For a Friend (Summoner Fanfiction)

Chapter 2: Calling in Old Favors

I hear steps coming up the staircase in the middle of the room-which stop short. A shriek rips through the air.

I look up at Briss's horrified eyes, then down at myself.

I meet her eyes again and flash a lopsided, apologetic smile.

"Sorry about your cushions." I weeze.

Then the ground seems to tilt, and the world goes black.

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The first time I wake up, it's from pain. Burning, searing pain that rips through me in waves, all centered around that gouge on my stomach.

I scream and thrash, but four pairs of stout hands clamp down, one for each arm and leg. A hand hits my right arm to hard, and I instinctively throw my body weight to the left in an attempt to get away; the hand, however, remains planted. There's a loud crack, and pain explodes from my arm. I scream again.

"Hold her!" the voice is full of authority born of a lifetime of directing a forge. A familiar face swims into view.

"You have to hold still, Avka." Uhtred says. "I'm trying to seal the wound, but I can only do that if you hold still."

I happen to glance down towards my stomach then; and though I'm not squeamish, not in the least, the sight of the white-hot stick of iron the red-haired dwarf holds makes my stomach flip. I go completely still, and swallow hard.

"Avka! Avka!" Uhtred says. I look up at him. "You have to focus. Got that? Focus. Focus on not moving. Can you do that?"

At first, the words don't completely register. Slowly, I nod. Then I lay my head back down, squeeze my eyes shut and grit my teeth. The iron makes contact again, and I moan, but true to my word I do not move.

"Good." my dwarven friend says, setting the iron aside out of my view. "Are there any other injuries we need to know about? "

I want to say no, not at all, because from what I've seen so far it will not be pleasant if I say yes. But I'm not nearly so weak.

"Sword arm." I grunt. My voice is raw and hoarse, and the sound is barely legible. After acouple seconds of a perplexed look, he looks to the dwarf holding said limb and waves him off. He leans over me and gingerly touches my forearm, and I draw in a sharp breathe. He looks down questioningly, and I nod and give the most encouraging smile I can manage.

After acouple more seconds of poking and probing, he stands up straight and starts to talk.

"This is going to be complicated. You're shoulder is dislocated, and your forearm is shattered." he hesitates. "I can put your shoulder back, but there's nothing I can do about the arm."

Luckily, I know someone who can.

"Pen." I wheeze. Uhtred looks completely and totally confused. "Pen and paper." I try again.

This time he understands; he makes a gesture and a second later, someone hands him the requested items, which he immediately passes to me.

I prop up on one elbow, much to the protest of my abdomen, and to the people gathered; I swear I hear at least six variances of "woah, slow down".

"Oh, get over it." I growl/gasp good-naturedly. Then I feel something tear in my stomach, and I'm ashamed to say that I scream like a girl who just saw a spider. I instincivly try to curl into a ball to relieve the pain, but all that does is makes my stomach muscles flex and add more pain.

"For god's sake, lay still!" Uhtred shouts, and I plop back down flat on my back and do as he says.

"Son of a bitch." I gasp.

"Told you."

"Shut. Up." I say, glancing up and grinning apologetically to make sure the smith knows I'm kidding, as my tone wouldn't tell you as much."Where's my pen?" (I'd dropped it when I went into fetal position mode).

He bends down and produces my pen and paper from the floor. This time, when I try to sit up, three pairs of hands find my shoulders and force me back down.

"I'll write it for you."

"Fine. Um, lets see... 'Old Friend, Need help. Bring a healer. Contact will meet you at the Meadow. Be discreet. Signed, Jaspar'."

He writes it down without a word, and then hands me the paper. I read it over once, and, satisfied, hand it back. Uhtred reads through.

"This is one of the most confusing and vague letters I have ever read." he chuckles.

"It's code. He'll understand. Someone is going to need to write your home's address on the north wall of the perfumery ally."

He gives me a queer look. "Why?"

I grin. "That's what 'contact will meet you at the Meadow' means. It means you'll get directions from Corcillum's 'meadow'. Just make sure that that letter gets to Arcturus."

"Arcturus?" Uhtred's eyebrows shoot up. "The Citadel professor?"

"Yah. We were only two years apart when we were students there. He owes me a few favors. But you have to make sure that no one knows about this letter."

Again, he gives me a queer look and asks, "Why?"

I give a grim smile. "I don't know if I have a bounty or not; I pissed off some very powerful people by interfering with the arresting of the dwarfs." I meet his eye and add, "And that's also why I'm out of here as soon as I can walk; the longer I'm here, the more of a danger I am to you and your family."

"Are you kidding me? I wager you could walk now, but that doesn't mean you should be! You're not going anywhere until I'm sure you can make it down the street without passing out."

I open my mouth to protest, then promptly shut it. I don't have the energy to argue, and besides, it's unlikely that the dwarf can actually enforce his words. After all, I am a summoner; it might not be easy, but I can leave whenever I want.

"Where's Jaspar?" I ask.

"Your demon? We locked him in one of our storage rooms. Didn't want him attacking us when we sealed your stomach."

I fish around in my pants pocket, pulling out my summoning leather.

"Bring him in here. I'll keep him under control."

Several minutes later, though my strength and concentration is sapped, I've infused Jaspar. Uhtred, sensing my exhaustion, herds the other four dwarfs-his sons, perhaps?-out of the room, leaving me alone to rest. It doesn't take long for me to fall asleep.

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The second time I wake, it's from noise. Arguing, to be exact.

The first thing I take in is that I'm in a different room; it's not so dimly lit, and I lay on the floor instead of whatever kind of raised platform I was on previously, a light but warm blanket wrapped around me.

Outside, I distinctly hear one sentence that makes my blood run cold.

"Are you harboring Sergeant Avka Khamiri?"