When I came to, it took a while to adjust to my surroundings. Then I took some more time to adjust to the implications of said surroundings: I was at the entrance of the estate, leaning against the cold stone wall by the doorway. I had no recollection of moving there.
I heard a growling sound nearby. Before I managed to locate it, the ranger appeared from somewhere. "Oh, you're awake. Can you walk?"
"Huh?" I would probably have had something pithy to say on the matter, but momentarily forgot what it was.
He let out a snort. "How did you ever get into mage school if you're this slow? Are you able to stand on those skimpy legs of yours or not?"
I tried to get myself up, but when I lowered my hands to the stone floor to support myself up, it felt like someone was pouring molten lead on my right arm. In response to the sudden sensation, I unceremoniously dry-heaved my long-gone breakfast until I felt myself lifted up. Among the accompanying mutters I caught repeated further insults towards my intellect.
Once the flood of acute infernal pain settled down, I found that I could stand, albeit my knees were somewhat wobbly. I leaned against the cool stone wall and closed my eyes to collect myself.
"No time for beauty sleep, you're going to open this here door for me." The ghost dwarf was prodding me. I wanted to shoo him away but I groggily recalled there was something wrong with my arm. So I turned to observe it.
It was wrapped in a bandage. In fact, both arms were. I did not have any recollection of this either. I opened my mouth to enquire about this, but the ghost waved me off. "Yeah, you were bleeding all over the place, it was a big mess, so I stopped it. Now open the door."
It dawned on me that he was talking about the estate door behind me. My eyebrows quirked in amusement. "Wait. You want me to let you in?" Still somewhat light-headed, I giggled at the preposterous thought.
He nodded.
I heard a low growl closer now and felt acutely uncomfortable for a moment. As I turned to look in the direction of the sound, the events of moments ago started to click into place. An enormous dark grey wolf sat on its haunches, watching me. I reflexively took a step back, then turned back to the ranger to think about anything else than fangs.
"That thing yours?" Even as I asked the question I realized it had to be, otherwise it would have eaten us both alive by now. But my mind was still too clouded to get the situation straight.
"Yeah. And he's getting hungry, so –" he gestured at the door with his thumb.
I went through a full spectrum of amusement to incredulity to outrage in two blinks of an eye. This buffed-up midget would presume to boss me around! "You seriously think I'm going to let you into my master's estate? What kind of mushrooms have you been eating?"
"Sure you will."
"Over my dead body, dwarf."
He made a thoughtful sound, as if considering an invitation. "You know, I'll just dig my way through the wall then. You know how us dwarves are with the whole burrowing." He gave me a meaningful look.
I snorted. "You'll never get through these walls."
"No? Oh well, maybe I'll just throw you in through the door to catch a few of the first traps that way then. It's not a very pleasant way to go, if the old geezer's reputation is anything to go by."
For a moment, I considered the poisons and trapdoors and other very literal dead-ends on the way, and had to concentrate to not wince. I was not going to show weakness in front of this brutish thug. "You can't scare me, I am fully prepared to die defending this place." I cursed inwardly when my voice threatened to betray me toward the end of the statement. Why was courage always coming so much easier to people in stories? It was simply not fair.
The ranger cocked an eyebrow at me. "Is that so? Laying down your life serving the sadistic old fart who would happily leave you to die gruesomely, eh?" He looked at me thoughtfully. "Maybe I should leave your corpse set up so that he can think it was you who was after his treasure. Which do you think is more precious to him, anyway, you or his polished rocks?"
I sent a murderous glare at the dwarf while furiously working on a comeback to demonstrate my strength of devotion and to snap him out of any ideas that he might be able to rattle me.
But the uncouth woodsman would not let me finish my brainwork in peace. "One way or another, I'm going in, and you're not in any state to stop me. But if you help me get what I want, I'll help you in return."
I found it remotely strange how the undersized ranger, over a head shorter than me, could talk down to me so effortlessly. But he was clearly deluded, so maybe that was why. "Help me? What would I possibly want from you? Great tips on how to pick up a hairy bed-warmer on four legs? Thanks, but I'll pass."
He pointed at my arms. "I stopped the bleeding but the bones in the right one are in shreds. They're not going to mend themselves." I cringed at the thought, and quietly cursed the weakening of my backbone after this mere brush with death. Where was my self-control? The dwarf was not helping, continuously interrupting my thoughts where I was furiously trying to collect them. "So unless you've got a personal healer stashed somewhere, I figure you won't be doing a whole lot of casting any time ever."
Now he was looking at me like a broken dog to be put down. I grit my teeth.
The foul-tongued cave-dweller mistook my silence as an invitation to go on mocking me. "Yeah, you'll be a mangled cripple, and I doubt your dear master will have use for you in that state." Another pause, giving me plenty of time to regret following his train of thought. "Well. I know a cleric back home who can fix you right up. All you need to do is to get me in."
I chortled in disbelief. "Fix me up? You expect me to be foolish enough to trust a Scyther?" The sheer gall on this white-skinned freak of nature was mind-blowing.
He swatted my argument aside. "I'm a man of my word. Let me give you an example. I promise your arm's going to hurt like hell in a second."
Before I realized what he was about to do, he swiftly closed the small distance between us and squeezed my bandage. My mind went blank for a moment, and seconds later I found myself doubled over on the stone floor, curled around my broken and abused arm.
He was standing next to me, peering down. "You believe me or do you need more of a demonstration?"
I furiously pushed back at the agonized whimpering my traitorous mind had plummeted into. I was sworn to protect the estate with my life, and I was not about to turn away from that just because I had failed to quite die in the attempt yet. I growled some wordless defiance at him.
"I can come up with all kinds of ways to make you trust me, sweet cakes. Do you like your legs? They're such nice legs." He prodded one with his boot.
Through the red haze a thought came to me that there was no real point in encouraging him to mutilate my already broken body further. I mumbled a grudging admission of defeat.
He bent down and tapped his ear. "I didn't quite hear you, did you say you would like to learn more about what a honest man I am?"
I counted to five slowly, and put more breath to it. "No, thanks, I am fine."
"There, now. And just so you know I'm not a monster." He reached into his pack, extracted a herb of some sort and handed it to me. "Chew on that, it'll help."
I looked at the sprig suspiciously, but then accepted it with my reasonably operational left hand for further investigation. The plant looked vaguely familiar, used for treating wounds. I chewed on it. It was not like he was going to bother to poison me at this point.
A moment passed in silence, and the searing fresh pain in my arm was reduced to a more dull throb. In a while I was able to think more clearly again.
And I found I had a plan.
