Rogue Adventures - A Tale from Neverbeen Universe

12

Panting and gasping Sendrith and Yumír turned left and right, running for their lives through the corridors. Yumír was already having stitches and his lungs were burning when after about an hour of sprinting they finally reached the exit and escaped into the night. Still they kept running for a while longer, just to be sure they weren't followed, then dropped exhausted at a clearing. Yumír panted so hard he had to puke from exhaustion.

Shivering and trembling afterward he blinked at Sendrith, who was leaning against the trunk of a tree and holding his shoulder. Instantly worry crept into his heart and clenched it in a tight knot. During the fight Sendrith had been hurt. Yumír staggered towards the older one.

"Let me have a look," he quietly bade. And when Yumír was allowed to examine the wound, he sucked in a breath. The gash ran right from Sendrith's shoulder down to his elbow; the blood had dried and the flesh was charred black from the burn of the creepy Daemon's magical sword. Sendrith had to be in a lot of pain, Yumír was sure. The young shadow devil wished he was a healer, but all he could do now was fetch some fresh water from a nearby creek to clear the wound and bandage it with clean strips of cloth torn from his shirt.

Yumír felt like crying. He didn't want Sendrith to be in pain, he didn't want him to be hurt so badly. Yet Sendrith didn't even make any kind of noise that betrayed his suffering. The shadow devil actually knew the silver-haired demon liked pain to a certain degree, but he still didn't like it. He'd worry for Sendrith and he wished he could just... make it better.

For as long as it took Yumír to tend to the wound they rested on that clearing. Then Sendrith got up and urged him on. "We need to report back to the Lord," he said through gritted teeth. Cold sweat was beading on his brow, and Yumír was certain it didn't originate from the run but from the strain and the pain caused by the gash.

He nodded nonetheless and agreed. Returning to their Lord's main fortress faster meant Sendrith could be subjected to better treatment sooner. At the fortress there were healers, people who knew how to treat wounds like this one.

So as soon as Yumír was done fuzzing about Sendrith's injury to the best of his abilities they took a short breather and hurried on. Yumír even turned into the form of the beast which Sendrith had asked him to transform into, so he could carry the older one faster.

It was hard to stay focused, to actually remain sane and capable of coherent thought. In his mind he repeated again and again his name and who he was and what his mission was — bringing Sendrith back to their Lord so he could heal. But it was really hard. If he stopped for a few seconds he would probably forget and fully become the beast he had turned into. And if he wasn't able to remember he would stay that way or worse, so much worse.

Yumír was afraid of what he would become one day; he was afraid of himself, was afraid of losing himself. Like everybody else was instinctively or knowingly afraid of him. Everybody but Sendrith, and the Lord. But the Lord was at least wary of him, while Sendrith truly didn't fear or avoid him. And Yumír was so very grateful for Sendrith's lack of fear and for the attention he gave him. He adored him because he kept him company and wanted him to be around while nobody else did. He would do anything for Sendrith out of gratitude. Anything at all.

Which was also why he worried so much. He didn't want to lose Sendrith. He was all Yumír had in the world, even if he was a cruel man. But he was also Yumír's friend, his only friend. And Yumír didn't know what would happen if he lost Sendrith. He meant so much to him, that he had almost cried when he had treated the wound.

His concentration was slipping, and the beast shook its head.

'My name is Yumír. I am a shadow devil. I must bring my friend Sendrith to Lord Rhagkal's fortress to save him,' he repeated in his head. The beast howled and flew faster. The more he strained his body the more the beast overtook. But he fought back hard, kept repeating the words like a mantra which protected him from himself.

'Yumír...shadow devil...' the words became fuzzy and slipped from his mind one after the other like grains of sand slided through his fingers but he forced all of his will to formulate them, '...must save...Sendrith...'