The Iron Seer

Chapter 11 - Stranger No Longer

A desperate cease-fire with the Oni declared. I crept through the forest as quietly and quickly as possible, searching for Ash. My heart was tight in my chest. He was injured, and I didn't know how badly, but I knew that I had to find him.

He was slumped against the base of a tree, his head lowered so that his dark hair fell into his eyes, hands gripping the pommel of his sword, which was half-holding him up.

My feet crunched in the snow as I neared, and I saw him raise his head, silver eyes glinting dangerously. He hissed in pain as he stood, lifting his sword to face any possible threat.

His eyes found me at the same time I called, "It's me!" The vice-grip squeezing my chest eased slightly at having found him in time.

Seeing me, his face convulsed between relief and another bout of pain. His sword arm lowered so that its sharp blue tip dug into the snow, half holding him up.

I rushed to him. "Ash, what is -" I put my hands to his right side, where the black of his clothing concealed it - the blood soaking through the fabric. My fingers came away stained an alarming shade of dark red.

"Ran into some Oni on the way out of the caves. I killed them, but -" He gestured with a slight wince.

I bit my lip, feeling terrible about the deaths of those Oni. They'd attacked us first, but I believe that it was justified - we'd invaded their camp, and we had been planning to kill them.

I wanted to tell Ash about the vow the Oni had made, but right now, while he was injured, I was more worried about whether or not he would survive to uphold his end of the deal.

"Sit back down," I commanded, and he sank back against the tree. I had to see the injury, and I couldn't have him bleeding to death or fainting from blood loss. Taking his sword from his loose fingers, a shock raced up my arm.

I yelped in surprise and almost dropped it. Ash's sword was infused with his glamour, I realized. A large amount of it. I set it against the other side of the trunk.

Ash began pulling off his tunic.

"Don't," I said in alarm. Through sheer force of will I made myself not blush. "You'll hurt yourself." I shoved the confusing feelings aside and looked around at the lightening forest and decided we were too out in the open for me to treat his wound properly. I'd constantly have to be on guard. The horses were waiting patiently nearby. I would stanch the bleeding and get him back to our cave, the one where I'd recovered from overusing my glamour.

I insisted on helping him get his tunic and shirt off, much to his amusement and my helpless mortification, and gasped when I saw the wound. It was a deep cut oozing blood, but that wasn't what made me catch my breath.

The edges of it were tinged with black, as if burned.

Because they were burned, from the iron weapon that had made the cut. My eyes widened and I had to take a few deep breaths, willing myself not to panic.

"That bad, is it?" Ash cracked his grey eyes open and regarded me almost curiously, as if he cared more about my reaction than the actual severity of the wound.

"Be quiet and let me concentrate," I told him, and he snorted but let me examine his injury in silence.

It wouldn't kill him, that I was sure of. His flesh was burned, but because he hadn't been exposed to the iron for a long period of time, he would heal within a matter of days - slower than normal, but still, he would heal, and that was what mattered.

I tore a strip of cloth off his shirt and bound the wound. By the time I was done, my hands were covered in his blood and the snow around the tree trunk was stained with it.