Healer of Sakkara

Chapter 22 - Hollow

Sevhalim sat a little apart, watching the others talk and eat.

Another day had passed. They had slept late, enjoyed a leisurely breakfast, swam or fished in the lake, and packed up camp around noon. After a few hours easy walk through meadows and light forests, up dusty granite slopes, and into a broad vale dotted with small glacial meres, they halted again in a little hollow at the base of a hill.

Over a bright, merry fire, they boiled noodles seasoned with spices and roasted vegetables and the fish they had caught in the coals beneath.

Everyone had, more or less, recovered from their ordeal in the pines.

Zenír remained quiet, but he was calm and wore an expression of peace, and he ate and drank with the others. For the moment, his 'faith' served him well, though Sev worried what would happen when reality set in. He had spent much of the day searching his mind for ways Iksthanis might have survived the fall and the rapids beneath, but he could not see one.

Meanwhile, Galen remained his primary concern. The boy and his friends had proven far more resilient than he had expected—especially the girl, Triss. She would have made a worthy Hand, had that been her fate. As it was, her bow had done as much as Rea's to keep them safe, and her heart was strong.

Likewise, the other boy, Behn, had struck Sev as soft and ill-suited for life on the trail, but he had proven his mettle. He was no warrior, certainly, but he had good spirits and kept the others' spirits up in turn, and that was worth more than weapons in dark times.

Rea was steadfast and focused, and would be fine as long as she had something to do, while Obi had a softer heart but a level head.

As for himself, he was not concerned. He had only been forced to use the Hand once, against the boar that had taken them unawares, and the effects had been limited. He'd been ready to unleash himself against the barrowlings, but Iksthanis had spared him that choice. Still, he feared that—sooner or later—he would be pushed into using the Hand again. When that happened, he hoped his companions would not pay the price, and that Rea's aim would be true.

They had made a pact, long ago: whichever of them fell first to the Hand, the other would carry out the duty of a friend. He had been lucky, so far, but even the best luck runs out, eventually; he had witnessed it.

Putting such thoughts aside, he refocused on the present as Galen approached and handed him a bowl of noodles topped with vegetables and fish.

"Are you well?" Galen asked.

"Yes, thank you." He smiled. The boy had warmed to him in the last day or so, though he was not sure why. Perhaps a reaction to the sorrow of a shared tragedy.

Galen settled at his side. "I'm worried for Obi," he said.

"Obi?" Sev was surprised.

"He's hiding it well, but he's in pain. The bite on his hand is infected."

Sev looked to where Obi sat, talking with Behn as he ate, and saw him wince as he adjusted his hold on his bowl.

"I've seen a few herbs that might help," Galen continued, "and a few places to look for more. Will you allow it?"

"Allow?"

Galen flushed slightly. "Will you come with me, I mean."

"Ah. Of course." Sev hesitated and ate a few bites of food before he spoke again. "You're not my prisoner, you know; you may do as you please."

"Except go home, or wander off on my own, or decide I don't want to go to Jana Val," Galen said.

Sev laughed lightly. "Point taken. But in all other regards, consider me your servant, not your jailor."