Journey to Volmyr (6)

Garrick's left hand is shattered. His clavicle and left elbow cause extreme pain when moved. He sits in the rain for a few minutes, trying to catch his breath, but the more he breathes, the more the adrenaline leaves his body, allowing the pain to flood through.

Another chitter is faintly heard. Garrick throws himself upright with purpose, like the dead rising from the grave. Another surge of adrenaline hits as his fight-or-flight reflex activates.

Exhausted, vision failing, his one working arm can barely grasp his blade, let alone swing it with venom. One thought echoes through his mind like a beating drum.

'RUN!'

As if moving on its own, his body runs in the opposite direction from the chittering, toward Meetlemire or not; he doesn't know. Any sense of direction is muddied in this weather as fear courses through his body, spurring him on as he powers on through the storm.

As the chittering grows louder, Garrick's primal fury has all but vanished as fear entirely takes hold, breathing scattered and frantic. He could trust his abilities to fight a good fight, be it win or lose; he always had a deep-rooted trust that he could conquer any battle, but in his current condition, Garrick didn't know how to win, and his body knew it, too.

Garrick runs endlessly through the storm as his body screams in agony from wounds and lack of oxygen; his body tires, but his mind forces it to continue as the creeping darkness encapsulates Garrick. Any noise heard is another monster inches away from grabbing him and stealing him away into the abyss of night.

But that light seen initially before the battle began appears once more. It pierces through the terrifying darkness like a glorious goddess reaching their hand toward him, purging the darkness from around him, protecting him at all costs.

Running with renewed vigour, Garrick chases onwards, closer toward salvation as the powerful thudding of paws behind him chases onwards.

A slam of lightning strikes the mountainside, good fortune for Garrick as it lights the surroundings, showing a small billow of smoke rising into the sky and a wooden palisade just a couple hundred feet in front of himself.

Lungs filled with the fire of exhaustion, every frenzied gasp for delicate oxygen is met by the halting presence of strained exertion as the Gnoll draws nearer; every bounding step feels like it sunders the ground beneath it.

Nearing the salvation of civilisation, Garrick feels a grabbing sensation on his back. All he can muster is a roar as he throws what little life he has left into running. Mind blank, oxygen-starved, dizzy and nearing passing out, he reaches the palisade gates, unguarded and open.

Hurling himself through the gates, crashing to the ground, sliding briefly through the mud and gravel before coming to rest. Turning over and looking back towards the gates shows nothing chasing Garrick as he gasps for breath. Staring into the darkness from where he came, his body overheats as he throws up vigorously, the strenuous exertion catching up with him as his body can now process just how hard Garrick pushed himself.

With shaky hands, Garrick uses a nearby crate to lift himself as he leans against it for support, now beginning to take notice and detail of where he is.

The rain eases off, allowing Garrick to see more of his immediate surroundings. Crates, wheelbarrows, mining carts, tools and rail tracks litter the area, painting the picture of a mining camp.

A group of roughly eight workers are in the distance, blocking an entrance to the mines to the best of their abilities with a building on the far end of the mining camp, lights fluttering out the windows into the stormy night.

Garrick takes slow steps towards the building when he spots Meetlemire's carriage tucked away between the building and the wooden palisade. The ground is muddy and filled with gravel, causing him to slip and stumble often. As he approaches the door, he hears a growing commotion that becomes louder with each step. Garrick reaches for the door handle, causing it to creak and bring silence within before finally opening it with his last bit of strength.

A Dwarf meets Garrick's gaze, who stands opposed to Meetle, short and stout, with a thick red beard and red hair. Just from the look in their eyes, an argument was happening, fiery and close to violence. Ten or so miners stand throughout the room, races varied from one to the next, from Half-Orcs and Elves to Humans and Gnomes.

"Garick! You made it!!" Meetle shouts in ecstasy.

The Dwarf chimes up loudly.

"No, no, no, no!! We don't have room for any of you. Just leave!" The Dwarf says exasperated.

Garrick walks further into the room, the blood from his bite wounds mixing with the rainwater as it pools at his feet. He glances around the room, not seeing Kyra anywhere.

"Meetle, where is Kyra?" Garrick tiredly asks.

Before Meetle can reply, the Dwarf interjects angrily.

"Outside, like you and your midget gnome will be right about now!! We ain't got any space!!"

Garrick feels a snapping sensation in his head as his body moves on its own toward the Dwarf, pushing him against the wall and tightly gripping his throat. The other miners quickly try to intervene and stop Garrick while shouting alarmingly.

"Leave Foreman Davish alone!".

"Bring her in here and help her, or I swear I'll kill you." Garrick eyes bloodshot, blood dripping from his mouth and his hand that dangles lifelessly toward the ground.

"Garrick, this isn't the way to get them to help. Please let him go." Meetle pleads to Garrick.

Davish gulps before maintaining resolve.

"I already said we don't have the space; we've got a dozen miners injured from the kobolds in the cave, with only two medics to take care of the lot!"

Garrick coughs, spattering blood over his shoulder.

"Bring her inside and help with her injuries, and I'll kill the kobolds in the cave." Garrick replies.

Davish has a look of befuddlement on his face.

"Are you insane? You're on death's door; you ain't clearing that cave out, laddie."

The runes on Garrick's body glow blue as his grip tightens on the Davish's neck.

"Fuck..sake! Okay!! Bring...her in!!! Let me go!!!!" Davish can barely squeeze the words out his mouth because of Garrick's crushing grip on his throat, even in his debilitated state.

Garrick releases his grip as he slumps down on the ground and fades away to unconsciousness. Meetle rushes over to check on Garrick as Davish stands with his hands on his hips.

"Your friend is trouble, Gnome. When this storm clears, the guild will be here, and I'll make sure they know what he did. He'll spend the next few years in prison." Davish confidently says. "The city of Volmyr doesn't take kindly to people that affect the mining of their precious Coldstone."

Meetle stands up and shouts in return.

"You're a cruel Dwarf, Davish! All you had to do was help a dying woman!"

Davish pokes Meetle's chest.

"I'm a man of my word. I said I'd help her, so I will, but your little 'magicky' friend is in A LOT of trouble."

A few miners return inside with Kyra, who is soaked, freezing, shivering and pale.

"Kyra!" Meetle exclaims in horror.

Davish takes command of the situation.

"Take her and this unconscious bastard through the back room and keep that fire roaring; she needs to warm up. Gnome, get through there and help since they're your friends, after all."

Meetle quickly scuttles through, following Kyra and Garrick as they are carried through.

Davish claps his hands together.

"Branagan! Get one of the medics in here ASAP; she'll be dead in the next hour if a medic doesn't look at her wounds."

A human miner nods as he runs into the storm before returning with a medic in tow after five minutes.

The medic, a Human, has etchings shaven into the sides of his head with the top tied up as it lays just past the base of his neck. He shows a stern appearance, with a certain battle-hardiness, exuding the aura of a warrior, not a medic.

"There's more injured? What the hell is going on, Foreman?" The medic confusedly asks Davish.

Davish shakes his head in reply.

"Don't ask, Grensyl. There's criminals in the back; just help them out as best you can. I'm gonna go see if they've finished blocking the mine entrance."

Grensyl looks perplexed before shaking his head slightly in acceptance.

"I ain't gonna fight you on this one; My fighting days are long gone. I'll do what I can for them, and the entrance is blocked up; heard about it on the way over here from some of the crew through that blasted storm."

Davish takes a seat and sighs while rubbing his eyes.

"Some good news."

Davish looks out a nearby window, the rain pounding against the glass, feeling like it'll shatter any moment.

"What a night for a storm. It's slowly easing up but still torrential out there."

Davish looks back toward Grensyl only to realise he's already left to attend to Garrick and Kyra, leaving Davish speaking to himself as the other miners talk amongst themselves.

"...Bastard...." Davish mumbles.

A couple of hours pass as Grensyl eventually exits the back room. Blood coats his hands and clothes. He stretches his arm and neck, letting out a loud yawn.

"The woman was close to death, roughly thirty minutes away when I arrived." Grensyl says to Davish.

"What of the man?" Davish asks with a glare.

Grensyl lets out a breath of air along with a slight chuckle.

"He'll live, just exhausted more than anything. The body is healing itself anyway; he must be an arcane knight.

"That guy is trouble, and if he's an Arcane Knight, he's more trouble than I originally thought." Davish grumbles.

Grensyl walks over, sitting down near Davish.

"His body is pretty scarred, and it has these markings all over it; I get a bad feeling from the guy, so It'd be best if he left as soon as possible.

When I walked in, his hand was completely shattered, and by the time I was leaving, it snapped itself back into place and healing. Any normal person would need that hand amputated; he has some serious healing magic."

Davish rubs his beard nervously as Grensyl stands back up, heading for the door.

"They'll be fine now, probably out for a few days. I'll be back at the barracks treating the other wounded; send Branagan If they start having issues, Davish."

"Will do, Grensyl, thanks again. You did more than they deserve." Davish says with annoyance.

Grensyl pushes hard on the door to open it, the storm fighting against him, but manages to exit as the door slams shut behind him.

End Chapter