The Dead King

Chapter 25 - Begin the Search

The first thing Gus felt was a steady, aching pain radiating from his side. He slowly opened his eyes, and found that his vision was blurred. His head turned side to side, trying to make out his surroundings.

Gus was in a room, one he was completely unfamiliar with. He blinked a few times, trying to regain the sharpness his vision normally had. He attempted to move his arms and legs, and found the task nearly impossible.

He was in a terrible state, that much he was gathering. What happened though, he tried to remember.

The girl... the knife... the stabbing... Marin!

Gus jerked his head to the side again, trying to make out fine details of the room. He now realized he was in a bed, with the covers up to his upper chest. What had happened?

As a few more moments passed, Gus recalled that he had indeed been stabbed by the rogue, and Marin had scooped him up from the ground, carrying him in unknown directions at a fast pace. He recalled his King yelling, shouting in desperation, at random city dwellers, trying to get him help.

How did that go? Gus couldn't remember, he had faded out shortly after that, and what felt like a long sleep later, he had awakened in a bed, laying in a room he had no memory about.

Gus took a deep breath, and a low moan comprised his exhale. He was in a decent amount of pain, but at least his vision was steadily recovering. He looked again to his right. There was something rather large besides him. It was clear like glass, maybe of a blueish hue.

Gus blinked a few more times. What was that thing? It had two large spikes sprouting from either side of it. As his eyes refocused, it started to resemble a bird. The two spikes were wings. It was a type of bird with its wings spread open.

Gus closed his eyes again, and fully rested his head on the pillow. How long had he been out for? Whatever had happened, King Marin must've succeeded in getting help. He was in a bed, recovering. He hadn't died, that much was certain. Well, not yet, anyways. He wondered if he had woken up during the slow consumption of the poison in his body. Perhaps he was still on his way out.

No. Not yet. Gus wouldn't go down yet. His eyes shot open again, and his vision was clearer than ever.

The object on a pedestal besides him, it was a beautiful ice sculpture of a swan. A SWAN!

This was the work of Marin, he knew. Gus couldn't believe it, after all this time, and everything that had happened, his King remembered one of the countless scenarios he bombarded him with during the journey to Tarenfall that took ages.

The man did it. He had created a swan. Gus took this as a good sign. Whatever was going on, whether he was recovering or perishing, everything was okay. Marin had seen to it that he was being taken care of, and all was alright.

"Hello?" Gus finally cried out, with great effort on his part.

He didn't hear a response. Looking to the other end of the room, a door was closed. He was in this room alone, and as his senses started to work again, he took note of the dust that coated everything. The room had a smell of decay. Where exactly was he? This was no hospital. He felt as if he was in a house that was slowly perishing from rot. Perhaps he had this in common.

"Hello?!" Gus tried again, a bit louder. He attempted to sit up, but that was not something he would be capable of. The instant he tried, a sharp pain ran through the area where the dagger had met his body.

Then he heard a noise, a rumbling of sorts. Footsteps rapidly pounded the floorboards in the distance, and then in the next instant, the door flung open.