Author's note: this story continues my tale, 'Going feet First', and follows Galen, a soldier once in Vietnam, now on a journey into a medieval fantasy world filled with Elves, Magic, and all kinds of fantastical creatures.
Welcome to Raska.
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Going Feet First
Chapter 6: Hellfire
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Grey clouds rolled through the sky above Atzla to become the closing curtain over the morning sun, casting the land in a shadowed gloom. Little else aside from the roar of water cascading over the edge of Rock Falls on the river High filled the lifeless silence of the forest. Tree tops rustled in the wind; tiny droplets of rain fell on morning dew and pattered on leaves. The temperature dropped a bit as a sudden, rouge breeze sent chills down the back of a lone Tree Elf as she wandered through the woods.
Her pale ivory skin was bare to the downturn in weather with neither a coat nor small cloth to cover it, usual for her clan. The only adornment to her delicate body was her long, light golden hair wound into a triplet of braids over her shoulders and back. Lengthy bangs framed her face around silver-speckled, grey eyes, and a green aura illuminated her personal space with an earthy light. She was a beauty to behold if one could see her with the unaided eye.
Even with her nipples firming up and her limbs becoming less responsive in the cold, she traipsed through the woods and let loose the magic with which she was blessed unto the world around her. A single touch of her fingers healed a savage tear in a tree's bark. A nonchalant wave of her hand bathed a patch of yellow grass in a lively green. Body invisible to all not blessed with Elven Sight, she crept up to a sickly deer whimpering on the ground, chanting a cure to its ailment and helping it back to its feet.
It was all part of her duties as a Life Giver of the Tree Elves of Atzla. Heal the injured, restore the ill, give strength to the weak, and ensure the health of the forest and its purity for all who dwelled within.
Not long after the deer went leaping off into the brush with energy it had not known in weeks, the Elf's throat dried and she felt light-headed, as though she were elevated into thinner air. Two signs she was overusing her magic. She had more territory to cover by herself with Celia now gone, and with their numbers already short of the desired fifty, the Mana-Wells which cast their special magic out to the Life Givers just barely conjured enough to keep the majority of their group from tapping into their personal energies. Most of the time. Some still had to dig within to carry on.
Though a drained feeling weighed down her core and a touch of fatigue drew on her eyelids, the Elf focused on the splashes of flowing water nearby. Her path shifted through the brush and around the trees, her magic silencing her footfalls while holding off the elements that would no doubt endanger her otherwise. After only a short walk the grass underfoot changed to sand and the canopy overhead cleared for the clouded sky over the landmark waterfall.
Something was wrong.
Caught in the rocks at the top of the falls, about to disappear from view, was a body. It was one she instantly recognized as a human in odd green pants and a striped shirt of the likes she'd never seen before. No, she had seen clothes like that. In fact, very recently.
The Elf bolted toward him as the waters were slowly shoving him over the rocks toward the edge. Any fall there would be caught the jagged points of the rocks below and a most certain death.
Careful not to lose her footing herself, the Elf waded through the moving waters toward him. The moment he was in reach she grabbed the human by his shirt and pulled him along the rocks. The water beat at her claves and tried to force her over, but the Elf shifted her feet to the stones that protruded over the water line and used the dry surface to keep her from slipping to her own demise.
Necela curse me if I let anyone die today,
she thought.
One foot behind the other, she pulled the human closer to land while trying, and failing, to keep him from knocking himself against every bump on the way. He was nearly too heavy for her to move. It took short, heavy pulls to drag him one pace at a time and the way a rock just jabbed into his back after she braced to yank him along had her thinking of how many kinds of sore he would be when he woke.
After several frightful moments and with a final tug she pulled him from the current's grasp and onto the shore just enough so it wouldn't pull him back. Panting heavily, the Elf stepped over to his feet and shifted his legs to the side with the water flow, making it seem as though he washed up onto the bank.
It was when she had him lying in a mostly natural position, that she saw the remnants of a bandage stuck to the bottom of his shirt. And then the blood darkening the garment around his right shoulder. A hacking cough erupted from his lips and spattered blood out of the man's mouth and caused her to bounce back with a yelp. His head shifted, but then he went still again as his breathing settled.
The Elf calmed when his eyelids didn't even peek open and he appeared to fall asleep again.
Moving with a degree of caution, she approached him again and knelt down at his side. Her green aura flared slightly as she then brushed her hand over his shoulder, sensing the damage to his right lung and the destroyed a section of ribs and muscle. He would need months to recover without a mortal "surgeon" or healing magic, if he recovered at all.
A lung with not one, but two holes tearing through it would not allow one to survive long. Though it was curious how this human was wounded in a way not dissimilar from the wounds inflicted upon the Nekos that fought with Celia's human.
As the Elf pondered the thought of another offworlder among them, she leaned in to inspect this human's clothes, the boots he wore, and even the material it was all made out of.
Everything he wore was near identical to the things worn by that man that had recently won the grace of the clan's beds. Gavin, if she remembered his name correctly. The material that made up his garments, the color used in dyeing them, the green shirt with black stripes... For the sake of curiosity, she probed into his pockets, feeling the shape of a metal weapon exactly like what Gavin carried himself.
Even more curious, she reached past the steel tool for the fleshy one beside it.
Another of your kind...
she thought, biting her lower lip with a grin.
I hope you come back in ten years' time, human.
Her hand lit up in a green glow and she chanted low, touching a finger to the wounds in his back. She couldn't heal him completely, lest she give him suspicion of some form of immortality or intervention, but she could heal him enough to survive. Or at least get by without much need for medicine beyond keeping his wounds clean and his arm resting. If he was anything like Gavin... Garen... Galen... that name sounded right... it was the least she could do.
A voice caught her ear then, old raspy words that were given a response by a younger crisper one. Sighing and whispering a farewell to the human, she took several gulps from the river and ran off into the woods. With a snap of her fingers, the sand shifted and hid the footprints that could've proven she was ever there.
...
Yawning as his cart squeaked along the bank of the river High, an old human kicked his feet up on the rests in front of his seat and shut his eyes. That area was safe enough to not worry about attackers, and he had the confidence in his co-driver to let the lad take reigns of the bear that pulled them along. Only a zetran and a half of riding and they would be out of the forest, another seven and they'd be at the first wall in the Trench. After that, one more zetran and they would be at Redding's gate and back in civilization.
After a long tour around the Atzla forest peddling wares to various tribes and gathering a healthy stock of indigenous goods, there was nothing he wanted more than to get back to the ale and the wife that awaited him alongside a hot meal in his own home. In the morning, he could take to the market and sell off what he had and buy new stocks to start the trade cycle again.
"Catchin' shut eye?" his co-driver asked.
The old merchant looked to his assistant, a scraggly boy with unkempt, black hair and a strip of a beard down his chin. He had a witty look about him along with the dull, yellow eyes of a mountain boy of northwestern Astiko. Like other folk of his home, he was built like the mountain he was born on.
"Yup, wake me only if something comes up," the merchant said, getting comfortable.
He stroked his grey beard and tipped his thin-brimmed hat down over dark brown eyes. Bundled up in a heavy, wool coat, he settled in and let the rustling leaves and rushing water of the falls downstream fade from his ears.
"Oi yoi! Don't pass out yet! Something's up ahead!"
"Oh, let the Three an' Kin damn ya, boy, what is-"
Even with his old eyes he saw the body lying on the beach ahead. Their bear gave a groan and picked up speed, the cart bouncing a bit as their animal charged ahead to investigate. Right as the beast got to man, it had its nose over his back to take his scent in quick, rapid inhales. Not wasting time, both merchants hopped off their cart and moved to inspect the body as well.
Taking one deep breath to lock in the man's scent, the bear backed off so its riders could come closer. Both of them saw the blood on the back of his shirt and immediately they looked worried. Hesitantly the old man pressed an ear to the man's back and listened, breathing out his relief as he heard the steady heartbeat.
Sitting up, he looked to his co-rider and ordered, "Help me get him in the cart, he's fightin' for breath and may not last a day or two if we don't get him to a doctor."
"Guess we're going to get to Redding on a hightail, yeah?"
"Yeah, so button up and get his shoulders, and watch that wound of his. Lotta damage been done and I don't wanna watch some bugger die before I retire."
...
One hand resting casually on the hilt of his sword as he walked, Farok continued marching along the river High between two tracks left behind in the sand on the shore. Despite the annoyance of a number of human scents crowding his senses, he could still pick out Petra from it all. Her smell was not nearly as fresh as theirs, but still distinguishable from the nature around it and that was all he needed.
