Discovery (Jiskastya X Rain)

[Jiskastya]

She slipped quietly out of the shadows, the late dusk and distance blurring her form into an indistinct blending of shadow and cloak. But she moved quickly, the bulky item carried easily in her arms barely seeming to slow her down.

She had little time now, to help the man bundled in her arms, but she wasn't willing to just give up. Not until she had tried everything. Time was her enemy right now. She needed something that could help her slow down time for this man, until she could find one capable of healing him, and bring them here, one way or another. They certainly wouldn't come at her call, but there were other ways to lead a person somewhere they needed to go. Ways that they weren't as likely to notice that they were being led, or perhaps herded.

The massive river rushed by quietly, propelled to great speeds by a strong current, but the smooth bottom creating little turbulence on the surface. If it wasn't for the occasional swirling passage of a leaf or twig near the shore to belie the apparent stillness of the water, one might have almost guessed that they stood before a lake, so far was its distant shore.

She moved to the bank, wading a little ways into the cold water, ignoring the way the water seeped into her clothing. By the time she stepped out of the river she would be soaked up to her waist, and with night coming her clothes would not be likely to dry any time soon, but she paid little attention to that, wadding in resiliently, and allowing the water to take some of the weight of her burden from her arms. The sudden touch of cold water didn't even cause the man to stir, and she looked down, worried that she now carried little more than a corpse. But a single strand of his hair near his nose fluttered marginally and she forced herself to look away. It may have been nothing more than a stray touch of wind, but she had to believe that he was still alive.

She had grown fond of the human, despite her attempts otherwise, and now felt a great pain in her chest at the thought of his death. This was her only hope. The people of the water were little more than rumors now, but she had to believe that they still resided somewhere within this river's currents. If they didn't, then there was no hope for the man. the poison had seeped its way through every part of his body, and only an expert healer would be able to pull him back from this chasm of death. And no such healer was anywhere nearby. But, if they still existed, if the Zati would rise from their underwater domain and take mercy on the limp figure of the man floating down their river, then there might still be hope.

She released him gently from her arms, allowing the current that tugged at her legs to grab him and rush him away. She may have just condemned him to a watery grave, but it was no less certain of a death than if she had done nothing.

"Carry him to the bay," she whispered to the racing river. "I will bring someone who will be able to help him. Just.. keep him alive until then." The pain held in every syllable of her words was enough to make the stars weep. She closed her eyes, bit her lip, and then turned away, wading out of the river and then setting off at a fast lope, not even giving her clothes time to finish dripping. She had a lot of distance to cover to ensure that her quarry made it to its proper destination, before they passed beyond the point where she could control where they went.

Her final words followed the winding paths of the river, and, downstream, graceful, delicate hands slipped out of the water, locking gently around the man's limp arms, and pulling him under into their gentle strength.

---

Amarid let out a frustrated sigh through clenched teeth as the wheel of her wagon hit another rut, knocking several jars off the shelves, and putting an even greater strain on the already weakened wheel. The jars landed harmlessly on the piles of blankets below, and the little aerix that was seated in the back picked them up delicately, placing them in the growing pile of fallen jars. They had laid out the blankets when they saw the damage on the path ahead, but still she sighed at the necessity of having to reorganize her countless shelves.

Nuandu stepped up beside the wagon, his long stride easily keeping pace with the horse's slow plodding step. He jogged a couple of steps ahead, then hoisted himself into the front of the wagon without a moments hesitation, twisting sideways so that the double-handed weapon strapped to his back would not get in his way. He was lightly armored in leather, but his head was bare, clearly displaying his short blonde hair and sharp green eyes.

"Do we even know exactly where this road is going?" He questioned, a slight smile playing over his lips. Nuandu had always been an adventurer, so he was little concerned about this unexpected detour, considering it an exciting adventure. Amarid was not so convinced, but she wasn't about to cut the warriors enthusiasm short.

The whole troop could use a few smiles, for their journey had been plagued by nothing but ill luck since they had set out. First they had almost walked into a orc trap in one of the high passes, if it hadn't been for the warning of a lone traveler, they would likely have walked right into the ambush, with disastrous consequences. But the nearest pass besides that one had been hundreds of miles to the south, forcing the group severely out of their way. They had gone, not wanting to face the lurking orc tribe, but that pass had fared little better. Barely had they crossed over it when an unexpected rockslide had occurred, forcing them to go even further south. After that, a bridge town had refused them entry, saying that there had been trolls sighted in the area, and that they weren't going to trust a wagon that had come so far out of its way when another wagon had just shown up from the other direction, and there had been no report of orcs in the pass.

And so they had been forced onto this poorly maintained path, slowly trundling their way west ad hoping that they could find a city that would point them towards the western coast road, where they could, gods allowing, get back on course.

Amarid let out a sigh. "We are heading west," she replied, vaguely. "Continue on long enough, and we will reach the ocean. Head north from there, and we will eventually reach some sort of port."

Nuandu let out a laugh, and she glared at him. "Do you know where we are, Andu?"

His laughter stopped promptly under her gaze, and he shook his head a little. "We are heading west." He replied. Amarid couldn't help but laugh at that. Nuandu had always been remarkably good at getting her off of his back, for small or large problems alike. It was one of the few reasons that the troublemaking warrior was still traveling with them.

And so the wagon traveled on, winding its way through the varied terrain, always making a steady course southwest. No one in Amarid's band had ever been in this direction before, but they sent one of the Aerix to scout up ahead a couple of times a day.

It was several days later when Krilo dove suddenly out of the sky, black and white wings flaring to halt his downwards tumble before he ran into the ground. He caught himself just in time to fling his legs forwards and complete the landing, flaring his wings backwards to keep himself upright, and then calmly folding his wings.

Amarid looked up from her journal, grey eyes wide, at the Aerix's sudden descent, but at the happy grin spread over his face, she let out a sigh.

"There is a river a little ways south," Krilo bubbled, blue eyes darting about to lock onto every member of the party, and black feather hair flipping about wildly. "And there is a road near it!"

Amarid's eyes widened slightly, and she glanced over at Nuandu, who was walking a little ways behind the wagon. "We've come a lot further south than I was expecting, if that is the river I think it is," she murmured quietly. But, there was nothing to be done about it, so she invited Krilo up on the wagon with a pat, and set the horse moving forwards again.

The Aerix chattered away happily into Amarid's complying ear, needing little more than a nod of the head or murmured word to launch into a whole different strain of conversation.

It was another couple of days before the party finally intersected the road that traveled along next to the river, and Amarid let out a sigh when she saw the path. There was little doubt in her mind that they had come far enough south to intersect Isgatli, the great river that was west of the mountains. But at least now they would make good time, for the road here was well maintained, and a busy thoroughfare. As the troop settled into the trail, Amarid couldn't help but look back at the small path they had left behind. It had served them well, and would have made a wonderful shortcut, had it not been for the wagon. She was almost a little sorry to leave its seclusion, and couldn't help but wonder how much traffic the little path actually saw. Did it get lonely?

They followed along the silently rushing river, everyone taking a few deep breaths, hoping that they were finally on course again, and might be able to make up a little of the time that their massive detour had cost them. The wagon trundled along smoothly, and soon the group began to chat again, deciding that they had just had a fine little adventure.

They set up camp at one of the many way-stations that lined the road, Andu taking Krilo, and his gold-feathered companion Ptika, to gather any firewood that the countless travelers may have missed, and Amarid grabbing Lovak, their current forester, to help get dinner started. The stoic forester followed Amarid's soft tugging as quietly as he did almost everything else.

The fire was crackling merrily, casting an orange bubble around the darkened campsite, the black river rushing quietly nearby, and the crickets chirping away merrily at the starry sky. The stew pot was mostly empty, and only a few crumbs remained from the loaf of bread that had accompanied dinner. Amarid reclined against the wagon wheel, warm blanket wrapped around her shoulders, watching Nuandu recount another of his many, mostly made up, adventures to the eager ears of Krilo. Ptika was more reserved, but was content to snuggle up to Krilo, leaning a golden head onto his small shoulders. One of his arms was wrapped loosely around her waist, and the two looked perfectly content.

Lovak, however, was staring off into the shadows of the trees that bordered the path, brow wrinkled. Amarid watched him for a moment, and then stood, pulling the edges of the blanket tight around her chest, to walk over beside him. When he didn’t respond to her presence, she sat down, making sure that the blanket was below her, to keep her off of the cool ground. Still, Lovak didn’t acknowledge her, and Amarid knew that the forester, while quiet, was not rude. So she too trained her eyes on the shadows, hoping that she could spot what had so unnerved the man.

Several minutes passed, broken only by Andu’s storytelling, and Krilo’s occasional happy laughter. Knowing that she would gain little from the continuation of this silent scrutiny, she touched Lovak gently on the shoulder. He turned to look at her, eyebrows slightly raised.

“I’m never going to learn anything if you don’t tell me,” was her only reply to the silent judgement. Lovak nodded, looking away, but began to speak a moment later.

“Something has been following us,” he said, deep voice traced with a touch of worry.

“What?”

He was silent for a moment, seeming almost to hope that whatever it was that was following them would leap out of the shadows, and reveal itself. When no such event occurred, he was forced to admit. “I don’t know.”

Amarid let out a tense breath, eyes focused more on Lovak than on the shadowed trees. He may not make a particularly good traveling companion, but there was no denying that Lovak was incredibly skilled at his trade. And if he couldn’t figure out what was following them, than whatever it was had to be even better than he was.

“Human?” she queried. Lovak replied only with a small shrug.

“Goblin?” now there was a slight touch of panic in her voice, but Lovak answered with a shake of the head. Seeing that Amarid wasn’t entirely reassured by his statement, he added “A goblin would never have followed us so quietly for so long, and most certainly not by itself.”

“You are certain that it is alone.”

“Yes,” he said, without hesitation, and Amarid felt herself reassured despite herself.

“It has yet to attack us,” she said softly, “And it would have had a better chance to do so when we were back on the small path. Perhaps it means no harm?”

Lovak shrugged again, but no longer were his restless brown eyes scanning the treeline. Instead they alighted on the campfire, where Nuandu was excitedly recounting a particularly vicious tale of the time he had faced down a small troop of goblins single handedly. His dagger was in his hand, waving wildly about in the air, so as to better illustrate his point. Krilo watched, entranced, eyes wide and glowing, but Ptika was watching Amarid. Her amber eyes, were trained on the healer, but she looked away when Amarid nodded reassuringly, returning her head to its resting position on Krilo’s shoulder.

Glancing one last time at Lovak, who seemed to have settled into a reclined position against the log behind him, Amarid stood, walking back towards the wagon, but with her eyes trained on the river. It glowed silver in the moonlight, tiny ripples sending streaks of shadow through the distorted reflection of the moon. Suddenly, a series of circular ringlets began to emerge from the center of the river, throwing the reflection into chaos.

Amarid watched as the ripples grew closer, eyes wide. For a moment, she longed to call out to her companions around the fire, for there was little that would come from the river that could be considered friendly. But she was held, silently entranced, as the distortion grew closer and closer to the shore. Finally, she tore her gaze away, stumbling back from the edge of the water and landing hard on the ground. Her blanket fluttered around her, before settling in a heap on the ground.

Nuandu paused in the middle of a sentence, glancing over at the noise. “Ama?” He called out, suddenly worried. She ignored him, as the object in the river finally breached the surface. She let out a small scream, for the silhouette that now seemed to be standing on the water itself was a limp humanoid form. Nuandu raced over to her side, weapon drawn, followed closely by Lovak, who had pulled several throwing daggers from his waist. Krilo and Ptika had taken off, wings carrying them up into the sky. They were scouts and messengers, little prepared for battle with a sudden, unknown enemy, although Ptika still pulled out the little dagger that was in her boot, unwilling to flee and leave her companions in danger.

“Come no closer,” Nuandu called out in a ringing voice, but the strange specter paid little heed to the warning. It glided closer, submerged to the waist in the river water, head hanging forwards limply, fingertips dragging small trials against the current.

Lovak brought his hand back, preparing to hurl one of his daggers into the thing’s throat, but Amarid stuck out a sudden hand, restraining the forester’s wrist. He looked at her, incredulous, but lowered the arm anyways, for Amarid was staring at the river, eyes wide in amazement. Nuandu, not noticing Amarid’s reaction, lunged forward, a yell building in his throat, as he planned to engage the unnatural thing rising from the water. He was halted, fully and unexpectedly, but Amarid’s other hand, planted firmly on his chest. He too stared at her, but did not try to decipher what she had seen. If Amarid asked him to stop, it was enough for him. He settled back, sword drawn, hoping that if Amarid was wrong, he would still have enough time to protect her.

Amarid stared into the water, eyes desperately flitting about trying to track down what it was she had seen. For one moment, highlighted by the silver rays of moonlight, she had seen another figure in the water. but what she had seen was not terrifying, not evil, but had possessed a beauty and strength that had stolen her breath away. In just the fleeting moment that she had seen it, Amarid would have sworn to the gods above that she had seen the very spirit of the river itself, gently carrying the silhouette forward.

As the figure grew closer to the shore, it sank back into the water, before turning over and floating on its back. One small push of tide ran it right up to the shore, directly in front of Amarid. She stepped forwards, ignoring Nuandu’s murmured warning, wading a little ways into the water to grab onto the figure’s shoulder. As soon as she touched the figure, she felt him suddenly grabbed by the current, and he began to move downstream. Amarid latched onto him, trying to wrap her small arms around his arms and chest, but he still would have been pulled away downstream if Andu hadn’t waded into the water at that moment, to hoist the man over his shoulder.

He cast a worried look at Amarid, who was shivering in the light breeze, before wading back to shore and depositing the unconscious man, none too gently, by the fire. Amarid followed them up, picking up her dirtied blanket on the way, and wrapping it back around her shaking shoulders.

Krilo and Ptika had landed by the time Amarid stumbled the rest of the way to the small fire, and were looking at the man with more than a little curiosity. Amarid shooed them away, before leaning in to get a closer look at her newest patient.

At first glance, there seemed little wrong with him. But, as she stared through the deceptive firelight, Amarid noticed how pale his skin was, how blue his lips. After a quick further examination, she found a small puncture wound on the back of his neck. The man had been poisoned. With what was still uncertain, but Amarid had little doubt that it was a quick killer.

She settled back on her heels, giving out a quick list of instructions to Ptika, who raced off to the wagon to gather the requested items. Amarid let out a tired sigh. She had a strange feeling that she was not going to be getting much sleep tonight, and probably not for several nights after that as well.

[Rain]

Everything was nothing and nothing was in turn the everything he knew. Pain, confusion, sorrow, and suffering had no meaning. Happiness, contentment, pleasure, and joy held no significance. It was an indescribable existence where even the rhythmic shifting about of everything but him had no description.

Without a taught sense of direction as his guide, there was only this sensation and that, feelings without word. They became familiar, recognizable as this feeling leads to that, which then comes to this. It became a noticed pattern until the moment when everything was thrown into chaotic turmoil. It was first a shocking bitterness that flooded his black empty world. It persisted and continued to sink deeper and deeper until it faded into an aching which crawled all around. Here there was no patter or familiar sensation to hold onto, nothing he could understand in this purgatory that whirled violently around him.

Not long after, the sinking began. Slowly, ever so slowly, the already suffocating isolation closed in. Then, in this new world, everything that had consisted of nothing was all at once simultaneously expanded into infinite vastness all the while being filled at a dizzying speed. There was nothing to do but gasp and gasp he did but to no avail. The black once again swooped in to consume all that it had once caressed, finally claiming its ultimate prize. Bubbling, like the gentle babble of a brook melted the inky oblivion away leaving the warm light filtering down from the still unknown.

Babbling slowly transformed into the pleasant giggling of children, slowly replacing the numbing cold with a swelling bloom of warmth. Little shadows passed between the wavering shafts, casting brief shadows before disappearing into a world parallel to his. It seemed as if they were gone, but the little hands that tugged and pulled and playfully pushed came from everywhere he could not see.

The little hands meant no harm, pushing and pulling and playfully turning him this way and that. He was simply adrift, at the mercy of their very whim which they used to take the man in every angle conceivable. Giggles became excited childish whispers and laughter as he was spin around, turn over, and played with like a very lifelike doll. For all his lack of connection to the physical it may well have been just so. Little voices passed over his ears whispering about how strange it felt, how it had gotten here and why. Nothing but a child’s infinite curiosity met his own child-like sense of discovery.

Eventually the playful stage had evolved into an equal wonderment toward the man floating in this world of transparency. A sense of self was returning in this neither solid nor empty place, he knew this with every experimental stroke of a hand. Little fingers found their way between his, mad giggles and shrieks of glee fill the space about him as his companions flitted and fluttered around. It wasn’t long however until something else took ahold of him. More gently than last time, he was brought deeper into the wavering, quiet world.

It came as a rather subtle change, instead of thrashing about. He didn’t feel pushed or pulled, he was instead embraced, carried along by something, someone, it almost felt. The childish squeals of glee changes to more composed laughter, soft and warm. There were whispers being exchanged and they sounded curious.

“Who is this we have?” It sounded soft and pleasant, like that of distant waves. “I haven’t come across one of these.”

“Oh it’s just another Hume, but this one seems to live.” A voice replied, sounding amused. “But what is it doing here, there’s no wind to fill his lungs!”

The chuckles were bemused and sounded like the pitter patter of rain on a tent’s canvas. “If there is to be no wind for those aching lung, let us bring ease with the infinite flow we enjoy.”

Like an angel’s kiss, something soft and almost unnoticeable touched his lips. The empty tightness in his chest was slowly dispelled and replaced by a liquid relief. No sooner has the ghostly lips left his, hands pushed against him, letting the presence back out. This was repeated, shy giggles and playfulness abundant.

“Sicil, what have you done!” The mock horror seemed to be well received for the next one took the poisoned young man in its arms and gave a far more noticeable spectacle. Giggling exploded at the apparent sight, which resulted in the man being carried this way and that. Breaths came naturally now, sucking in the watery sustenance only to push it back out a moment later. He was... Breathing again, even in the obvious absence of air he was breathing.

Even though his breathing had been restored the light kisses and delighted giggles continued. The chattering continued around him as he became something of a sport. Despite having descended into darker depths, he could see. What not met his eyes were lithe creatures that melted into the very essence surrounding them. The rippling effect of their form made them disappear for just a moment. Shafts of light bent and danced when cut by the translucent bodies, which were now swimming with him in tow.

“Hume, what do they call you by,” asked one voice, touching his ear with a finger. “Sicil, he cannot speak, there is something terribly wrong with him can’t you see?” A sound that seemed suspiciously like a pout came from the creature who now played with his hair.

“He can now breathe as we can, no,” retorted the adolescent Zati with more than a bit of indignation. “That may be but how do you expect him to respond in such a condition hmm?” With a huff of defeat, the youngling at his back loops her arms under his and swims away, taking the human with her. There was nothing forceful about how she took him. Instead of yanking him or pushing in the desired direction he was carefully carried to the desired destination. They seemed to be alone, the apparent lack of commotion attested to that. Wherever it was that she had gone there was only him and her to full the endless feeling expanse.

“I must say, you’re the prettiest thing to have come about. I’ve never seen a Hume before; I was always told you’d drown, unable to suck wind in through your mouth or nose.” She leaned on him now or the equivalent where there was no weight for such a thing. What could only be her legs swayed this way and that, distorting the water around them as she did. There was a smile on her seemingly flawless face as she touched her head to his, eyes peering somewhere deep within him.

The Zati touched her lips to his again and giggled madly as if she’d done something excitingly forbidden. “I wonder if they’d let me keep you, sick as you may seem I can keep you alive. I’m not sure I can heal you though I’m afraid, if it was a simple matter of pushing the nastiness out of you…” She sighed wistfully, a somewhat disappointed expression crossing her features.

It wasn’t long before a wide eyed look of fear came about her as more gentle, this time firm, hands took hold. Lower he sank, deeper into the fading light of the abyss. “Hmmm… What have they found now, an unfortunate Hume?” The question didn’t get an immediate reply, instead it was followed the touch of a finger to his lips. “It seems alive enough and Sicil was in quite a fuss over him.” There was a pause, as if they were considering what next to do. “Can he speak?” One finally asked, breaking the almost physical quietness. “Let us see,” was the reply before the same Zati floated into the young man’s view.

“Hume, can you speak, I know it may be difficult, not being born to the water as we are. Tell me, if you can, what is your name?”

The man opened him mouth ever so slight in an attempt to speak but couldn't do more than sputter as the water in his throat rushed out in place of words. He must be doing it wrong; he had to try another way. Instead of speaking with his throat the man let his voice resonate into the water around them through his chest. It seemed to work as a muffled “I don’t know” found its way into creation.

The Zati before him seemed to consider this for a moment, a somewhat troubled look on its face. “He has a poison in him, not one we can cure. It seeps into his very flesh; there is no purifying his blood to flush the sickness away.”

There were small sounds of musing, low whispers, and then a beautiful smile. She must have been an older one, she must have been. Her smile alone had the wisdom of a hundred old men and she put a finger to his lips there was a cool sensation of peace that began to wash through him. “I will let someone quite taken with you give you a name little Hume, Sicil will take good care of you.”

The young man simply looked at her with little recognition as to what was truly happening around him. It took no time for the younger Zati to zip down from above to land softly against his chest. She giggled with her chin rested just below his neck, a more than happy smile on her beautiful little face.

“I can keep him?” She asked excitedly, looking from one Zati to the next.

A little chuckle comes from the congregated, just like those of any other people watching the vigor of youth. “No, you make not ‘keep’ him. You may take care of him however, until we can pass him to those that will cure him of this illness.”

Sicil’s translucent face was scrunched into what seemed to be their equivalent of a pout. She was pouting, because she couldn’t have him. A certain kind of feeling swelled in his chest as she whispered that single identifying word with no real meaning. “Elliah, I will call you Elliah”

It didn’t take long for a routine with Sicil to set in. Elliah was passed around through the different depths of his temporary new world. It seemed they the deeper one went the older those who resided there. He found it curious, how they had a hierarchy of sorts. It made a strange kind of sense. The young and energetic lived there just below the surface, dancing and playing making the water churn and roil. Those just below them, less rough and forceful, allowed everything to come together in a united flow; strong and unrelenting. Underneath the rest were those who had lived out their years of dancing and flowing replaced with the gentle current of age and experience.

Elliah and Sicil had become something of an item during his time amongst the Zati. They taught him the many personalities of Zati and water itself. Sicil was rather young, by the standards of his kind so they had said. It wasn’t long before his little keeper was called away, returning with a deep sadness that changed the very nature of the water around them. She ttok him in her arms and look down at him with what could only be described as tears in her eyes.

“I will miss you, Elliah. I hope to see you again one day. Whenever you find yourself by the water just join it in soul and say my name. We share the same flow Elliah, the current that carries up all will unite us again. But not it is time to sleep, goodbye, my pretty Hume.” With a final sweet kiss, Elliah feels his awareness once again drift into the endless black abyss.

[Jiskastya]

She had not left the band of followers, not even for a moment. And she had guided every step of their path, although they did not know it. For it was she who had alerted them to the orc “raid” waiting in the pass, she who had put the fear of trolls into the river village, and had forced the group onto the little-used path that had lead them to this river.

But now she watched warily out of the treeline at the forester who seemed to be staring right at her. She had used every trick she knew while following this band, and yet he had still found her presence. He had made her task so much more difficult, for after she had sent them away from the pass and begun following them, he had kept a wary eye out, and no longer had she been able to directly intervene.

She cursed him now, fearing that his watchful eye had kept them away from the river for too long, that the man drifting in the river would no longer be alive, that the water creatures had not accepted her plea, had not protected him from the passage of time that was so quickly destroying the delicate harmony of his life.

But all she could do now was stay silent, watch, and pray. She had until they reached the bay, and the shipping town that accompanied it, to know for certain. If the water people had not released him by then, had not given him into the care of this skilled healer and alchemist, then there would be no hope, and the past years, the the time and energy that both of them had spent working towards some sort of peace treaty, would have been in complete vain. She would have to give up, return to the deep cave networks that she called home, and sit and watch as her people and his continued to rip each other apart in a war of attrition that neither truly wanted to be fighting.

The woman leaning by the wagon stirred, and she turned her dark-sensitive eyes onto the woman’s form. She walked over to the forester, sat down for a few minutes, and then began to return to the wagon. But a sudden disturbance in the river caused her to pause, and the figure hiding in the shadows drew in a short breath. Would it really be this perfect? Their first night on the river, and already he would be given to them.

She clung to the shadows, longing to get closer, to make sure that nothing happened, but knowing that she needed to stay hidden, for his safety. They would not welcome her presence, would not welcome the knowledge that she had even been here. But a small throwing dart did appear in her hands as the two human men raced over to the woman standing by the river. This dart would do little damage, but it might be enough of a distraction to save him if they looked as though they were going to hurt him.

The forester raised a throwing knife as the man’s figure emerged from the river, and she prepared to throw her dart, but the healer’s hand darted out suddenly, preventing the action. All of the party watched warily as the figure drew closer to shore, and then suddenly sank back into the water. The healer waded in, grabbing onto the shadowy form of his body, and struggled to pull him out. She wasn’t enough, but the man who followed her lead was easily able to haul his emaciated form from the water.

For the first time in the weeks since she had given his body to the river, her breath came easy again. It had worked. This desperate ploy, the only possibility she could think of had worked. her gamble had paid off. She had played out her part to perfection, and could do little more for him now. Not until he was healed, at any rate. Now it was time for the healer to do her part. Despite her relaxed nature and easygoing attitude, Amarid Medowlark’s skill in healing and alchemy was well known, especially in the southwestern part of the continent. He had no better hope for survival.

She turned away now, slipping back into the depths of the shadowed forest. She would find him again before too long had passed, but for now he needed rest and healing. A task that would not be helped with the forester pushing them onwards to get away from an unseen pursuer.

---

Amarid let out a wearied sigh, rubbing the back of her hand across bloodshot eyes. It had been a desperate and trying week, one that had offered the healer little chance to rest. But her patient seemed to have overcome the worst part. He was mending, although he still had yet to open his eyes.

Amarid had taken the time to change her clothes after her unplanned swim the night before, despite her protests that their newest patient needed the attention more. Andu had reminded her that it would do her patient little good if she became ill as well. The delay probably did little real harm to to her patient, but by the time Amarid was able to figure out what was wrong with him it was almost too late.

How exactly this unknown man had wound up with poison usually only used by some of the deepest goblins flowing through his system, and how he had managed to get into the river after that point, was a complete mystery. One that could only be solved when the man woke up and told them himself.

But that fate hadn’t seemed certain for the seven days and six nights that Amarid had laboured over his prone figure. The poison had been in his system for a very long time, especially for such a deadly substance, and its toll had already been severe. Beyond the damage from the poison, he was also incredibly malnourished and his muscles had gone into severe atrophy. How much of that was from the poison, and how much from his span of time in the river, Amarid didn’t know. She had never actually seen the results of this poison, but by all accounts this man should have already perished long ago.

Of course, all of these musings only came during the short stretches of time when Andu and the rest of the caravan forced her to rest. When Amarid was working she didn’t allow such morbid thoughts to enter into her mind. She devoted herself, heart and soul, to the curing of her patient. Luckily, Amarid had been heading towards Celitis, a port city that was well known for its trade in herbs and other ingredients necessary for a dedicated pursuit of alchemy, so her wagon was well stocked. Still she was forced to work late and hard, first desperately trying to prevent the poison from doing any more damage than it had already done, and then in trying to return her patient to some semblance of health. Of course, if he never woke up, her efforts would have been for little, but Amarid was confident in her own skill, and certain that, since he wasn’t dead already, this patient had no desire to give up on life. He would fight just as hard, perhaps harder, than Amarid was fighting for him.

Lovak had wanted to move the wagon on the morning after this strange man’s appearance, insisting that something had been watching them all night and might take this moment of weakness to launch whatever attack they may be planning. Amarid hadn’t even bothered to answer this request, her attention was so completely devoted to her patient, but Nuandu had known her for a lot longer than Lovak, and he knew that there was no way that they were going to be able to get Amarid to even notice that they wanted to move on, let alone get her to agree to it with the possible risk it might pose to someone who was so precariously balanced on the edge.

Still Lovak complained, so Nuandu sent Krilo out scouting, trying to placate the worries forester. Ptika was kept busy, running errands to and from the river, wagon, and Amarid, who had set up a makeshift alchemy lab around the fire. At first her work was rushed, and anyone less experienced in the skill would likely have made mistakes, to potentially disastrous consequences. But Amarid performed her craft to perfection, and after a day and a half the unknown man seemed little improved, Amarid seemed pleased. This was the point where Nuandu was finally able to get her to take her first rest, and she curled up inside the wagon, asleep in seconds. Ptika kept a dedicated watch over the patient, studying him tenderly, and making sure that some of the signs Amarid had blearily told her to watch out for did not come to pass.

Amarid’s sleep lasted for just over three hours, before she was lightly touched awake by Ptika’s delicate murmurings. She had slipped past Nuandu’s watch to wake the healer, for a small amount of dense, white foam had come from the patients mouth. Amarid was out of the wagon in seconds, rushing past Nuandu and ignoring his half-hearted protests.

Four days after they had found the man, Amarid finally consented to moving on down the road. No relapses had occurred in the past twelve hours, and, although slightly alleviated by the absence of any sightings, Lovak still feared that the group was being watched. and so the group set off, slowly making their way down the road. Amarid spent all of her time in the back with Ptika the patient, leaving Andu and an over-excited Krilo to drive the wagon.

Her work the next night, huddled over the makeshift alchemy station in the new campsite, was much more delicate, and she nearly tore Krilo’s hand off when his curious fingers had reached towards a pile of ingredients. The effects of the poison were precise, and a single mistake might amplify its effects rather than cause them to reverse, sending her patient back into a severe relapse, or possibly even killing him. But once more she worked with an accuracy and ability that would have astonished any master of the craft, especially considering the simplicity of the tools she worked with. But the color slowly returned to the man’s skin, his breathing and heart rate settled, and his coma seemed to lighten, for an occasional and unexpected fit of movements would throw the blankets from him, to be replaced seconds later by Ptika’s warm hands.

And so, seven days after they had pulled his limp form from the river, amarid allowed herself to feel a touch of optimism in this moment of stillness. She had no idea of how far the damage had gone, what had been lost that could not be replaced, but there was little doubt left in her that he would survive now. What kind of life it would be, she didn’t know, but he would survive.

They were still several days out from Velik, the centerpoint of southwestern trade, and the city at the end of this road, but this gave amarid time to decide what exactly she planned to do with this patient. When she had first encountered him no thought had entered into her mind except the need to save him, and even now she felt a little guilty for the thought, but she had been forced to use some of her rarest and most valuable, and most sought after, ingredients in the attempt to save his life. She knew without a doubt that she would do it again, but the businesswoman in her wondered how she was going to overcome the losses in income this would have caused. Her delay was going to irritate some of her wealthiest clients, and she also no longer had the ingredients she had promised many of them.

But she also couldn’t just leave an ill man to fend for himself in the gutters of Velik, trying to survive on the pittance that the well off would give to the poor. Not only was it cruel, but it could very well ruin all the work that she had put into saving his life. If nothing other than because of the ingredients she had used to save him, he needed to survive.

So, what was she to do? Take him with her? She knew nothing about him, didn’t know why he had been in the river in the first place, didn’t know who he was that someone would have wanted to kill him badly enough to purchase, or perhaps even brew, the hard-to-get poison. She let out a frustrated sigh, and sank back into the blankets heaped into a corner of the wagon.

She had no way to make this decision now. Perhaps, she would do best to go to sleep, and pray that the solution became more apparent when their unexpected visitor finally woke up. Her eyes slowly fluttered closed, and she allowed herself the luxury to simply relax. Within moments, the heavy breath of sleep filled the wagon.