The partially eaten apple was still sitting on Yurn's bed. What was once a lush fruit was now fading brown.
Five men, the same ones from the forest, were all moving forward, deep into the narrow room, all fighting the weight of something. One tackled the bunked and single cots, while the other two carried Uill.
As they were making way for the stretcher to reach the far end of the room, the sight of white sheets draped down became a wall, almost touching the floor.
A guiding voice
Alvin: You know what to do. Back of the room! (pulling the wooden cots aside.)
The screeching of wood pierced the ears of all of them, even the men outside.
More orders shot out, this time aimed at the Lord.
Alvin: Lord, send the men away; Eral will throw a fit if they are in here! (out of breath)
The shadowy figure moved to the open door, where the relief effort that entered the forest stood confused, all of them wanting to know what happened, meandering up and down, voices growing.
Guard 1: What the hell happened out there? Was it the cara? (questioning concern.)
Guard 2: It had to be! Just look at Uill! (berating the first.)
Guard 3: Yeah, you're right! Did you kill it? (Popping his head around the door.)
Questions shot back and forth between the group until another guard spoke, killing the momentum the three had started.
Guard 4: Hey, where's Carl? I don't see him.
Silence fell on those in the corridor.
Only the three inside carried on; the moving of cots had ended as the three men faded away into privacy.
Then a disgruntled man spoke up, rolling off the answers in order.
Vayreban: First, the cara is dead. (Pausing, not wanting to explain, they found something worse, not yet.) Second, Uill needs quiet. Third: As for Carl... (looking the men in the eyes, his gaze moving from one to the next.)
The tiredness and the frantic behaviour only pushed questions into their minds, pushing out all common sense. The leaps and bounds of silence were the only answer they all needed; they knew what it meant.
The seven men stood still; no more sounds came from the four who spoke, mirroring the silence of the other three, staring blankly.
Vayreban: Please. If you have no business here, please leave the hall. I will discuss it further in due time. (His right hand ushering them away.)
The men needed no more orders; one by one, they moved away from the barracks and headed in the direction of the mess hall.
Only the shuffling of feet filled the corridor.
The Lord wanted to thank them for risking their lives, going past the ward, and coming to save them without question, but that would have to wait.
They were all hurting. None of the men turned; they all slunk off deeper into the cold manor. The loss of one was a loss to them all; it cut deeper than any beast or blade, for it could have been one of them.
To the Lord's left, someone came barreling down the corridor from the main hall. As he got closer, he slammed a bottle into the Lord's hands and headed to the room in front. Uttering one word.
Eral: DRINK!
Inside the barracks, as Alvin pushed the makeshift curtains back, Yurn and Robert pivoted Uill onto the padded bed of the cot.
Alvin: Forgive us, Uill; the beds are crap, but it's better than nothing. (Knowing full well that no answer would come.)
Robert: Lift!… (Uill was over the bed now.) Drop! Good… (turning in the direction of the door.) Where is Eral?
As soon as the words slipped from his tongue, the sight of the healer barged into the room.
Eral: You three! Quickly drink this; no arguments! (Ramming the potions into the hands of the men.)
Alvin, Robert, and Yurn stood still, staring at the deep amber fluid from before, pulling the corks off, and closing their eyes. All three downed the substance, pinching their noses this time, knowing full well it would taste as bad as it looked.
Alvin: Down the hatch (drinking the viscous fluid). Oh god, what is it? (scrunched-up face)
Eral: Healing and minor poison curative. I see you have nicks and cuts. You encountered a cara, did you not? (holding the last bottle in his hand.)
As the men behind Eral started to reel from the concoction flowing down their throats, it gave them the respite of not wanting to answer the question of the beast.
The healer moved forward to the man on the bed, preparing to give him the same thing he gave the others. Not waiting for the reply that would never come of what they fought, he spoke again.
Eral: (His eyes moved to Uill) His leg! Yurn… Did you use that healing potion on him? (glaring, not in amazement, but one of concern to Yurn.)
As he lifted his head, nearly choking on the potion he just downed,
Yurn: Yes! (Their eyes locked.) Why are you giving me those eyes? It worked, didn't it? (afraid of the coming answer.)
Eral: This is bad. (Eyes frantic as they began to look around.) Where's Carl?
Alvin: Carl didn't make it. (Silence fell on them all; he shot back to the worry in Eral's eyes.) Why? The potion did what it was supposed to, didn't it? (looking to Yurn, then to Eral, with the same questioning look.)
Robert: He's healed, so what's the big deal? (looking around for an answer.)
Eral: Yeah, for a minor wound or deep cut, not a missing leg. Did you at least clean the wound before giving it to him? Well, did you? (demanding.)
Yurn: No, I didn't. (The realisation was now hitting him.)
Then it dawned on them all. The redness on his leg wasn't from the potion; it was from whatever was left inside the wound.
Alvin: Can you heal him? (questioning look.)
Eral: If it was a cut or an open wound, then yes, I can. But this… I'm a healer, not a surgeon. (gazing over the supplies he prepared to his side.)
Robert: What's the difference? (same look as Alvin.)
Yurn stood in shock, knowing that he had saved the man just so he could die an ever slower death later on.
Eral: There is a big difference! I heal wounds, not create them. All I have are potions and curatives; I can't wave a stick and unheal him! (Putting his hands to his face, pushing his hair back, lost in what to do.)
Then a firm reply shot from the door.
Vayreban: Can you do it? What do you need to save him? Tell me. (worried.)
Eral: I wouldn't know where to begin. We need a surgeon; if I go digging around in places all willy-nilly, he will die before I can heal the wound. We need to cut him open, remove whatever is causing the swelling, and do it fast. Then I can heal him again and try to get him in a stable condition. (trying to sound confident, knowing he was out of his element.)
Vayreban: He will die if we leave him, so where can we find one?
Then the words no one wanted to hear rang true.
Eral: In Veral, the ones in Droll left last week to help the war effort. No one around here has that type of knowledge of surgery, other than... (His eyes wandered from left to right in thought.) I will be back! (frantic.)
The healer was bolting again to the door, pushing aside the Lord and heading towards the mess hall.
All the men could do was comfort Uill with words of encouragement.
Alvin: We will get you back on your feet. (stopping.) I mean, your foot in no time. (putting his hand on the sleeping man's chest.)
Robert: Come on, stay with us. We can't lose you, either. Who else will play cards with me? I need to make some money off of you. (Putting his hand next to Alvin's.)
Yurn and Vayreban didn't speak.
Alvin: It was me who told you to use it on him; I am to blame as well. Don't go hogging all of it; you did the right thing. (comforting tone.)
Yurn was racked with guilt. Then the huge palm fell on his shoulder, a hand from his Lord.
Vayreban: You did the right thing! We all would have done the same for him; if you didn't have that potion, Uill would have bled out in the forest. We all thank you; at least he has a chance now. Uill will pull... (stopping his comforting words.)
The shoulder of Yurn shrugged the hand away.
Yurn: A chance... That potion wasn't even meant for him; maybe if I never took it with me, we could have brought him here and Eral... (breathing in). It was meant for him, not Uill. I've given him another death sentence. (He moved to his cot and sat down; the rotting apple rolled across the bed, falling to the floor.) I gave it to him, Alvin, not you. Why is all this happening? (holding back boiling feelings)
No answer came from Vayreban; all he could do was watch the man lost in despair.
Hyrne stood in the doorway, watching the defeated eyes of the men.
Hyrne: Please forgive me, my Lord, but Amelia is awake, if you didn't know already. (soft voice)
Hyrne saw the eerie mood falling over all of them. A part of him wanted to slink back into the corridor.
Vayreban: (A part of him shot to life.) Thank the Luminar. (turning to Hyrne.) Thank you! Hyrne. I will be there in a moment. (Then he faced the men one last time.)
The butler bowed, knowing his lord couldn't see him, and returned to where he once came from.
Vayreban: I will do everything I can to save Uill; mark my words! (sounding resolute.) As for Carl, his family will never want for anything (looking at Robert). I will be with Amelia; if you need anything, please come for me; I will make it happen, whatever it is. (Confident.)
The Lord left the room, hoping to find solace from the nightmare that wouldn't stop.