The sickly pallor of his skin hadn’t improved.
“Can you trying healing him again?” suggested Ben.
“I did,” she responded, “almost all day. I’ve done as much as I can without putting myself to sleep again. Healing, like all magic, requires will and knowledge to manipulate energy. Creegan’s energy is fading. Everything I’ve been able to do is from my own reserves. He’s not getting any better, Ben. Look at his shoulder.”
Ben frowned and pushed back the blankets around the man. Without having to check under the bandage, he could see the translucent skin around where the demon bit him. Purple veins were visible like fish swimming in a murky pond.
“Some type of infection from the bite?” guessed Ben.
“It must be,” agreed Amelie. “What can we do about it?”
Ben sat back on his haunches, thinking. “There are herbs in the storage shed. Didn’t Creegan say he collected those and sold them as medicine? The first night we were here, I think he mentioned that.”