Jean Rabe - The Silver Stair

"Shock," the dwarf pronounced. "Someone put a blanket on him. Keep him warm."

He couldn't risk many more words. His hold on the spell was becoming tenuous, and he feared he didn't have the energy to start it over. He needed to direct all his concentration on the power of his heart.

"Not… not afraid of dying," Gair whispered. "Riverwind. Not…"

"Don't talk." Camilla squeezed the elf's hand. With the other, she brushed the sweat-damp hair from his eyes. "We'll get the wagon and take you back to town. It's just down the trail." She continued to stare into his dark purple eyes, glazed with pain. She lifted his head when one of the townsfolk thrust a blanket under him. Another blanket was placed over his chest. "The dwarf seems quite capable."

"Jasper… ."

"Do what the pretty lady says, Gair. Don't talk! An' don't interrupt me."

Several pairs of hands wormed their way under the elf's leg and lifted, pulling him off the broken spear haft. Gair clamped down on his lower lip to keep from crying out, only succeeding in muffling his cry. In the background, there was talk of the dead townsman. Camilla released his hand, intent on helping the dwarf.

"Don't go," Gair whispered. His hand found hers again.

"Easy!" Jasper ordered as the hands lowered the elf's leg again on the other side of the broken spear haft. The dwarf's fingers hovered over this wound now, and he summoned all of his mystical strength, pushing himself further than he ever had before and feeling himself grow lightheaded and dizzy, slipping toward unconsciousness, his hold on the enchantment slipping quickly with him. "C'mon! C'mon!" The words were to encourage himself. "C'mon!" Suddenly the dizziness passed, and the dwarf felt a wave of intense warmth radiating outward from his chest, racing down his arms and legs, invigorating him and spreading into the elf. "That's it!" The warmth continued to pulse through him for several moments. He felt the wound closing, and he eased back on his haunches and opened his eyes wide.

The elf's chest was rising and falling steadily. Blood had soaked through the blanket and soaked Jasper's pants legs and shirtsleeves, but Gair had finally stopped bleeding. All the wounds were closed.

"Magic," Camilla breathed. She was still holding the elf's hand. "You healed him without the gods."

"Well… spiritualism, mystic sorcery," the dwarf said. "An' whatever it is you call it, mine's not the best. I'm just learnin'. Though today was quite an education." He rose to his feet, steadied himself, and continued to eye his patient. The blood on the dwarf's hands was so thick it looked like a glove. "I don't want him movin', not for a while. Gotta get the wagon back. We'll put him on it."

"How did you do it?" Camilla was amazed, yet skeptical. She glanced at the two men who'd been wounded by arrows. Both were up and moving around, as was the female elf who'd taken an arrow in the leg.

The dwarf gave her a "that's a long story" look.

"Thank you, Jasper," Gair said.

The dwarf dismissed it with the wave of a hand. "I should be thankin' you, Gair. If you hadn't pushed me out of the way, I'd be the one skewered, an' you'd be the one doin' the healin'." The dwarf watched as Gair's eyes fluttered closed and Camilla placed his hand on his chest. "Personally," he added with a wink, "I'm not sure you could've pulled it off. I've been at this a little longer'n you. Y'know, I tell you to take more chances in your life, my elven friend, but I didn't mean for you to do somethin' like that. You rest now, Gair." He turned from the elf. "You got some water? I'd like to clean up a bit."

The female elf hurried over, her wound forgotten, fussing over Jasper with a waterskin and blanket. The townsfolk gathered around the dwarf, the air buzzing with questions and words of congratulations and thanks.

The knight stood and used the edge of her cloak to rub the blood off her hands and the metal plates on her calves. "Camilla Weoledge," she said by way of introduction as she approached Jasper. "Commander of the Solamnic Knights now stationed on Schallsea Island."

"Jasper Fireforge," the dwarf returned, extending a clean, but cold and wet, hand. "My injured friend there's called Gair Graymist." He pointed to the female elf. "An' this 's Iryl-"

"Songbrook," Camilla finished.

"We've met?" The elf turned her heart-shaped face toward the knight.

Camilla shook her head. "I walked by your hostel in town."

Iryl smiled warmly and her eyes sparkled with pride. "The Cozy Hearth. It was most fortunate for us, Commander Weoledge, that you were traveling this road. If you hadn't driven the attackers off, perhaps none of us would be alive… . Poor Harrald." She cast a glance at the man who lay dead. A woman was draping a blanket over him. "We owe you our deepest thanks."

The Solamnic knight shook her head. "You owe us nothing. It is our responsibility to keep the residents of this island safe." She shifted her weight to the balls of her feet and stared, unblinking, into Iryl's eyes. "Have you any idea who attacked you?"

"No." The other townsfolk echoed her answer.

"Or why?"

Another chorus of nos.

"Who lives around here?"

"There are tribes scattered on the island," Iryl said. "The Wemitowuk and the Que-Nal, but neither would be responsible for this. They're peaceful people, and I'm a close friend of the Que-Nal chieftain. They trade in town sometimes."

"Anyone else around here?"

"There's a village of farmers not too far away, Heartspring, but I don't believe they have weapons."

"Bandits, then," Camilla mused. "They thought perhaps you carried something valuable on your wagon that might help them through the winter."

"The wagon!" someone hollered. "It's there down the road. Let's get it!"

"Well, I suppose it would be considered valuable," Iryl returned. "Blankets and flour, oil, all manner of building supplies."

The knight cocked her head as a thrashing came from the trees. Camilla whirled to see Willum and five of her knights returning. Three of them were carrying the body of Trevor. Arrows protruded from gaps in the unfortunate knight's plate mail.

Camilla's face reddened in anger.

"We didn't see who killed him, Commander," one knight began. "We knew he was chasing something. He slipped between some trees and we lost sight of him."

"Found him under an evergreen," Willum huffed. He doubled over, chest heaving, and put his hands on his thighs. "Looks like whoever killed him tried to hide the body. Took us a while to find him." He finally caught his breath, hummed in his throat a moment, then straightened. "Orders?"

"I've lost a man, Willum," she said softly, her gray eyes sad. "Not here but two days, and I've lost a knight already." She nodded toward the north, in the direction the clatter of the wagon was coming from. Two townsmen had turned it around and were guiding the horses. "We'll put Trevor on the wagon, with the dead townsman and the wounded elf, and head back to town immediately. The elf needs bed rest, Trevor needs to be buried, and we need a larger patrol to scour the countryside for the bandits. I want to interview each of these people." She swept her hand behind her to indicate the people gathering around the wagon. "Perhaps one of them saw something that can give us some clue to the bandits' identity. And then-"

"Excuse me, Commander." It was Iryl Songbrook. The elf nodded respectfully to each knight. "We won't be going back to town."

"We have to get these supplies to the settlement," Jasper finished.

"But the dead man-"

"Commander, we can bury Harrald at the settlement," Iryl said. "He would have wanted that. Harrald wasn't from Schallsea. He came here from Caergoth to see Goldmoon."

"The settlement of mystics." Camilla's tone was even, her face rigid.