No response, even when he was shaken. Karik pushed on Taz’s arm. “Taz, Romi’s sick. We need to build up the fire and get some light.”
Taz responded quickly and was outside the shelter doing what Karik asked in moments. Kepi sat on Romi’s other side. “What’s wrong?”
“Not sure. I need light.”
All that was available was a flickering brand from the fire, but that was enough to confirm Karik’s fear—Romi’s leg was tight and swollen. “Gods,” Kepi said, his eyes growing large in horror at the sight. “What is it? And can you fix it?”
“Marsh bug bite. And I don’t know.” There was no treatment known for marsh bug toxin—none was needed, since it was more an irritant than anything. But the treatment for other, more serious poisons was simply to support the patient until their body healed on its own. Survival depended on the patient’s ability to withstand the symptoms—there were no antidotes that Karik knew of, and certainly none he had access to.
Until dawn, all they could do was make Romi comfortable, and keep him warm, for his temperature was dangerously low. They removed his trousers and boots, then got a wool blanket under him, and a grass blanket over him. Karik and Taz bundled close to let their body heat help him, and then it was just a matter until daylight gave them more options.
He was worse by then—much worse. His breathing rattled, and his colour was very poor. “We need to sit him up,” Karik ordered.
The shelter was given over to Romi’s comfort, and he was propped up, wrapped in all their wool blankets, with the fire banked up close to him. He was only semi-conscious, barely responding even to pinches, and his lips were grey, indicating his heart wasn’t working properly. Even with the facilities of the academy infirmary, Karik’s options would have been limited, and here, he had almost nothing he could offer by way of treatment. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t try. “Kepi, in my pack there are some hide wallets—bring them to me? Taz, we need fresh, clean water, and honey. If you can collect gezin root where the plant is no longer flowering, then we can roast it and slice it up. And the fire needs to be kept going. I’m going to sit with him and keep him warm. Hurry, please.”
At least with soldiers he didn’t have to argue about the need to follow orders, and Kepi and Taz quickly and efficiently did as he asked. He only took the time he needed to relieve his bladder, then he climbed in behind Romi and supported the man against him. Romi was so cold, it was terrifying, and the shivering just wouldn’t stop, no matter how many blankets they put on him, or how high the fire was. The only drugs Karik could try were the lichens he had been collecting, which the Andonese used as a general tonic in illness, honey for the energy, and roasted gezin root which was reported to be good for heart and circulatory diseases, but which was completely untested. Even that reputation was garnered from just a couple of interviews Karik had conducted, and for all he knew, the root was useless. But they had to try.
Kepi made up a quantity of the lichen tea, and set it in the metal bowl to cool. Karik transferred it into a wooden cup, and then began the painfully slow process of helping Romi sip it, speaking quietly to him, encouraging him. Some ran out of Romi’s slack mouth, but he swallowed some, though with little effect. Karik mashed up a little of the roast root with honey and fed a few spoonfuls to Romi, but it was just as useless as the tea in relieving his symptoms. The effort of making him swallow seemed barely worth it.
Kepi and Taz left Karik to nurse Romi, taking on all the other duties for themselves. It was obvious that the shelter would be needed for some time for Romi’s care, so they extended it, so the fire was enclosed on two sides. Karik and Romi would share the old one, and Kepi and Taz would manage with the other, though without the blankets, it would be a less comfortable bed. Foraging still needed to be done, though Karik sternly warned them about the marsh bugs and about walking through still water without having the legs of their trousers tied tight around the tops of their boots. Marsh bugs weren’t the only problem they might encounter that way, and if another of their party fell ill, it would be fatal for all of them.
Romi’s condition had deteriorated at a terrifying rate. From being a fit, very strong young man, he now resembled an octogenarian in his final illness, and his lungs rattled in a frightening fashion. His eyes were open sometimes, though only as mere slits, but as Karik did his best to reassure him, he had no way of knowing if Romi could hear him. With so little in the way of medicine to offer, the only other tool a healer had was reassurance and confidence. Karik gave it his all, but it had no effect.
Around noon, Romi stopped shivering, and his eyes closed. “Romi, wake up.” Karik shook him desperately. “Romi!” He slapped the sick man’s face. “Damn you! Wake up!”
Panic-stricken, Karik kept up the violent stimulation, as Kepi and Taz watched, kneeling outside the shelter. “Please, gods, please, Romi. Wake up!”
As he went to slap Romi’s face again, a hand reached across to restrain him. “Don’t, Karik. He’s dying.”
He looked into Taz’s grief-stricken eyes. “No,” Karik whispered. “I won’t let him.” He yanked his hand free, and delivered the stinging blow to Romi’s face. “You can’t die on me! Wake up, Romi. We need you, wake up! Please, help me, Kepi, Taz—please, we can’t give up.” Hesitantly, Kepi shook Romi’s still body, though Taz refused. “Just talk to him. Shout at him. Get through to this stubborn bastard!”
But nothing they did brought the least response, and finally Kepi sat back on his heels and shook his head. “Stop it, Karik. Let him pass in peace.”
“But—”
“Kepi’s right,” Taz said firmly, tears streaking his face. “Leave him some dignity, Karik. Let him rest.”
Karik looked at Romi’s grey colour and his complete lack of movement, listened to the rattling breaths issuing through slack lips, and knew in his heart he was looking at a dying man. “I can’t...I can’t l-leave him.”
“No. Stay with him...we’ll, uh, look after things.” Taz reached over and laid a hand on his captain’s forehead. “Safe journey, my friend.”
Kepi did the same, and then stood up, unashamedly weeping. “Guide him peacefully, Karik. He’d want that.”
He’d want to live, Karik thought desperately, but he nodded, his eyes too blurred with tears to even see clearly. “I won’t leave him. I can’t.”
“No, I know.” Taz stood too, and then together, they solemnly saluted. “Uh...do you want us to wait with you?” Karik mutely shook his head—there was no point in them all sitting there—so they walked away and left the dying man and his companion in peace, death waiting to claim Romi on this bright, and oh so ironically beautiful day.
Karik gathered Romi into his arms. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry for all the things I said. Please don’t die, I won’t ever be rude again, I promise.” But Romi lay still as a corpse, and if he’d heard the words, there was no response.
Kepi and Taz gave him privacy all afternoon, only checking if he needed anything, offering him words of comfort and assuring him that he was doing the best thing for Romi. At Karik’s request, Taz brought Karik’s diary to him so he could make a brief record, enough so that there would be something for Romi’s family should none of them survive. Karik felt there should be a record of this time, however painful it was to write, and however hard it was to see the paper for the tears in his eyes.
After that, all he could do was hold his friend, stroking his hair and talking to him, just nonsense talk, really, trying to forget the man he held was going to die. Romi never moved, and his breathing hardly changed. Once or twice, Karik thought it had actually stopped, but as he listened and waited, his heart in his throat, it restarted, the marsh bug toxin refusing to loose its hold or finish Romi off.
Night fell, and Romi still lingered, his condition unchanged. It could go on for days—he’d seen it with his mother’s patients, when a person, falling into a coma, hovered on the brink of death after a long illness. One thing he had never seen though, wa
s anyone waking from a coma this deep. He couldn’t lie to himself there was any chance here. He finally had to get up and relieve himself again, though when Kepi pressed him to some food, he was too grief-stricken to eat. Neither of them asked how Romi was—they could see that for themselves, but when Karik told them this could take a while, Kepi put his hand on Karik’s shoulder. “Let him take his time. I know he will be comforted by your presence. Just let us know if you need anything.”
“I’ll, uh, build the fire up,” Taz said gruffly, wiping his eyes, and walking off.
It would be a long night, but Karik didn’t begrudge it. Romi didn’t move or react at all as he was gently shifted to allow Karik to take his position again. “Damn, I wish I’d told him how much I valued him as a friend,” Kepi said as Karik took Romi back into his arms, and Kepi wrapped the blankets around them again.
“Tell him anyway,” Karik said. “His spirit will hear.”
“He can’t hear anything,” Kepi snapped, then he stalked off to the edge of the camp, his faint sobs muffled in his hands.
Karik stroked his silent companion’s cold face. “Romi, damn it, why are you letting us down just when we need you the most? When I need you? Please wake up. Please.” But his words went unheard. Karik’s heart was like a frozen stone in his chest as he tried to prepare himself for the inevitable. He’d never had to face this kind of pain before, and didn’t know how to. “Don’t leave us,” he whispered next to Romi’s ear. “Damn you, you promised to keep us safe.”
It was impossible to sleep, though he dozed on and off through the night. Each time he woke, there was still no change in Romi’s condition, though someone had been up and built the fire a couple of times. He hoped for mercy’s sake Romi wouldn’t linger too long, but he still couldn’t completely silence the treacherous voice in the back of his mind that whispered where there was life, there was hope. That voice caused too much pain, deluding friends and family, and only led to an unrestful end for the dying person themselves. He wouldn’t delude himself. Romi would have a peaceful, dignified death, whatever Karik’s stupid inner voice said.
He dozed again, and woke, cramped and tired, just as pre-dawn was beginning to compete with the fire in illuminating the camp. He shifted Romi against him, and stroked his hair. “Are you in pain, my friend? I hope you’re not.”
Then came a sound scarcely louder than the rustling of leaves in the early dawn wind. “Co....”
What? Had he imagined that? “Romi?” With a start, he realised Romi was shivering again—and that his eyes were very slightly open. “Romi, are you cold?”
“Co...ld.”
“Kepi! Taz! He’s cold! He’s awake! Make the fire up again!” He shook Romi carefully. “Wake up, Romi. Open your eyes, please, oh gods, open your eyes!”
Romi’s eyes did indeed open a tiny bit more, but then he closed them again, but the minute wince that accompanied the action told Karik it was because they hurt, not that he had fallen unconscious again.
The soldiers were already at his side. “Is he really awake?” Kepi said, his eyes full of heartbreaking hope,
“He spoke—he’s cold. Please, make the fire. Kepi, some tea.”
Karik helped Romi sit, and this time there was no mistaking the moan of discomfort issuing between grey lips. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to hurt you,” Karik said. “Open your eyes again, Romi. Please.”
Romi’s lids obediently raised—his eyes were bloodshot, and he looked utterly weary, but he was unquestionably awake and responsive. “Cold....”
“I know...we’re making the fire. Are you going to stay this time?”
“S...tay?”
“Never mind. You’re awake. Gods, I’m so happy!”
Romi winced again and closed his eyes with a tiny frown, perhaps wishing Karik wouldn’t bellow his joy at such close range.
Now it was no longer a death vigil, but a fight to get Romi well, Kepi and Taz were re-energised. Nothing was too much trouble, no service too minor to offer. Kepi exchanged places with Karik so he could sate his suddenly ravenous hunger, and then take stock of what they could offer their patient. Taz couldn’t stop grinning as Karik spoke to him, and though Romi was not out of danger, the bubbles of happiness inside Karik just wouldn’t be suppressed. “A softer bed would help,” he suggested, “and he’ll need a way of relieving himself.”
“Leave it with me,” Taz said. “Gods, Karik, are you a miracle worker or something?”
“The credit is his alone, Taz. I was helpless as you were. But now we can help him get better.”
Romi’s improvement, though very slow, continued steadily. By evening, he had got half a pint of tea and a little meat soup enriched with the gezin root inside him, and was definitely breathing easier. The deadly low temperature was improving, though he was still very cold and his lips still an unpleasant colour. Karik insisted he slept propped up to help his labouring heart and lungs. Now it seemed to be a question of when, not if, Romi would recover, Karik worried about permanent heart damage—but he decided not to mention it to the others just yet. He wanted Romi past the danger point before they looked ahead.
Romi slept most of the following three days, though when he woke, he was more lucid, and was able to take fluids and spooned soup readily. His colour improved a little, though he was still rather grey and breathless—the least exertion wore him out, and being unable to get out of bed, he had to piss into a water skin Taz had made for the purpose. Karik spent every possible moment at his side, attending to his needs, keeping him warm and comforting him. He didn’t care how much effort he had to put into nursing the man—all he knew was that his friend was recovering every day, and would not die. The rest was mere details.
But as Romi improved, the details became important too. “How long before he can walk?” Taz asked on the fifth day as Karik took a break to eat.
“At least another week. Even when he does, I don’t think he’ll be able to walk far. I’m worried about his heart—we daren’t push him, Taz. We could kill him.”
“If we don’t get to civilisation before the snows, we’re dead anyway,” Taz said soberly. “We can’t slow down to match his pace.”
“We can’t leave him,” Karik snapped.
Taz laid a hand on his shoulder. “Peace, young Karik. Are you joking—leave him after all that? No, I was thinking of making a cart or a travois—something we could pull between us.”
“Can we manage that over rough ground?” Karik said dubiously.
“If he can get out from time to time as needed, we should be able to. If you have a better solution, I’m all ears.”
Karik was no engineer, but it seemed to be the only way they could all get to Selnozi before the first hard snows. When it was put to Romi, his first reaction—which was that they should leave him behind—was met with immediate derision. Wisely, he shut up. “Anyway, I’d rather pull a travois than carry your fat arse,” Kepi said, grinning at Romi’s sour look. “The only alternative is for young Karik to throw you over his shoulder like a dead tevinu.”
“No thanks,” Karik said, smiling at Romi’s wince. “The travois can work,” he said earnestly. “You can’t travel yet, and we’ve got the tools to make a decent one. It’ll be fine.”
“You’re risking your lives,” Romi growled, pulling the blanket tighter around him. He never seemed to be able to get warm these days. “Three of you could make it in three weeks. Plenty of time.”
“No.” Karik glared at the captain. “If you don’t go, I don’t go.”
“Me either,” Kepi said firmly.
“And that goes for me, captain, so, speaking respectfully, just shut up, will you?”
“Insubordinate bastard,” Romi muttered.
“And proud of it,” Taz said. “Right, Kepi, let’s get started. Karik, we’ll need to work on this pretty solidly—can you handle the rest?”
“Yes, but we’ll need more game.”
“We can handle that too—though your snares are probably doing
more good than my bow,” Taz added mournfully. His lack of success catching another big game animal was a bit worrying, although their supplies were holding up for now.
The others went off to cut down the trees they would need for this purpose. Romi looked grumpy. “Need anything?” Karik said, taking his mug away to refill it.
“Yes—a team with an ounce of sense. You’ll never get to Selnozi pulling me like dead weight.”
Karik fixed him with a hard look. “Six days ago, those men said farewell to you, expecting to cut your braid before nightfall. You didn’t die. You really can’t expect us, after all that, to just leave you in the wilderness. You haven’t a hope of surviving on your own.”
“But to sacrifice three good men for one invalid—”
Karik took his hand. “Three good friends are not going to do anything but get their other good friend home safe. You aren’t going to win this one, Romi. All you’ll do is piss us off if you keep arguing.”
“Stubborn little shit,” Romi said, but his hand tightened around Karik’s. “You saved my life.”
“You saved yourself.”
“No...I remember you being there. Shouting at me...and then holding me. I just thought if you’d hold on tight, I’d make it. And I did.”
“All I did was let you heal yourself. You frightened me—all of us—nearly to death. Don’t damn well do it again, captain,” he added wagging his finger sternly, and winning a tired smile.
The very next day, Romi rose from his bed, although it was only to hobble to sit by the fire for a few minutes before he had to lie down again. The bug bite still troubled him a good deal, though it appeared to be healing. The real problem was the breathlessness and the fatigue, and that, Karik was sure, would only improve with time. The gezin root did seem to help, and Karik noted all the details down in his diary, making sure he had samples to go back to Darshian. Perhaps it was foolish to worry about such things when they were in such desperate straits, but if it saved a single life, then it was worth the effort.
Staying Power (Darshian Tales #3) Page 41