These Old Bones

6-1

6

He had no choice but to drape Tiera over her saddle to carry her away from the mine entrance. It would be dark before too long and he didn't want them to get caught out by Nightcrawlers venturing out of their underground home in search of wounded, easy to kill meals. It would do the young Pony Rider no good, but staying would do more harm.

Viriili walked beside him and the horse as they moved south-west, away from the outskirts of the city and its mines. Brorzjav needed to find a stream, or, at least, some source of fresh water. Tiera, however long she had left, would need to keep cool.

After around a mile, they found a small stream trickling its way in a bisecting path with their direction and Brorzjav took great care in taking Tiera from the horse and laying her down. He found a piece of cloth in his pack and dipped it into the stream, laying it across the woman's forehead. Tiera shivered and shook in her fever and the pin-holes in her palm, created by the sharp tongue of the Nightcrawler, blazed red, inflamed and swollen.

"You're the, what did you call it, 'vessel' for the Patron?" He looked towards Viriili, kneeling on the other side of Tiera. The girl nodded, her gaze not leaving the fevered woman laid on the ground. "Don't they give you people, I don't know, gifts or something? Can you heal her?"

"Yes, but I can't co ..." Viriili paused, her brow furrowing. "I mean, no, I haven't received the gifts yet. The priestesses will teach me when I reach the Temple."

Viriili had remained silent as they travelled away from the mine. After her initial reaction upon awaking, she had wiped her eyes and returned to that almost emotionless look she had held since meeting her. That small piece of vulnerability gone as fast as she had shown it. Brorzjav didn't know if this was normal for young girls or not. He felt the cloth and found it already warmed by the rising heat coming from Tiera. He dipped the cloth back into the stream and replaced it on Tiera's forehead.

"I'm going to look for some Gutwort. It won't stop the poison, but It might ease the fever a little." He stood, watching Viriili, unsure if she was telling him the whole truth about the Patron's gifts. "If I'm a while, keep refreshing that cloth. Keep her cool."

He headed off towards a cluster of bushes a short distance away. If he could find any Gutwort, it would be around bushes or rocks, sheltering itself from the changeable weather. As he searched, he ran over the things he remembered. Like the wave of something that had thrown him against the wall. It reminded him of the first time he had found Viriili and her scared response to him.

Something invisible had thrown him then, too. Now, he felt certain that it was from Viriili that that invisible hand had come from her. If that wasn't a gift of her Patron, what was it? And, if it was a gift, why would the girl lie and say she hadn't received any gifts? It only served to show that he did not know this girl at all and yet he had risked his life to save her. He couldn't help but wonder if being around Viriili was the best idea. He didn't trust Patrons, or their followers and their gifts.

Rummaging around beneath the twigs and branches of the bushes, he found the Gutwort, the sickly yellow plant with seedpods almost black. It didn't look appetising, but it settled turbulent stomachs and eased fevers. He also found a batch of Naathaalt. The Naathaalt looked innocent enough, a bright orange flowered plant growing a foot or so from the bushes.

He reached for it and paused. Naathaalt was a poison. Perhaps the most pleasant of poisons, if pleasant could be a term used to describe such things. Crushed and seeped in water, Naathaalt could bring someone's life to an end in peaceful, dreamless sleep. Small enough doses could find use as a sleeping draught, but the line between death and sleep was a thin one. He thought about it for some time before taking several leaves.