Six of the infernal things! Casavir struck at the nearest, putting all his strength into the blow. He knew it would have to be a clean hit, or it would be deflected by its shell. The greatsword crunched through the chitin, sending a spray of yellow-green fluid across his face. He did not pause to wipe it off, but readied himself for another blow. His second killed the sword spider.
He spun to see how the dwarf fared. Khelgar was doing well, he saw, and gave the dwarf no further thought. He would keep himself alive.
Something pinched the unarmored back of his calf. He swung as he turned, taking off one of the spider's forelegs. Maddened, the beast lunged at him, but he brought his blade down hard between the rows of its eyes. It fell and moved no more.
No spells! He looked around, but it was just Khelgar and himself... and three sword spiders. Where are those damned spellcasters? Why are there no fireballs?
His leg was going numb.
He fumbled in his belt pouch and seized the triangular flask inside. The paladin bit off the wax stopper and gulped the contents. Sword spider venom was deadly.
He was just finishing off his third spider when he saw movement in his peripheral vision. Kayla. She was sitting on the ground, feebly poking at a seventh spider... one he had not seen. The ground around her was dark with her blood. She'd lost her shield, and had her mace in her off hand. He watched helplessly as the beast seized her arm in its craw. Those mandibles would rend steel, he knew, and inject lethal venom into the wound.
"Damn it!" he cried. "I said 'fall back'!"
Why is it that no one ever listens to me? He cursed, but he could not go to her now, not with two spiders bearing down on them. Khelgar dispatched one quickly, but Casavir was having trouble with his own. He had seen the cleric fall, and the distraction hindered him. Khelgar's axe crushed the head of the remaining spider.
"Cleric down!" Casavir called to the dwarf, pointing stupidly. The spider was dragging Kayla up the slope, back to its lair.
The spider dropped the body when Casavir and Khelgar closed on it, but it did not last long against them.
Casavir threw down his sword and pulled off his gauntlets. He knelt beside her.
"Is she..." the dwarf hovered anxiously at his side.
"No, she lives," Casavir said gratefully.
But she won't live long if she loses any more blood... and the poison... that was my last antidote.
He tore her helmet off and laid one hand on each side of her narrow face. Tyr's power moved through him into the cleric. The bleeding stopped, but his abilities alone were not enough to close her wounds.
And the poison...
He tore open his pack, fumbling for his healer's kit. He could not neutralize it completely, with only the feather moss in his kit, but he could halt the paralysis that would stop her heart. But he had to act fast.
"What can I do?" Khelgar pleaded.
"Get her armor off," the paladin barked. "Tunic, leggings, anywhere you see blood. Do you have any feather moss?"
"Don't even know what it is," Khelgar said. The fool dwarf was unbuckling her armor.
"Cut the straps," Casavir snapped.
"She'll kill me when she wakes up," the dwarf muttered, but he was already getting out his knife.
"She never will if we don't get that venom out of her."
The rest of the party had caught up with them by then, and stood in an anxious circle around him. Elanee knelt on the other side of Kayla, her hands over the cleric's chest.
"No," Casavir stopped the druid from casting the healing spell. "Not yet. The venom must be neutralized before we heal the wounds. Do you have the spell?"
"No," Elanee's denial was a moan. "Kayla always has me prepare summons."
"Antidote? Scroll? Anything?" Casavir shook his head at their unpreparedness. To come to the Sword Mountains so ill equipped was folly.
"She never bothers with potions or scrolls if she can help it," Elanee said. "She's got a healing kit in her pack, as do I."
"Neeshka," the paladin ordered, "get that kit. Elanee, we'll need yours, too. Feather moss?"
"That will draw the venom," the druid agreed.
Khelgar had left Kayla's shirt and smalls, but he could work around them.
Auril's kiss, she's thin. I could close my hands around her waist. It would not take much spider venom to kill her, she's got a forearm full of it. Take the arm? No, that won't save her. She's lost too much blood already. Damn!
Elanee had been busy while Casavir contemplated amputation. She'd already packed the cleric's forearm with the wispy gray moss, and had started on her thigh. He seized a handful of the stuff and rubbed it against the gash in her neck, then packed what was left of his own supply into the cut in her sword arm.
Swords. Why in the nine hells was she going against that thing with a mace? She'd never get enough muscle behind it to punch through that carapace...
She was using the mace because you never told her not to. You never told her about sword spiders, you fool. You told Khelgar, though, and the dwarf grew up in these damn mountains. You might have mentioned something to her about deadly, armored spiders with blades for legs and venom that could kill a horse. You could have squeezed it in between the bark-cutter wasps and the bird story. But no, you were too busy playing the guide, trying to make her like you, as if it mattered now. That will change. If she lives, you will be her lieutenant, nothing more. No smiles, no small talk, just do your job, and nobody gets killed.
Elanee was pushing something into his hand. Gauze. He seized it and began to bandage her hurts.
"We'll bind the wounds tonight," the druid said. "That feather moss needs time to work. We can heal the wounds in the morning."
"If the cold does not kill her," Casavir said grimly. "You know the moss will only halt the paralysis. The poison will still slow her heart, and the night's chill will make it worse."
"Yes," Elanee agreed. "We've got to keep her warm. Is there shelter nearby?"
"No," the paladin groaned. "Only the shelter of the ravine below, or the one on the other side of this ridge."
"Is is safe to move her?" Neeshka fretted.
"We've got no choice, Neesh," Khelgar said. "We're wide open up here on this ridge. Orcs will spot us miles off. Can you carry her, paladin? Long things, you humans are. I'd just knock her head against the stones."
"Yes," he replied, sliding his arms under her. She did not weigh much.
Khelgar was behind him, barking orders at the others to gather her gear. The dwarf had her pack and her breastplate, but he only had two hands.
"That looks like a good spot," Khelgar observed, jutting his bearded chin toward a hollow at the base of a cliff. "Only one side to watch. I'll put Grobnar there, and El, Neesh, and I can take positions further out."
"Where shall I stand guard?" the paladin asked.
"You tend her," Khelgar seemed stunned that he should even have to say something so obvious. "And you'll have to bundle. Qara, too, if you can get her to do it."
The dwarf knew his mountain lore. Casavir had been obliged to do that once before, when his patrol rescued a stranded traveler. The man had been caught without shelter in an early spring rain, and was in shock from the cold. Then, as now, they could risk no fire, so Casavir had removed his armor and the man's wet clothing, and wrapped them both in every blanket they carried. He had used his own body's warmth to bring the man back from death. He could do the same for his leader.
Not surprisingly, Qara refused. If Casavir himself wanted a cuddle, she might consent to it, but she was not about to strip down to her chemise and curl up in a blanket with Kayla, and there was no threat Casavir or Khelgar could make that would change her mind.
Neeshka volunteered, saying that the fire of her own demonic blood might help warm her friend. Casavir was impressed that the tiefling would offer such a kindness when the sorceress had refused, especially since it would mean close proximity to a paladin. Perhaps he had given her less credit than she deserved.
Regardless, Khelgar had forbidden it. With Kayla down, they were vulnerable, and he wanted the tiefling's sharp eyes and night vision for their defense. He would exempt only the humans from guard duty, who could not see in the dark anyway.
So Casavir stripped down to shirt and leggings, took Kayla's limp body in his arms, and made a cocoon of their blankets.
I'm holding a corpse, he thought. The other time he had done this, the man had been conscious, though only barely. He had struggled at first, rebelling against what his disoriented mind believed to be another man's embrace, but he was calmed by the paladin's aura, and had fallen into a natural sleep. Not so, Kayla. Her body felt lifeless, though he could feel her flesh beginning to warm where it met his. It was working. She would live.
For many hours, the only sounds in that hollow were the soft whuffle of Qara's breathing and the distant cries of that laughing bird. Kayla breathed still. Casavir held her against his chest, and could feel the nearly imperceptible expansion of her ribcage with every breath, but she made no sound. She was warmer now, though he did not know if her body was recovered enough to maintain that warmth if he released her. Her sleep, at least, felt more like normal sleep. He had never before held a sleeping woman, but he was too weary to be greatly unsettled by it. Instead, her soft presence in the circle of his arms was soothing.
Casavir was a fighting man, a soldier, and there had been little tenderness in his life. His calling made him compassionate, but it was an impersonal sentiment, directed at the injustices people endured rather than the people themselves. Now, as he clutched this vulnerable human being to his chest, he remembered what it was to care for a person, not ideals. When she woke, he would do his duty by her. He would be cold, if necessary, to maintain the detachment he needed to fulfill his obligation. But now, while she slept, he could be Casavir, the man, and treasure the simple, pure contentment of being close to another soul. He savored the peace that filled his own, and closed his eyes.
"Do you think she'll make it?" Neeshka asked. She had joined Khelgar at his watch position a candle before, and the dwarf had not had the heart to send her away. Besides, her chatter kept him from thinking too much.
"Aye," Khelgar replied with more confidence than he felt. No sense both of them feeling like that. Besides, Elanee said she'd live, and the druid knew her roots and berries.
"It's cold," the tiefling complained. He passed her his flask.
"Take the chill off," he grunted.
"Shouldn't we go check on her?" she fretted.
"The paladin's there," he said. "He'll look after her."
"So, what do you think of him?" Neeshka asked. "Can we trust him?"
"Who doesn't trust a paladin?" Khelgar was baffled by that. "He's good at what he does, and he doesn't talk too much. What's not to like?"
"I don't know about that," she snorted. "They're too uptight, and they just don't understand the finer points of property acquisition. But Kayla likes this one."
"There you go," Khelgar said. "Why are we even talking about it, then?"
"Because she likes him," she said. "She gave him her cloak."
He took his flask back.
"Well?" Neeshka asked.
"Stay out of it, Neesh," he warned.
They sat in silence for a quarter candle. Neeshka kicked at the dust.
"Why are we even out here?" she asked. "There's no reason for all of us to be standing watch."
"Could you sleep?" Khelgar asked.
"Well, no, but maybe Elanee might... " the tiefling's voice trailed off.
"Damn," she said. "I hate it when you're right."
Khelgar took another pull from his flask, then passed it back to the tiefling.
"Besides," he said, "you've got good eyes, and I was not lying when I said we needed to be on our guard tonight. With Kayla and the paladin out of action, we're open to the sky."
"So how long are we going to stay out here?" she asked.
"Until Grobnar comes to get us," Khelgar answered.
"Want to play a game of 'I Spy'?" Neeshka asked.
"Oh, all right," Khelgar grunted. "We'd be looking at things, anyway. But if you say 'rock,' you'll have double watches for a tenday."
--
Kayla was warm... too warm. And everything hurt. And something was on top of her... and under her... and behind her. She was trapped. She struggled, but pain exploded behind her leg and in both arms, and the constricting bands around her tightened slightly, then relaxed. She opened her eyes.
A man's arm lay across her... a human arm... and she seemed to be using another one for a pillow. The warmth behind her must be a man. With only one human male in the party, it could only be Casavir. Had she lain with him? And why did she hurt so much?
That, at least, she could do something about, but she couldn't cast spells pinned like this.
"Casavir?" she ventured. He woke with a jolt.
"My lady..." he startled. She could not see his face, but he heard the surprise in his voice. Then he calmed. He, at least, remembered why she was here.
"Can I get up?" she asked him.
"No, my lady," he answered, "not until we've healed your injuries."
"I can do it myself if you'd just get these blankets off me," she protested.
"Certainly," he said, and started to unwind the blankets that had been wrapped around them.
"Casavir?" she asked. "Why am I in your bedroll?"
"You were injured, my lady," he answered calmly, "and poisoned. We were able to neutralize the worst of the poison, but we were unable to completely counteract it. We feared the night chill would kill you, and we could not risk a fire. I apologize if my proximity bothered you, but I assure that no impropriety was intended."
"No, Casavir, I understand," she shivered violently as he threw off the last of the blankets.
She tried to move, but once again, her injuries prevented it.
"I can't," she blushed at her own incapacity. "I can't cast if I can't move my arms."
"I can help you," the paladin said gravely. He knelt beside her and laid one hand on each of her shoulders. He closed his eyes.
Kayla marveled at the serenity of his face. Is that how looked when Lathander's power moved through her? She hoped so.
It was very different being on the receiving end of divine healing. Or perhaps it was only that the energy that filled her was not that of her own god. She still felt as if she were filled with light, but this was not the rosy light she associated with the Morning Lord, but the pale golden light of Tyr. It still felt right, and her pain receded, but it was an alien presence in her body. She felt the wounds in her arms close, and the great gash in her leg ached a little less. She would need more healing than that, she knew, but it was better.
"Ooh!" Grobnar crooned. He'd been sleeping against a nearby rock. "Are you awake? Are you all right?"
"I'll live," Kayla said, suddenly conscious of her own near nudity. She grabbed the end of a blanket and pulled it over herself. She had spent the night in Casavir's arms clad in nothing but her undergarments. She felt her shame rise in her cheeks.
"Oh! I'm so glad!" he gushed. "We were worried about you, weren't we, Casavir?"
"Indeed," the paladin said solemnly.
"I've got to go tell Khelgar!" the gnome squeaked, and ran off.
Casavir's healing had restored her enough to finish the task herself. When it was done, she scrambled for her clothing, but it was hopeless. It was all cut and bloody, unfit to wear. She pulled on her spare clothes from her pack.
Much better, she thought.
Kayla looked toward the paladin. He'd seated himself near her, but he was not looking at her. He was replacing the straps on her armor. They had been cut.
"Who in the nine hells ruined my armor?" she demanded.
"I ordered it," Casavir replied, not looking at her.
"Why? You know it will take days to get it to fit right again."
"You were bleeding to death," he said, not looking up.
"Oh." Kayla was mortified.
"Who's making all that racket?" Qara demanded petulantly. The sorceress rubbed the sleep for her eyes. "Oh. You're awake."
"So I gathered," Kayla rolled her eyes.
Neeshka was running toward her. The tiefling hugged her tightly, then stood with her hands on her hips, her face set in disapproval.
"Don't you dare do that again!" the tiefling scolded her, then hugged her again. "But you're better now, so let's eat."
Khelgar was right behind the tiefling. He, too, embraced her, and slapped her kidney affectionately.
"Good to have you back," he grunted, then sat himself beside Casavir to help with her armor.
Elanee walked up, Grobnar in tow. The elf beamed at her.
"I see you don't need my help anymore," the druid said, though she looked pleased.
"Thanks anyway, El," Kayla said gratefully, "but Casavir patched me up enough to do it myself. Next time, I'll save it for you."
"Next time, you'd better not get hurt in the first place," the druid smiled.
Casavir raised his head at that.
"Forgive me," he said. "You went into that ravine ill-prepared, and I am responsible. I will remedy that now. This area is home to a number of sword spiders. Their armor is tough, and they are swift. Unless your strength is greater than mine, you will never be able to put mace or club through their shells. You need heavy, sharp weapons to cleave it, axes, greatswords, halberds. You might also use more slender blades such as rapiers, or crossbow bolts to puncture it. If we encounter more, and it is likely, arm yourself with sword or an axe, or with a crossbow, if you must. Spells are also effective, flame-strike, fireball, and the like, or summoned beasts. A pity there is no time to brew antidotes."
"I've prepared a few Neutralize poison spells," Elanee said. "If last night has taught me anything, it's that it makes good sense to have a backup plan."
Casasvir nodded grimly, then returned to mending Kayla's armor.
Kayla sat down beside him.
Her thoughts were a jumbled. She had spent the night in his arms, and had not even known it. She wished she remembered what it felt like, lying beside him. She wished her pain had not been so great, or she would have had a chance to appreciate it when she woke. But that was the reason he was holding her in the first place. Still, she could look at him now, crouched over her armor, and picture him lying in the blankets again, cradling her own body in his arms, his cheek against her hair. It was a happy thought, but it did not last long.
She had done badly the day before. Casavir and Khelgar had killed seven sword spiders between them, and she had gotten in but a single good shot. And he'd had to rescue her... again.
"I wanted to thank you for everything you did," Kayla said. "That's twice you've saved me."
"Do not trouble yourself," he said calmly, still riveting new leather straps to her cuisses. "Your vambraces are ruined, I fear."
"I'll have to do without," she shrugged. "At least until I can have them mended."
"No need," Khelgar said, putting down her harness and rooting through his pack. "I've got some boiled leather in here. We can mend them with that. Not as good as steel, but it's better than skin. Pass me the leather knife, Cas."
So now Casavir was "Cas" to Khelgar. He'd given them all nicknames, apart from Qara. Elanee was "El" or "tree-hugger," Neeshka was "Neesh," when he didn't just call her "tiefling," most of his epithets for Grobnar were obscene, and Kayla herself was usually "lass." The paladin was one of them now, according to Khelgar. She could smile at that.
Kayla was dismayed to learn that her injury had cost them a day. Casavir wanted to arrive at the entrance to Logram's lair in the early afternoon, when the orcs would be at their worst, but that was now impossible, for today, anyway. Kayla deferred to his judgment. If Issani was alive, one more day would not kill him, but they needed every advantage they could get.
"You said something about barricades," Kayla reflected, falling in step with Casavir once again. "Won't Logram wonder why his scouts aren't returning?"
"Unlikely," Casavir said. "My men have killed his scouts before. He will attribute their absence to the work of my people."
He fell silent again. He did not speak for the rest of the day, unless it was to advise her of some danger of the trail or to request a halt to allow the slower members of her company the chance to catch up.
The paladin seemed colder now, more distant. Kayla wondered at it, but she could not bring herself to ask him about the reasons for this second, unwelcome change. He still replied politely to her questions, and he still showed her every deference, but something had changed.
Did he resent her ignorance? No, he knew she had no way of knowing about the spiders. He must abhor her weakness... no, that was not it, either. He had told her freely enough of his own illness, when he'd drunk the poisoned water. No, it was simpler, and far worse. He was a paladin, drawn to pure, noble things. Kayla was neither. She had been too unguarded, and had told him of her humble upbringing... and suggested enough of her antics with Bevil to disabuse him of any illusions he might have had about her innocence.
He'd laughed at her. At the time, she thought he was amused by the simple pastimes of her home, but his station was greater than hers. He might be entertained by a farm girl who kissed a militiaman under a harvest moon, or worse, but he could never befriend her.
Daeghun had excused Bevil's cowardice by saying that he was made for simpler things. So, too, was Kayla. Casavir of Tyr, a paladin and a gentleman, did not desire her friendship.
The chill of that thought was worse than spider venom.