In Lost Dreams the Four Were Bound

12 - Neris - Finishing Up and Worry

Opening the wooden shutters of the room, Neris stood with prickled skin as the cold air of the outdoors caressed her body. The room was still heavy with musk and perspiration from her toying with the grizzled huntsman. Behind her she heard him dressing, taking his time to outfit every loop and strap of his hide cuirass. Overall the huntsman had proven more than sufficient though her nerves were still on end from their toiling.

"I would offer you something to ease yourself, ne vindal, but I fear we don't have such niceties here," Bedimer said behind her. Her ears perked up at the sound of his thinblade scuttling across the floor.

"Do you sleep in that?" Neris prodded with a jest of disapproval. "Perhaps you'd be better off if you cared to sleep warm."

"I've taken on the vigil for the next few nights," he said with a grunt. Neris turned and watched him tighten his belt. "The trees must be watched at night," he said, "just in case something bigger decides to lumber around, causing chaos."

"I'd think being as high up as we are, there'd be little to worry about from beasts and the like."

"You have a keen sense, vindal," Bedimer said as he picked up his silver lantern. He hung it from his belt, sighing as he eyed the unconscious patient on the table beside him. "I'm impressed he could sleep through that."

"You'd be even more impressed by what other things he's slept through." Neris shot the weary man a knowing look as she went over to the dying lantern on the counter. Snuffing the last of the light, she turned her gaze back to the huntsman. He was staring at her, transfixed for a moment, a slight grin on his face. "Shall you take your leave, charming Bedimer?"

"I think I will, vindal Neris," he said, making his way to the door. "Have a good rest of your evening, and . . ." Bedimer stopped and turned to his side, lowering his gaze into the darkness. Following his eyes, Neris saw that the left hand of her slumbering love was caught upon Bedimer's leggings. He laughed and went to remove the man's hand, shooting Neris a confused smile. But as he went to disentangle the sleeper's claw, the gnarled black nails dug into Bedimer's leather leggings.

"What in . . ." Bedimer was caught mid-word as the sleeper arched his back on the table. Without a thought, Neris fetched a sleeping aid from the counter and then sprang back to the table.

"He's convulsing again," she said, her right hand coming down hard on the Virage's chest. With a little force, he collapsed back against the table. She took a breath, waiting to see what would happen next. For several moments she waited as the man panted, preparing to bring the potion to his lips when the fit diminished. Feeling his heartrate drop, she exhaled.

"Is he alright?" Bedimer asked, freeing himself from the man's grip.

"Just a night fit. He has them every now and then, but it's nothing to—"

In an instant, Virage's right hand was upon hers, squeezing her wrist. Looking down, Neris stared at the man's face, watching as it twisted in pain. Then his eyes opened. Her shoulders locked up as ice flowed down her spine. In his sockets, two black orbs stared into her rusty eyes. She thought to move her left hand and administer the potion, but in the instant it took her muscles to receive the signal, his mouth opened. Fear overcame her stoicism as the man began to scream.

Neris tried to block out the wailing tempest echoing from his gaping maw. She drew her left hand close to the tortured man's face, but as her fingers inched toward him, his demonic gaze fixed upon her. His pitch-black orbs and sagging jaw were like pits into the deepest darkness of the void, and from it the wail of a dying god shook her to the bone. As she started down, she saw his demonic appendage crawl toward her hand. His mottled members twitched and scraped at her perfect skin.

"Move away!" Bedimer shouted over the gale as he reached for his sword. "I'll—"

"No, no weapons!" Neris said. "Just help me hold him still!"

"He has your arm! He's going to—"

"Just keep him down!"

Bedimer nodded, his ears twitching at the unholy noise. With a haggard gaze, he leaned over the terrified screamer and planted one hand on his shoulder. Then Bedimer grabbed Virage's right hand and drew it away from Neris. Seeing an opening, she pushed herself down against her patient and poured the potion into his open mouth. Through the moisture, the scream continued. Soggy cries and wet grunts sputtered as the substance worked down his throat. Then he began to cough, his muscles giving way. Closing his eyes, he gasped and curled on the tabletop, the hiss of air on every beleaguered breath.

"I've got him now," Neris said as she motioned Bedimer away with her head. The man growled in protest but backed away. The sleeper's right hand crept over the linens and found her arm, gripping it tight. On her other side, his claw fumbled around her arm. His nails dug into her flesh in desperation. She bit through the pain and kept him pinned. "I need you to go get Elis. I'm afraid I can't do the rest of the evening."

"But vindal, he still has your arm."

"I'll be fine." She shot Bedimer a placid smile. His grey eyes showed worry and disbelief. Without a word, he nodded and turned for the door. "Thank you, Bedimer." As he left, she buried her face in the traumatized dreamer's belly and let out a deep breath.

"Calm yourself, ne vahr," Neris whispered as she drew herself to him. She thought back to their last time together and found what words she could to comfort him. Her heart raced as he shook beneath her. "Be calm, Davnian. Be calm."