Chapter 42: Personal Stakes
Nomar took a deep breath. Finding the core of her essence, she blocked all surrounding sounds and sensations from her mind. Even the link to her husband, precious as it was to Nomar, faded far into the background. All that remained was the warmth of mana inside her body. Nomar focused on it; acknowledged its presence; and channelled the power away from her centre. She steered it through her arms to the heart of her palms. The mana then reached beyond Nomar's flesh, soaking into the crystal that sat in front of her.
When she poured in as much as she could spare, Nomar opened her eyes. The little crystal bracelet now shone with life energy. She panted softly. Her head felt a little lighter. Infusing one crystal with her mana meant little on its own. However, doing the same with dozens of these crystals, day in and day out for weeks on end, the effort accumulated into a terribly taxing ordeal.
This was all for the good of her people, Nomar reminded herself, practically as a mantra. The enchantments placed on this bracelet would slowly feed the stored mana into the next person who wore it. That would enable the lythans to supplement the nuhmryg patients' life force without exposing themselves to transmission for too long. It was the best tool at their disposal for helping people. Now if only the Lythan Jad possessed more combined mana than they did at present.
Nomar carried the bracelet into the infirmary. She knelt beside an olive-furred vixen who slept deeply. Her arm, wasted away from lack of appetite, felt as cold and fragile as frost. Nomar could feel the girl's bones through her fingertips. Gently, she took the depleted bracelet from the girl's wrist and replaced it with the new one. Nomar sensed the mana flow to where it should. She stroked the vixen's thin, listless hair without conscious thought.
A raspy voice pleaded for water. Nomar looked up to see Krystal already carrying a cup over to them. Her poor kit looked as run down as the people in bed. The worse shame was that Krystal wasn't the only lythan in her state. Almost all of them were. Yet Krystal's exhaustion hurt Nomar the most.
It had only been just over a week since she made her daughter go home to rest. The next day, Krystal returned brighter than Nomar had seen since before the outbreak. Her rejuvenation did not last as long as either of them had hoped though. The constant pressure to care for the ill wore Krystal back down to where she started. In fact, if Nomar were to be honest, Krystal looked even worse now than she did then.
Krystal gathered the empty medicine bottles onto a tray. When she carried them out from the room, Nomar followed her. She could feel nothing from Krystal. No thoughts. No emotions. Only weariness. Krystal swayed as she walked. The bottles clattered as she struggled to keep the tray balanced. Thankfully, Krystal made it to the brewing stations without dropping anything. She did, however, set the tray down harder than Nomar believed was careful.
Biting her lip, Nomar caught her daughter's shoulder. "Little one, are you alright?"
Krystal jolted. She glanced at Nomar, but her eyes lacked clear focus. Nomar then noticed that Krystal's fur felt warm to the touch. "I'm fine, Mama," Krystal replied.
The faint slur in her words made Nomar frown. "Are you sure?"
"Of course, Mama!"
Worry and instinct drove Nomar's actions though. She placed her fingers against Krystal's forehead. The skin burned underneath. Alarm shot through Nomar's heart. "You're feverish!"
"I'm fine!" Krystal protested, swatting her mother's hand away.
"No, you are not! How long have you been feeling this way? How bad is it?"
Krystal brushed past Nomar. "It's nothing! I told you I'm fine! There are more people who are worse off than me."
"That's only because they've been sick with the nuhmryg for days and weeks!" Nomar seized Krystal's wrist. "Is that what's ailing you? Did you catch it from someone? Krystal, please tell me the truth!"
Angrily, Krystal wrenched herself free. "I'm not sick! I don't have time to be!" She stormed away. "I just need to…"
Her legs buckled. Krystal lurched to one side. Nomar screamed her name as she barely caught her from falling. Krystal's body shivered in her arms. She opened her eyes after a moment but took several seconds to meet her mother's. Horror filled Nomar. It flared from Thalse as well through their ehn.
"Randorn!" Nomar screamed. "Randorn, help me!"
The commotion drew other foxes into the room. Randorn arrived swiftly to Nomar's side. He cradled Krystal's head, checking her pulse and temperature. Krystal tried to stand but couldn't resist Randorn nudging her back down.
"What happened?" The question came from Thalse across the city.
Tears filled Nomar's eyes. "I could tell that something was wrong. She was weak with fever and just collapsed out of nowhere! I think she's caught the nuhmryg!" A sob broke Nomar's voice.
Randorn's hand touched her shoulder gently. "Let's lay Krystal down and cover her up." He helped Nomar to carry Krystal back into the infirmary. Fortunately, a fresh bedroll was available. They threw thick blankets to keep Krystal warm. She breathed heavily and became still.
A crowd gathered behind Nomar. Mostly apprentices and a few junior lythans. Nomar's gaze settled on Krystal's young pupil, Javlin, who watched with disturbed worry. "Will she be alright?" he asked.
"She will be. But right now she needs space and quiet to rest," Randorn answered. His stern expression prompted the foxes to return to their duties. Nomar watched over Krystal. In that instant, she became like a small child again. The mother's need to protect her surged through Nomar.
"Will she be okay?" Thalse asked. His consciousness clung to Nomar as though he were standing right behind her. She repeated his question to Randorn.
"Krystal will pull through," he reasserted, taking Nomar's hand into his. She could feel the dread that Randorn pushed deep inside himself. "She just needs rest. She's strong and resilient."
Nomar choked on another sob. Randorn squeezed her fingers. "Nomar, I promise you. We will do everything that we can to help Krystal. It will be alright. I swear it."
'Don't…' Nomar shook her head. Don't make promises when they just carried out three more bodies yesterday. Inside her head, Thalse comforted Nomar to the best of his ability. Alas, his despair was as keen as her own. Nomar pleaded to Nuhm. Not Krystal. Not their only child. She had given so much to help so many already. It wasn't fair to do this to her.
"Mama…?" Krystal murmured. She tried to rise. Nomar held her shoulder to stop her.
"Lie down, sweetheart. Save your strength."
Thankfully, Krystal obeyed. Sorrow haunted her features. "I'm sorry."
"Don't apologise," Nomar shook her head. "Just rest. I'll look after you."
"But the others. They need help more."
"Don't worry about that. I promise that everything will be fine, okay?" Nomar tried desperately not to weep in front of her little one. She began to channel some of her mana into Krystal's hand. It flowed across for several seconds until Randorn's touch interrupted Nomar. She threw a hot glare at him. He spoke to her telepathically.
"I understand what you are feeling, sister. I want Krystal to recover quickly just as much as you do." His expression grew stern. "But do not let your emotions cloud your judgement. You have a duty to all the people in this room. Not just Krystal. Your focus should be on the ones who are in worse health than she currently is."
"I will not leave her life up to chance!" The venom in Nomar's thoughts stung him. "The sooner that she receives treatment, the better her odds of recovering!"
"Krystal only became ill recently. That means that she is not in as much danger as the others yet. If we let her hold her staff, its spirit mana can buy us some time."
That was what he wanted Nomar to place her faith in? She scowled. They had already resorted to drawing from the planet's power shortly after they pushed more sick foxes into the infirmary than there was room for. That was the only reason the lythans hadn't all dropped yet. Now there was barely any natural mana left surrounding the shrine, and Randorn saw fit to tell her to entrust what little remained with her child's life?!
"If we take the staff somewhere far from the shrine, it could accumulate more mana that way," he vocalised.
"Then let me go."
"You know that we need you here."
"If you won't let me help my daughter, then who will?" Nomar fumed.
"I can," Thalse answered. "I patrol the entire city often these days. That gives me plenty of places to harvest more mana for Krystal. I just need to carry her staff while it charges."
"And then you can return it when it's full," Nomar finished aloud. She quickly relayed Thalse's idea to Randorn. He nodded. Nomar turned to Krystal. "Is that alright with you, my little one?"
After completing their masters' trials and receiving the spirits' blessing, a lythan's staff became incredibly personal to them. The emotional bond meant that only they could use the staff's power to its full extent. Likewise, many masters rejected the notion of using any other staff or weapon after the process. They were also strongly reluctant to let anyone else hold their staffs for any length of time, unless in exceptional circumstances.
Fortunately, Krystal perceived this as one of those times. Mumbling softly, Krystal nodded. She trusted her most precious possession to her father's care. Thalse appreciated the weight of that decision.
"I'll come around soon to pick it up," he told Nomar. She felt a new concern riddle him. "Fox needs to know what's happening. I'll tell him as soon as I can."
Remorse filled Nomar's heart. She felt awful enough learning that her daughter had contracted this horrible, deadly disease. It would feel just as terrible for Fox, being Krystal's mate. Nomar worried for him. Though his relationship with Krystal was still young, their love ran deep; and Nomar already viewed Fox as though he were her own son. "Do your best to reassure him."
Thalse sighed. "I'll try." His thoughts then receded from Nomar as he concentrated on his own matters.
The whole time, Randorn pressed a crooked finger underneath his chin. "What are you thinking?" Nomar asked.
Though often jovial and quick with a joke, Randorn took his time when contemplating something serious. He studied Nomar for a long moment before electing to share with her. "I think we should push forward one of the masters' trials and open it up to more lythans. The spirit trial."
Nomar straightened in surprise. "Is that wise?"
"I cannot say for certain. However, if we get the spirits to entrust more lythans with Cerinia's power, we would then be able to give these people more mana than we currently can. We have 60 lythans this year. Thirteen of them are masters, including the pair of us. If we can convince the spirits to bless staffs for at least that same amount, we'd be doubling our strength in fighting the nuhmryg."
"And if we can get civilians like Thalse to take the blessed staffs and recharge them elsewhere, we can bring in a steady stream of fresh mana without leaving the shrine undermanned." Randorn beamed as Nomar caught on to his idea. "But would the spirits help us? The trial requires people to have an emotional tie to a suitable crystal."
Randorn frowned. "That's the part where we'll need to hope for the best. To save time, I believe that the juniors' current staffs will have to suffice. A strong sense of duty might be enough to complete the ritual, given our current circumstances."
Nomar nodded grimly. "We can't just send everyone to search for spirits all at once though."
"You're right. We might have to stagger who stays and who goes. Though I would like to see everyone attempt the trial at least once before Krystal's condition worsens."
Again, Nomar agreed. "Do you think that the juniors and apprentices are ready for that responsibility?"
On that point, Randorn withheld his reply. A spirit's blessing bestowed great power. In unprepared hands, that power could cause terrible harm to a young lythan who couldn't control it, as well as anyone or anything standing around them. That was why only budding masters were allowed to attempt the spirit trial.
"I suppose we'll let the spirits be the judge of that."
Nomar sighed. "I'll leave the arrangements to you."
Randorn took to his feet. Before he left, he placed one hand upon Nomar's shoulder. Love and comfort carried across through his touch and gaze. She was grateful to him.
Alone with Krystal, Nomar laid her palm against her child's cheek. Krystal held her eyes closed, tired but still conscious of her surroundings. She leaned into Nomar's hand like she hadn't since she had been a third of her size. Nomar then combed through Krystal's hair and scratched her ears. A fresh tear ran down Nomar's face.
"Rest well, my little one. I swear to you. I will do everything in my power to make you better again. Please stay strong for us."
Would that she could kiss Krystal on her brow. With a heavy heart, Nomar abstained. She could do nothing for her daughter if she caught the nuhmryg herself. So, Nomar left Krystal to rest quietly.
Randorn was right. There were more patients living in the infirmary than just Krystal. Many of them were in more dire states, each struggling to survive. So long as they suffered, Krystal could not rest easy. Her duty wouldn't allow it, so Nomar had to carry it in her stead. Hopefully, Randorn's plan could make a difference. It needed to for all their sakes.
The Lythan Jad's shrine was an impractical location for a laboratory. Andross decided that barely days after moving in. After two months of living in the place, that notion frustrated him close towards the breaking point. His private quarters were too cramped. There were too many foxes pestering him with noise. And to top it all off, every other room in the shrine was dedicated to some trivial purpose that barred Andross from setting up the equipment he needed to produce his antibiotics. For the love of all powers in the universe, how was a prayer room more important than that?!
In the end, Andross resorted to erecting a large tent outside of the shrine. This was his space to use alone! He made that expressly clear to the lythan masters. Thick canvas blocked out the wind and sheltered the interior from occasional summer showers. Yet it allowed sufficient fresh air in, which had become preciously scarce while cooped up inside.
Three large tables stood in a row. Atop them, Andross placed various beakers, flasks, and tripods among other essential pieces of equipment. The lythan apprentices carried it all from his home laboratory on the edge of town. Andross carefully inspected each item to make sure that none of those naïve louts broke anything. Thankfully, he had yet to find so much as a crack.
Everything needed to be ready to start production as soon as possible. It took longer than he liked, but Andross succeeded in finding a merchant who could supply the chemicals that he needed. Thene was on her way to collect the wares from the neighbouring territory. Once she returned, they would set to work immediately.
For some strange reason, Thene had been resistant to his request. She did agree with little persuasion, yet Andross felt perplexed by her initial response. She normally wouldn't pass up an opportunity to please him. There was something that Thene wasn't telling him, Andross began to believe. However, he had too much to do to concern himself with the matter.
Andross soon paused midway through loading bottles into a cabinet. A ruckus came from inside the shrine. Arguing, it sounded like. Distinctly different from the urgent calls and sickly moans that were now the norm. Andross secured the cabinet doors and left the tent to investigate.
"Just let me see her!"
"I've already told you! No visitors! If you want to talk to Lady Krystal, then you'll have to use your telepathy."
"I can't use telepathy! I'm not like you people!" McCloud's shouts were easy to recognise. "Fuck it! I've had enough of this!"
"Hey!"
"Fox, stop!"
Andross stepped into the foyer just in time to watch McCloud force through the guards barring him at the entrance. Thalse Sharrde ran after him. He seized McCloud's wrist, only for McCloud to wrench it free an instant later.
"What in the devil's blazes are you doing here?" Andross growled.
Thalse used McCloud's momentary distraction to grab him again. This time, he refused to let go. McCloud struggled furiously. "Get off me, Thalse!"
"I will not!" the silver fox glared. "When I told you about Krystal's health, I didn't expect you to barge through half the city to get here! I thought you had more sense than this, Fox!"
"And what would you do if it was your mate?!" McCloud snarled.
"Don't you dare take that tone with me! Especially when Nomar and Krystal are both in the next room!" Thalse bristled. "Believe me, I want nothing more than to be by my daughter's side right now. But I, at least, have the damned sense not to put my own health at risk and make things harder for everyone else!"
"In case you've forgotten, you're at more risk of dying than anyone else here," Andross added harshly. McCloud turned his fury towards him. "Cerinians bury mates in the same grave. So, if you want to be the first one thrown into the ground, be my guest. Otherwise, I suggest that you turn around now and go home."
"Fuck you, Andross!"
"Enough!" Nomar's sharp rebuke startled McCloud enough to make him stop squirming. She stood in the doorway to the infirmary. With her staff in hand and a hard glare in her eyes, there looked to be no way in hell that she was letting anyone through. "We have a lot of sick people who are trying to sleep. They cannot do that while you're all fighting like zerbrues in rut out here!"
The tension waned from McCloud's muscles. A step in the right direction. "I just want to see Krystal. I need to know how she's doing."
Sympathy replaced Nomar's scowl. "She's resting. In terms of her condition, she's still in the early stages. Randorn, Thalse, and I are working on a plan to buy her and the others as much time as possible."
Andross made a note to enquire about that shortly. If they have concocted a new treatment, he wanted to learn the details. The little that Nomar did share calmed McCloud down almost completely. "Can I still see her?"
"No. We can't risk it," Andross answered more gently. "Remember what I told you before: If you contract the nuhmryg from the girl, the guilt will devastate her." McCloud's hackles raised again.
"He's right, Fox," Thalse said. "Think about what Krystal would want. She'd want for you to keep yourself safe."
McCloud looked to him desperately. "But…"
"We will do everything we can to help Krystal. You know that we will," Nomar promised. She turned to Andross. "How much longer will your medicine take to make?"
Andross furrowed his brows. He did not want to give too much hope, but the last thing that he needed was to drive McCloud into further recklessness. "I'm still waiting for Thene to retrieve the materials that I need. I cannot say how long that will take her."
"But Krystal will be alright until then. Won't she?" McCloud asked. "She has loads of mana inside her. She can recover on her own, right?"
A terrible sigh thundered inside Andross's chest. He refrained from expelling it too openly. "Had she not spent the last two months sharing it out to others, all she would have needed was bedrest. But because she has already depleted her mana, Krystal's chances are barely much better than yours would be."
Horror shattered across all three faces. As a medical professional, one encounters the look of despair at least once in their lives. As someone who has declared and waged war, they become desensitised to it for a time. In that moment, Andross couldn't say which he felt right now or which he'd rather. Once, he would have taken satisfaction from that look McCloud now wore. Yet when Andross turned to Nomar and Thalse, terrified for their daughter's life, a strong wish to snap his fingers and rewrite the world ate away in his stomach.
"Left on their own, a person with Krystal's current strength would succumb within days," Andross continued. "But with repeated mana transfusions, we can extend that time to at least a week. Perhaps longer. Hopefully with some rest, the amount of mana that Krystal is losing and producing will balance out before her symptoms turn fatal."
Nomar locked urgent eyes with her husband. "We need to recharge her staff as soon as we can." Thalse nodded. Determination flared within his.
McCloud stood helpless as Nomar retreated into the infirmary and returned shortly with a second staff. "What can I do?" he asked as she handed it to Thalse.
"Just stay out of the way and let us work," Andross answered. "I understand that you're concerned for your mate, but it's not worth the risk to comfort her for even five seconds."
McCloud shook his head. "I can't just abandon her like this."
Andross truly pitied him. "You won't be. You're making sure that you stay alive for her to go home to. You need to focus on the long-term goal. Trust us to look after Krystal in the meantime."
The agony that McCloud felt radiated from his every tightening fibre. "If you get all the ingredients you need for your medicine, how long will it take to make Krystal better?"
"For diseases like this, the typical course for antibiotics is up to two weeks. However, they'll start working as soon as she begins taking them. How soon that will be depends on when Thene returns."
A ray of hope made all the difference. "Okay," McCloud said. His breath trembled. He swallowed hard. "Andross… please… Save Krystal… Please."
Andross froze. He had no immediate response. Even now, he never expected the man to ever beg anything from him. Yet there McCloud stood. Ears flat. Tail drooped. Eyes so wrought with anguish that Andross couldn't stand to peer into them.
So instead, he turned to Thalse. "Get him out of here. And don't let him out of your sight until he has left the city gates." Thalse nodded and took hold of McCloud's shoulder. Silently, he led the younger tod out of the shrine. McCloud didn't put up an ounce of fight.
Nomar glanced back at the infirmary before turning one last time to Andross. "We are all counting on you, Doctor." She then left to tend to her patients.
With a heavy sigh, Andross turned his back on all of it. "I will do everything I possibly can," he murmured.
Fox moved on autopilot as Thalse lead him away from the shrine. He felt hollow save for one thing: dread. Dread for Krystal's life. Dread of what would follow if he lost her. He was no stranger to loss. Between his father's death and being cut off from everything from his old life in the Lylat System, the hurting scars of grief left a big mark on Fox's heart. The last thing that he ever wanted to add to that was losing Krystal.
When he pleaded Andross to help her, Fox nearly dropped to his knees. They still shook as Thalse steadied him through each step. His gentle hold never left his shoulder. It was the only other sensation that Fox registered.
"She'll be okay, Fox," he promised him, despite the deep worry underneath his words. "Krystal is a fighter, and she's in good hands. She'll make it through this, I know it."
"It's not fair," was all that Fox mumbled.
"I know it isn't. But it's too early to lose hope."
At the base of the stairs, Thalse presented something to Fox. It was Krystal's staff. He hadn't seen its gemstone that dull since the day he dug it out of the mountainside last year. "Nomar and Randorn came up with a plan," Thalse explained. "Krystal's staff will absorb mana wherever it goes. There's none left in the air here, but if I carry it with me, I can gather more to sustain Krystal until Andross's medicine is ready."
Fox raised his head. "Will that work?"
Thalse sighed. "That's our theory." Fox's heart sank again. Thalse's hand returned to his shoulder. "I'm sorry that there is nothing you can do to help. But taking care of your own health is the best thing that you can give Krystal right now."
Krystal… Fox wanted to see her so badly. To be refused by everyone was the worst part of this. If he could just hear her voice…
"Fox…"
He jolted. "Krystal?!"
"Hi, love…"
Their connection felt weak. Disoriented. Like Krystal's control of it ebbed and waned in waves. She sounded so tired. "How are you feeling?" Fox asked worriedly.
"I'll be fine…"
"Krystal, please don't push yourself," Thalse cut into their link. "You need rest."
"Don't worry about me, Fox," Krystal went on. "Just look after yourself… I'll be okay soon… I promise."
Fox held onto her touch as though with the vain hope to preserve it forever. "Please hold on," he said aloud. Tears burned down his cheeks. "We're going to help you. I swear it."
Alas, Krystal's thoughts disjoined from his. The last thing that Fox felt from her was warm love. "Krystal!" he screamed.
"It's alright, Fox," Thalse calmed him. "Nomar is with Krystal. She's just exhausted."
Drying his face, Fox took a deep breath. "There has to be something that I can do."
"Right now, there isn't. I know it's hard, but please go back to your cabin and wait there. I promise I'll keep you informed on how Krystal is doing."
There was no point in arguing. Fox could see that now, and that struck him hard. As Andross instructed, Thalse accompanied him all the way to the city gate. There, Fox passed Hiumart, who watched him worriedly as he walked like the dead marching. He made to approach, but Thalse waved him off.
"It'll be okay, Fox," he promised again. Fox merely nodded. "I'll reach out to you soon."
Lacking any strength or will to speak, Fox simply walked forward down the hill. Although his heart pulled back towards the city and Krystal, his feet carried him further and further away, to the cold and lonely shack full of other things that were useless to her right now.
The sun dictated all life across Cerinia. It set the time for people to rise in the morning, tend to their fields, hunt beasts in the forest, deal in their business, and carry out any number of tasks before dusk fell over the horizon. As soon as night fell, Cerinians returned to their homes. Some may still venture outdoors under the guidance of torches and light crystals. However, outside of the towns and cities, no sensible person travelled in the complete darkness that ruled there. Such was a world where the sky blocked out the moons and stars.
On this night, Thene questioned her sensibility. Life as a scientist required risks to be taken, though perhaps she could have considered the risks a little more cautiously before driving a wagon through the lightless plains towards Kezamat. The haret pulling her thundered along on its four powerful legs and cloven feet. The lantern jangling on a pole beside Thene's seat barely illuminated the road in front of them.
Even she would admit the foolishness of her actions right now. Jars and boxes rattled in the cart behind Thene as she rode over bumps and pits. The precious value of her cargo both justified and worsened her reasons. Without these raw chemical components, Simon could not produce his antibiotics. Without the antibiotics, those afflicted with the nuhmryg would have no choice but to take their chances with traditional Cerinian medicine. Although some potions had antibacterial qualities, they were nowhere near as effective as Cornerian treatments. And so, with hundreds dead and more facing the same fate, urgency forced Thene's hand.
The things that she did for that ape sometimes…
Although her eyes struggled in the gloom, Thene's telepathy gave her a wide scan of the area. Another consciousness flared in her senses. Several more appeared around it. Six in total. They resonated like a group, coordinating but not intelligent enough to be people. The creatures homed in on Thene's presence. They ran in pursuit, covering ground fast. Cursing, Thene flicked the reins, urging her haret to gallop.
As the beasts closed in, Thene suspicions solidified. They were loutho wolves in all likelihood. Nocturnal and completely blind. They find their way to food and water using a keen mix of sonar, smell, and telepathy. Fighting them off would be a pain since their packs operate as a hive mind. There was too much sensory information relaying between them to read the thoughts of any individual. Thene's best chance was to take them out from afar while they chased her. That was going to make keeping the haret on the road a challenge.
Her ears heard fleeting scratches from the animals' paws. Reins in one hand and her staff extended in the other, Thene launched a bolt of lightning into the darkness. It struck a whining loutho. In the flash, she saw its appearance. Dark fur, a lithe canid frame built for speed, and an angular head with enormous ears and no visible eyes. Thene's haret whinnied in terror as it realised what was following them. It didn't need her urging to run at full sprint.
Regrettably, the death of one loutho didn't upset the rest of the pack. It just made them more cautious. Two drew close, one on either side of the cart. Thene cast another bolt to her left. The loutho sensed her intent and evaded unscathed. Swifter, Thene turned her staff and aimed at the second one without looking. The animal's heart seized inside its ribs. It tumbled headfirst over the grass and disappeared.
Thene turned forwards to check her bearings. The front wheel then struck a rock that she couldn't see. The cart lurched upward, turning Thene's stomach. Her arm quickly braced around the lamp pole. She came down hard. Something shattered underneath. Jars and bottles rattled behind. The cart began to drag across the ground. It nearly threw Thene forward. Only her death grip on the pole kept her on her seat.
The reins tightened as the haret refused to stop. Various physical forces wrestled each other until the old leather gave in and snapped. Once more, Thene held on for dear life. The cart ground to a complete stop. Meanwhile, her haret charged off into the darkness. The four remaining loutho raced after it, deciding that the panicked beast was less dangerous to attack than a Cerinian spellcaster.
Thene's head swam with the aftermath of her ordeal. Shock. Fright. Aimless adrenaline. Several aches and pains. Euphoria from surviving. Thene drove herself to push through all of it and stand. Her legs wobbled. Her arm, having still not released the lamp pole, stopped her from collapsing straight away. She remembered the threat and stretched her reeling mind outward. Thene could sense the loutho. She could not sense the haret anymore. Fresh meat was being relished tonight.
Cursing under her breath, Thene collapsed her staff. Predators with full bellies weren't likely to hassle her anymore. She turned her attention to the cart's front wheel. With a louder, harsher curse, she found its rim broken and a good third of the struts split apart. Thene kicked what was left in a spike of fury.
She took a breath to calm down. Her next priority was to inspect the cargo. For many minutes, Thene picked up each and every container. She checked for any cracks and odours. Thankfully, none of the liquids appeared to be leaking. The thick straw padding she filled the crates with ensured that.
Now that her current situation was clear and she knew that she was no longer in immediate danger, Thene contemplated her next move. With a broken wheel and no beast to pull it, her cart was never going to make it to Kezamat by morning like she planned. And unless she devised a way to carry everything there, neither was she.
The loutho were no longer interested in her, but Thene could sense more creatures drawn by the scent of blood on the wind. She extended her staff again and took a vigilant stance. She needed a plan to get herself out of this mess. If she didn't, her life wouldn't be the only one in peril.