Jareth's Return

War(22)

Jareth

What the hell is she thinking? I could strangle her!

The question ran through his mind over and over as his fiancée stood in front of the Necromancer. He could hardly believe what she was doing. Torn between worry for her safety and pride in her wit and fearlessness, he could do nothing but stay in his hiding place and watch.

When they descended, he fought quickly and efficiently. As Jareth was fighting, he realized that they seemed almost completely desensitized. They didn't seem to feel any sort of pain, and the only thing that seemed to make any sort of headway was to make it physically impossible to move.

He was curious to see if they could be changed back to their original states. He took a look around him and tried to find someone who looked rather recently infected. He found a woman with dark skin and braided hair. She didn't seem to have much, if any, hair loss, and her lines were thinner than most of her comrades'.

Jareth fought his way to the woman and her rapidly losing opponent. He grabbed her copious braids in his left hand and pulled her back flush against his chest. His right arm wrapped around her neck, while his right hand grabbed onto his opposite bicep. This already cut off her airway, but when he used his left hand to push her head forward and down, it took about two minutes for the woman to fall unconscious.

"Thank you, Your Majesty." The Goblin woman panted, as they waited for the Marked woman to lose consciousness.

"No need. It was my duty and my pleasure. May the Consciousness be your shield and guide your sword." A moment later, the woman was deadweight, and Jareth was Shifting to the Healers' Wing, lifting her into a fireman's carry.

Organized chaos would be the way Jareth would describe it. Newly wounded, and newly healed were being Shifted in and out of the wing. Healers and Apprentices were rushing about and tending patients as needed, calling out orders. Magic was flowing in the air, like invisible fog, filling everyone with a sense of invigoration.

What a circus. And at its center was the ringmaster; Xander. He flitted around the room, in all his dark-skinned, purple-gowned glory, giving advice to those who needed it, magicking things across the room, and tending where extra hands were needed.

"Xander! Friend! Assistance would be much appreciated. Bring some restraints, if you would, as well as the things necessary for disinfecting those who have been Marked." He dumped the woman onto an elevated bed and helped Xander wrap her in the metal infused restraints.

In minutes, Xander had the women's skin cleared of any poisonous marks or blemishes. "It almost did not work, but she fought. She should be fine now."

"When will she wake?"

"It could be at any time."

"Yeah, that will not work for me." He looked around the room and found the cabinet he was looking for, and levitated a vial of smelling salts into his hands. He uncapped it and waved it under the nose of the dark skinned woman.

She shook her head for a moment, and then came up swinging and swearing.

She rolled of the gurney, stumbling and waving her arms at invisible demons. "Ged aweh from me, yuh crazeh bitch! An' give me back me boy!" Jareth and Xander had to duck to avoid her flying fists. The woman would have knocked into the next bed, which was occupied, if not for the head healer's quick reflexes.

"Madam! Calm down, I implore you! It's okay, you are safe here, you are fine." Xander's soft voice and soothing words soon helped the enraged woman to calm down.

"Waapen? Whe'e be dis place? Whe'e be me son?"

"What I your name, my lady? What do you remember?" Xander sat her down on the gurney, and began running some basic tests on the woman.