The Tellanon

11. Endaloë

Serin shaded her eyes from the sun as she rode through the dark. Aswad, her horse, was tireless, she knew, but she wasn't. She had only napped for two hours, after a lot of nights of keeping watch instead of sleeping. Emyra had to be brought to a village, though. Serin hadn't had the courage to check if she even was alive, but feared the worst. She cursed the gods for being so cruel as to take Emyra as well. She had liked Emyra well enough, even if she was a coward and a bit too much of a girl and that quest of hers was interesting. A Tellanon who was sent to war? She would like to know more about that. Ash was very fond of her as well. The dog was bounding along, nudging Emyra's still limp hand every now and then. He was very protective, which was one of the reasons Serin loved him so much. He had come with her when her village burned down, and had become almost immortal with her.  His senses had saved them on multiple occasions, and except for her fellow wanderers, he had been her only friend. Until she met Emyra.

There were very few villages around, and it was four hours in gallop to the closest one. Serin wasn't even sure there would be a healer there, but she could hope. Emyra hadn't moved a muscle, and she was so cold. So icy cold, and grey-skinned. Serin had seen that before, in Unece. A little boy had died of it. The cold bit deep, and the effects were horrid. Serin shuddered at the memory of it, and glanced at Emyra. She promised she would help her, this innocent dreamer, who had nightmares of killing thieves. Serin smiled and drove Aswad on. Alea followed without complaint.

Emyra saw strange things in her head. All were black or grey, and all featured fire. She wanted to scream, wanted it all to end, the pain in her hands, her headache, the feeling of death creeping towards her, taking its time, but certainly coming closer. She wanted to do anything, but she couldn't. Even in her dreams, she couldn't move a muscle. She saw grey horrors circle her, all around her, showing her what she feared most. They now featured her death. Stabbings, fires, collapsing buildings, poison, fights, drowning. Fire everywhere. Death circling her. Smoke blinding her, while she was unable to do anything. Suddenly, Berren stood there. Only, it wasn't Berren. This was the worst thing that could happen. He was going...going to... going to kill her. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them, Emyra could see only black. The black stayed, and Emyra relaxed, even though the terrible cold and pain still raged through her arms.

Serin dismounted, and lead Aswad towards the gate. It was an actual city, this place. There even were guards at their posts. Endaloë, it was called, according to Emyra's maps. Serin walked up to the gate, and knocked twice. A guard's weather-beaten face appeared through a hole, and he asked what she was doing there.

"My friend needs a healer. I won't attack anyone. I'm only fifteen." Serin said. They didn't have to know who she really was. She had begun to get a reputation, and Wanderers weren't supposed to have reputation. Better keep it down for a while. The guard opened the gate, surely two little girls couldn't do so much harm, and Serin thanked him.

As they passed through the street, Serin looked about. There were some shops, a few inns and taverns, a few houses. The city didn't look at all special. There were a lot of people about, even this late, but none of them seemed to be in any way different. It was a clear night. Emyra twitched, but did not wake up. Serin walked on, until she finally realised she would have to ask the way. Ash sniffed here and there, barked at a cat, and ran back to them. Nothing was wrong.

”Excuse me, sir, but do you know where I could find a healer?" Serin asked a big man.

"Yea, I do. Sixth alley on the right, seventh building." He said gruffly, and walked away. Serin shrugged, and followed his instructions.

The healer's place was very small, and incredibly stuffy. Row upon row of dusty bottles sat upon shelves on the wall, enormous chests lined the wall, beds stood here and there and the air smelled sharp and sweet at once. Serin sniffed the air distastefully, trying hard not to puke. Instead, she looked about. She had had to carry Emyra through the door, but she now put her on one of the beds, and stretched, glad Emyra now had a chance. The healer, whoever he was, was nowhere in sight. She checked every corner of the room, but didn't see him. She checked again. No trace.  When she turned back, she saw a man and two girls standing by Emyra. She drew her sword, and didn't get a reaction from any of the three. Serin bit her lip, and unsheathed her blade. Immediately, one of the girls turned toward her and smiled warmly.