The Custodian Chronicles: The Rising (Finished)

Chapter 8: An Impressive Bit of Magic

Rest eluded Cedrick for three days. Though with the horrible images that plagued him, it was unlikely he would have managed to fall asleep anyway. But it wasn't the terrible images that kept Cedrick awake. It was Jarbo. Following the attack, Jarbo's fitful slumber turned into a feverish haze. He was shivering as though just pulled from a frozen lake, while his body remained the temperature of a heated stove.

Cedrick was worn to threads. He had to try to heal Jarbo. If that didn't save his friend, nothing would. There was no alternative, and after his heart crushing experience, he could not endure to lose his new companion.

Cedrick was kneeling beside Jarbo, having strained all his medical knowledge to break the fevers and nightmares. At this point, Cedrick was a worn rag, feeling he had only one chance, when Jarbo began to return to his senses.

"Cedrick." His voice sounded like death itself: slight, weak, and hardly audible.

"I'm here." Cedrick assured him, clutching Jarbo's hand, in the hope he could feel it.

"I can't." Jarbo's voice carried no strength. In a frenzied state, the weakened man tossed his head in confusion.

Cedrick could not bear this another moment. He had to act. "I will not permit your death." Cedrick inched closer. "Won't allow it to take you. You will be fine; I will make it so!"

"I can't." Jarbo's speech faded ever closer to death's door.

A fire burst into life in Cedrick's chest. He would not permit his only friend to enter those doors; he would not allow him to die. Not if he had any say in the matter. He had to save him; he would save him.

"You just have hold on a bit longer." Cedrick assured, "Just a little longer. You'll make it. I won't let you die. I won't." Cedrick's voice was so strong and firm; it made Jarbo smile.

"That's the boy I know." The fire licked at Cedrick's insides. He couldn't let him go. "But there's nothing you can do." Jarbo continued. "It's too late."

"No." Cedrick seemed to fill with power: determined and strong. "You are not going to die. I won't let you. I can and will save you."

"No." Jarbo hissed out. "No, you can't; it might kill you. You don't know what will happen."

Cedrick ignored his statement completely. He removed the bandage from Jarbo's shoulder. Jarbo gasped a horrible, guttural gasp for a response. Jarbo just clung to consciousness, determined to stop Cedrick from causing himself harm. Cedrick's breath matched the heavy pattern of Jarbo's; his eyes full of a deep, determined, blue fire. He pressed his hand to the injury and set it firmly into place.

Jarbo's moan of pain was so sharp and deep it was nearly a death rattle. Cedrick shut his eyes, focusing all of his energy, gathering his strength. For a few seconds, he remained still, each breath drawing in more power and will. He stayed like this for several seconds, then -- in a splendid burst -- he let the magic loose.

The magic flowed as silken and smooth as a stream's might. Light surged through Jarbo's body, an enchanted light that coursed through his blood stream. The effect was glorious and immediate. A deep gasp rose from Jarbo's throat, and Cedrick was almost thrown back as Jarbo sat up.

For a few seconds, Jarbo remained frozen, wide eyed, chest heaving. His eyes slowly crept to his chest. Gradually, he removed what was left of the bandage. He gaped at his completely healed shoulder. Only a scar remained of the old wound. His eyes, full of astonishment, met Cedrick's. Cedrick grinned.

Without warning, Cedrick felt the sensation of something heavy and powerful smashing into his head. He swayed on the spot.

Jarbo's face became concerned. "Cedrick?" He questioned with panic. "Cedrick, are you alright?"