Flann awoke. In a moment, her body grasped the extent of her weakness and exhaustion. She tried to speak, but could hardly utter a sound. Her vision cleared and she beheld Colton and a stranger leaning over her. They were conversing quietly.
"Don't try to move, young lady," said the stranger.
He had angular features, sun-worn skin and many scars. The structure and features of his face, his gaunt cheeks and the sharp chin and nose, indicated an origin foreign to Flann. He had wiry black hair that hung loose just past his shoulders. They were swept back as to not hinder his sight.
"You are rather lucky that this Priest and I were able to act immediately. I would recommend that you focus your mana on blood restoration; you currently only have enough to be conscious and to move a little, perhaps. Any strain may be enough to make you faint once more."
Walgen appeared above her and put a hand on her cheek.
"Reckless girl... I almost lost you," he quavered. He audibly swallowed.
Ragnhild was next to approach. She wore no helmet and had a new scar along the side of her head, with a large bruise accompanying it. She said nothing, but smiled as she knelt beside her.
Someone brought a waterskin to her lips and gently lifted her head. She drank all it contained. That also allowed her to see the corpse of the Maledicti. Nothing but it's ashbone frame remained.
Walgen addressed someone out of sight: "Can we use your cart to travel back to Kriesgrab? She cannot walk yet."
"O-of course... anything to help the Legion, but only until the river crossing, as we're headed further north," stuttered a voice.
Flann was lifted and carried along the road by her companions and the stranger. She was gently placed in the back of a cart. Walgen seated himself beside her. He began stroking her hair.
Her companions' gear was placed in the cart as well. Most of the cart, however, was occupied with crates and sacks. There was only enough room to place Walgen's poleaxe and their supplies.
Flann closed her eyes and began focusing her mana along every bone of her body, as had taught her Caron. Her awareness narrowed to perceive only the functioning of her body. She felt her pulsating heart, her lungs, rhythmically expanding and collapsing, her stomach growling and gurgling and her low blood-level coursing. She felt the blood replenish, drop by drop. Her mind wandered as she meditated.
Caron was the most skilled healer she had ever seen. She was told that there had been many more throughout history, but she refused to believe any of them were as powerful as Caron, the miracle-maker. He had accomplished feats that many believed impossible; she herself knew of one: one of her brothers had been killed by a Maledicti's fire-breath and was thought to be gone for good, but Caron succeeded in return life to his forsaken corpse.
Her meditation took some time to allow her to speak and move with some semblance of normality. Once she ended the trance-like state, she realized that it was now the stranger that sat beside her; his back was against the side of the cart, head bowed and eyes closed. She rose, and he opened an eye to look at her.
"So you are as accomplished a healer as they say," he began. "A healer that should remain away from combat, lest she be slain, and thus bring about the defeat of her allies."
Flann lowered her head and looked away.
"I suppose you helped save me..." she muttered. She faced him. "I am grateful. I owe you my life, and Colton too," she asserted.
"Your friend would have managed without me, but I wanted to be sure that you would live. He did not seem very confident," he related, raising his head.
He wore a cloak and nothing more than thick cloth, it seemed. He had a saber, safely in its ornate scabbard, resting on his shoulder and leaning against the side of the cart.
"Tell me your name, that I may thank you properly," requested Flann.
"I am know as Samaritan," he declared, grinning more at himself than her, "that is the best way to refer to me in these parts."
"Thank you, Samaritan."
He reached into a sack, one of those that her and her companions had brought. He pulled out a ration.
"You have yet to eat. I am certain that you are hungry after all that blood-loss."
Her stomach groaned and she had a headache. He opened the ration and handed her the bread. He then drew a dagger from his belt and skewered the chunk of gynesis root on it. He held it out before him. He placed his left hand beneath, palm up.
Flann noticed he wore a special gauntlet, one with a little flattened sphere of orange metal, most likely cuprum, in the palm, riveted to the leather. It was a catalyst gauntlet. A small flame suddenly burst into life above the cuprum catalyst. He cooked the gynesis on the flame. Once it was cooked, he let it cool, then sprinkled it with some powder that Flann could not identify.
"What is that?" she inquired.
"It is a mix of spices native from my homeland, far to the south-east of the continent. Rather expensive, it is. To someone who nearly died, I don't mind giving a little. It'll help replenish your strength and mana."
Flann had heard of such spice mixes – made of plants growing in harsh regions of the continent. There were few such plants in the north-west. Caron was quite keen on having a small reserve, and he had spent a small fortune obtaining some that was locally grown. He claimed it was enough to provide enough mana to move a small mountain. She believed he was exaggerating.
Samaritan handed her the chunk. Upon tasting it, she slowed her eating to savour it. The spices were sweet and spicy, an unusual combination of flavours which she had never tasted before.
In the minutes following her meal, she felt a little better, more so, she thought, than if she hadn't ate the spice.
She thank Samaritan once more. He simply chuckled and nodded. She had a few questions for him, and doubted she would have another chance to speak to him; she would be quite busy again with the campaign against the creatures of Chaos.
"What is this caravan? Where are you going?"
"This is a caravan of traders delivering supplies to Wittenburg, up north. They are preparing themselves for the worse, up there. They were prone to being attacked during the Outbreak, so they were forced to retreat into their mines, which they had fortified long ago. Unfortunately, most farms are no longer occupied, so they lack supplies. They are paying much to have any supplies they can get."
He knew that another question would inevitably come, so he decided to answer in advance: "I am simply escorting them. I am quite skilled as a swordsman, and I am also capable of using some types of battle-magic as well."
Curiosity satisfied, she bade him goodbye and disembarked from the cart. Her legs were steady, but they were strained from the long walk of the morning and early afternoon. The sun would be setting in not long. Behind the cart were two caravan members who were equally surprised to see her up so soon; they even looked frightened, as her warrobe was still drenched in her blood. She outmatched the horse-drawn cart's pace, and she passed it and a half dozen other caravan members. Colton and Kurt were among them. She found Walgen at the front of the group, talking to Ragnhild.
They noticed her approach.
"Walking already? We thought you would rest a while longer," stated Walgen.
"Good to see you up and about, Flann," reassured Ragnhild.
"How much farther until Kriesgrab?" asked Flann.
"At a river crossing not far ahead, we'll follow the river west. It will take longer than traversing the forest, but at least we get fresh water along the way," explained Walgen.
They parted ways with the caravan, as planned, at the river crossing, a stone bridge with no railing, as those had been destroyed during one or more battles earlier in the Chaos Outbreak. Hasty repairs had been made to the bridge, so it still held. The river crossing had a few soldiers defending it. These were members of a newly created order, the Steel Brigade, a highly organized group of mercenaries rather invaluable in a time like this. They wore different armour than Luxurite soldiers; their armour comprised of many bands of steel riveted to mail. They had a wide range of weapons: swords, axes, and various types of pole-arms. They had built, on both sides of the river, some stone fortifications.
The best defences against the creatures of chaos were stone and water. Since the creatures of Chaos appeared in bulk from the north, the Tearing Beck and the Red River acted as natural barriers. The only crossings were this bridge and those in Kriesgrab. Keeping the army of Chaos in the north was the main preoccupation of the Luxurite military and the Legionnaires of Light. In this stage of the war, both humanity's defenders and the forces of Chaos were weak, and one battle would decide it all, if all went as plan. The final push to the north was all that was left to do, but that required rallying the forces that had been scattered in the south to fight smaller groups of demons that had come from, it seemed, nowhere. Some forces were in Wittenburg, waiting for the signal to set out. Many were on their way from Prosperia in the west, and many small groups from the south.
The final battle approached quickly, Flann felt.