The Minstrel

Waking Nightmares

 Several hours - or at least what had felt like several hours - had passed in a haze since the confrontation on the beach. Killian had stood over the dead orc, watching Durgan's back as his figure turned into an ever-shrinking speck on the horizon, until the Dwarf had at last disappeared. Then, the bard had wordlessly retraced his steps along the strand and into the woodline to where Thorian lay, still as unconscious as he had been left. Killian moved automatically, slinging one of his nephew's arms around his shoulder and lifting him to his feet. Partially awakening from his stupor, (whether from the movement or the pain Killian could not tell) Thorian was kept conscious enough to take a fraction of the burden from his uncle.

Killian half-steadied, half-carried Thorian further inland. If asked as to their destination, Killian would have been unable to supply an answer - his mind and body were far too exhausted to give ample reasoning for his actions. As far as he was concerned, he had burnt his only known bridge, and his last ally was not long for the land of the living. Killian felt the urge to do something, and so he began to walk. He had carefully navigated them through the sparse trees and shrubbery, until the foliage had grown dense, and the sounds and scents of the shore fell out of view.

He wondered exactly how big the island was. It couldn't have been huge, he had surmised, as few of the Shattered Isles were more than five miles in diameter. Although, five miles could be quite a lot when one's weight has been doubled and they're on the brink of dehydration. Thorian's head lolled onto Killian's shoulder as he mumbled unintelligibly, his injured leg dragged behind and caught on a root, causing them to briefly stumble. Killian ignored him.

Around them the forest grew thicker. Branches clawed at their faces as the trees that sprouted them crowded into their path. Their progress slowed significantly, and more than once did Killian have to pause to catch his breath and swallow what little saliva his mouth was producing to coat his parched throat. Killian pushed his tongue against his cheek, cringing at the sandpaper texture of his own mouth, before carrying on. Never once did he dare to set Thorian down.

Though it might have provided ample rest for the both of them, Killian feared that if he were to set his nephew down for even a moment, he would find himself void of the necessary strength to raise him again. More than once, Durgan's words came to his mind unbidden.

... Leave him, said Durgan, ... Dead weight ...

And Killian considered it, the temptation growing with every stone that stabbed into the soles of his feet and every bramble that raked his legs and tore at what few rags remained to him. Yet, each time there was that deeper fear that kept him bound to the dying sailor. By now the sun had begun to set, and there was a chill in the air that, under less strenuous circumstances, would have made him shiver. It was as the world grew dark around him that Killian feared being alone. His breaths grew more ragged as the ground ahead grew to an increasing slope.

Sand had turned to soil, and soil had slowly begun to turn to stone, yet the pair pressed on. Durgan's voice still rang in Killian's head, clear enough that it was almost as if the Dwarf were following them, shouting from just outside their view and shielded by shadow. Other voices jostled their way into Killian's mind as well, competing to be heard as his fatigue tore down the defences of alertness that typically kept them at bay. There was Abigail, begging to come with him, and there was Sharroc, begging for mercy. There was Aldred offering him encouragement, and Branwick offering him criticism.

There was his mother, who encouraged him to keep moving forward, who told him that he was doing the right thing.

And then there was -

They stumbled a second time, hard. Thorian cried out in pain at the sudden lurch, and Killian cursed to himself as his head slammed against the trunk of a tree. It took him more than a couple minutes leaned up against that trunk to recover.