Chapter 81

The thing about snow, especially thick snow, is that it's impossible to walk through it without making a distinctive crunching sound. As soon as Milo had taken a single step, her unseeing, bloodshot eyes whipped towards his general direction, wand raised.

A red curse of some sort flew out of Hannah's wand, but missed him by several yards and hit impacted the snow harmlessly, causing a cloud of steam to erupt as the snow flash melted.

Milo felt like an idiot. They need wands to cast, he thought. That little stick really should have been my first target.

"Grease!" Milo cast, not on the ground underneath Hannah, or even on Hannah herself, but on her wand. Hannah remained expressionless, but Milo imagined (perhaps, somewhat fancifully) that her possessor at least blinked in surprise as her only weapon slipped harmlessly out of her hands, landing lightly in the soft snow. In some detached part of his brain, Milo realized this was the first battle he'd ever won in which he really didn't care about the XP earned.

Milo heaved a sigh of relief and walked over to his injured friend.

"Master's Touch," Milo cast, granting him +4 to Heal, which, combined with his naturally high Wisdom and Healer's Kit, would allow him to easily make the check to stabilize Hannah. Sudden insight flooded his brain about human anatomy and emergency medical procedures.

"Okay, I'd best leave the dagger in," he said quietly. "Because I could do more damage just taking it out." Hannah stared at him blankly, her eyes still wide open. Milo winced — human reflex, when looking at an exceptionally bright light (such as a laser or, in this case, Glitterdust) is to close one's eyes immediately to prevent damage. Whatever was controlling Hannah had evidently overridden that instinct, leaving her eyes red and bloodshot, glittering gold like the rest of her. Unfortunately, there was nothing Milo could do to end the spell once it had started.

As Milo got to work cleaning the injury and trying to stop the bleeding, Hannah stirred again.

"What, you're not still trying to kill me, are you?" Milo asked, surprised. As a precaution, he dismissed the Grease spell on the wand and stashed it in his Belt of Hidden Pouches.

Despite her injuries, Hannah moved like lightning, ignoring the pain entirely. One moment, her hands were by her sides; the next, they were pulling the dagger out of her own injury. Milo blinked, then snorted.

What's she going to do, he thought, stab me? Unlike her, I have twelve hit points. That's three good stabs before I even notice it, minimum.

Hannah lunged at Milo, nicking his arm for a paltry two damage.

"Better safe than sorry," Milo said, mostly to himself. "Protection from Evil." He tapped Hannah on the forehead and a glowing gold cylinder briefly appeared around Hannah before, leaving her protected from mental control for the duration of the spell (seven minutes with the help of his Arcanist's Gloves).

"Gah!" Hannah shrieked in pain, rubbing at her eyes frantically. This only had the effect of smearing blood into them.

"Hey, Hannah, it's okay," Milo said in what he hoped was a soothing tone. "Your vision will return in a few seconds. I know it's hard, but I need you to stop moving while I try to deal with the bleeding, okay? Can you do that for me?"

Mutely, Hannah nodded, tears starting to flow from her eyes.

Mordy climbed out of Milo's belt and helped him hold a bandage in place while Milo tied it off. The rat knew, without any form of communication necessary, exactly where to be and what to do to help Milo the most — a combination of their long partnership, empathic link, and the fact that Mordy benefited from Milo's Master's Touch spell just as much as he did.

"I'm..." Hannah started to say. A brief memory of when he first encountered her out here, and she struggled to say the words to curse him came to mind.

"Don't say anything," Milo said.

"I'm s-sorry," Hannah said weakly.

"It's fine, I'm here, I have magic, I can get you to safety," Milo said. How the Hells am I going to pull that off? He wondered. All I have left are Benign Transposition, Feather Fall, a pair of Prestidigitations, Dancing Lights, and Mage Hand.

Not for the first, or last, time, Milo wished he were a Cleric.

Why, oh why didn't I buy that Healing Belt back in Myra (cityoflight!cityofmagic!)when I had the chance? He thought bitterly. Or at least a few Potions of Cure Light Wounds.

"Uhm," Milo said. "I don't mean to shake your confidence in my abilities or anything," he said cautiously, "but I don't suppose you know any healing spells?"

"Sorry..." she said. "I'm... useless."

"Untrue," Milo lied. "Dancing Lights," he cast, in a vain hope that someone would see it and come to their rescue. In the current weather, however, it seemed all but impossible.

I flew here in a more-or-less straight line at 120 feet per round for five minutes, sans one minute to cast circle dance... that's 4800 feet, or almost a mile. Normally I can hustle on foot at 60 feet per round, but carrying Hannah will cut that down to 40, and the snow will take it down to 20...

Milo managed to conceal a groan. It would take, assuming everything went well (which, in his experience, was rare to the point of impossibility), twenty-four minutes to hike Hannah back to the castle. Twenty-four freezing minutes through snow deeper than he was tall. Twenty-four minutes at maximum carrying capacity.

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