Chapter 14

The euphoria still consumed Fredricx. Sure, he probably had black bruises down one leg when he had fought the hulking troll beast alongside Adullam. Sure, he had sustained a heavy blow to the abdomen via club. Sure, he had finger nail gashes in one arm. Sure, he had blood running as a river from his fist from where he had grabbed the whip from the unfortunate end. Sure, he could feel the lacerations from the werewolf beast deep in his shoulder. Despite all of this, the feeling of confidence surpassed none. He was worthy of respect. He had accomplished something most humans died without attempting.

The injuries were nothing but an ache, nothing more than a hard day's work at the shipyard. Maybe, this would be different later, but at this moment, he would keep going until Ettie was tucked away from the Hunt.

Fredricx pulled himself up and over the brick fence. His shoes thudded with the cobblestone pathway. As soon has he landed, Ettie embraced him, slinging her arms around his torso. She squeezed, intensifying the ache. They kissed with such a fervor that their relationship was unaccustomed to.

After a moment, Ettie buried her head against his chest. "I was scared," she breathed, "I could hear all of the horrible sounds. Are you hurt?"

Fredricx shrugged against her frame. His injured hand likely made a pool of red against her blouse. "Let's get back to Lucas."

As if an actor on his cue, Adullam appeared again. His clothes were ladeled in gore, sword and torch in hand. His tricorn hat was pulled tightly over his face, mask pulled taunt over his mouth and nose. The now red splattered ruffles of his collar and deep red coat made him stand out among the other Hunters.

Ettie scurried behind Fredricx with a hand on his back.

"Fredricx, pal, is that you underneath that garb?" Adullam pulled down the his face covering. He was beaming, smiling. "Of course, the beard gives you away. Good news, Old Yharham has been cleared of beasts."

"Adullam." Fredricx nodded curtly.

Ettie flexed her vocal cords. "How do you know this Hunter?" she spat, tone filled with venom.

The Hunter choose not to notice. The sword was sheathed, and torch handed off to Fredricx, who accepted it with a tight brow. Instead, Adullam pulled off the gloves he was wearing, pocketing them. With untold gentlemanship and showmanship, he cupped both of Ettie's hands and brought them to his lips, "It's nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Vinge. Fredricx must really care for you, taking on beasts for you. He isn't even a Hunter yet."

Stammering, she withdrew her limbs for herself, "What's your name, Hunter?"

"Adullam, my lady." The Hunter's voice was silky as he gave her a small bow, hinging at the waist. Adullam smiled up at her before straightening himself.

Ettie didn't seem impressed by this show. Her arms were knotted over her chest, mouth pulled to one side in a frown, "Adullam what?"

"Adullam the Hunter. That's all I am known by now," he wasn't smiling anymore, "Let's get back to your friend, Lewis. I have gift for him."

"Lucas."

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The adrenaline was fading. The throbbing set in. The nausea revisited him and wasn't going to leave this time.

They hadn't encountered any beasts yet. Fredricx would have liked to think he was ready for them. However, his steps were more like thuds. His blinks increased in duration along with yawning and head lulling. This tiredness threatened to topple him.

He stared at his shoes, willing his body inside those shoes to continue. For the first time, he noticed the swelling of his torso. His right side underneath his chest was distended. There was a growing mass. Fredricx stopped and used his palm to press against it. The swelling gave in to his touch at the cost of a light-headedness. Groaning, he fought the urge to vomit again, which was made difficult by dry heaving and jaw quivering. His eyes closed, and his person tipped a little too far to one side. The center of gravity was lost, and Fredricx fell. The whip fell from his fingertips, and the shards clapping with the earth.

Fredricx fell quickly, but Adullam's reflexes were quicker. The weapons in his hands clanged with the cobblestone street. He ducked below Fredricx's collapsing body and used his shoulder to bring them both up again.

"Thanks," Fredricx wheezed. The dizziness was like water sloshing, tipping his person in the direction of the slosh.

"We're going to Iosefka's Clinic. You need to be treated. Mrs. Vinge, carry those for me? I wouldn't normally ask a lady to branish two weapons, but we'll have to make an exception."

Ettie nodded, eyes wide. She collected them, one in each hand. The whip links drug along the ground like a child's toy.

Even with Adullam's help, Fredricx found himself stumbling about on nothing in particular. Was his eyes not communicating with his feet? This feeling was too familiar as if thrown into a stupor by far too much alcohol. However, this was much worse. At least with the drunkenness, there was a feeling of consciousness even if it was forgotten by the morning. Fredricx was losing himself. The drowsiness blackmailed him.

With its narrow streets, skylining factories, and massive Healing Church, Yharham, an expansive industrial city, seemed far more gigantic in those moments than it ever had before. Central Yharham was still too far.

Fredricx turned to his support. Adullam was speaking to him. Despite their physical closeness, he couldn't hear the Hunter, whose mouth continued to shape words. Ettie bounded alongside the pair. Now, her lips were moving as well. Fredricx tried to focus on her eyes, but they bounced around on her face. This caused his head to sling to one side, throat seizing and spewing bile.

Thankfully, this cleared his senses for a moment. Ettie was demanding, "We have to stop. Get him somewhere inside."

Adullam was instructing her to calm herself, "Iosefka will take care of him. He will be fine."

This clarity quickly faded. His intestines were playing a game of cat and mouse, but Fredricx was the one losing.

Specifically, Fredricx was losing his consciousness. The awareness of his mind and body were slipping. He might have been heading to Central Yharham. He might have been putting feet in front of another. He might have been have been vomiting blood and other substrate every couple of paces. How was he supposed to know?

He caught sight of the Yharham skyline, outlines of tall spires and factory chimneys. The white saucer moon was the last thing he saw before night ascended on him.

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Adullam could do little to keep Fredricx from falling. He could only intercede in keeping Fredricx's skull from kissing the pavement.

The Hunter hissed out vile words. "In the name of Kosm," he ended his string of swearing. He rubbed his forehead vigorously with his palm, shaking his head with a hardlined jaw.

"Now what?" Ettie inquired. Her shoulders quivered against her will, the pair of weapons shaking. Today hadn't gone at all as expected. Old Yharham, her only source of income, was reduced to shambles. She never imagined Fredricx fighting beasts, but he had and lived. At least, he was alive right now, but for how long? Regardless, they didn't have much to pay this Iosefka.

Adullam didn't bother to answer, but instead hoisted Fredricx's limp body into his arms. This was no small feat. Fredricx was not a small man. Years of construction, fighting as a soldier, and working in the shipyard had contributed to his size.

"Answer me, Hunter." Ettie didn't know she was angry until those words flew from her lips. Her face turned hot, but it didn't matter. "All of this is your fault."

She could see Adullam tense, turning to face her. The manners had disappeared. "How did you conclude that?" he spat at her.

"You burned Old Yharham. You and all of the other Hunters."

"The red moon hangs low, and beasts rule the streets. Were we left with no other choice, than to burn it all to cinders?"

She turned from the Hunter. The whip swung after her. She needed this Hunter's help right now, so she would bite her lip. Bite it until it bled if needed. "Lead the way," she grunted.

It wasn't long before they entered Central Yharham and were in the courtyard of Iosefka's clinic. The courtyard held more than the board of job postings, but also housed a small cemetery. The moon lit up the tombstones in a way that made them seem taller and livelier. She felt a pang of fear, but it wasn't for the tombstones or the beasts.

Adullam, still carting Fredricx, used his shoulder to thud the door. "Iosefka, it's me, Adullam. I have an injured Yharhamite."

There were small footsteps, the clicking of heels against wood flooring. Then, a small woman came to the glass. Her lips were stuck in a pout. Her hair was pulled back tightly out of her face. Stress lines wrinkled her face and clothes. She wore white as a doctor would, "Good Hunter, my doors do not open until the Hunt is over."

"This is Fredricx. He is a Yharhamite that killed beasts to save his wife. He lost consciousness on our route here. Iosefka, he's a good man."

"Remember that last Yharhamite you brought me, Good Hunter?"

Adullam nodded, "And I'm very sorry."

"I can't expose my patients to infection. Please, try to understand, Good Hunter." Her eyes were kind, but firm.

"Fredricx hasn't taken any blood in his life," Ettie pleaded, "I swear on my own life. He doesn't have the baffling sickness. He's just injured."

Iosefka's expression softened. She undid her gloved hands and pressed against her temple with her fingers. Sighing, she nodded, "Okay. Okay. I will treat him. Hunter Adullam, you will not enter my clinic. Do you understand?"

Adullam gave a wry smile, "Thank you, doctor."

Iosefka disappeared back into clinic, reappearing after many long moments with a wheelchair. She unlocked the door and opened it just enough to fit the wheelchair between door and its frame. Adullam lowered Fredricx into the chair. He was still undoubtedly unconscious with head lulled awkwardly to one side.

The Hunter turned to Ettie, sliding on his gloves again, "My sword."

She stepped away from him and allowed it to plummet from her fingertips. It clattered at his feet. Adullam bent for it and pulled out a pistol from his coat. Straightening, he made fierce eye contact with her, chest rising.

"You will depart from us, Good Hunter," Ettie ticked.

Iosefka tensed at the sight. "Go on, Hunter. I will pray for your safety, but you will leave my clinic."

Without another word, Adullam left, pulling closed the courtyard gate behind him.

"Come on in, dear," Iosefka smiled for the first time, "We'll get him taken care of."

"Thank you, ma'am. Thank you so much," Ettie breathed.

The doctor pulled the wheelchair into the clinic, allowing passage for Ettie inside and locking the door behind them. They were in a small entry room. Dark, elaborate wood paneling scaled all of the walls. The floor was matched by equally expensive flooring. However, this entry room held far too many stairs for this wheelchair. "William, come in here, please. I need your help."

A man appeared from deeper inside the clinic. He was dressed as a typical Yharhamite. "Yes, doctor?"

"Take this man to one of the tables for me."

Willam did so with a groan. The limp body seemed easy for Adullam. This was a far more difficult task for William, who seemed would topple them both over to the floor. Both women followed after the man, who went past the first room. Shelves lined this first room, but they didn't hold very many books. Instead, there were vials, jars, and an assortment of medical tools. One of these tools was a sharraded saw. Hopefully, this wouldn't have to be used. Other patients were in this room. Most of them were attached to their bedsides by IVs, which were suspended by ornate metal structures.

The next room was essentially the same. Half ajar suitcases lined the walls. There were a handful of chairs in this room as well. They had belts attached to the arms and backs. Thankfully, no one was seated.

William stopped at the first vacant table and laid out Fredricx. Slipping back on her gloves, stained by use, Iosefka went to work, "Take the coat off, William." They managed together, freeing the leather from his uncooperative body. Then, using a pair of worn shears, she snipped his collared shirt bare. The doctor surveyed the scene. This abdomen was severely distended, pregnant with something. The claw marks in his shoulder were deep, bleeding.

"This mass," she prodded at his right side. She snatched up one of the tools, a scalpel, from the metal bowl beside the table. The scalpel was used lightly, slicing the swelling mass at the surface. It was as if she had pulled out a stopper on a barrell. Blood flooded out, running down his side and pooling on the table. Using a fragment of his shirt, she pressed it against the incision she had made. "He is bleeding out from the inside. He has lost a lot of blood."

Ettie's heart sank, falling down into her bowels. She could be the one to pass out now.

"I can minister blood." Iosefka's eyes met hers. They were steel. The kindness had been replaced, "I don't know if he will live otherwise."

Her heart raced. Fredricx was profusely sweating to the point his hair and beard were an abnormal shade. His skin was abnormally lackluster. Dark red bubbled up at the claw imprints. This was nothing compared to the cut Iosefka had made. Ettie let out a shaky breath. She could sob, "I don't know."

"You need to make a decision. Shall I minster blood? Do you want him to have a chance to live?"

"Yes, do it."

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