"Will he be okay?" Phoena stared wide eyed at Callan as he hoisted Brady up to lay him against the reception desk.
Callan shot a look at the girl with a terse expression and sighed. "I haven't even looked at his wound yet," he grumbled, carefully pulling up Brady's shirt, which was plastered to his skin by blood. The cut was about three inches long as if the small shard of light had expanded upon contact with the telepath's skin, and it was in no way a clean cut. Better than a bullet though, Callan knew that. With a bullet, he'd have to fish the hunk of compressed metal from the other boy's side, and he didn't have the talent for that.
"It was magic light." Brady grimaced as Callan put light pressure on the wound. "Why does it matter how it happened or how bad it is? Just don't let it get worse."
Callan's shoulders stiffened, and he shook his head softly. "For a healing type you aren't too inquisitive." He scanned the crowd for Phoena, who was pacing amongst the few people who still remained in the inn. Most had left once they'd been freed from their crystal prisons, but a few seemed unsure where to go now that they weren't trapped. "Phoena. Bring me the bag. I need our supplies... and some help wouldn't kill you."
The blonde walked over timidly. "I thought you wouldn't want me hovering..."
"Hover all you want. I don't care. I need the first aid kit."
She rummaged through the back she'd been carrying, pulling out a small pouch containing their limited medical supplies. "Will this be enough?" she asked.
"I hope so." Callan took it, grabbing out a roll of gauze, a needle, and some thread to stitch Brady up. He pulled a clear glass bottle from his own bag, and Phoena lifted a brow at him.
"What's that?" Callan twisted off the cap and took a quick swig before passing it off to Phoena. She lifted it to her nose, sniffing the contents. "Vodka... seriously?"
"If I don't disinfect these tools, who knows what could happen?" He cleaned away most of the blood seeping out with a cloth before using the alcohol to clean the needle. He gazed down at Brady, his own lips pressed into a fine line. "This is going to burn like hell."
"Just damn do it." Brady hissed, sweat gleaming against his brow, his fists clenched, and his nails digging into his pale skin. Callan nodded, dousing the wound with a splash, and Brady whimpered slightly, writhing against the table.
Callan grabbed a fresh cloth and passed it to Phoena. "Put pressure on the wound." He moved carefully, threading the needle and cleaning it. Supplies in hand, he tapped Phoena's shoulder, and she moved to the side.
"Don't worry, Brady," she whispered. You'll be just fine."
"Who said I was worried?" Brady cracked a pained smile. "As I can tell, you're more worried than me."
The corners of her lips twitched up in a sort of smile, and Callan took his place at Brady's side, needle poised between his fingers. "Sorry that we don't have any pain killers..."
He offered the bottle of vodka to Brady, who shook his head. "I'm not a fan of drugs of any sort. They cloud the mind."
"Of course," Callan muttered under his breath, carefully staring the first stitch. Brady winced, but said nothing more.
Twelve stitches later, Phoena was wrapping gauze bandages around Brady's waist to protect the wound and keep the boy from losing anymore blood. "How are you feeling?" She helped him stand, resting his arm over her shoulders.
"I'm alright. Just a bit fuzzy." Considering the blood loss, Phoena was surprised that he hadn't passed out at all, and he still seemed as chipper as ever. His skin was slightly gray, and his movements were a bit slow and lethargic. Despite all this, he removed himself from Phoena's side and nodded to Callan, who was helping Raita's victims as best he could. At the gesture, Callan finished up a conversation with one of the men and walked back to his companions. "I suppose I should thank you for receiving me, Sir Prince." Brady grinned, dipping his head in a bow.
Callan swallowed at his words, hoping to quell his temper. "Let's get this straight," he said dryly. "I did none of that because I like you. I don't. But without you, we can't save Gwyrholm. I love my home more than I dislike you."
"I suppose I'll take that as a compliment." Brady murmured, watching as Callan went back to assisting the townspeople.
Phoena sighed heavily, scrunching her fingers in her swaying ponytail. "Do you really have to provoke him?"
"Did I? I hadn't notice." Brady chuckled softly, his eyes drifting over to the sword that Raita had given him in their fight. Right where he'd left it. He started toward it, earning himself a scolding from Phoena.
"You shouldn't be moving around like that! You're going to blackout!"
He waved her off, ignoring her worry as he bent down to scoop up the weapon, feeling its weight in his hands. "I'll be fine. Actually, I am fine." He tucked the saber through one of the loops of his belt. "I even got a pretty nice sword out of this deal."
Phoena rolled her eyes, sizing up the thin golden weapon. "I could shatter that to pierced with either of my weapons. Easily. But it suits you." She nodded softly.
"I don't think you meant that as an insult, but you should hear yourself." Brady scoffed, walking back and taking a seat next to the girl's feet. "Not everyone has to be a fierce warrior like you."
"This is Gwyrholm." She peered down at him through her lashes. "Of course they do."
"Our laws may say so, but not everyone is suited to that type of work," Brady began, "You, Miss Brineri, have the skill and strength to be one of our strongest soldiers, but there are many who lack the physicality and determination to be fighters."
"Call me- oh, forget it." Phoena sighed before continuing, speaking simply and calmly. "You can find fault in anything if you choose to pick it apart." She readjusted her bag on her shoulder. "I'm going to find Callan. We don't have much time for our quest, and this morning's activities wasted a valuable chunk of it. We should get back on the road as soon as we can."
"Fine." Brady sighed, leaning forward and clasping his knees.
###
When the group finally left the small town in search of the seaward city of La Cierna, the sun was already high in the sky. Callan, who seemed more determined than ever before to hasten their quest, lead the group, Phoena a few steps behind him, and Brady straggling at the back of the back, struggling to keep up with the other two in his state.
"Callan." Phoena called forward, and he begrudgingly came to a stop.
"What is it now?" he muttered.
"We need to stop. Brady looks like he's going to be sick." She tilted her chin back toward the telepath. "Unless you want him to keel over halfway to La Cierna."
"There are worse possibilities." Callan said through gritted teeth, but Phoena ignored the little comment.
"We won't make it to the town before nightfall anyway. We might as well make camp now and let him rest."
Callan glanced back to Brady, then at Phoena. "Remember that this was your idea. There's a clearing up this way where we can set up camp." He started that way, but Phoena caught his arm, tugging him back.
"Then I'll go take care of that, and you take care of him, okay?" She jerked her thumb in Brady's direction. The boy was slumped over with his hands on his knees, wheezing heavily as his body quivered slightly.
"Why me?" Callan groaned, flicking a few strands of hair from his forehead. "He likes you better."
"That's exactly why you're going and not me. Make nice." Phoena gave him a teasing grin and slipped his back from his shoulder. "I'll take that. Good luck!" She waved cheekily as she sauntered off down the path.
"I'm not cut out for this," Callan muttered, shoving his hands down into his pockets as he approached Brady, who was breathing heavily, his hair damp as it hung around his face.
Hearing Callan's footsteps, he lifted his head weakly. "Oh. It's just you." Callan didn't say anything at first as he watched Brady. His skin was flushed and glistening, though the boy himself was shivering.
Callan's eyes widened as he stared at him, "Shit."
"You're overreacting. It's nothing." Brady tried to argue, but it was clear that what he said was far from the truth.
"You're running a high fever, aren't you?"
"No, no." Brady insisted. "I just worked up a sweat from all the walking."
Callan shook his head, moving to help Brady stand up straight and walk. "Regardless, Phoena wants to stop here for the night. She went ahead to set up camp."
"Oh..." Brady's brows furrowed as he thought, his face falling to a scowl. "She thinks we need to stop because I look like a sweaty fuschia-faced goth, doesn't she?"
"A what?" Callan stared at the other boy.
"Nevermind. It doesn't matter why we're stopping, just that we are." He started forward cautiously to make sure that Brady would move with him. It was difficult for Brady to keep his footing as weak as he felt, but he refused to collapse, to be so weak. Already, he was dragging the others down with his injury, slowing their progress.
"We need to check the wound," Callan murmured, more so to himself than to Brady. "I think it might be infected."
"I feel like someone turned my blood to liquid fire," Brady said weakly, "I'd say that isn't a bad guess."
"Look... Can we start over?" Callan asked after a short moment of painstakingly slow walking and uncomfortable silence.
"Will you stop calling me Shrinkwrap?"
"Maybe... Will you stop calling me Sir Prince?"
Brady cracked a small smile. "I guess that could be arranged."
"Good." Callan nodded. "I'm Callan Dellal, no relation to the Grand Commander whatsoever."
"A pleasure." Brady mused, leaning more heavily on him for support. "Braedyn Mienus. I'll probably probe your mind at the most inappropriate of times."
Callan cringed slightly at those words. "I guess I'll have to try to accept that if we're going to be working together."
"I guess you will."
"Hurry up you two!" Phoena waved to the boys from the clearing up ahead. "There's something you have to see!" Callan and Brady exchanged a quick glance, Phoena still gesturing for them to pick up the pace.
"I have a really bad feeling," Brady muttered, his eyes narrowing. "Keep your guard up." Callan nodded, matching Brady's quickest speed as both boys wondered what Phoena might have stumbled upon.