Denial of the Whisper

Chapter Forty-Four.

Chapter Forty-Four.

I got sick.

Descending the mountain was far easier than climbing all the way up and we made it back to Ilyria by nightfall.

And by that time, my fever had started and I was burning up.

I was half awake, when Nyshard carried me towards my room, and I only guessed that it was Dylana whom he asked to prepare a cooling bath to bring my temperature down. Holding myself tightly against him, carrying me bridal-style, Nyshard sat himself down, onto my bed, I guessed.

I felt a hand on my forehead, small, soft and I knew it was Dylana "You're back.", she murmured in a low voice and I was almost sure she thought me unconscious.

But I wasn't, even though I felt tired, so incredibly tired...

"She didn't want to hear it. She said she doesn't want to hate me."

"But the Whisperers..."

"The servants tried to make her hear it. But she... Adri didn't want to."

Someone brushed my hair out of my face, and I heard water being filled into something.

"And she...", Dylana's voice again, but Nyshard cut it "She denied to hear it. She wanted to leave immediately, asked me... to bring her home.", he paused, and for a moment there was absolute silence.

"Okay, the tub is full, give her to me and then please leave the room."

"I won't leave.", Nyshard said and he handed me to Dylana.

"I have to bathe her and bring her temperature down. You have to leave, Nysh, no matter how worried you are."

A deep sigh was heard "I'll wait in front of the door."

Just then, the door was being pushed open and someone entered. "I have a potion to help her sleep", Srandi's voice was heard.
"But I think she's already...", Dylana cut in, but Srandi interrupted her "Believe a Rhaayl what she tells you". Fingers on my mouth made me part my lips. Something cool pressed against it, and a liquid poured down my throat.

The next thing I remembered, was cold water.

And hands that held me down.

And I trashed violently, wanted to scream, but no words left my lips.

Blinking, I looked around. There was smoke, so much smoke, that it burned in my eyes and I had to fight not to rub them. I couldn't... because my hands were dirty, soiled with the dirt from the ground and the blood from my friends.

Or my enemies.

I didn't know.

All I knew, was that the smoke surrounding me would swallow me whole. Like the water... yes, exactly like the water. I stumbled over roots, or arms and legs, bodies. Maybe. Maybe not.

I didn't dare to look at the ground, I just walked, step by step, not looking down, not looking to my right or my left, no, just straight ahead. Always straight ahead.

Screams filled my mind and screams left my mouth when the sheer noise of it became unbearable. It was so loud. The suffering... the suffering and pain.

I screamed.

And it helped, the screaming in my head got less and less, until there was only a soft whimper left.
And that was me.