The piece of bone crumbled to dust before the might of Jonathan’s elemental mastery, and with a sudden gurgle, Edgar’s body began to heal in earnest. The patches of grayness receded, and the wound in his chest closed over. Jonathan stood by his side as he healed, a slight smile on his face. For once, he had made it in time to save one of his allies. The failures that were the deaths of the other Tier 2s of his infant faction in the Ash Heaps, and the capture of Maranta, Bordeg, Tukar and Branth, still lingered long within his psyche.
He shook his head to clear the thoughts. If he dwelt on them for too long, he realized how likely it was that they were already dead. Jonathan sighed and sat down by the bed, watching as Edgar recovered. The man seemed to have done well for himself over the last month, and a good fraction of the forces of the Waste Warrens served under his banner. So fierce had they been in their protection of their new leader that they had stood in Jonathan’s way, ready to shield Edgar to the last. It was a touching display, given how far he was beyond them.
An hour later, Edgar’s eyes snapped open, and he began to twitch as he recovered control over his own body. With a sudden lurching motion, he swung his legs off the bed and stood. Then he stretched luxuriously. It was only then that he realized that the majority of his clothes were missing. He cursed and gathered up the blanket, holding it in front of himself.
Jonathan simply smirked. “Is your little mage really that little?”
“You know, I have to wonder if you really are my friend, joking like that after I clambered out of what was to be my deathbed.” Edgar’s words were sharp, but his face was covered in a wide smile. He was glad that Jonathan had returned in time, no matter what he might say.
“So tell me, what exactly happened to you? I could hardly get a good picture from your followers, who seemed hell bent on preventing me from reaching you. Then when I proved who it was, they were too busy bowing to speak.”
Edgar snarled. “Slothari sent some bastard archer named Georgios to kill me. He was a Master Rank in that skill, and around level 280. He almost succeeded as well.”
“What was he, some sort of Death cultivator?” Jonathan asked.
“Pretty much. His death powered that accursed chunk of bone that you removed from my body, making it into a far bigger deal than it should have been.”
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Jonathan nodded. “Well, we’re all lucky that I got here in time.”
“Damn right. Now, where is that brute Hushar? I want to see him.”
Jonathan pursed his lips below his helmet. “I wouldn’t recommend that… Returning to this realm has reminded him of the predicament that his friends and family are in. It’s taking everything he has to not simply toss his life away in a last minute charge against the Oozing Bastion.”
“Ah,” Edgar said simply. “I’ve tried to keep the situation of the others out of my mind, at least until I can gain enough strength to do something about it. Judging by your return, it is time.”
“I’m more powerful than I’ve ever been now. I have faith that I can take out any of Slothari’s allies, and then her after I reach the peak of the Tier.”
“I sure hope so. It’s been a while since we entered this realm. Constant fighting does seem to tunnel time down into a strange mockery of its former self.”
Edgar recovered the majority of his strength over the next few hours, and when he was ready, he left the room with Jonathan. It was time to achieve their goal in this realm. Slothari’s days were numbered.
They found Hushar training his heart out in the courtyard of the keep, his body covered in glistening sweat. His eyes were closed, but Jonathan could hear every beat of his rage filled heart. The man was liable to kill someone if he did not alleviate his rage soon, or have a heart attack.
Upon hearing their approach, he stopped, breathing heavily. “Well? I’ve waited long enough.”
Jonathan frowned. “Edgar was close to death here. We had to wait.”
“Still,” Hushar replied. “It has been over a month. Agonizing weeks in which the only solace was the increase of my power. All of which could come to naught if Slothari proves too powerful for us to defeat. DO YOU HEAR ME? IT COULD ALL BE USELESS!”
Jonathan raised his hands placatingly at the Uthraki, whose rage had begun to boil over. “Point taken. It has been more than long enough. Everything is ready. If we are lucky, Slothari has decided to keep the others as trophies, rather than simply killing them.”
“What a world to live in, where the imprisonment of my brother and people is a good thing. What a load of shit.” Hushar rarely cursed, and him doing so showed Jonathan, more than anything, just how tense the man was. The time for talking was clearly over.
They gathered up their forces, and Jonathan was able to survey the full scope of the small army that Edgar had gathered over the last few weeks. There were more fighters spread across the rest of the Waste Warrens, but there were a few thousand mid Tier 3s here, which was a sizable force. However, it was not enough to guarantee victory. Hardly anything could at this point.