That One Time I Went on a Quest

Naked

Waking up feels worse than breathing through a mask stuffed with sweaty cotton. Groggy like a drunk is probably a better way of putting it, but I've never gotten drunk in my life, except for that one time when the cousins came over with whatever that rank stuff in the barrel was.

That wasn't a good day. Not being able to remember it isn't good either.

Speaking of remembering, where is this? And what is that disgusting taste in my –

Oh I knew it.

'Quit...quit it Haylis...' Feeble murmurs of an old man.

'The medicine's supposed to make you sleep,' snaps a very loud voice, 'so get back to it.'

'Why...why am I eating med...med...'

'Heatstroke and severe dehydration – in winter!' Comes the cheerful response.

'My...arm...can't feel...'

'It'll visit in a few weeks. Just stay still and sleep.'

That sounds terrifying. 'You didn't...cut...cut it off...did you?'

She responds by flicking a finger at my elbow. That bolt of lightning, like being stabbed in a cluster of nerves with a harpoon, is no phantom pain.

'Argh!'

'Stop crying, you're not even the one badly hurt.'

A lot of the foggy nonsense in my head dissipates at that. Images of Kathanhiel kneeling naked in a pool of fire come rushing back – that was no dream.

'Is – is she alright?'

'Recovering,' Haylis says. 'Her...fever...is so much worse this time. All night she spent sitting in a barrel – the second one because the first dried up in an hour. Her skin is...her skin is –' she shivers, '– all cracked and...broken up...'

Sitting up puts the world on a trampoline. One brief look at a jagged hole on the far wall (hastily patched up with wooden boards) is enough to bounce everything sideways.

'No, you stay put.' With a one-fingered bump on the forehead she sends me pillow-bound.

Booming footsteps; a huge eye peeks inquisitively through one of the many holes in the wall. Which little giant is that? Their eyes all look the same –

'Don't go anywhere,' Haylis says as she pulls out her silent bells again.

I spend a confused two minutes looking around the room, which seems to be the centre cabin of our carriage with all the interior walls torn down. At some stage black soot had everything covered, but the many streaky wipe marks hint at the rigorous cleaning that had driven it back. Rigorous but non-effective.

Haylis, that's not how you wipe, you need to gather all the soot to one spot, not smear them all around...

Next to a broken door is Kathanhiel's shattered wardrobe. Her once neatly folded shirts are scattered about like colourful rags; neither she nor Haylis had thought to reorganise them. The crystalline cuirass sits in a corner, dull and unpolished, and the arced gauntlets that had shone so brilliantly are holding down a pile of straw, which by the looks of it is being used as a bed.

Kathanhiel wouldn't sleep on there; she would set it alight.

At that thought the idea of lying down for another second becomes intolerable.

'Where is she?'

Haylis turns around as the little giant moves away from the gap. 'On the roof.'