Valen carried Hypatia while she looked at the outsider leading them towards the large fieldstone farmhouse. She whimpered in his arms and he tightened his arms around her, worried. He knew that she sometimes felt the Plane of Shadow when she used her sight.
He scowled, they needed to know if the tiefling leading them to the farmhouse were leading them into a trap, or going to turn on them as soon as they had their guard down but the price of finding out might be too high. He only hoped that he could break her out of it should she become lost in her vision.
His expression grew increasingly stern in direct proportion to his worry and when she cried, "No! It doesn't work this way." He'd had enough. He set her down, steadying her and turned her to face him. "My lady, it's time to leave your vision."
Looking into her face his eyes widened at the sight of hers, they were filmed over white. The emerald green he loved seeing, whether flashing with anger or soft with love was no longer visible.
"Cimmera," Valen carefully controlled his voice so that it didn't betray him. "Has her sight ever made her eyes turn white before?"
"No!" Cimmera hurried over to see that Hypatia's eyes had indeed clouded over white and she appeared to be blind now. "Hypatia, dear," she asked carefully, "Can you see?"
What color there was drained from Valen's face at that question and he scrutinized his love for the slightest reaction.
Hypatia blinked several times looking around at the landscape oddly false colored. "I…I see but not the right colors. I see…" she seemed to grope for an explanation holding her hands out, fingers splayed as if she could somehow feel what she could not see. "I see…warmth and…and I've never seen such colors. I see the disease coursing through the veins of our new ally."
Exchanging a worried glance with Valen, Cimmera wrapped one arm around her sister and turned her towards the farmhouse. "C'mon dear, lets get you inside where you can rest."
Valen nodded, frowning deeply. He turned and gestured to the bat-winged tiefling to continue on. He gave Gabriel a glare as the man stepped forward looking to intercept Cimmera.
Gabriel shot Valen a resentful look before falling in beside him and hissing, "What is this 'seeing' of hers? Is this how she knew the tornado was about to descend upon us?" Then with a slight hesitation he offered, "Perhaps her goddess is punishing her for consorting with fiends."
Valen turned a cold look on Gabriel, scowling darkly. He was disinclined to speak to the man at all. Let him figure things out on his own…if he could.
"Maybe," Cimmera shot over her shoulder as they approached the ornately carved solid wood door of the large stone farmhouse, "She's having trouble because of a recent head injury she received at the hands of someone she thought she could trust."
Gabriel recoiled from the accusation in the High Priestess's voice and from the truth of the barb. He opened his mouth then closed it with a snap.
Approaching the door the bat-winged tiefling stepped neatly aside to let someone else take over. He looked over the little group carefully, weighing each of them and their capabilities such as he knew them.
He was troubled by this seeing he'd overheard them talking about and by the seeming incapacity of the pretty. She was their clear leader and if she were to fail, then his life would likely be forfeit.
Striding up and around Cimmera and Hypatia, Valen lifted one hand and rapped sharply on the door calling out, "Ho the farm. We are visitors seeking shelter for the night."
Blinking rapidly Hypatia's sight, much to her relief, was gradually fading from the odd colors back to normal. She could see the warmth seeping under the heavy door of the stone farmhouse but it was quickly fading to the cool color of the slate tile door stoop and rich browns of the door itself.
After a few minutes a muffled shuffling announced the presence of someone on the other side of the door and with the click of a turning latch it swung slightly open. The face of a younger teen girl peered around the narrow opening, her features pinched and pale, her eyes wide and apprehensive. She looked up at Valen and screamed, shoving the heavy door closed as she turned and ran back into the house.
"Oh!" Hypatia threw herself at the door just as Valen ducked back trying not to frighten the girl any more. The priestess managed to stop the door from closing but the grunt of pain she couldn't bite back gave testimony to what it cost her as she shoved her shoulder between the heavy door and the doorframe.
Pushing the door open with effort she staggered inside calling, "Wait! Please, we mean you no harm."
Cimmera shook her head and tsk'd as she slipped into what appeared to be an entry hall for the massive stonework farmhouse. "Hypatia, wait here. I'll find the child and talk to her."
She turned to Valen and gave a nod towards her sister, issuing the command, "Take care of her. I'll be right back." Then she silently melted into the shadows and went in search of the occupants of the house.
Valen frowned at the unneeded order but stepped up to Hypatia and steadied her with a hand on her arm.
Gabriel followed them in looking around with a cold assessing eye. He glared at the possessive hand Valen had on Hypatia but managed to keep his opinion un-voiced.
Deekin stepped in and stood next to Hypatia, still writing and taking everything in with wide eyes.
Their new ally watched it all taking silent note of the priestess called Cimmera's ability to shadow meld. This was a well mixed group. He weighed the potency of these people against what he had seen of the others; with their painstakingly raised army of undead decimated by this small force. The treacherous berks who had thought to employ him might not be able to withstand them. He might need to convince these priestesses that he could be of use to them.
From what his acute hearing had picked up of their conversation it would appear that the pretty little priestess he had been supposed to abduct had had some kind of vision of the infection raging even now through his blood. Hopefully she was a skilled healer. Hopefully she had jink, and plenty of it.
Cimmera searched the eerily empty house, stepping silently from shadow to shadow. From the condition of the house it hadn't been really lived in for some time. Tracks led her away from the spacious entryway where she left her twin and the party she travelled with and towards a huge kitchen towards the back of the massive house.
Though obviously built to house a large farm family, possibly more than one, the house now felt and sounded achingly empty. The remains of a sad little meal had been left on a rude wooden table and the small cooking fire still smoldered where it had been hastily put out.
She could hear the frightened breathing of the child, or rather, she listened carefully, children. Stepping out of the shadows she spoke in a gentle, soothing voice, "Please don't be afraid. I'm Cimmera, High Priestess of Sune I won't let anyone harm you."
She turned slowly around the room, pretending that she didn't suspect the children were hiding in a pantry off to one side of the large cooking hearth. "Please come out?"
She heard a loud whisper from behind the heavy wooden door, "What if it's a trick?"
Then another more quiet, "Shhhh, she'll hear us."
With a wry smile she glided over to the door and slowly opened it to reveal three children huddled on the floor behind it. They looked up at her with wide frightened eyes. An older girl, maybe in her early to mid teens and two younger boys, one perhaps 10 and the other a sturdy 5 or 6 years old; all looked up at her with fear and perhaps a little hope.
The girl, the same one who had answered the door and fled from Valen, found her voice, "Y-you promise?"
Reaching a delicate hand down to help her up the beautiful priestess reassured her with a gentle smile, "I promise."
The girl took her hand and stood looking around fearfully, "I-I saw a demon."
Cimmera gave each child a warm smile as she led them back over to the table to resume their meager meal of wilted greens and an egg apiece. Guiding the girl to her seat she patted her hand and in her most persuasive tone said, "That was Valen. He's nice."
"Nuh-uh!" the older boy blurted, fork in hand, "Pa said none of the likes o' him were nice. Pa said they'd eat yer gizzard an make rope from yer guts."
Cimmera turned a surprised look on the boy, "Well I'm sure you're Pa was right about most people like him and you certainly should not take chances unless you know for sure someone can be trusted. But I'm the High Priestess of Sune and I'm telling you that you can trust Valen. He wouldn't hurt you. He wouldn't even have bothered you but my sister is exhausted and wounded and he has taken it upon himself to protect her."
This got the children's interest. "You left your own sister with him?"
Cimmera smiled and nodded, indicating that they should eat while they talked, "I sure did and I know that she'll be safe because he won't let anyone hurt her."
The older girl looked over at her brothers and then back at Cimmera, her thin face pale from fright and her eyes ringed by dark circles, evidence that she had not slept much in some time. "If-if we let you stay here for a while to rest…will you help us?"
Pulling up a chair, Cimmera sat at the table with them and nodded, "We sure will. Now, why don't you tell me what happened to your mother and father."
The youngest suddenly looked close to tears and the older boy went to him and patted his shoulder while the girl swallowed her own tears before speaking in a choked voice, "Ma and Pa went out to take some of the harvest to town an get some dry goods an they never came back."
The older boy offered, "Uncle Johan went out with some of the hired men to find them an they never came back neither."
"Tell her bout the monsters," the littlest one said in a scared, hushed voice.
The girl shuddered and Cimmera reached over the small table to pat her hand comfortingly. The older boy piped up, "We started to see some people wanderin round after dark sometimes an one night I went out ta see what were up and," he paused and gulped, looking to his siblings for courage before finishing in a rush, "An it were Johan only he weren't alive any more. He were walking though. So I ran back an put the bar down on the door an we've stayed put since then."
"Good thinking!" Cimmera praised them for their wise choice and they gave her shy smiles. "Now, finish your vegetables and we'll go meet my sister and Valen. He'll make sure no undead come around here tonight."
That statement gave the children some hope and they cleaned their plates quickly, each rising to take the empty dish to the little basin where they would be washed up. "He's pretty fierce looking," The girl ventured, taking heart.
"That he is," Cimmera agreed with a bright smile. "Now, why don't you tell me your names and I'll take you to meet my sister and the warriors who travel with us and protect us."
She led them back to where she'd left the rest of her group, the children following along. They peered around her hesitantly at the strangers dominating the large entryway. Smiling gently Cimmera introduced them.
I watched as the beautiful priestess, Cimmera, returned with the children behind her. I was not surprised that she had found them and convinced them to trust her. That one could persuade a wealthy merchant to give good jink to orphans.
The children exclaimed that she and the other pretty were twins and I looked sharply between the two of them. I had not had the chance to look closely at them but now I realized the children were right. Though there were differences, the similarities were too prevalent to be anything but tell tales of the priestesses being twins.
I frowned, the priestesses followed different goddesses. That was curious indeed.
The children were introduced and led us back to a large kitchen. The pretty priestess immediately commanded the blood and the paladin to move tables out of the way and bring in a narrow but sturdy bed, placing it in one corner. I knew I didn't have the strength left to help them. All I could do was lean against the wall and sneer at them and hope they didn't notice my weakness.
Once the bed was set and the fires in all three hearths blazing she turned to look me over. I straightened staring down at her, crossing my arms and spreading my wings just a bit to make me look larger. To my chagrin she seemed unimpressed with my show of strength, leaving me to wonder just how clear her 'vision' had been.
"Come over here and sit down. " She gestured to the bed, "take your boots off while I get cleaned up."
I opened my mouth to protest her imperious manner but she had already turned to the blood and she spoke more gently to him. I raised an eyebrow in speculation and smirked, earning a warning glare.
I glared around the room, daring them to say anything before finally making my way over to sit on the bed, putting my foot up without thinking. I was just glad to get my weight off of it. The relief of having my foot up and the pressure off of it sent darts of red hot pain shooting through my whole body. Even my wings twitched and I shrugged, trying to cover my agony.
"Valen?" Again I noticed that warmth in her voice.
"I am yours to command," he answered and I shot a surprised look at him. What was his position in this group? The pretty treated him warmly yet treated the paladin with an icy reserve. The dynamics at work here were confusing at best. I frowned darkly, I would prefer to know what I was dealing with, who held power and how they wielded it.
"Please get cleaned up. I'm going to need your help," She issued polite commands even while setting her pack down and pulling out a drab, shapeless priestess robe and several pouches and jars, setting them carefully in order on one small table they had left in the middle of the room.
He looked up at her, startled, "You need me to get cleaned up, my lady?"
She paused from cataloging of the contents of her pack and stepped over to him. Reaching up she deftly flicked a gruesome bit of rotted flesh off one of the curving spikes on his breastplate. "If I clean the wound and something like this from our battle against the foul undead falls into it, then it will kill him."
"You need my help cleaning his wound?" Though he seemed puzzled I noticed he was already releasing the straps of his breastplate. She spoke, he acted. I wondered how much she'd paid him, or if he were her slave. Perhaps he was the hired man or slave of her husband or suitor who intended to keep his wife/prize safe. With little knowledge of them, other than what that treacherous berk who'd trapped me here had told me; I was left with nothing more than speculation about people who held my life in their hands. It was not a position I relished.
"Yes, Valen," She answered, calmly setting her armor on a nearby chair and turning towards what the children had identified as a well room with pumps and a large trough where the girl child assured us that large cook pots and other things were cleaned. She took her drab priestess robe, a couple of linen sheets and disappeared into the room.
Her sister, more gentle and even more lovely had been busily organizing the children to bring linens from the large store room not too far back up the hallway from where we were in the main kitchens. She set every kettle she could find over the fires to boil and began assembling metal basins and pottery bowls near where I sat.
"Bessera," She called the girl over to where she had set a pile of linen strips and a large fired clay bowl.
"Yes, Priestess Cimmera," The girl edged over, keeping the priestess carefully between herself and I. I flashed my sharp canines at her, further unnerving her.
"Why don't you gather your brothers and we'll go get some chickens and prepare them for supper later on. We can harvest some of those nice onions and potatoes I saw growing in the fields to go with."
"I can help with that," the older boy, Sebastian, jumped up from where he'd been setting some knives out near where the pretty had left her herbs and ointments. "Pa let me help him butcher the chickens and a goose last time."
"Oh," Cimmera turned a smile upon him, "Would you rather have goose for supper?"
"Yes!" All three children sang out and I smiled. Goose was good and I hadn't had a good meal in days now. I hoped they butchered a lot of geese. I was hungry.
"Well let's get going then!" Cimmera led them out of the kitchen.
Within moments the pretty stepped out of the well room, her hair damp and her face pink above the engulfing priestess robe she wore. She put her other garments with her armor and gently beckoned the blood, Valen, to take his turn cleaning up. He gave me a stern glare and then growled low in his throat at the paladin before vanishing into the well room at her behest.
She stepped over to the table and gathered up her pouches, vials and jars, moving them over to a small, low table she dragged to set next to the bed where I sat. "Where are Cimmera and the children?"
"They's go to get a goose or two for supper, Boss," The kobold answered with a toothy grin. "And they's going to gets potatoes and onions from the fields."
She whirled around to face the paladin, "And you let them go by themselves?"
The paladin looked up from where he was polishing his sword and snapped, "I'm a warrior. Looking after children is women's work and so is fetching and preparing food."
I saw the fury blaze through her in the sudden ridged way she held herself, her little fists clenched by her side. I smiled, showing my canines. She was feisty.
"With the priesthood of Cyric skulking around nearby and the army of undead we battled only a short time ago you let them go out to do 'women's' work without an escort? If my sister gets so much as a hangnail out there, I swear Gabriel, I will never forgive you," her voice was quiet but the steel in it chilled even me. The effect on him was shocking. He blanched and stood up, nearly knocking the stool over that he'd been sitting on. Then with a single wary glance at me he strode out of the kitchen and after her sister and the children.
"Take off your boot," She turned back to me. Though she didn't speak with quite the tone she had used on the paladin, she was still commanding.
I did not want to. I knew it had to be done but I also knew that once I took that boot off, I'd not get it back on. My foot was so swollen that it strained the boot laces already. I looked up at her, calmly looking down on me and hesitated. Then I cursed myself for showing weakness.
I took a deep breath and reached down and removed the boot from my healthy foot. I tossed it onto the floor before looking up at her, cocking my head arrogantly and giving her a challenging grin.
She raised one eyebrow at me and quirked her lips in a wry look that let me know she wasn't going to be put off by my insolence. I don't know what I expected of her but she just waited patiently for me and after a moment longer I reluctantly began to untie the boot on my injured foot.
The blood, Valen came out of the well room just as I managed to ease the boot down off my foot. It wasn't pretty, there was infection oozing out of a huge hole where the spike had gone through the foot pushing the small bones aside. The flesh had sloughed away from the outside edge exposing yet more bone through the oozing infection. It smelled putrid and I wrinkled my nose and tossed the boot well away from me. Sitting back, a cold sweat running down my face I looked at her to see what her reaction was.
She just looked down at it for a long time. Finally she shook her head once and met my eyes, "I'll have to clean it out and that will hurt…a lot."
I nodded. I had expected far worse. Pain I was used to; that she thought she might save my foot after having seen how bad it was gave me a glimmer of hope. I wasn't used to hope and it filled me with confusion. I gripped the edge of the sturdy bed frame to keep my hands from shaking. I suddenly felt chilled to my bones and I didn't know what I could do about it.
To my surprise the first thing she did was to fetch a pot and begin to select pouches from which she withdrew herbs to place into the pot. Then when she seemed satisfied with her selection of herbs, barks and other things I didn't get a good look at she set the pot near one of the fires and poured water from one of the kettles into it. Into this she added a few drops of some potent smelling liquids from some of the vials she had. I smelled holly and nettle juice, foxglove and other things I couldn't identify.
The blood watched her and when she was finished setting her concoction on the hearth to simmer she handed him a large linen sheet and instructed him to tear it into strips and to put the strips into another larger pot which she filled with more water from a kettle. Then she refilled the kettles and began to look through her jars and small sealed clay pots of ointments. She finally settled upon one that contained an odd smelling white powder.
Grabbing my arm she rubbed some of the powder on the inside of my wrist where the flesh is thinnest. I was too shocked to wrench my arm away. I didn't know what she had done. It didn't feel or look like magics and she had drawn no spell rune so after a moment snarling at her I ignored it.
Her white powder she set on the little table, which she pulled down towards where my foot rested, oozing onto the bed. She then fetched one of the metal basins her sister had set out and filled that with water from yet another kettle. Into this she placed what looked to be pieces of bark from some kind of tree, also a root and some leaves from still more pouches. Then she looked at me and I thought I saw real sorrow in her eyes.
"I might not be able to save your foot. Even now you are on the edge of going into shock from the infection that rages through your blood."
The blood spoke up from where he was tearing linen into wide strips. The powerful muscles of his arms and chest bunched and stretched as he ripped the fabric, "He won't survive as a cripple, My lady. If you cannot save the foot he will be unable to find employers for his skill with a blade. "
I shuddered uncontrollably before grunting, "He's right. No one would hire a warrior who cannot march into battle."
She looked at me again, worry clouding her green eyes. I felt a shiver run through me. No one worried about me. No one had ever worried about me. "Just save my foot and don't forget about my jink," I snapped at her.
She confused me and I didn't like it. She should be frightened of me. She should kill me or betray me or…or enslave me. She should not treat me like a man. I am not a man and she would do well to remember that.
I snarled down at her and she just looked at me, her eyes clear, no scent of fear about her. And why should she be afraid of me? I was starting to see spots before my eyes.
Cursed trap, cursed treacherous berks. I didn't see her stand or move away. I was too busy willing myself to remain conscious. I did feel a soft woolen blanket drop gently over my wings and shoulders. I snarled, or tried to but it came out weak and more like a pained mewling. Drawing another deep breath I forced myself to sit straight and willed myself to be strong. Gradually my will won out and my vision cleared. I drew another deep breath and lifted my eyes to glare around the room.
Then she plunged my foot into a basin full of hot water and who in the nine hells knew what else. "Ouch!" I yelped, jerking my foot away. A strip of dead skin sloughed off in her hands when I did and I expected her to be horrified or disgusted. She simply cleaned her hands off in one of the pottery bowls, wiping them on a linen strip before considering me carefully.
"Valen?" She turned slightly to speak to him.
I struggled to remain conscious and control the sudden shuddering that wracked my entire body. Waves of pain, chills and uncontrollable shudders coursed through my body. I fought them with every ounce of will and fortitude I possessed. Gradually my will won out.
"Yes, my lady?" He had been watching her, frowning and now he stood, setting aside the linen he was working with.
"I need his leg held still. Would you please see that he doesn't move?" She indicated that he should hold me down.
"No!" I choked out, "I'll keep still. Do what you must."
She turned to regard me, her look penetrating. I met her gaze with steady eyes, my teeth clenched tightly against the pain. By now I had managed to get the shuddering under control and only a slight tremor that travelled the entirety of my wingspan, gave away the pain and shock I was fighting through sheer bloody minded will.
When she finally nodded I almost slumped over from relief but I held myself upright.
Once more she plunged my foot into a basin of water, a fresh one I realized gritting my teeth against the pain. I held still while she got a pair of small shears and placed the blades of them into the small fire for a few minutes leaving my foot to soak. After some few minutes she used tongs pulled them out and let them cool until she could handle them. Finally she began to clean the dead flesh off of my foot.
While she worked the others returned with three of them each carrying a brace of fat geese. The birds were ready to be plucked and cleaned before being roasted and the thought of such a fine meal distracted me from the deft actions of the pretty trying to save my foot.
Oh she was gentle, surprisingly so considering my heritage but it was agony. There is something particularly unnerving about watching someone cut bits of flesh off of one's own body. I struggled to find something else to look at.
Her sister, Cimmera took one look at the goings on and handed me her brace of geese. "Here, pluck these so we can clean them," she ordered, fetching a bucket for me to put the feathers in. "And be careful not to get anything from them near where my sister is tending your foot."
I glared up at her but didn't see that I had much of a choice. Besides, it was a distraction and I needed a distraction. The pretty had gotten down to where still living flesh was and occasionally, despite her care, the blades she was using nicked the inflamed tissue. It was agony and took all my will to keep still.
She paused frequently to empty the basin and get fresh water, cleaning the basin each time. She added bits of bark and leaves and other things to the water every time too. She looked to be using up all of her healing herbs and what not just to clean the infection out of my foot.
The Blood finished with the task she had ask of him and moved to sit at a table near the smaller hearth where he began to polish his armor and weapon. I glared at him. His presence annoyed me. It rankled that he should see me weak and at her mercy.
Cimmera used tongs to get the linen strips out of the boiling water and hung them near the fire to dry quickly. Hypatia would need them dry to bind the foot when she was done cleaning the wound.
I began to tear the feathers off of the geese, throwing them forcefully into the bucket. I remembered the way the blood had just walked up to the door and knocked. I considered how she treated him and how she was caring for me. Not just the bare minimum but real care. Looking up at him I sneered, "She makes you forget that you're not a man, doesn't she?"
Suddenly everyone was looking at me and I glared arrogantly at them all. The Blood had risen to his feet, murder once again in his eyes.
It was the pretty who spoke though, her voice quiet and yet commanding attention. "I'm going to have to ask you to stop taunting Valen, please."
"And if I don't?" I asked rolling my shoulders and eyeing her insolently.
She lifted my foot out of the water and I tensed. Even I could see that the small bones were pushed out of place, my two larger toes almost splaying away from the other three. I turned my eyes away. She carefully moved the basin to the floor and set a pad of folded linen under my foot which she then set gently down. Only then did she look up at me.
I expected anger, fury even but there was no such emotion in her eyes. I expected her to cut me cruelly, with words or actions. She could cause me unspeakable agony just by touching my foot. Instead, she said, quite calmly, "Then I'll have to revise my opinion of you."
I opened my mouth to make some insult but no words came. She'd have to revise her opinion of me? What kind of threat was that? What did I care what she thought of me? Before I could think of some glib insult to make the time to make it passed so I settled for quietly glaring at her and them.
The paladin, Gabriel spoke then, clearly enraged by my insolence. "You should have chastised him for such a challenge, Hypatia. Do not let him think you are weak. You hold his injured foot in your hand, a single jab with that knife and he'd learn to keep a civil tongue in his head."
She looked up from where she had been peering over my damaged foot and I caught a glimpse of anger in her eyes. "You would have me do something deliberately cruel to someone who has trusted me to help them?"
He almost hesitated, almost but with a pugnacious thrust of his lower jaw he forged ahead, "To teach him a lesson he won't soon forget. Then when faced with justice for his actions he will have no excuse."
She stood and she fairly vibrated with anger, "Tell me Gabriel, how does a cruelty done in the name of justice differ from a cruelty done for the sake of cruelty itself?"
The paladin looked thunderstruck and I listened, a growing sense of wonder and something else, something more familiar filling my veins as I watched her. She was spirited and I found it exciting.
The paladin just gaped at her and she spoke again. "Because to me cruelty is still just cruelty regardless of whose name it is practiced in. Does it really matter if a cruelty is practiced for the enjoyment of some evil necromancer, or if the cruelty is practiced to satisfy some self righteous arrogant jackass's sense of superiority?"
By the doors of Sigil, what a woman! Just looking at the way her eyes blazed as she stood up to that pompous windbag made my mouth water. I remembered the soft feel of her in my arms when I'd carried her aloft. Of course there was the matter of the Blood.
I looked up as a shadow suddenly fell over me and there he stood, his eyes glowing red and his expression ferocious. "You lay a hand on her and I'll gut you and leave you to bleed out," his voice was a low growl and I knew he'd do it. Still I managed to flash my sharp canines at him, refusing to be cowed.
"Valen, since you're right there would you get those geese and hand them to Bessera so she can clean them?" Cimmera asked breaking the tension and possibly preventing bloodshed.
He reached down and collected the geese, stepping over to set them on the larger table with a flick of his wrist and without taking his eyes off of me. Whoever had hired him to protect the pretty had chosen well, I admitted silently.
The pretty returned to tending my foot, looking over the exposed bone and damaged flesh carefully. She gently turned my foot, looking at it from every angle that she could without causing me further pain.
I waited and watched her. My fate was in her hands. I thought the foot looked beyond hope. I'd seen other healers defeated by wounds half as bad. My whole foot was involved and the infection coursed through my blood. I shuddered, trying not to imagine a future of slow starvation and death if she couldn't save it.
She watched me, her eyes worried. She shouldn't worry about me. No one worried about me.
"Is there no other skill you have?" Her soft voiced question sent chills through me. Or maybe it was the fever.
"No," I snarled. "I'm a warrior. If I cannot fight I starve."
She reached out to touch my forearm and I jerked away. "But…"
"My lady," The Blood interrupted, "He doesn't expect to live long enough for cruel eld to steal his skill with his blade."
I hissed at him. The pretty looked horrified and would not meet my gaze. For some reason that made me feel better and yet also worse. I had won this round. So why did I feel like I had lost?
She startled me when she reached up and grabbed my arm, turning to look at my wrist. I didn't know what she was looking for at first, then I remembered she'd rubbed that white powder on me. I wrenched my arm away from her and glared at her, pulling my lips back in a silent snarl.
Finally she took a pinch of the white powder and sprinkled just a small amount into the wound where the bones of my foot had been separated by the spike and resulting infection. I tensed but no pain came.
Then she took some more of the powder and taking my arm rubbed it on the inside of my forearm. I was surprised and did not jerk my arm away as I should have. I didn't want her to think I was starting to trust her. She looked at me and said, "If you feel any new pain let me know right away."
I nodded and watched as she stood and went to clean the gore from cleaning my wound off of herself.
"Gabriel," The pretty's sister spoke, not looking up from where she was finishing up plucking the final goose.
A moment of silence then the paladin answered, "Yes, High Priestess Cimmera?"
"Would you come with me for a moment, I'll require your assistance." She handed the goose to the girl and indicated that she should finish up cleaning the geese and preparing them for roasting.
I watched them leave the room then turned my attention back to the remaining people. The children were all busy with the dinner preparations, the older girl and boy cleaning the geese and the younger washing root vegetables. The Kobold pitched in too, setting aside his writing to peel a large mound of tubers.
The blood finished polishing his armor and got the priestesses' blue armor and began to polish and tend to it. Whoever had hired him was getting their jink's worth to be sure. He took his duty to protect the pretty seriously. Unless, of course, he was magically bound in some way. Trying not to dwell on my foot I studied him, looking for the signs of a brand or enchanted tattoo somewhere where I might see it.
Scowling sourly I conceded that if there were some brand on him it could easily be hidden beneath his clothing. He kept carefully aware of his surroundings, confident in his own ability and the people he travelled with.
With a snort I turned my attention to the pretty. She was straining the concoction she'd made earlier into a large pottery mug. I realized, with surprise, that she was fighting fatigue herself. I felt my brows draw together in a frown. She wasn't tending to me at the command of some overseer, so why push herself when she was clearly exhausted?
She took a large swallow of whatever concoction was in the mug, wrinkling her nose and making a face at the taste. I watched her warily as she brought the mug over and handed it to me. I took it and watched her, frowning. Finally I demanded, "What's this?"
She raised one eyebrow and answered, her voice soothing, whether by design or not I couldn't tell but it irritated me. "It will help ease the pain."
I growled and made to hand it back, "I don't need coddling."
I watched her carefully. She made no move to take the mug from my hand. Instead she simply looked down at me for a moment before saying, "It would be easier to heal your hurts if you didn't fight me every inch of the way."
I blinked and then cursed for giving myself away. She had surprised me yet again. She was also, much to my chagrin, right. I gave her a grimace that let her know I wasn't pleased but I did drink the concoction. It tasted terrible.
Looking up at her I could almost swear she was just waiting for me to make some complaint about the flavor. Her expression never changed but there was something in those green eyes of hers that led me to believe she expected me to continue to be churlish. I handed the mug back to her and considered that perhaps it was time for her to be surprised instead of her being the one to surprise me continually.
Pulling the blanked closer around myself I settled back, careful not to move my foot in the slightest. I looked up at her and she raised that eyebrow once more before turning back to her herbs and salves.
From the hallway voices heralded the return of her sister and the paladin. I listened, turning my head to catch their voices all the better.
"Why don't you ask her?" The priestess Cimmera asked, obviously of the paladin. In response to what question I did not know and but a moment later they entered the room in silence.
The priestess Cimmera immediately went over to the children and began rubbing the prepared geese with salt and herbs, she rubbed the insides with more salt and herbs. Once done she slid them onto roasting spits and placed them over a low fire in the larger hearth.
We all watched her put those geese on to roast. My stomach growled loudly and I glared around the room at them. No one seemed to be too bothered by it though. I hadn't eaten a proper meal in days and not anything since I stepped through that gate. That was but one of the consequences of not having any jink.
The pretty set about checking the linen strips and taking down the ones that were dry. Finished with her armor the blood took up the glowing red sword and despite having heard it during the battle I was still shocked when it spoke to him.
"Be very cautious when confronting the priesthood of Cyric. They'll use illusion and deceit at every opportunity."
Then the paladin, Gabriel spoke up his expression somewhat haunted. "Tell me, Hypatia; why don't you just cast a healing spell and be done with helping this fiend?"
I bristled at him but watched carefully. There was something about the way he fit, or rather did not fit into the rest of this group that bore careful watching.
She spared him a glance, considering his question before answering, "Because I wanted him to survive the healing."
"Blasphemy!" He took a step towards her, suddenly battle tense and clearly furious.
No sooner had the paladin moved towards the pretty then the blood appeared between them — so swiftly I blinked, sure my eyes had betrayed me. Without a word the blood laid him out with the sweetest upper cut I've ever seen. The priestess Cimmera had moved, also with startling swiftness to place herself between Gabriel and the pretty.
Even without his armor on the fool managed to land with a clatter, knocking several basins off the table as he went down. Dazed the paladin struggled to his feet, looking around cautiously. "I…"
"You won't get another free shot at Hypatia, Gabriel," Cimmera cut him off, her voice icy hard.
Valen scowled at him fiercely, balanced lightly on the balls of his feet, his tail lashing behind him; ready to put to rest any threatening move.
Rubbing his jaw where the blood had struck him the paladin retreated to a corner where he settled on a chair and took up his own armor to continue polishing it.
This group was becoming more curious, and I had to admit, more interesting by the moment. While the darker side of me enjoyed the strife I also found it worrisome. They might tear themselves apart before the priesthood of Cyric got the chance. Maybe I hadn't made such a good choice throwing my lot in with theirs after all.
Then the girl gave voice to the question that I wanted answered, "Why would healing his foot, kill him?" She addressed the healer timidly, glancing at the blood and Cimmera to see if they would take exception.
The pretty turned a gentle smile upon her, and I noticed the paladin paying careful attention from his corner. "Because of the infection," she answered kindly, going on to explain further. "If I had cast a healing spell the flesh would have renewed itself around the infection but," she paused dramatically and I found myself listening even more closely, "it would have still been in there. It would have continued to poison him and caused his flesh to rot from the inside out. It is a particularly gruesome way to die."
The girl, emboldened by the kindly and lengthy answer gave voice to another question. "Why are you leaving it open like that, without bandages on it?" She pointed to my foot, laying practically flayed on the linen pad.
"Because wounds need air to heal properly," She began to transfer the now cooled linen strips to a clean basin and moved the whole thing to the table near my foot. "There are poisons that grow in wounds that are not allowed to breathe and they are the most deadly of all, and quick."
Then she grabbed my hand and turned it to look at the inside of my arm where she'd twice now rubbed the white powder. Once again I was too surprised to jerk it away from her. She laid hands on me without hesitation, without the repugnance I'd seen from other healers.
With effort I turned my attention from her to my arm. I couldn't see anything but she nodded in satisfaction as if whatever she saw were exactly what she'd been looking for. Healers.
Then she moved down to my foot and taking up the small jar of white powder she sprinkled it liberally all over my foot. She took special pains to get the powder into the open wound and on the exposed bones. I swallowed involuntarily. Was this how she betrayed me?
"What is that, my dear?" Cimmera, having set the boys to slicing potatoes and chopping greens moved to look at what she was doing.
"It's something I got from an alchemist once," The pretty answered.
I tensed. Alchemists were the worst. With their fire water and black powder they were almost as bad as mages. And she'd just powdered my flayed foot with some kind of alchemist powder. Curse that treacherous berk. Curse that trap and curse the pretty little priestess for seeming so compassionate.
Then seeming to sense the curiosity her brief explanation had generated she added, " I had stopped by to see if I could pay him to mix up some unguents and salves for me, since I rarely have the time to do it myself and discovered him treating a rather nasty burn with the stuff. I asked him about it and he said that it made his wounds heal more quickly but, and he seemed a bit disgruntled about this; the local clergy forbade him to sell the stuff."
She looked up and smiled a bit impishly, "I suggested that the local clergy didn't necessarily need to know if I purchased the occasional small pot from him and he seemed to like that idea." She turned back to my wound still speaking as she tended to it, "As far as I can tell it keeps infections from taking root in wounds. I'm hoping it'll work against the infection that's already there."
I almost slumped in relief but I dare not let her see my reaction. My suspicion might offend her and my life depended upon staying in her good graces. How I despised being at her mercy.
"That's amazing, Hypatia dear." Cimmera shook her head, smiling at her sister, "you find the most remarkable things when you're out adventuring."
The pretty smiled up at her before turning suddenly very somber eyes back to me. She held her hands over my foot in preparation for something and I felt a cold sweat break out on my skin. She hesitated then said, "This is going to hurt."
I couldn't suppress another involuntary swallow but I summoned my courage and managed to get a note of fearless command into my voice, "It's hurt since I stepped on that cursed trap. Just do what you must, healer."
The deep breath she took did not allay my anxiety. Then she reached down and with rapid precision pushed the small bones back into place. Agony ripped through me. I don't know if I screamed before the rising tide of darkness overwhelmed me.
Hypatia manipulated the small bones back into place as gently and quickly as she could, pleased when the foot started bleeding a bit more profusely than it had been. She gently laid the muscle and skin she had been able to save, precious little of it, over the bones as much in position as she could. Once done to her satisfaction and without wasting an instant she got the sterilized linen strips and dusted each one with the white alchemist powder before laying it carefully under the foot and binding it. She wrapped multiple layers of the bandages around the foot until it was cocooned in a thick, protective cushion of linen.
Once she was finished she cleaned up her materials and stacked the used bowls and basins, before getting wearily to her feet. She looked the strange tiefling over carefully for any more injuries, tucking the woolen blanket around him before quietly saying, "He'll sleep at least until supper, if not longer."
"Were you able to save his foot, my lady?" Valen, having finished with her armor and weapon set them aside and stood. Crossing the room he took the bowls from her and took them to the well room where he left them to be cleaned.
"I think so," the cleric answered, gathering up the remaining linen strips and moving to hang them to dry before one of the smaller hearths. "The foot started bleeding after I put it back together. That's a good sign."
Cimmera looked Hypatia over carefully and with a gentle yet undeniable command told her, "You're just about exhausted yourself. Why don't you go get some rest."
Hypatia shook her head, almost reflexively. "There is still a lot to be done." She made her way to the table and began putting away her herbs and other healing supplies, carefully checking to see how much of each she had left. Realizing she had left the white alchemist powder over on the small table by the cot she turned to retrieve it and nearly tripped on an uneven flagstone in the floor.
Valen was there and steadied her with one big hand. He got her jar of powder and handed it to her, searching her face. She was gray with exhaustion and the bruise on the side of her head was an angry purple-ish red color.
"Come, my lady," his voice was gentle but there was a certain determination behind it. "I'll stand guard while you rest. You must not push yourself to the point of collapse."
Hypatia's eyes flashed up to meet his pale blue gaze and she just looked up at him, her expression unguarded and telegraphing her adoration.
Cimmera smiled and adroitly mentioned, "I had Gabriel help me place a large bathing tub next to the hearth in the master bedroom just up the stairs. The water should be warm by now and I'm sure a bath would do you good."
Of course Hypatia couldn't resist that. Not after a harrowing battle against a veritable horde of undead, followed by a hike across the countryside and then tending that messy, putrid wound. With a glance at her sister she acquiesced, "A bath would be heavenly."
Cimmera went to her pack and pulled out a small bundle of clothing and pressed it into Valen's hands, giving instructions as she did so, "Get that drab priestess robe and bring it to me. It's covered in gore from that wound and it does nothing for her. Here are some practical clothes that won't swamp her in a shapeless, colorless sack of fabric."
Startled Valen accepted the bundle, and smiled at the instructions. He couldn't help but defend his Tia though, "She wears what is most practical for her."
Cimmera fixed him with a stern eye and said, "Practical needn't be drab and shapeless."
"If you two are quite finished," though the words were tart, Hypatia's voice betrayed her fatigue and ruined the effect.
"Come then, my lady," Valen placed a hand in the small of her back to guide her out of the kitchen, "Lets get you that bath then."
"Wait!" Gabriel jumped up and held out his hand. His expression was an awkward mix of shame and sincerity. "Priestess…Lady, Hypatia." He began carefully, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I cried blasphemy before I heard you out. It was…unwise of me."