#1 Fates of Meriel. Chains of Fatum

Chapter 5. The shackles of oblivion

Chapter 5. The shackles of oblivion

"Did all this happen?" Richard recalled what happened last night. He opened his eyes and saw an insensitive girl right next to him. This is not a dream. There she is, right in front of him. Her face remained deathly pale, but pink spots appeared on her cheeks in places. The heart is beating, and the breathing is calm. She's alive! He managed to help her.

It was already morning; there was not a cloud in the blue sky, and the spring sun shone directly into his eyes. The songs of awakened birds echoed through the clearing. Everything foreshadowed another measured day in Bertleben and its surroundings. Nothing happened to anyone. All the most unusual things happened only to him.

The guy got to his feet, gathered all his things, threw the bag over his shoulder, and picked up the stranger.

Now he was going to go to Ilda, she would be able to help her! But the young healer feared for the girl's condition. After all, she may not be able to withstand such a long journey, and this will only disturb her wounds. And he will not carry her—he is not too strong, after all. If only he had a horse!

He didn't want to leave her in an open clearing. The young man decided to take the mysterious traveler first to his and Veya's hut, which they built in childhood, then to their small castle, and then to seek a healer. It would be wiser that way.

Pushing through the thorny bushes so as not to injure the girl, Richard moved to the edge of the forest along a shallow river. As soon as possible with his burden, he reached a dilapidated hut with a stone base. No one has been here for a very long time.

The guy made a bed out of his blanket on the floor in the corner of the house, lowered the girl onto it, took off his cloak, and covered her. It's a little dusty, dark, and damp, but it's better than an open glade where anyone could come to.

Looking back at the house, Richard raced toward the fields, jumping over fallen trees, shrubs, and deadwood.

He kept running, ignoring the pain in his legs and side. His heart was beating wildly; it seemed like a knife was digging into his chest, but he did not stop until Bertleben appeared. Only then did he slow down a little, greedily inhaling the cool air that seemed to burn his lungs.

"Richard!" someone called out to him. The young man stopped. A tall old man with brown hair tousled by the wind and a beard matching his head was walking toward him from the opposite side of the city, limping slightly.

His dark brown cloak fluttered in the wind like a flag. His name was Garrett Groff. He was not indigenous, but came to Bertleben a few years ago from some large city in search of a calm and measured life. Oddly enough, he became his own pretty quickly. It was as if Groff had always been a part of this backwater world, fitting into it completely and completely.

Richard liked him, he treated the boy's family well and sometimes helped them in a friendly manner—with advice or some small matter. If there were other circumstances, he would have been happy to talk to him. But now, when the life of the girl he found was hanging by a thread, he was not up to the old man.

"Hello, Groff!" he shouted. Something tempted him to tell the old man about his find, but how could he help? He doesn't walk so soon, and he certainly knows less about treatment than Ilda. "I'm sorry, but I don't have time at all!" and with these words, the guy rushed on.

Groff shrugged, scratched his beard, and watched the young man with a puzzled look.

Richard reached Ilda's shop in a matter of minutes, pushed the door open, and flew inside.

A healer came out of the backroom to see him.

"Richard..." she looked at him in horror. The guy's face and hands were covered with abrasions, and his shirt was torn and stained. "What happened to you in the forest?! Where's your raincoat?" Ilda asked, startled. "Are you hurt?"