by Billy Wong
They started towards the stream again. Intriguing that Drea knew so much about daimons. With her seemingly superhuman fighting ability and resilience, might she be some kind of daimon herself? No, that was silly. Besides, even if she somehow was, she was helping them, and the best help they were likely to get anytime soon. "By the way, I noticed the skin around your wounds looks kind of dry and shriveled. Have you been poisoned or something?"
"No, not poisoned exactly. That's the life destruction. When you're wounded by a daimon, its magic will seep into you and try to snuff out as much as your life as it can." So that was why Sam had felt some numbness when the daimon's claws almost scraped her... Drea indicated the claw marks on one arm. "See these relatively minor cuts? Some people would lose the whole limb from this. But if your vitality is as sturdy as mine, you can resist some exposure."
She didn't look so well, though. Seeing her sallow face and sunken eyes, worry for her returned in earnest. Not only was she physically hurt that bad, her very lifeforce had been damaged by evil magic. Sam really wished there was some way they could aid her further, but could think of nothing.
After refilling their canteens from upstream of where the daimon's head had fallen in, Sam doing it for Drea because she had trouble bending down, they headed north again. Drea lived up to her word in not slowing them much—even now she managed to keep a similar pace to Sam and Vincent's usual, though she constantly hugged her body and her features were strained with the effort. When they made camp that night she allowed them to do all the work, and they didn't complain. Plainly she shouldn't be on her feet, let alone forcing her maimed body onward over rough terrain. She had so much pride. Sam thought she could ask them to carry her, and even wanted her to, but she wouldn't.
She walked over to where Drea sat against a tree as they ate, perhaps too weak to stay sitting up without it to lean on. "I want to be just like you someday," she said without thinking.
Drea's face was so pale, there might as well not be any blood in it. "So you've decided you want to be a guard now, and not an actor?"
"I mean... I don't know. My theatre mates are the people I love, and I would miss being with them as much as I am now. But the more I see, the more it seems... worthy to protect others like my father did and you do."
"Guard work can be boring," Vincent said. "It won't be as exciting as stagecraft most of the time, and when there is excitement, it might not be the kind you like."
"I'm aware of all that. But even if nothing interesting happened in all but one day of the year, if you could save one life in that day—isn't that great?"
"I don't know if I could tolerate it. All that idle time spent not really doing anything, I'd feel like it's being wasted. Of course I understand the value and necessity of the job, but you know what I mean."
Drea nodded. "Being a warrior isn't all heroics and glory." Her voice sounded weak. "And the friends you have to bury... although that might not apply as much for a city guard."
Sam wiped her eyes. "My dad's friends had to bury him, though." Damn, this was some depressing talk. "What were you doing joining the playhouse though, if you're such an amazing warrior? Did you retire already at this age or what?"
She didn't answer, her eyes closed and chin having dropped to rest against her chest. "Did she pass out?" Vincent asked.
"I'd bet she's faking. You can stop it, Drea—I won't ask again if you want to keep your air of mystery for now."
Drea looked up with a roll of her eyes. "You know, there could be legitimate reasons for me to hide my past like being a wanted criminal or something."
"That wouldn't surprise me. Still, you've been a fine friend. I forgive you for your past crimes, if any."
"Don't be so quick to decide. Might be, the things I've done can't be forgiven."
"Then we don't need to know of them," Vincent said. "You saved our lives at the risk of your own, for no tangible benefit. Whatever happened in the past, you're a good person now."
Sam agreed, but kept in mind the very real possibility she was pulling their legs with her implied dark past. She smiled. "You are a good person, but tricky as a fox."
"Am I? Maybe I'm simple, and just like to play with those who are overly nosy." Suddenly she coughed. She covered her mouth with a hand, but Sam saw blood ooze out between her fingers.
She sat next to Drea, leaning partly on the tree and partly on her. "It's fine either way. I like you just how you are. Really hope you'll make it."
Drea's lack of response made her heart sink. It told her she was really suffering, and maybe not so confident about her chances anymore. Other than fearing for the warrior herself, the thought they might not get to save Eli tore at Sam. She couldn't imagine never having him at her side again—but without Drea, it was even harder to imagine rescuing him. She recalled back when she had just joined the playhouse, her father's death fresh on her mind. She'd spent many a night crying her eyes out. Not many young teenagers would have been too tolerant of a stranger keeping them awake constantly with the sounds of their grief—Vincent just turned away and pulled his blanket over his ears—but Eli had let her lay her head in his lap, patted her back, and did what he could to comfort her. She didn't know if she could've been a happy person again without his support, and the idea of not being able to help him when he needed it the most was entirely unacceptable.
Later in the night, Sam woke sitting bolt upright from her sleep as she emerged from a horrible nightmare. Her palm rested on something soft, and she looked to see it was in fact Drea's breast. "What are you doing?" the older girl asked.
She awkwardly withdrew her hand. "N-nothing. I didn't realize what I was touching, I swear. I had a bad dream."
"Oh? Of what?"
Sam swallowed. She felt wetness on her skin, and realized it had started to rain. "I dreamed... I dreamed you died. That we woke up in the morning, and you were gone."
"Enough of that nonsense! I wish I hadn't asked."
"We should at least get you out of the rain. If you get sick in your condition..."
Drea shook her head. "No, it's fine. It's just a drizzle, and helps to cool my fever."
"You have a fever? Oh, no..."
"What is the matter with you? It's normal—I've experienced it before, and it'll pass. Anyway, just go back to bed before you lose too much sleep to be alert tomorrow. You've already disturbed mine enough giving my bosom a massage worthy of a pervert."
"Did I? S-sorry." Sam turned away from her, hoping her hands would stay in place, and drifted off with a prayer to any gods who would listen to preserve Drea's life.
#
The next day Drea didn't talk much, seemingly having to use all her energy just to keep pushing on. As they hiked over a gently sloping hill, what Sam had been fearing would happen did. She groaned, then fell to her hands and knees vomiting dark blood. "Drea! What's wrong?" Vincent asked. Stupid question, probably...
Instead of answering, Drea continued to spit out gore. She rolled to her back, hand shaking like a leaf over the wound. "Ah—ahh!"
"Drea, say something..." Sam begged.
She closed her eyes and grimaced. "I'm okay, I just need a moment." But she coughed again, and they saw that more blood welled up her throat. It overflowed from her mouth, pouring down both cheeks.
Sam held her free hand, so light and delicate feeling now. "Please, tell us how to help you!" Desperately, she added, "There must be something we can do."
Though still clearly in agony, she seemed to gather herself somewhat and gazed around. As if thinking aloud, she said, "Hmm, well, maybe this could be the right type of country..." She looked at Sam and Vincent. "In this hilly terrain, there might grow a plant that would be good for me. If you want, look around and see whether you can find a miniature tree, about half as tall as a person, with purple nuts that resemble onions. If you do, fill up a small bag with the nuts and bring them." She grinned, none too reassuringly with her red teeth. "I'll just rest here until you get back."
"I'll g
o," Sam said to Vincent. "You wait here and make sure she stays alive."
"How?"
"I don't know, somehow!"
She left the road for the wood surrounding it, wishing the hills could be more lightly vegetated so she'd have a smaller chance of getting lost. Then again, less forested hills might not have the—medicinal?—plant Drea required. She remembered something Drea had said in camp, took out a knife and marked the trees as she passed. Now she could probably find her way back, unless she crossed her own path and got mixed up. Even then, she should figure it out eventually. Still, she feared to encounter daimons or dangerous animals all alone out here.
Sam wandered for hours in the forest, stumbling on the uneven ground and falling several times, frustration growing with the scratches she accumulated on her hands and face. How rare was this bush or tree thing supposed to be anyway? She became increasingly scared that by the time she got back, she would find Drea dead. Please let her get those nuts soon... Finally, on the slope of a deep riverbank, she found it. The tree grew four or so feet under a ledge overlooking the water which churned dozens of yards below. She pressed herself flat to the ground, dangled part of her torso out past the ledge and painstakingly plucked the nuts from her uncomfortable position, hoping the counterweight of her lower body would be enough to keep her from falling in the ravine.
When she had finally filled the bag enough and dragged herself back fully onto land, she ached all over. She took a few seconds to stretch, then retraced her steps towards where she'd left Drea and Vincent. Be alive, friend. She had almost reached them when her ears picked up a loud rustling sound. There was no wind. It could just be an unaggressive plant-eating animal, but anything big enough to make such noise demanded attention until proven harmless. She watched in that direction while continuing to move. The rustling drew closer, then a form came into view. Waddling across the forest floor on taloned legs, an oval thing the size of a fat man's torso, enveloped by leathery flaps folded over it. Wings? Sam's wariness grew as it continued to approach, and she walked faster. It increased its pace too, then broke into a run. Shit, not again! She took off as fast as her weary legs would carry her. Looking back, she saw it spread its batlike wings to reveal an egg-shaped body with a large beak in the front. It jumped into the air and flew after her. Double shit.
#
"Come on Drea, stay with me," Vincent said, squeezing her hand as her eyelids fluttered. He felt concern for her, but was ashamed to acknowledge he grew a little annoyed at how much time they'd lost. He knew he shouldn't blame Drea, of course, but why couldn't Sam find the tree and get back already? Eli, his friend—his brother needed them. And actually, maybe if Drea hadn't sent them away during the battle and let them help...
"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked.
He considered for a moment before deciding to be honest. "You didn't have to tell us to leave you. We could've helped you fight."
"I admire your willingness to face adversity. But the big one wasn't an ordinary daimon. I doubt you or Sam would've had much chance of hurting it, and any attack it launched your way would put you in grave danger. I might not have been able to protect you, though I'd surely be distracted trying. I understand the desire to help, but under those circumstances your presence wouldn't be helpful."
Vincent bowed his head. "You might be right, you're the expert. We should know our limits."
Drea smiled. "I am grateful for the thought." She gagged, turned her head to discharge a glob of thick blood.
"Vincent, watch out!" Sam's voice called from the trees. "Protect Drea, and get ready to fight!"
"What?!" he asked while Drea drew her sword. He readied his mace. Moments later, Sam burst into view in a full sprint, face panicked. A winged thing flew out after her, swooped down and snatched her up by the shoulders. How was he supposed to hit that with a mace... He ran to intercept it, but it passed straight over him, too high to strike. He turned to see a dagger flash up towards it, miss and fly out of sight.
"Damn, aim's a little off," Drea said. The flying... creature disappeared into the woods on the other side of the road, carrying Sam with it.
Vincent blinked, stunned. "Was that a daimon?"
"I think so. We need to go after it." She fought to sit up—gasped and fell back wincing. "You go on ahead. I'll catch up."
He took in the sad sight of her lying there on the road, too weak to even sit. "Are you sure? If anything comes along..."
"Like you said, I'm the expert right? Listen to the expert."
He felt an urge to say he was weak, that he didn't know how he could take on a daimon without her. But Sam needed him too, more urgently than Drea did, and they had beaten a lesser daimon together before. "I'll be back for you, I promise." He left her behind again, praying for her safety.
#
Sam's heart raced with the ground rushing by a score or more feet below. Despite her hide jacket providing a modicum of protection,the claws gripping her by the shoulders hurt. She tried to draw her axe. She feared how badly a fall from this height would injure her, but letting her captor take her where it wanted seemed an even worse option. Hell, it might just be waiting to pass over some rocks to throw her on and dash her brains out. She fumbled over her shoulder for the weapon, but it was difficult with the pain in her shoulders and its legs getting in the way. After a few attempts she managed to free the axe from its holder—only to lose her grip and feel it slip soulcrushingly from her hand. No, shit! Shit shit shit. Getting to be a common thought, that. Wait... daggers. She pulled a knife from its belt pouch—much easier than her axe, why didn't she think of that first?—and rammed it into the thing's leg. Its grip tightened for an instant, sending a sharp pang through one shoulder, but then opened. Wet soil came hurtling up. She hit it painfully on her side and rolled over and over, finally stopping as her belly slammed into a tree trunk driving the breath from her.
She pushed herself up on her elbows sucking air, and heard something heavy land behind her. Rolling over to face it, she strove to figure out how best to attack, but couldn't. That huge beak on its front was like a weapon and shield at once, obstructing harm to the rest of it. Before she could even get up, it stamped forward. The snapping beak drew closer, filling her with terror. No way she would make it to her feet in time, no way she'd fare well in close combat with it from the ground, and the tree behind her prevented her from rolling farther away... in pure desperation, she tried to hurl the dagger between the beak's two halves. Somehow, she lucked out as the weapon made it through. She wasn't sure if the blade struck anything soft or feeling it in its maw just surprised the creature, but it paused in its tracks. She took the opportunity to lurch up and run for her axe. Her enemy spat out the knife and charged her. She snatched the axe off the ground, swung as it leapt.
She hit the beak hard, pain shooting through her shoulders from the impact. The blade left a gouge in its beak and sent it spinning away through the air, but didn't seem to do disabling damage as it scrambled right up. She waited for it to come on again, drawing her axe back in preparation to strike. A different plan started to form in her head. If she dropped low when it lunged again, maybe she could attack a more vulnerable part of its body than the beak? But no, that seemed too risky. On the other hand, perhaps if she sidestepped...
It jumped. She threw herself aside, swiped at its flank—and missed, the axehead falling well short. Poor timing, she would have to adjust. But then, judging perhaps that it preferred easier prey, it turned and dashed away. It might be that, lack of blood aside, the blow to its beak hurt more than was apparent. "Yeah, you run!" Sam swayed and fell on her rump, exhausted.
Hurried footsteps approached. "Sam?" Vincent's voice came from behind. "You hurt?"
She struggled back to her feet with his help. "Not really, I don't think, just some bruises and scrapes. I got the nuts for Drea, in my pack."
"Hope she's still alive. Let's go back." He looked admiringly at her. "So you beat that daimon alone? I'm impressed."
"That was a daimon? I thought it was just some kind of animal... but anyway, I only drove it off. Would be more impressive if I'd slain it."
"Even so, being a daimon-scarer is a passable accomplishment."
They found their way back to where they had left Drea to find an incredible sight. She lay in the middle of the road—the corpses of three daimons identical to the one that had nabbed Sam surrounding her with outstretched limp wings. "Few more of those things tried to make off with me," she said from her back. "But I took care of them."
Sam shook her head with a grin, incredulous. "No matter what, you always have to outdo us."
"And here I thought she was helpless," Vincent said meekly.
"I'm not sure Drea would ever be helpless unless she was dead." The warrior moaned and touched her stomach, and Sam remembered. She retrieved the bag from her pack and knelt. "Here, I got you the nuts." Drea reached in, took one out and popped it into her mouth. "So what will that do, will it heal your wound?"
Drea sat and looked up wearily. "It won't heal anything." The words made Sam's heart skip a beat. "But it'll numb the pain, so I can keep going without slowing you down more. Don't make that long face. I told you, I won't die."
Sam hugged her. "I definitely want to be more like you. Here, let me help you up."
They carried on. Drea did seem to move less agonizingly, but knowing the internal damage was the same as before made Sam cringe inside. After walking with her for a few minutes, Sam felt dizzy. "Hey Drea," she said in a thick voice, "I'm sure we're both tired. Maybe we should take an early rest for the day." She reached for the taller girl's shoulder.
Vincent began, "But Eli-"
He didn't get to finish. Sam's knees gave out, and she heard a yelp as her hand threatened to drag Drea down with her, cutting Vincent off. Then all was darkness.
#
Sam stirred, slowly coming up out of the abyss. She didn't seem to be lying down, but sitting—or propped up against something. Her face rested against something hard, and warm, and... moving? She opened her eyes to look. Vincent's shoulder? Her feet didn't touch the earth. He was carrying her, piggyback style. "What happened?"