Knight of the Moon

Chapter 9

Damon Thorne woke up and his eyes adjusted to warm, yellow light. Where in the twelve hells am I? He last remembered sitting at a carriage, clutching his painful stump. I must’ve passed out.

He turned his head around, seeing lamps lit on top of side tables. He lifted his right arm. The wound was bandaged, and there was no bleeding. The pain was present, but not as great as before. Damon could relax through the throbbing. Must be swollen or infected, he thought.

He heard a door open with heavy footsteps nearing. The jingle of steel echoed, and the metal boots creaked under the floorboards. “Lord Damon,” a young voice called out.

Damon smiled. “How are you, Ser Kirk?”

Kirk Seawind smiled. “Well, my lord. I hope you are feeling better.”

“Yes, yes,” Damon said. “My hand wasn’t the best part of me anyway, and I’ve managed to pick up my ring.”

“My father would want to speak with you when you are well and recovered-”

“I could speak to him now,” Damon said abruptly.

“Um, maybe later, my lord. Get some rest. Lance, here, is an excellent healer. He would patch you up.”

Damon said nothing in reply, and Kirk took his leave. Lance was removing the cloth bandages to reveal a swollen wound. It felt hot to Damon, feverish hot.

“How bad is it?” Damon asked.

The healer said nothing. Damon thought he was being ignored, or the boy got his tongue cut, but repeated, “How bad is it?”

Lance looked up, eyes wide. “Sorry, my lord. It is a little swollen and a bit infected. No worries, I’ll wash it, and pour in some medicine. I’m telling you now, it will be excruciating.”

“No worries, boy. The greatest pain already happened when I lost the hand.” Crastell’s slash was just above the elbow, and separated the limb in one clean cut. It must be his sword, his bastard sword.

Lance washed his wound, and then poured some medicine from a vial. Damon screeched and panted as he tried to mask the pain with other thoughts. He could not think about anything but the searing. After it was all done, Lance bandaged the wound. Damon left without consulting Lance. I have to see my host.

Lord Kraken was Damon’s warden, just like Crastell. He was the strongest lord under him, and Damon trusted him with Seawind, south of Iron Bay. He entered a barren chamber, with no decorations. A fiery hearth burned in the center, surrounded by long tables. Like most of royal chambers, the high seat was at one end, facing the fire and the dining area.

Damon was at the edge of the hearth, and everything was orange. Lord Kraken Seawind was seated in a bronze chair, thick and taller than him. Engravings were found on the surface of the seat, and Damon was impressed. Dullest chamber but the most beautiful high seat in Iron Bay.

Lord Seawind wore plated armor, the sea green reflecting the hearth wasn’t affected by the red colors. Leaning on the foot of the chair was a sword in a brown scabbard. Sea Scream, Damon remembered. Useless to me, but it means the world to this brute…

Kraken shouted with his thick, gruff voice. “Lord Thorne! Welcome to Seawind. I’ve noticed you didn’t come here to visit, since we found you half-dead at the side of the road. What brings you here?”

He wants me to admit my loss. If I do, I have made myself weak and in need of his help. In other words, he is making me ask. “Lord Crastell has defiled my high seat and taken Iron Bay. I am ever grateful for your assistance, and will continue to be as you help me.” There you go…