The Dwarven Sorcerer

The Dwarven Sorcerer Ch 7

Pain and darkness.

The pain wasn't normal, it was all-encompassing; it was an agony that filled his whole being, ruled his entire world; it was both sharp and fresh, and dull and ancient; it was a pain that sat at the surface and dug deep into his core; pain was everything.

The darkness wasn't normal, it was the utter absence of light, absolute and eternal; it extinguished all life, all hope, it was a true and pure blackness. There was nothing else, this was his world; he couldn't remember anything before this. It was all he knew and has ever known.

Pain and darkness.

Slowly, consciousness asserted itself; Thrack's mind reeled as it tried to escape the agony, to retreat back into nothingness, to find the sanctuary of sleep, but the pain was too much. It ripped him out of his refuge and back into reality. The darkness disappeared, slowly draining away as blood-coloured light filled his vision, but the pain intensified, taking over his reality. Thrack slowly became aware of his surroundings. He was aware that he was hurt, badly; he was aware that he was laying down; he was aware that there were voices around him. The pain fogged his mind, made it hard for him to understand where he was, to remember what had happened. The memories, the knowledge was just beyond his grasp, hidden behind a red veil of agony.

A shiver ran through his body, he felt so cold. The memory of the fight came rushing in all at once, like a broken dam flooding into an empty cavern. He remembered the hag and her cursed magic, the creatures attacking him with their crude weapons, the explosion.

He woke with a start, sitting up, struggling to get to his feet; he had to fight, to stop the horde, to protect the citizens. But he was being held by something, he was tied down, he was captured. He fought against his bonds and cried out. He had been taken prisoner by the goblins.

"Gah," he said; he growled and gnashed his teeth.

Powerful hands reached and took hold of him, pulled him down again. He struggled against his captors but they were too strong. His enemies had him, they would kill him. He wasn't going to give up without a fight.

"Gah," he said. Bloody hell, they were so strong. He thrashed, fighting against their grip, but they must have been orcs or trolls even; how else could they be so strong? No goblin had this much strength. He pulled with all his might but couldn't break free; their power was supernatural.

"It's ok," said a gentle voice.

"You're fine," said another.

"Shh, you're okay."

The voices were soft and kind. His strength drained as he gave into those around him. He opened his eyes. Burning light poured into his awareness, it felt like long needles stabbing through his head. Something was wrong, the smell. It didn't smell like he imagined a goblin prison would smell like; it was clean and fresh. He stopped fighting and waited for the blurred images to focus.

A kind-looking she-dwarf was looking down at him. She had a look of profound concern on her soft face, it tugged at his heart. He looked around and it dawned on him where he was. A healing temple. The healers were still holding him as he sat up in the bed. He had gotten himself tangled in the white sheets when he first woke up; he tried to free himself but it was too difficult. He was so weak. The soft hands of the healers slowly pulled him back to the bed, he let it happen, he was too weak to fight. His eyes burned with tears and he turned away, feeling ashamed. He felt a hand gently stroking his back as he fought the sobs. Sleep took him.

He woke. The pain was different. It was sharper but less intense. Thrack looked around the room. It was the biggest he had ever seen. Dozens of beds were set up on either side of the long room, each one had an injured dwarf in it, most were unconscious. Healers dressed in long white robes, moving between the beds, checking on the awake and asleep. He sat up in bed. A healer rushed to his side. She handed him a cold mug of thin beer; he was so thirsty. He thanked her and drank it greedily, holding it with both hands like a child.