25. Hospital
Pulling the Transphere from his pack which Phoenix held out for him, he unwrapped it from the old rags it had been bundled up in. Charlie spoke clearly to it. “Merlin.”
Charlie felt like his feet had suddenly been glued to the floor. He couldn't move. The surface of the Transphere rippled and an image of Feriador’s familiar office surfaced in the orb. He held it out as far as he could, realising that even if he'd have wanted to, he couldn't let go of the Transphere.
The others stepped forward, plunging their hands into the orb. It rippled and they disappeared into the centre, their shapes distorting and shrinking as they were sucked in. The Transphere doubled in weight, and Charlie's hand dropped a foot before he managed to stabilize it.
Hand still glued to the orb, Charlie took a last look at the debris of the great room they had trashed, feeling rather guilty about leaving in that state, then he too was sucked into the freezing cold interior of the Transphere.
He shivered involuntarily as the curious sensation came upon him, where it felt as if someone was pouring some ice cold water into him, filling him up like a cup. As the water reached the brim, the top of his head, he felt firm ground beneath his feet.
He opened his eyes and saw they were in Feriador's office. The warmth of the room seeped into him, and he closed his eyes, feeling all the ache and pain of the last few days come flooding back. He resisted the urge to collapse on the floor where he was.
“Welcome back.” Feriador was sitting behind his desk, in the middle of some paper work. He was on his feet in seconds and gently prised the sword from Charlie's clutch.
He placed it on his desk, and then turned back to them. Taking in their state, Feriador's face darkened. “You need to go to the hospital. Charlie, you look the least damaged, would you mind staying? You four, please make your way immediately to the hospital. Nurse Raymond is waiting for you.” Feriador smiled kindly at them, and the other four left, Phoenix leaving the packs and weapons behind. Jason was now carrying the unconscious Emma, much to Peter’s dissatisfaction.
“Make yourself comfortable.” Feriador gestured to the little old sofa. “Firstly, I'd just like to say I'm very proud of you, Charlie. You've done as I asked, and the whole group has been brought back in one, if slightly damaged, piece.”
Charlie shrugged. “It wasn't really me, sir. It was more the others.”
“I’m sure you all helped equally. Would you mind recounting your adventures for me?” Feriador looked at him questioningly, as he returned to his desk.
“I - sure.” Charlie told of the whole thing, from start to finish, trying not to miss out anything. He trusted Feriador not to judge them in any way for the way they had handled the situations, and he was almost glad to retell their adventures of the last few days, glad of someone else in which to confide not only the tale, but of the dread and terror that had accompanied most minutes of every hour of all of the days.
Once he had finished speaking, his throat was dry and cracked, and he slumped back in the sofa. He felt like the stress was slowly lifting from his shoulders.
Feriador was silent for a full minute, examining the sword with the orange orb in its hilt. Finally, he spoke. “Most people your age wouldn't have been able to get past the giant, let alone hurdle the rest of the obstacles you faced.” Feriador looked up and his piercing eyes met Charlie's. “But the physical attacks, I think, were not as bad as the other attacks, by your way of telling it. Am I right?”
“I suppose... Yes.”
“The riddle - well, you're a smart boy. The Posiadac berries must have been difficult, with a friend screaming beside you. But - again, correct me if I'm wrong - I think you seem most shaken from the penultimate obstacle. It would seem Morsmordis has not forgotten how much emotions can affect people. I know many great Foundlings who would have taken that hand. The apparitions were fake, you were right, I'm sure. But still. What you did took a lot of courage. Just remember that.”
Charlie nodded. The memory of the ghosts brought a lump to his throat.
“Given that you were partly forced into this, without much warning, you and the others have been extraordinary.” Feriador twirled the sword in his fingers, the blade catching the light. “This sword is the first step towards stopping Morsmordis. Now, however, you should go and be treated at the hospital. Your arm is bleeding quite badly.”
Charlie looked down, surprised, and saw a small gash in his arm that was bleeding rather profusely. He had no recollection of earning this wound, but he saw the red stain on the sofa and stood up quickly. “Sorry about the sofa.” He said awkwardly.
Feriador chuckled. “The cleanliness of that sofa is the last of my worries. And Charlie,” He gazed at him with his blue-purple, piercing eyes. “I really am proud of you, and the others.”
Charlie shrugged. “It’s one more step towards the man who killed my family.”
Feriador opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again. He watched Charlie for a moment with anxious eyes.
“Sir?”
“About your... don’t worry. I’ll tell you some other time.” Feriador shook his head. Charlie wondered what he’d been about to say, but did not pursue the subject.
Feriador led him out of the office. Charlie half walked, half stumbled to the hospital, trying to stymie the bleeding from his arm that was dripping onto the clean white floor as they made their way to the hospital.
Reaching the ward, Feriador led Charlie to an area sectioned off by curtains.
Here he found the others, already tucked up in hospital beds, their wounds being cleaned and dressed. Emma was sitting up, smiling and looking a lot better. The poisonous yellow hue was gone from her dark skin.
Charlie collapsed into the remaining bed and was immediately attended by dozens of fairies, tending to his wounds.
Feriador was talking to the woman with the high black bun. He nodded to her then walked over to the five of them. He sat on the end of Charlie's bed. “Fortunately, none of you have sustained any lasting damage.”
The others grinned, looking much better than they had at any point over the last few days.
“You have done very well.” Feriador continued. “As I told Charlie, you have shown great capacity in overcoming the challenges you have faced.” Feriador rose and turned to leave, but seemed to remember something and faced them again. “Oh, and I asked Nurse Raymond to cook you up some well-deserved hot chocolate.”
They all cried out in delight, the thought of hot chocolate surpassing all thoughts of dignity. Feriador smiled, his eyes creasing. After three days of fairly awful food, hot chocolate seemed like some kind of ambrosia. Feriador bid them goodbye and left them hidden from anyone else's view behind the curtain.
Peter finished his hot chocolate immediately, and was lying on his back, flexing his legs, which clicked as he moved them. “Well, I think that went rather well.” He said thoughtfully. “If you leave out the enormous giant, homicidal berry spirit, demented ravens and whatever that last thing was.”
The laughter was still etched on Charlie's face when he faded into unconsciousness, the ache from his body overpowering what little resistance he had, and he slipped into the darkness behind his closed eyelids.
*
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