Merdon pushed open the door to the next floor and looked around cautiously. From a golem on the last floor to a maze before that, he was starting to understand just how dangerous the tower, and this witch, were. The floor he walked into, however, appeared to be normal. There were more rooms with kobolds wandering around, like the first floor, and the one before the previous floor, which got him to consider there was a pattern at work. It was possible every other floor was trapped in some way, and the kobolds were made to live between those floors. That would explain the difficulties in escaping the place, even if one were to free themselves from the witch's power. It didn't help them too much in the grand scheme of things. They were still stuck climbing each individual floor with the looming threat of the dimensional plane on the one before the witch. On the bright side, they could at least predict when that trap would spring on them if the tower held to the alternating pattern of traps and rooms; as long as the witch didn't change floors around.
Merdon's thought process was interrupted suddenly by a very specific shade of blue scales walking out of a room. Fueled by instinct, he rushed forward and dropped to his knees to look her in the eyes. It was Sarel, by some miracle, and he pulled her in tight, hugging her hard and close. How she had escaped didn't cross his mind, nor did the dead look in her eyes, or the fact she didn't hug him back. If Merdon had been in his right might he would have noticed any of those things, one of them, any of them. He would have remembered his training, he would have been cautious, he would have approached more carefully. Red and Skyeyes were too far behind him to help. Even their shouting at him failed to get his attention until it was far too late. Until he pulled back to look her in the empty golden eyes as he felt a sudden pain in his side. Coughing and confused, Merdon looked at his left side at the seem where his armor came together and saw Sarel's claw wrapped around a dagger handle, the blade buried in his side to the hilt.
Merdon's breathing hitched and he looked back to Sarel and realized, much too late, that her mind had been stolen by the witch. Of course, what else would she have done? What method was more perfect to get rid of him than the one thing she knew he wouldn't be able to resist or fight. Even the knight had to admit it was a brilliant plan as he fell backward onto the cold, white, stone floor. His blood oozed out and pooled under him as Sarel turned away and walked to the far end of the room to return to her new owner. The man coughed, a trickle of blood leaking from the corner of his mouth, sitting up to watch her leave. There had been something in her eyes, a flash where she registered him, he knew. Red had escaped from this control somehow and Merdon was beginning to suspect he knew how. Despite his injury, he looked more worried about her than himself. Red and Skyeyes were far more concerned with him. Rushing to his side, they looked him over and came to a grim conclusion.
Skyeyes tried to get Merdon's attention. The cleric told him upfront the dagger was in his lungs, he was bleeding out rapidly and it wouldn't be long until he died. Not that Merdon didn't know already from his new cough and the amount of blood he could taste in his mouth. Still, the priest fumbled with how to tell him now of all times that he no longer had the power to heal. Merdon was dying and there was nothing they could do about it. Not at the tower, not without a proper healer. He couldn't say the words, he couldn't tell Merdon there was no saving him this time. They had comparatively little time to find him aid for how long it would take him to die. Red looked at Skyeyes with a frown as she realized what the white kobold was struggling with internally. Merdon was more focused on the pain his chest as his mind caught up with events and he realized his lung had collapsed. It also wasn't taking him much time to realize why Skyeyes wasn't patching him up right there, but no one wanted to say it out loud.
The cleric closed his eyes and clenched his fists to fight back the torrent of emotions that flared up inside of him. He felt useless, angry, sad, so overwhelmed with no outlet. There had been no signs of a village nearby, and there was no guarantee anyway they could carry Merdon out of the tower unmolested, get through the forest, and bring him back to a village, kobold or otherwise. Even if they did manage that, Merdon would be arrested in a human village only to meet the same fate on an executioner's block. He and Red might share the same fate given their connection to him. Skyeyes let out a shout of frustration and slammed his balled-up fists on his legs, which caused Red to jump in surprise.
Red took a deep breath and reached across Merdon's body to touch the white kobold's arm. “I believe in you,” she told him calmly. “It doesn't matter what the humans at the cathedral said to you. You have done this before, you can do it again.”
Skyeyes shook his head firmly. “I cannot,” he protested. “How can I have faith in them? In what they stand for?”
“Is it they you must believe in?” Red asked. “Were they who you asked for miracles from before?”
The priest frowned and looked up at her. He remembered his teacher, the old man in his white robes and long beard. Red's face seemed to fade as Skyeyes remembered waking up in the old man's cottage, being bandaged and fed. He remembered listening to the old priest speak about what the goddess wanted from his people, or at least what he believed the goddess wanted. That the peace he foresaw and worked for was not something found in a cathedral in the capital, but it was to be earned out among the citizens of the world. As a kobold of little learning at that point, Skyeyes had listened to the man only passively. It wasn't until he saw his teacher's work in front of him that he believed. Seeing him heal people without asking for coin, rushing to those in danger and rendering whatever assistance he could. There had been no consideration for their species or race. An orc was as valuable a life to him as a human and both as much as a kobold like himself.
Skyeyes exhaled slowly and put his claws on top of Merdon's chest. The human had started to pale notably and was staring at the ceiling. He didn't even react when Skyeyes moved. With a deep breath, the priest focused on his belief. Cast aside were the thoughts of the Ardmach and their corrupt practices. Those were not his faith, they did not represent the goddess he knew. Father Reing was his teacher, was the man who guided him. Another soft exhale and a deep breath in and Skyeyes began. His lips moved quickly in a healing chant that called upon the goddess for a tangible miracle. All of his focus was on the belief in that moment that Father Reing had given to him, the belief that a reconciliation of the world would come from outside of the clergy, and Skyeyes' own belief that Merdon was the key.
Merdon was not meant to die there on the floor of the witch's tower. That was what Skyeyes believed, and from the moment he heard Sarel calling for help for a human he had believed it with all of his heart. This human had no special powers, no magic, no skills that one couldn't learn, but Skyeyes believed in things much bigger than them. The goddess had put Merdon on this path and Skyeyes had been put in front of him for a reason, and at that moment Skyeyes tried to believe with every fiber of his being that it was for this. Without him, Merdon might have survived the arrow in his stomach, but he would not have survived this. Skyeyes cast aside his identity for a moment. While his mouth spoke the chant to heal the human his mind begged for one moment to fulfill his destiny, to act as a divine instrument, that the goddess would heed his call just this last time, if never again. Merdon must be saved, his journey must not end.
And the kobold's hands started to glow faintly as the magic worked its way out and into Merdon under him. Red, surprised for a moment, quickly but carefully removed the dagger from Merdon's side. It was Sarel's, which made the wound more than physical in a number of ways. Blood gushed from the newly widened hole and the human shouted in pain, clutching his side and groaning. Slowly, however, the blood thinned and the wound closed. Merdon appeared to relax but he coughed up more blood, which led Red to look at Skyeyes. The priest had not stopped chanting just because the surface wound closed. He had to make sure the internal damage was dealt with, that the blood would not pool inside of him, that the lungs would have the strength to expel the fluid from them.
Merdon coughed again, harder, and spat up a great deal of blood, eventually leading Skyeyes to stop and look at Red. “He needs water, to clean his mouth. We must know if this is fresh or if he's coughing up a mix of spit,” he told the red-scaled female.
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Red nodded and left, sprinting off into the various rooms to find water. If the kobolds lived there then there had to be some around. In the meantime, Skyeyes continued his chanting, making sure Merdon was recovered. Internal injuries were tricky for clerics. There were complications to worry about many novices would overlook. Though he would not consider himself an expert, Skyeyes was not new to the trade and knew better than to rest on his laurels because Merdon had stopped bleeding out. There was no way for him to tell if the wound inside was closed and so it was better to keep praying, keep channeling his faith into power to heal, than it was to wait and see. He didn't stop until Red returned with the water, and then only because they had to sit Merdon up a little to let him spit it back out.
After several rinses and a few more heavy coughs, the blood stopped coming through and Merdon regained a little color. Still, it was better to be safe than sorry, and so Red and Skyeyes dragged the armored human into a side room. Once his armor was stripped from his body and they confirmed the wound was closed, they set up a temporary camp inside the room, with Red barricading the door just in case. Merdon was in little state to argue and passed out shortly after being laid down. Skyeyes watched him carefully for any complications, keeping his mind firmly on his old beliefs. It was harder than he would admit openly. Nothing would ever erase what happened to him in Ardmach but his goal at that time was to be far removed from those events. His friend needed him now, their mission rested on his ability to keep Merdon alive and he would not let that slip so easily. Not without a fight.
Red sat down near him and smiled. “I knew you could do it,” she said softly so as not to wake Merdon.
“I cannot say I'm out of the woods yet,” Skyeyes replied, still keeping his eyes on the human while speaking. His face was determined and that hid the pain he felt inside. “I cannot believe in the church of my goddess.”
“But you don't need to,” she said again. “You have proven that.”
Skyeyes sighed and chanced a look at her. “No, I must believe in the man who taught me, and the goddess he believed in. But, they are supposed to be one and the same.” It was a conundrum he would have to solve on his own.
The mage nodded and sat back, closing her eyes. “Perhaps we should rest for a time as well,” she considered. “The golem tired us all.”
“Not yet,” Skyeyes told her, looking back to Merdon. “Soon, perhaps. For now, it is my duty to make sure he pulls through this. For all of us.”
Red could only nod quietly at his remark. Skyeyes, on the other hand, was then left alone with his thoughts. He kept his teacher at the forefront of his thoughts, recalling the sermons the old man had given. The kobold tried to remember how excited he was about them, how he listened with rapt attention to every word he spoke. That was his gospel, those were his beliefs, that was his faith. Those words repeated in his mind as he watched Merdon for several hours, eventually becoming a mantra of their own to reassure himself.
Hours passed before Skyeyes finally pulled himself over to Merdon and became proactive. They had wasted enough time waiting for him to recover on his own. By the kobold's assumption, the worst issue left was blood loss, which would leave Merdon weak and tired, neither state they could afford at the moment. He reached out and began chanting again, quietly, methodically, reaching into his mind and focusing on his faith. It was a spell of renewal, much easier than what he'd done earlier. It more or less sped the recovery process up from minor injuries, causing the body to heal faster on its own rather than closing wounds magically. Merdon began to recover much faster, and what may have stranded them for the rest of the night was taken care of in minutes. The downside was it left Skyeyes tired and drained, but he wasn't the one that would have to do the fighting. Assuming they could avoid any more serious traps, they could proceed without him at his fullest.
Merdon's immediate reaction upon waking was to sit up and look around with just one thought on his mind. “Sarel!” he shouted, waking Red from her short slumber. “She was here...”
“Yes,” Skyeyes admitted, sitting back and sighing. “Red tried to warn you, but you weren't in your right mind.” Red nodded in agreement with that from her corner.
“What happened to her?” Merdon asked, looking around. He was in shock.
“She stabbed you,” Red told him. “Quickclaw is under the influence of the witch. The only way to free her is to finish what we came here for.” Slay the witch.
Merdon shook his head and slowly stood up, moving to his armor and putting it on, ignoring the blood. “You don't understand, I saw her eyes,” he told them. “She knew, she's in there, somewhere.”
Skyeyes blinked and looked at Red, who shook her head. “How is that possible?” he asked simply. “The witch steals their names, their very essence of who they are, their memories like Red's.”
“I don't know,” Merdon replied with a growl. “But you weren't looking her in the eyes when she stabbed you. She knew, Skyeyes, she knew but she couldn't stop herself. That's why Red was able to break free. The witch might steal your memories, but she can't just erase your brain. Just like some part of Red was in there fighting to break free so is she.”
Red frowned but didn't argue. “She would have gone back to the top floor, or perhaps to another floor between here and there. The witch will want to keep her close.” The kobold's eyes darted to Skyeyes, who caught on.
“So we must move forward regardless of what you want to do, Merdon,” he noted. “Both goals lie in the floors above.”
The human sighed and finished putting his gear on. “Then let's get to it.” He was short with his words, his temper flaring up again.
“Not so fast,” Skyeyes said, rising from the ground himself. “We need to talk about something.”
“It can wait,” Merdon insisted. But the priest was more insistent.
He walked over and stood between Merdon and the barred door with his arms crossed. “No, it will not, Merdon,” he said firmly. “You have been acting wild ever since... since the witch took Quickclaw, and I understand, believe me.”
The human's fist clenched in response, but he held his tongue. “Let's go,” was all he managed.
“No,” the white kobold said again, harsher this time. “We are not fighting a group of slavers. Your prowess in combat will only get us so far, and your injury here proves it. You are not acting like yourself, Merdon. You're lashing out and you aren't thinking.”
“Yes, I am,” he retorted. “I'm thinking about how I'm going to throw the bitch at the top of this tower off of it.”
The priest sighed. “Yes, exactly, you're thinking about fighting, but you aren't strategizing like you normally do. You're letting your emotions get the better of you in a situation that it's not helping.” As Merdon opened his mouth to reply, Skyeyes cut him off. “You were injured because you weren't thinking, you rushed in without a second thought and cost us most of the day. Not to mention what has happened to Quickclaw in the last few hours.” The thought stung Merdon more than he wanted to admit, but his face shown the pain.
“He is right,” Red said, joining in. “You need to learn to control yourself again. These outbursts are not always helpful. When to use your head and when to use your heart is a valuable lesson,” she told him. “One I thought you knew.”
Merdon sighed and, for the first time in hours, tried to calm down. It was easier after getting almost killed. He had spent a lot of time unconscious, Sarel being taken away was a good distance from his mind, even if it was at the forefront. Most of all, he knew what they were saying was right. All of his training was sitting at the back of his mind ever since Ardmach. Swinging a sword was one thing, but the threats against Sarel were a constant nagging fear that had driven him wild the moment they were realized again. As much as he wanted to keep pushing himself until he or the witch was just a smear on the surface of the planet, it would likely end with him failing. The lessons his father had given him rang within Skyeyes' words. Patience, forethought, planning, those were what decided a battle in the end.
“You're right,” he vocalized after a time. “I need to get my head together.”
“We should rest here for the night,” Red suggested, still sitting. “You need to calm down, and Skyeyes is clearly not fit for travel.”
She was right, and Merdon could see it as well now that he was trying to think straight. Skyeyes looked like he'd been up for several days and his condition, much as the priest thought it unimportant, could slow them down. The knight breathed in and exhaled slowly as he set aside his fear for Sarel. Their foe had yet to display a willingness to harm a kobold. As pained as he was seeing her mind-controlled, the fact was it made her safer than they were. A whole night's rest was unlikely, but they could stop long enough for Skyeyes to rest.
“Get some sleep,” he told the white kobold. “I'm going to clean my armor, get this blood off of it at least. We'll set out again in a few hours.”
Skyeyes looked to protest, but a yawn cut him short. He couldn't deny his weariness. If Merdon wasn't looking to move, then he couldn't do anything but nod and get comfortable.