That One Time I Went on a Quest

Arkai Returns (2/2)

The next hour is a blur. At first Haylis and I couldn't figure out how to carry Arkai to the infirmary. I end up wrapping my arms around his waist and picking him up like some eccentric tailor embracing a mannequin. Through his cloak I could feel the slow struggle of his heart; so weak, so ready to give up at any moment. Walk. Hurry up, this isn't a parade.

People everywhere are moving in a frenzy. Rukiel shows up and barks an endless string of orders to whoever happens to be nearby; within minutes regiments of cavalry are galloping through the gates, armed not with crossbows but spears and swords. Haylis is yelling for people to get out of the way, for the medics to get rid of that useless stretcher, to set up a private room away from the others. Out of the corner of my eye I see Kathanhiel heaving the bleeding corpse of Palasine onto her back, refusing a dozen helping hands; her shirt, already drenched in sweat, soaks red within seconds.

'Out of the way! Move! Kastor, turn left.'

Under Haylis' directions I enter some unimportant corridor and barge through three sets of doors that ignorantly stood in my way. Arkai's black hair, all loose and tangled, has veiled my face; through the sickly curtain I see rows upon rows of beds lined up in a huge, high-ceilinged room. Two-thirds of the beds are full, even though it's been almost two weeks since the last battle. There are too many people here, too many high-pitched cries and staring eyes; I can feel their morbid curiosity burn into the back of my head.

Stumbling, I cross the threshold into a small windowless room with a single bed in the corner. Two physicians are already attending with fresh tools and chemicals aplenty. I ease Arkai onto the sheets and shuffle back; an ignorant outsider shouldn't get in the way of professionals no matter how loudly he wants to scream. As the bandage on Arkai's stumps are unwrapped I catch a whiff of putrefied flesh. Haylis drags me outside before I could find words to protest.

'We can't help here; let's go somewhere –'

'Listen to me, both of you.'

Kathanhiel is thundering down the aisle of beds with the corpse, paying no attention to the nurses and patients scrambling out of her way. With a groan of effort she dumps the body onto the bed nearest to us, then nearly falls on top of it as her left leg buckles without warning.

She says, before either of us could move, 'Kastor, stay here and keep an eye on who goes in and out of Arkai's room, and who handles the body. Do not interfere; just observe. Haylis, please go to the highest ranking officer in the Ink Scout dispatch and one representative from every regiment; tell them to meet me in the conference room five minutes ago.' From her pocket she extracts a bloody scroll and tosses it to me. 'This was in his pocket. Don't show it to anyone else.'

The writing is neat but bloats with wingy flourishes:

My Lady Dearest:

Colourless are the days without you being near, each breath joyless and sick with anticipation for when we shall meet again. To have witnessed you walking amongst the masses in that star-stricken raiment, to have held your hand after all these years scornfully apart, is a pleasure to die for. Mad, is it not, for your raven-haired prostitute to come between us with his erroneous lust? He will bother us no more.

Each night I toss and turn with the memory of our parting, and I could bear it no longer. I am coming to see you, my fair lady; me and a few friends. We know the way. We're already here.

I hope Palasine was to your liking. An entrée, if you will, to the banquet of our reunion.

Yours, forever and always,