The awkward silence lasted but a moment before he collapsed backwards, finally falling unconscious because of his blood loss. I still stared. What had I done? What was I to do now? I had not, quite obviously, used my head. That there was an enemy. A member of the Wyld and mortal enemy to my people. And yet I had reacted purely on instinct. I must have felt that I was on their side against a common foe. I mean, I had even used a Skill a few minutes ago, to help their plight, but this? This was idiocy. I cursed loudly and stomped around with no small amount of unrest, unable to find a solution. I had taken him into my sanctuary. The blessed tree would protect me still, right? I had never left its shadows, and that had been the stipulation as told by the Wanderer.
"But what now? Do I throw him out again? Do I let him die? What kind of man would be so cruel? Why did I save him in the first place?“ I berated myself mumbling silently.
Finally, I sat down beside him. Doing what any honorable man would do. Because that was the kind of man the Bulwark had raised. It was the way our nobility and knights had worked. We were no animals, no honorless beasts. We handled prisoners and enemies with respect. And it did not matter that they would not reciprocate in turn. It was just our way.I was no medic or priest, but I knew a few things about the treatment of wounds. Stop the blood flow, clean the wound. Maybe cauterize it?
It`s what I did. At first, I slung my belt around his arm, tightening it as hard as I could to stop the blood flow. Then, I took water and washed his stump of all the blood and soot, before I took the fire of my little campsite to his flesh. It sizzled and smelled disturbingly close to cooked pork. And I winced. After washing it again, I tore a clean shirt in strips and bound his stump as good as I could. All he had left was an inch of his forearm, and my bindings looked more than amateurish. Not once did he move or regain consciousness in the process, not even as his flesh had burned. And I was grateful for it.
Meanwhile, the battle had moved without me noticing at the moment. The demons of the Wyld had rallied a few hills back. If my little stunt with my Skill had made an impact, I could not say. But the fighting down there was still going on if I could believe my ears and eyes. The rain had grown in intensity. But what that meant was that my hill, my little safe tree, was surrounded on all sides by the creatures of the deeps.
They were far from an amassed force. But in whichever direction I looked, I could see some kind of creature crawl, run, or lumber through the rain. For some reason, the mists I had feared from my time in the forgotten city had yet to make an entrance. Maybe the rain held it back. And I was not sure if my sanctuary would count towards something so unsubstantial and mindless. Would the fog sweep over the hill and consume me with its acid? I was not sure I wanted to find out, but then again what could I do but wait it out? I knew that [Walk the Night Unseen] did not work on the creatures of shadow and ink. They had found me easily enough the last time I had tried to evade them. And I could not fight all of them.
I kept myself busy with tending to my wounded...prisoner? Not a day after I had become a [Freeman], dedicated to breaking chains and the furthering of the Dogma of freedom, I took a prisoner? Spirits be damned, and take me with you to the hells. I had fucked up.
It was not easy to drag this mountain of a man through the mud to the branches and leaves of the tree. The tree was big and had protected me from the rain, but it started to get wet even under it. So after I had laid the head of the Wyldling on a particularly big root, I climbed up and began to improvise. I had a small tent with me, as the soldiers used to carry them. There was no way that this guy would fit. It was a simple enough thing, that I could separate the tarpaulin and the floor and bind them into one big sheet of waxed fabric, that I draped over a low hanging branch. Then I tried to fasten it with ropes and anchors in a way that would keep him out of the worst of the rain. I tried to build a barrier against the wind out of the rest of my stuff, to maybe keep the fire going, but once the rain had soaked every inch of the tree, I had no chance. And it would have been futile either way because there was no dry firewood to find. I buried myself under my cloak with my back to the trunk of the tree, mumbling something about the luxury I had put my prisoner in and how unfair that was, and waited. Waiting for what, I would not have been able to say.
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The fighting had stopped or moved on. As had the heavy rainfall. The mist had risen as expected and not only did it not come to me and my tree, all the other hilltops, as far as my Skill let me see in the night, stood out of the sea of fog like small little islands. The awful weather had made way for a cloudless night and finally - finally! - I had managed to start a fire again.
I had monitored the situation of my new campsite buddy, but he had not deteriorated. He did not get a fever or whatever, his wound did not smell...I suspected him to have Skill to help with this. He had lost his arm and a good part of his blood and all he did was sleeping way too calm.
When it became clear, that nothing would happen, I dared to enter meditation. I had a new problem now, and all my careful plans had gone overboard again. I hastily entered my Demesne and spoke briefly with Lily about what had happened. The gate was not ready yet, so I had to rule out that possibility for finding a solution for a few more days. But I could increase my Core Skills, just in case. Which was unfortunate, because I had ended up paying more for them than I would have if I just bought them before I tanked my unity. That was the price of learning from my mistakes.
With as much haste as I could, I wove the layers for Level 1 in [Improved Speed] and [Improved Resilience]. Speed was tricky, but Resilience was so much like a layer of chainmail, that it was easy to weave and implement.
I just wanted to do something. Just anything. Being useless and caught between the circumstances again made me restless. I was done with waiting. And if I had to make a break for it, I needed [Improved Speed] and [Improved Resilience] to shake off any predators. I was done in an hour or two and returned to my miserable vigil.
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"You help. Why?“ The voice was deep and raspy. And though you could hear thirst and pain in it, it was spoken in a defiant and proud way. I had not seen him open his eyes. They were still closed. Now I had no idea how long he had been awake for. Hours? I had been defenseless just now. Did he spare me or was he still not able to move?
First of all, I sighed. "I don't know. These beasts are enemies of mine.“
"No hu-man in Wyld.“ he started to pull himself up against the tree, in a more comfortable sitting position, while I eyed him warily. I did not move at all, but I made myself very aware of the position of Kingsbane, which leaned against the tree behind me. I turned to him, somewhat bringing the fire between us, and watched him struggle.
"You are hurt. Don't make it worse.“
He snorted at that, finally relaxing in a somewhat stable sitting position and started fiddling with his bandages.
"Bound like pants on washday. Not clean. Not order.“ He said.
"I'm sorry. I have no experience with this sort of thing.“
"Saved life.“ He stated matter of factly.
And with that, the dirty rags, which were soaked and caked in dried blood, went into the fire, which was taking its time to burn away the taste and smell of iron that hung in the air for a few seconds.
I watched him now inspecting the stump of his arm. Pulling skin and poking flesh. Every now and again he winced as if surprised by some minor pain, but all in all, he had impressive self-control. And he did not seem to be overly concerned with a missing limb. I imagined being in his place. I would have been far less graceful, of that I was sure.
His eyes fixated me over the flickering flames, as he was done inspecting his injuries, cold and calculating, and searched me up and down for...I don't know. Flaws? Weaknesses? Reason? He stared at the coin around my neck for a few seconds, as if to make out if that meant allegiance to someone or something. There was a definite tension in the air.
"Human in Wyld.“ He muttered more to himself. "No two reasons.“ I saw muscles move beneath his flesh. I took no risks.
"Zero! Fetter!“ I yelled out. [Fetter] was one of three Skills Zero had. [Improved Durability], [Chain Lash] and [Fetter]. Zero shot out from around the tree, where he had been watching over us, and wrapped himself around the neck of the Wyldling, who grunted surprised and fell back down from his attempt to get on his feet. The other end of Zero flew around a branch of the tree and drew tight as Zero pulled.
"No friend.“ The Wyldling growled under the pressure of the chain, gripping Zero with his arm. "Fire laws are broken.“
"I take no chances, demon!“ I raised my voice. "Your people are no friends of mine. It was your people that brought war to my land. I saved your life, for whatever that is worth, but I don't trust you.“
"Many words.“ He wheezed and I gave Zero a signal to ease the pressure. I wanted him bound, not dead. "You want a slave?“ He roared as he slammed his fist to his breast. "Cogar dies fighting!“
He sank back and coughed in a sudden fit so violent, that I told Zero to loose the knot up even more.
"Dead men don't fight.“ I said. "Try to survive first. I have not saved you for nothing. You can kill me later. And I don't take slaves.“
The Wyldling, which may or may not be named Cogar, shut his eyes with labored breathing, clutching the stump of his arm. He had overextended himself to not show weakness before me, which had backfired now. You don't lose an arm and get up looking for fights. I threw my waterskin, which I had managed to fill in the rain, in his lap. He opened one eye, mustering me once more with searching eyes before he greedily drank every last drop of it.
And there I was again. Not knowing what the fuck I was supposed to do now. Cogar, for his part, seemed to have lost any interest in continuing the conversation. Even as I threw him a handful of jerky to eat, which he did. He just sat there with closed eyes, clutching his arm.
I just dared to close my eyes when he was fast asleep and I laid down way outside of his reach. The morning was just as awkward. Hours of silent glaring and watchful side-eyes from us both. The rest of the time was spent watching the mist around us and following the shapes and shadows within. Whenever one came near the foot of our hill, Cogar would stare at it intently. He did not seem nervous or anything. Just ready.
I gestured to the sun above us as I could not take the silence anymore. "They can't survive sunlight. It burns them.“
"Wyld knows.“ he answered after deciding for a moment if I was worth his effort. "It is why we fight.“
"Huh? I don't understand.“
"Warriors went to humans. Things...“ He made a gesture encompassing the fog and its inhabitants. "Sun makes them prey not predators.“
"Did you know them before? Are they not new to you?“
"Spirits know. Singers know. They warned. We just move and no danger.“
"Then what happened here? I saw the battle yesterday. It was a slaughter on both sides. If you can just move away, why did you fight?“
"That? That was...“ he searched for the right word. "Sport.“
I'm sure my jaw dropped to the ground, so mad was the thing that had come out of his mouth. Sport? Do they send hundreds of their own to a dire battle of life and death for amusement? There was no way that that was what he wanted to say.
"You cannot be serious. Sport? Entertainment? Are you mad?“
He was grinning now. A broad and dangerous grin, as he looked back to me. "Wyld gives life and fight. Fight to be strong. Strong enough to become a warrior and take land and slaves for the Wyld.“
"That battle yesterday was...training?“
"Easy Prey. But young fighters. Strongest have gone to the mountain people. Fight was bad. No strong hunters to lead. But fighters are stronger now. Next fight will be better.“ I could see a glimmer of lust in his eyes as if he was dreaming of a round two against his monstrous foes.
"You are a warrior then?“ I asked just to say anything to the madness I had just heard. To keep talking. Everything was better than hostile silence again. But to my surprise, he just shook his head.
"No. I do fire and food.“
"You are a cook?“
"I keep the fire. It does not go out. I take and give food. Important in winter. But I am old enough to be a warrior now. Must fight for honor.“
The man on the opposite side of the fire from me was not only huge in dimensions, muscles, and weight, he did not look young to me. Then again, it was hard to tell. I had not much experience with his people. In human terms, he looked to be well grown and seasoned, a man in his thirties maybe. What I could believe was that this man handled food and cooking. He had the potbelly to prove it.
"Why are you telling me all this? You were quite hostile before.“
"You enemy. I am the keeper of fire. Fire laws important to me. You break law, but you don't break the law for me. You saved life, I repay. Friendly now, teach fire law. Fight later. I'm not a slave. Chain does not keep me.“
And I could feel the confidence in him. If nothing changed he would fight me later, without weapons, severely wounded and missing an arm. And he seemed to be very sure of the outcome of this fight. And truth be told, I had a couple of aces up my sleeves, but the way he said these words, his body language and just the raw amount of wild strength and unwavering conviction he radiated... I was not so sure I would walk away from that fight either.
And that was their cook.