Cloaks

Chapter 13: Healing

Malakos woke up in a room full of beds, covered in fine white linen sheets. Sunlight streamed through high, arched windows in shades of gold. He sat up and saw a Retainer, standing over another bed, quietly taking notes over a still form.

"Am I dead...?" Malakos asked.

The Retainer turned to look at him in surprise. Malakos recognized him as the one he'd spoken to in Dunshire.

"Oh, not you, too!" The Retainer said, his musical Celestial accent full of exasperation.

"'Too'...?" Malakos asked, when suddenly, he felt something like a rope tighten around his midriff and yank him unceremoniously backward out of the clean, white room, and into a swirling void full of lute music.

The tiefling gasped for air as his soul slammed back into his body.

"What'd I miss?" He coughed out. He looked around from where he had been slung over Deruque's shoulders.

No Christopher. Demoralized faces all around.

"Oh."

"We barely got out with our lives," Bardy explained, putting his lute away and starting to walk again. "You more than anyone. When that witch did her pointy finger thing and knocked you out, we knew we were all in over our heads. So Deruque grabbed you, and we all bolted while Christopher held her off. Which, if I'm not mistaken, was the plan in the first place, before someone decided he needed to play the martyr and drag the rest of us along with him."

Malakos shifted guiltily, "I didn't mean for–"

"I got you back to consciousness," Bardy spoke over whatever excuses the cleric was making. "But it was a close one. You're uh...still not looking great."

"Dying will do that to you," Malakos coughed again. "Thanks for hauling me out of there, Deruque."

"No problem, Malakos."

"Thanks for healing me, Bardy," he added.

"Anytime, Malakos."

The group continued walking in silence for a moment.

"I'd like to get down now--"

"No, Malakos," Bardy and Deruque chorused.

"Oh come on!"

"Can't trust your suicidal butt not to run back for another round, so you're staying right up there until we've covered a little more distance," Bardy insisted. "You should get a full rest while you're waiting."

"You're not going to keep me up here for eight hours?!" Malakos cried.

"Well, the other options are you heal yourself with a spell--"

"But I might need that energy to heal you guys."

"--or you drink that potion in your bag."

"Oh, definitely not."

"Why?"

"I didn't see an expiration date on it, and who knows how long it was lying out in that field? Suspicious potions are for emergencies only, everyone knows that."

"Malakos, did you hit your head when you collapsed?"

"This...(ng!)...is...humiliating!" Malakos struggled in vain against Deruque, who barely even shifted to maintain his hold. "Let me down! I can walk!"

"There you guys are!" a voice called from ahead.

"Ruby!" Malakos beamed. "Help me get down from here!"

"What are you guys doing? Let go of him!" She ran up and grabbed the tiefling, pulling him roughly off Deruque's shoulders.

"Hey careful!" Deruque said, releasing Malakos. "Don't just yank on him–the guy just died, for pete's sake."