The Cleansing (Book One: The Folara Chronicles)

074: Jayce

Jayce leaned against the stone wall of the Aerie, protected by its unique mystery.  Relaxing his shoulders against the darkening shadows, he loosened his armor and laid his sword aside. All this worked for their good, as moving Crevan any further would have been catastrophic for sure.

He let his gaze drift to the Captain of the Quarso who was now mending on a sleeping roll gleaned from what was left of Quarso headquarters. In Salimantor form, Crevan would have healed sooner, but he hadn't regained consciousness long enough for them to communicate this fact to him, nor did they actually believe he had the strength to make the transformation. A healing sleeping roll was better than nothing, but it wouldn't heal him completely or in time to move him to a safer spot.

Rough and jerky movements nearby had Jayce on his feet, sword in hand.

"It's me!" Terryn's hiss was frustrated when he saw Jayce's stance as he rounded the corner of the ruins. "Help me with him, will you?"

Jayce leaped to support the broken and bleeding body of his cousin, Rion Etrusia whom they had witnessed beaten and left by Quildor. They couldn't lay him on his back, and so situated him on his stomach, as he unconsciously emitted soft moans.

"He's not conscious enough to get him to transform either?" Jayce groaned as he hefted Rion's arm off his shoulder. He examined the bleeding stripes across Rion's back in mounting rage. "Why did Quildor do this?"

Terryn's eyes rose in the moonlight to meet Jayce's. "Perhaps as a warning to any of the rest of us that might oppose him."

"Physical beating? Why didn't he just use his power to take him out? I've seen him wipe out a whole four square castle guard." Jayce said, and there was awe in his tone.

Terryn's eyes were bleak and yet knowing. "This is far more visual. He knew he would live to tell the tale."

Jayce silently agreed. Just one look at Rion's enflamed and torn skin was enough to make him wish for a simpler and less painful conclusion to his own treason. "I'm going to go round up the Kibsters."

Terryn was taking off his own armor, and had set his supplies on the low rock wall ruins. "Kibsters?"

"You know, Kib and his guys. The water witchers. Somebody has to go tell them we are still in this thing." Jayce shouldered his armor once again and tore off a piece of Terryn's supply bar made from pounded berries and grain.

Terryn nodded wearily. "I hope one of them is a healer." He jerked his head toward the two almost dead men on the ground close by. "I doubt they will survive the night, either of them, without help."

Jayce took a good long look at the two who had offended their ex-liege. He wasn't so sure his fate wasn't sealed with theirs and wasn't so sure their goal of freedom was absolutely attainable. 

He nodded to Terryn and slipped silently out into the twilight.

The trek toward Granite Fears this time was much faster, even though he had run before, they'd been forced off the main trails due to Quildor's army massing all over the place. Now, these same trails were virtually empty. Accouterments that had been discarded, such as smaller tents, utensils, and he ran without tripping.

"Pssst!" He stepped close to Kib's barn and leaned into the rough timbers.

The barn door opened immediately, but instead of an ugly man's head at about his own eye level, as he'd expected, the space was empty. A little hand snaked out and grabbed his leggings at a very inopportune spot, and Jayce practically yelped in surprise. He slapped the hand away, realizing it was a child before he skewered it. The barn door opened revealing a large wagon loaded to the hilt, and two young women holding infants next to their breasts. Skirvon stepped out from behind the wagon.