Tearha: The Number 139

Chapter Two: The Wanderer

Thick limestone walls surrounded the wooden framed hospital bed. The clean white bedsheets were offset by the respirator – a larged tubed one meter tall chrome cased pump – rising and falling with each breath, steadily pumping oxygen into the patient as sure as the Twins would rise and fall each day.

The human nurse, in her white dress, khaki trousers, and a brown apron with a red cross stitched to the centre of the breasts, removed the copper oxygen mask and took the temperature of Akaras, who lay on the bed unmoving, body wrapped in bandage from head to toe, right arm and leg in a cast. After doing a quick check of his injuries, she pulled the thermometer from his lips, shaking her head disappointedly. She pocketed the tool in her apron and turned to leave.

"Don't be alarmed," Nadier warned from his dark corner next to the door.

The nurse jumped, her eyes wide in shock, but she did not scream or show signs of fear. "Wanderer," she greeted. "I didn't hear you come in."

"Sorry to startle you," he politely apologized. "I would like to spend some time alone with my brother, if you will allow it."

The nurse gave a slight bow in respect. "I'm sorry, but I've been given strict instructions not to allow anyone else near Lord–um...former Lord, Akaras."

"I understand. But could you make an exception on this? We are family."

He could see her eyes shifting in thought before finally settling with, "Okay. But do close the door on your way out." She smiled softly and gave another bow before leaving the room.

Nadier stepped out of the shadows and he scanned the room for any hidden traps or assassins in hiding, doing so in part of habit, but also due to the situation he found himself in. Dark elf assassins were not out of the realm of possibility when the strongest Spellblade in Eltar was at his weakest. When he was sure there were no other souls in the room with him, he went to his brother's side.

With his right index finger, he reached down to his thigh and hooked onto the finger ring of his dagger. With a gentle pull, the dagger popped out of its sheathe without resistance and he flipped the weapon into the grip of his palm. With his left, he reached for one of the many metallic vials hidden behind his belt, hooking onto its finger ring with his other index, pulled, flipped the vial to grip, and loaded it into the empty chamber within the handle of the dagger, like a magazine into a gun.

He moved the blade over his brother's chest, an inch above his heart. He aimed the point just between the ribs and slowly pushed the dagger in. Through the skin, the muscles, and scrapping past the bone. Nadier navigated solely with the sense of touch against the rhythmic breathing and the steady rise and fall of the chest. Then, he felt the gentle walls of the heart. He placed free hand on his brother's chest and sunk just the tip of the blade into the beating muscle.

Akaras eyes shot opened and his body jerked back as the adrenaline rushed through him, but his chest was held in place by Nadier to prevent any damage from the sudden movement. In one swift motion, he removed the dagger with surgical precision, pulled his scarf off, and pushed the cloth against the new wound and staunched the blood.

He watched as Akaras's eyes flitted frantically around the room, taking in his surroundings as quickly as his suddenly awoken brain could. His eyes then landed on Nadier and realization dawned in them as the wounded dark elf slowly sank back into the bed. His breathing slowed but his heart continued to pump fast through the makeshift dressing.

With a coarse, tired voice, the former Lord greeted, "Nads." He split his brother a gentle smile.

"Hey 'Karas." Nadier nodded stoically in acknowledgement.