Bare Your Teeth, Wicked Ones

5. Utterly Poor Decisions

William

Moving Nicholas wasn't a grand idea. Neither was staying next to a reeking carcass with a living beast searching for them. As Charmaine and William relocated the Shade to a heavier grove of trees potentially safer than the last, Arden searched for a water source. He returned with four full buckets made of smooth stone, a conjuring of strange fae magic.

"The water must be clean. Start a fire and boil it as swiftly as possible," William ordered.

Arden didn't take kindly to his tone based on his snarl, though did as instructed. Sinking a hand into the water, he waited a moment, then the water bubbled.

"Ready." He shoved the bucket into William's hands.

Charmaine situated Nicholas on his side, not allowing the wound to touch the dirt. This wasn't ideal, but William had to run water over the wound to hopefully remove the remnants of acid. He continued this until the skin stopped sizzling, then they situated Nicholas on his opposite side.

"What are you doing?" Arden bit when William retrieved the concealed pocket knife around his left ankle. He held the blade to Charmaine, who murmured an incantation. Fire crept over her fingers. She held the flame beneath the blade.

"I must cut the infested area out. This is typically done by specialists, and a scalpel would do better, but you fae heal quickly." William took the blade from Charmaine's hand and got to cutting.

"What is the purpose of healing mages who cannot heal?" Arden barked.

"I will not hear of that from a fae, creatures capable of almost purely destructive magic."

A rare few, and William did mean rare, could heal among fae. From what he heard, some High Fae were capable of healing others and they were not keen on assisting anyone. After all, fae naturally healed. Far swifter than any other creature known. But the acid had done too much damage. Nicholas' healing barely kept him alive, otherwise he'd have died the moment the acid hit him. A swift incantation would do nothing. William needed a powerful spell, herbs at the very least.

Arden muttered about worthless dregs under his breath, then fell silent. He should be more grateful. William did not intend to spare Nicholas. His wounds would have ended his life eventually. William would speed up that process because war is a product of individual choices. William found that, sometimes, the world is better without certain individuals. Nicholas was damn lucky Arden arrived. Lucky that Charmaine made an excellent point, too. Four heads were better than two out here, though he doubted the fae would be of much use. Their power was great, so long as they properly used it.

"How far do you suppose we are from camp?" Charmaine whispered. She gazed fearfully into the silent woods. Not even a breeze kept them company.

"Those beasts were swift. We could be miles away, though I don't doubt that the Generals will send a search party," William replied. Nicholas groaned and twitched. Charmaine held tighter and he cut faster. A crack of thunder warned of a coming storm, though out here the sky was always gray. He couldn't predict from which direction it would come, only that it was near.

"Fae," William snapped, glancing at Arden leaning against a nearby evergreen. "Make use of your magic and conjure us shelter."

"I am not here to be bossed around by the likes of you," he argued.

"Don't be a dolt. We can't move with all our injuries and I don't think you want Nicholas waking, covered in mud and dirt because you wouldn't set up shelter."

William didn't care if Arden liked taking orders or not. If he knew what was best for him, then he would listen. And he did. In a breath of wind and puffs of snow, an abundance of vines broke through the soil. They coiled slowly around one another, much slower than Nicholas' conjuring. William pondered if that was a difference between Shades and others. Even among fae, Shades were known to have an abhorrent reserve of power. Fearful even to their kin.