Katerin was content with her quiet life of studying the arcane, and wanted for nothing in her life. She had friends, family, and plenty to do.
But life has a way of changing people--a way of pushing them to do things far outside their comfort and ex...
Arjiah laid her hands over the wound and took a deep breath. Katerin held her arm lightly, calling to her magic. She felt her energy swept away, pulled into Arjiah like a pebble in an avalanche. She sat with her eyes closed for several long minutes, giving all the magic she could. Her breathing changed from calm to labored, she grew dizzy and her head began to ache—but after a few exhausting moments, Arjiah took a ragged breath and pulled her hands away from Jon's leg.
Katerin sighed, knowing that if she felt like this, then Arjiah had it worse. Katerin opened her eyes and sagged forward, giving Arjiah a reassuring smile. She noted a hand on her shoulder, steadying her, as Fykes sat behind her in one of the chairs. He held her steady as she wobbled, and she took a moment to refocus herself, feeling as though she had just run for a day without rest or water.
Jon's leg looked considerably better. He had a complete knee, now, and it was no longer scabbed and burnt. He whistled at it, smiling.
Arjiah leaned back, wiping sweat from her brow. "We can try again tomorrow if you're willing," she said, looking between Jon and Katerin. "I can't do that on my own."
"I'd love to try," Katerin said as she moved back to her chair, trying to ignore the fatigue setting in.
Fykes handed them both a drink and shook his head at Jon. "What gave you the idea to blow up the fort in the first place?"
Jon's face scrunched up, and he blew out his mustache. "They were swarming us. They were winning... I couldn't let them just have it," he sighed, " I had a whole store of powder kegs in the basement that I won from the Meadalark," he nodded while taking another drink. "So I made a fuse, opened the barrels, and ran like hell! It was a sight!"
Fykes just sighed, and Katerin laughed. "What made you think you would survive that?" she asked, pushing away her curiosities of how he knew the Meadalark, a sect of dwarves who had long ago renounced their customary beliefs for the sea. They were a heavily rumored sort, who kept most often to themselves, unless well paid.
He cleared his throat. "I didn't think it'd be that powerful..." he said, "It's one hell of a crater now, though... or so they tell me."
"Try not to blow your next post into another dimension, Jon," Arjiah said jokingly, trying to lighten his mood. It only served to worsen it, it seemed.
He frowned. "I doubt I'll have another post after that," he said.
Katerin blanched. "What do you mean?"
Jon's expression grew somber. "I destroyed a fort. Killed my own men... I very much doubt that anyone will be offering me a chance to command again... there were only a dozen of us left.. I told them to run and went to the basement... they got cut down by the lizards before the explosion went off. Holter's furious about the whole affair."
Fykes ran a hand through his hair, giving his friend a sympathetic look. "A lot of men die here, every day. They aren't going to blame you for surviving. You're a good commander and a fine soldier. You didn't make the wrong choice."
Jon scrubbed a hand across his face and took a deep breath. He said something, but his words were too quiet, almost like a plea to the gods.
Katerin wanted to hug the man. He had been through a lot, and still he thought only about the people with him, the friends he had lost. They stayed by the fire and did their best to keep Jon company, and keep his thoughts from wandering. So, countless games of cards and dice were played. And after a time, that look in Jon's eyes faded, only surfacing when things grew too quiet. It was a look of regret, guilt, and pain. A look of fear, and of nightmares only he knew.
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