Fearless (A Mulan Retelling)

Chapter Fifty Four

Pain... Agony... Severe agony.

Was death supposed to hurt this bad? The general didn't know... he'd never died before. Or had he? Zayn opened his eyes to see... a person. A woman. She was standing above him, frowning slightly. With her scattered, slightly greying hair and wrinkles, she sure didn't look like any god he'd ever heard of. Where was he?

The general tried to move, but it was too much. A tremendously sharp pain ripped through his abdomen. Not being able to control it, a growl ripped from his throat.

"Stay still, for the love of gods," the woman ordered, not unkindly, "At least until you drink your potion."

A moment passed.

"Where am I?" Zayn groaned from his position.

"In short? Call it a hospice. Or an infirmary, I don't care which. You took a nasty wound to your stomach. It's the worst I've seen in a while," she said, walking away from his bedside and toward a cabinet. As she ruffled through it, Zayn took a second to try and recall what had happened. "This is the first you've been awake for more than five minutes."

His mind was black. For a moment, he couldn't remember anything. He didn't even recognize the building. But then... he remembered. He'd been stabbed by Redon, or at least he assumed Redon was the one who had thrown the dagger. With another minute's thought, he recollected what exactly he'd been doing when that happened. They were on their way to the Token fortress. They. His mind reeled... what had become of his group?

"The other men..." he said, sitting up quickly in panic. He grimaced at the pain before continuing.

"There were men with me," he repeated, "Where are they?"

"Now, I thought I told you to stay still," she said, turning back to him with a flask of liquid in her hand.

He disregarded the scolding.

"The men?" he asked.

"In the waiting room," she answered quickly, and stuck the flask in his palms, "Now, quit being impatient for a minute and drink this. It will help with the pain."

He raised the bottle, eyeing it skeptically. With a pointed look from the healer, he shut his eyes and downed the liquid. It tasted terrible. General Zayn had to press himself to actually swallow the bitter potion. As soon as it was down, he made a face.

"What did you expect?" she asked, humor now apparent on her face.

Zayn did not answer her. Instead, he posed another question for her to answer.

"What day is it?"

"It's the 13th of Harvest's Hand. You've been here for three weeks now," she replied, pulling a chair over to his bedside.

"Three weeks?!" Zayn said, disrupting his abdomen, "I've been unconscious for three weeks? But I was supposed to... to... I was supposed to be somewhere. Gods, I can't have been here that long. I had to... to..." he went one, eyes wide. His heart now beat rapidly in his chest. The healer sat down.

"Calm down, would you? Everything's alright."

"I'm sorry... I just... ugh," Zayn groaned, and then changed the subject, "Is there any way I can dismissed today?"

"Today?"

She was incredulous.

"Yes, today," he spoke, "I can't stay here long. Really. I really need to be able to leave as soon as humanly possible. I don't care about the pain; as long as I'm not going to die, everything will be fine. I will be fine."