Accursed Wars of Immortalis

Chapter 6: Second Wind

Flann awoke. In a moment, her body grasped the extent of her weakness and exhaustion. She tried to speak, but could hardly utter a sound. Her vision cleared and she beheld Colton and a stranger leaning over her. They were conversing quietly.

"Don't try to move, young lady," said the stranger. 

He had angular features, sun-worn skin and many scars. The structure and features of his face, his gaunt cheeks and the sharp chin and nose, indicated an origin foreign to Flann. He had wiry black hair that hung loose just past his shoulders. They were swept back as to not hinder his sight.

"You are rather lucky that this Priest and I were able to act immediately. I would recommend that you focus your mana on blood restoration; you currently only have enough to be conscious and to move a little, perhaps. Any strain may be enough to make you faint once more."

Walgen appeared above her and put a hand on her cheek.

"Reckless girl... I almost lost you," he quavered. He audibly swallowed.

Ragnhild was next to approach. She wore no helmet and had a new scar along the side of her head, with a large bruise accompanying it. She said nothing, but smiled as she knelt beside her.

Someone brought a waterskin to her lips and gently lifted her head. She drank all it contained. That also allowed her to see the corpse of the Maledicti. Nothing but it's ashbone frame remained.

Walgen addressed someone out of sight: "Can we use your cart to travel back to Kriesgrab? She cannot walk yet."

"O-of course... anything to help the Legion, but only until the river crossing, as we're headed further north," stuttered a voice.

Flann was lifted and carried along the road by her companions and the stranger. She was gently placed in the back of a cart. Walgen seated himself beside her. He began stroking her hair.

Her companions' gear was placed in the cart as well. Most of the cart, however, was occupied with crates and sacks. There was only enough room to place Walgen's poleaxe and their supplies.

Flann closed her eyes and began focusing her mana along every bone of her body, as had taught her Caron. Her awareness narrowed to perceive only the functioning of her body. She felt her pulsating heart, her lungs, rhythmically expanding and collapsing, her stomach growling and gurgling and her low blood-level coursing. She felt the blood replenish, drop by drop. Her mind wandered as she meditated.

Caron was the most skilled healer she had ever seen. She was told that there had been many more throughout history, but she refused to believe any of them were as powerful as Caron, the miracle-maker. He had accomplished feats that many believed impossible; she herself knew of one: one of her brothers had been killed by a Maledicti's fire-breath and was thought to be gone for good, but Caron succeeded in return life to his forsaken corpse.

Her meditation took some time to allow her to speak and move with some semblance of normality. Once she ended the trance-like state, she realized that it was now the stranger that sat beside her; his back was against the side of the cart, head bowed and eyes closed. She rose, and he opened an eye to look at her.