Seven

A new day came soon enough, and Marcus was actually feeling pretty good about his future. He and Jorel had spent most of the previous night talking about anything and everything. Well, Jorel did most of the talking; Marcus just asked a lot of questions. He mostly learned about the country he was in, the city-state of Lorenth.

It was a country consisting of only one city, Lorenth, and a spattering of small villages that dotted the landscape around it. It was landlocked and surrounded on three sides by what the locals called the Dead Forest . That was the same forest Marcus had wandered through when he was first dumped into this world. He had thought that the forest looked plenty alive to him, but apparently, the forest got its name because no one had returned from exploring it alive.

Marcus didn’t think it was that bad.

Marcus also learned about some other unimportant facts about the city, who the nobles were and the influential businessmen that controlled the commerce of the country. Also, the mighty towers in the center of the city were where the king of Lorenth lived, along with his family and his loyal mages. Marcus was intensely curious about what magic was inside those towers but knew that he would never get a chance to find out.

“I really appreciate the help, Marcus,” Jorel said as he packed his rucksack, getting ready to head out for the day.

Marcus shrugged his shoulders, his heavy hammer slung over one of them. “I have a little over a week until I have to return, and I’m not really in any hurry to get back.”

“All the same, your help will make my own task that much easier for me.”

“Well, you are welcome. Just lead the way. I’m ready whenever you are.” Marcus said, looking around once more to make sure he wasn’t leaving anything behind.

“Very well,” Jorel said, tightening the straps of his rucksack over his shoulders. “Try to keep up.”

With those words, the half-elf took off, running deeper into the forest. His footfalls were silent as he ran across the overgrown forest floor, and the way he moved made it seem like he was gliding over the thick brambles and twisted roots. Marcus was a little taken aback, not only by the way that Jorel moved but also by the fact that he made it look so effortless. He didn’t know if that was just the way he usually moved through the forest or if he was just showing off, but either way, Marcus didn’t feel like being left behind.

Barreling forward, Marcus pushed through the underbrush, plowing through it with all of the grace of a stampeding elephant. He tried his best to avoid the thickest sections of the forest, but the thorny bushes and uneven terrain still proved to be stalwart obstacles, and soon enough, he had lost sight of Jorel.

Luckily for him, the area they were heading to was straight east, making it easy for Marcus to find his way. All he had to do was head towards the early morning sun. Jorel had told him he was in the Dead Forest looking for a certain beast that regularly haunted the forest. It was called a Titan Mantis, and from the way the half-elf had described it, it resembled a praying mantis with the body of a centipede and was over seven feet tall.

The monster wasn’t something Marcus really wanted to encounter, and he was happy to hear that Jorel was only after the eggs the creature laid. Marcus wasn’t an expert on monster behavior, but from what Jorel had told him, once the Titan Mantis laid its eggs, it would move one, leaving them behind to fend for themselves. So, the chances of running into one were exceedingly low since the egg-laying season ended more than two weeks ago.

Of course, that was all depending on what Jorel had told him.

There was a chance that he was just being led on by the half-elf, but Marcus felt like he could trust him. It might have been a naïve sentiment to put so much trust into a person he had just met, but he felt confident in his decision.

“It’s fortunate we are not hunting beasts; they would have heard you coming from leagues away.”

Marcus craned his neck to look at Jorel, who was perched on a thick branch just over his head. “Whatever. Are we close yet? I’m starting to get a little winded.” He accentuated that point by leaning against a nearby tree, his chest heaving as he worked to catch his breath.

“We are,” Jorel said as he dropped down to the forest floor. “We will walk from here. I do have to say that I am impressed with your stamina; for a man of your stature, it is an impressive feat to move so quickly for so long.”

Marcus waved his hand as he pushed himself off of the tree, his breathing having normalized after a few moments. “No one’s more impressed with it than me. Cardio has never been my strong suit.”

He had run for well over an hour, his pace as fast as he could go. With his pack, hammer, and steel-plated leather armor, it was a miracle that Marcus wasn’t lying on the forest floor, unable to move at this point, instead of being just slightly tired.

As they moved through the forest, the trees had long ago blended together, and Marcus knew that if Jorel hadn’t been leading them, he would have been hopelessly lost. Without having to run, Marcus was able to remain somewhat quiet. He wasn’t nearly as graceful as Jorel, but at least all the wildlife didn’t run away in fright as he walked.

“Titan Mantis’ like to bury their eggs within the roots of trees,” Jorel explained as they walked, keeping his focus on the ground around them. “The larva feed on the roots, killing the tree.”

“Is that why you're looking for them? To keep them from killing the forest?” Marcus asked as he inspected the ground around the tall trees.

With a quiet chuckle, the half-elf shook his head, his long, ebony hair moving in waves over his shoulders. “Oh, no. Fully grown, Titan Mantis are known for their ferocity and make great combatants for the fighting pits.”

“Oh, okay,” Marcus added, nodding his head. “It’s easier to handle them when they're little than to try and capture them when they’re big.”

“Exactly.”

After that, they walked in silence, looking closely at the ground as they did so. Eventually, they came across a tall, ancient-looking tree. The ground around its base had turned over and was much darker than the soil surrounding it.

“Here,” Jorel said, setting his pack on the ground and taking a small spade from a side pocket. The eggs weren’t buried very deep, only a few inches under the ground. For a creature said to be taller than he was, Marcus would have thought the hole it would dig would be much deeper. It obviously didn’t put much care into protecting its offspring. That just made their jobs that much easier.

The eggs were only the size and color of a chicken’s, their shells were leathery, much like a sea turtle’s, but there were hundreds of them buried all around the tree. With as many eggs as were here, Marcus was curious as to how the entire forest wasn’t filled to the brim with these things. Not many must make it to adulthood. Soon enough, both Marcus and Jorel had filled their pack with the golf ball-sized eggs. The shells were tough and very pliable, so they didn’t have to worry about them cracking and making a mess of everything as they made their way back through the forest.

“Well, that was easy enough,” Marcus commented as they both slung their packs over their shoulders.

“Just like I told you it would be,” Jorel said, his face splitting into a happy grin. “With your help, I’ve doubled my profit. I really can’t thank you enough.”

“Just put that bow to use and get us something good to eat-” Marcus started to say before Jorel held his fingers up to his lips, his eyes darting around as they scanned the forest surrounding them.

Marcus strained his ears but was unable to hear whatever it was that had spooked the half-elf so much. Jorel motioned for him to follow, so Marcus gingerly picked his way through the forest behind him, his head on a swivel. He still hadn’t heard anything when Jorel held up his hand, telling Marcus to stop before he ducked into a large, leafy shrub.

Jorel peered through the broad leaves of the bush they were hiding in, his posture tense and coiled like a spring, ready to react at any moment. Marcus, on the other hand, was trying to make himself as small as possible, which in itself was a daunting task, especially when trying to hide in a bush.

The half-elf turned his head, looking at him with wide eyes that betrayed the fear that he felt. “A Bramble Wyrm,” he said like it meant something to Marcus. “Stay perfectly still; if the Gods are merciful, it will pass us by.”

His curiosity burning inside of him, Marcus shifted to the side to gaze through the thick, green leaves. He didn’t see it at first, for the creature blended in so well with the foliage around it, but once he did, he could understand why Jorel was so frightened.

The Bramble Wyrm looked just like a Komodo dragon, if it had six legs, was thirty feet long, and six feet high at the shoulders. Its scales were varying shades of green, with darker stripes along its spined back and thick tail, reminding him of a tiger. Marcus couldn’t see its head or the long, sharp talons it certainly had because the monster was busy rutting around in the roots of a faraway tree, snatching up a large clutch of leathery eggs.

“What do we do?” Marcus whispered, his thudding heart making it difficult for him to hear anything.

“Nothing,” Jorel whispered back, his hand shaking imperceptibly as it rested on the hilt of his small dagger. “Bramble Wyrms are fast and vicious. We will not be able to outrun it. Once it has its fill of mantis eggs, it should move on.”

Marcus just nodded his head, trusting Jorel’s judgment on the matter. He didn’t want to tangle with the creature any more than the half-elf did. It looked big enough to swallow even him whole. That was something he would like to avoid, if at all possible.

Abruptly, the leaves of the bush they were hiding in rustled violently, and the wind that had been so far nonexistent suddenly picked up. Marcus wouldn’t have normally thought that a little wind was much of an issue, but as the Bramble Wyrm suddenly stopped digging and lifted its head, he suddenly became aware of exactly which direction the wind was blowing toward.

The massive, six-legged lizard took in several quick, shallow breaths as it swung its wide head back and forth. It sounded like a small jet engine as it sampled the air, its forked tongue sliding in and out of its toothy maw like a slave driver’s whip. Marcus wanted to run but knew that any sudden movements would instantly alert the beast to their position. He could only hope that they would remain hidden and it would eventually give up trying to find them.

“Run!” Jorel hissed at the same moment the Bramble Wyrm whipped its head in their direction, opening its mouth wide as it let out a whistling scream like a steam locomotive.

Jorel was already out of their hiding spot when the Wyrm took its first imposing steps towards them, its many legs working in tandem to move its bulky frame. Marcus, on the other hand, was much slower than the half-elf, and the bush they had taken up residence in seemed to reach out and grab him as he tried to move, slowing him down even further.

He could already feel the ground beneath his feet rumbling as the Wyrm drew closer.

Marcus dove to the left, the bush he was just in exploding into broken twigs and fluttering leaves. That thing was fast . It had been well over a hundred feet away and had covered that distance in only a few seconds. Jorel was right; there would be no way that they would be able to outrun it.

He rolled to his feet, his momentum carrying him a dozen feet from where he had just stood. Spinning around, he grasped his warhammer with both hands, his knuckles as white as his face. The Bramble Wyrm twisted its body at the same time, using its front legs to push off against a tree, the motion sending it hurtling towards Marcus once again.

“Holy shit!” Marcus cursed as he tried to roll away again but was unsuccessful as the Wyrm’s outstretched talons raked against his back.

A hot, searing pain caused Marcus to suck in a sharp breath through his gritted teeth. He could feel a hot liquid streaming down his back as he bounded to his feet that he was certain wasn’t sweat. Ignoring the pain, he started to run, trying to keep as many trees as possible between him and the terrifying monster.

Being thirty feet long, no matter how nimble a creature was, proved to be a hindrance in the middle of a dense forest. That fact was the only reason Marcus had been able to survive as he zigged-zagged through the trees. He had only been running for a few minutes but was already exhausted, his heart hammered in his chest, and his lungs burned. He was so focused on darting behind the next tree that he didn’t even notice when they started to thin, and before he knew it, he had found himself in a clearing with nowhere else to run.

“Oh, no…” Marcus heaved, his eyes darting around frantically, searching for anything that could help him but finding nothing.

A thunderous crack boomed from behind him, announcing the arrival of the Bramble Wyrm. Marcus Spun around to face it, its wide-open mouth showing its many rows of serrated teeth as it let out a triumphant hiss that rattled his eardrums. Just as its curved talons dug into the soft forest floor to launch itself forward, an arrow whistled through the air, striking the creature in the face before bouncing off its hardened scales.

Its victorious hiss instantly morphed into something filled with anger as it snapped its head in the direction the arrow had come from. Marcus was certain the arrow hadn’t hurt it in the slightest and was surprised how quick to anger the monster was, and how quickly it forgot all about him as it thundered towards the other side of the clearing.

Another arrow sailed through the air, hitting the Wyrm in the soft skin underneath its chin. It only penetrated a few inches and only served to piss it off even more than it already was. It let out a rumbling growl from deep inside its throat, a noise that Marcus found hard to describe, and increased its speed, not bothering to slow down as it plowed into a tall tree just on the edge of the clearing.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

Just before the tree’s trunk cracked in two, Marcus saw Jorel leap from its branches, hitting the ground with the same grace he displayed while running through the forest. Marcus was thrilled to see that Jorel had come back to save him; he had honestly forgotten about the half-elf while he was running for his life but was happy to see that he hadn’t forgotten about him.

Another arrow found its way into the Wyrm, sticking out of its scaly skin below its shoulder. Marcus hadn’t even seen when Jorel knocked the arrow, he wondered if some kind of magic was involved, even if the half-elf had told him he didn’t know any spells. By this time, the Bramble Wyrm had turned itself around to face its new nemesis, growling and hissing all the while.

Marcus wasn’t about to let Jorel take on the monster all by himself; he had come back for him, and he would make sure to repay the favor. Running in a wide arc, Marcus moved to flank the distracted beast. He had seen that arrows had little effect on its thick scales but was curious how its body would hold up to his warhammer.

‘Sneaking’ up on it was easy enough, its attention completely taken up by the slippery Jorel constantly darting just outside its reach. Jorel, seeing what Marcus was doing, did his best to corral the monster to one area, taking a great risk by getting closer and closer to its snapping jaws.

Even with Jorel’s help in distracting the monster, Marcus still had a tough time avoiding its flailing tail as its jaws snapped at the half-elf. The tail was as big around as his waist at its base but quickly tapered down into nothing more than a finger width. The crack of its whip-like tail sounded out as the Wyrm dug into the ground with its claws, leaping through the air toward the dancing Jorel.

Marcus was impressed once again by the monster’s physical abilities. He would have never guessed that it would have been able to jump, and from the shocked expression on Jorel’s face, neither did he. Taken by surprise, Jorel was slow to react. His usual graceful movements stuttered, allowing the Wyrm’s toothy maw, dripping with thick saliva, to clamp onto his thin leg. The half-elf let out a wail of pain as the hundreds of tiny teeth tore apart his leather armor and skin alike. The Wyrm shook its head violently, eliciting a stomach-churning snap from Jorel’s already hemorrhaging leg.

“Jorel!” Marcus called out, his face contorting into a mask of rage.

Marcus ran towards the monster with thunderous, purpose-filled steps, ignoring the tail he had previously wanted to avoid. He knew that the Wyrm’s scales were hard and thick, impervious to Jorel’s arrows and likely any other cutting weapons; luckily for him, though, his hammer didn’t rely on a honed edge to do its damage. With an overhand grip, he brought his hammer up over his head. With a beast so large, it was almost impossible for him to miss. Still, he wanted to make his first hit count, so he aimed for the center of its back.

His muscles bulged, and his teeth groaned. He brought his hammer down with all of his substantial strength. The head of the hammer blurred as it moved through the air, a thick wooshing sound reaching his ears the same moment the warhammer crashed into the huge Wyrm. The warhammer didn’t pierce its skin as it drove the back half of the monster into the ground, but the fractured and splintered bones did as they exploded through the creature’s thick hide, spattering Marcus in hot, crimson fluid.

A howl of agonized pain and indignant rage echoed through the entire forest as the Bramble Wyrm twisted its body. Jorel went flying as he was released from the Wyrm’s blood-slicked muzzle, his limp body tumbling across the clearing before coming to a stop in an unmoving heap. Marcus wanted nothing more than to go and check on his friend, but the Wyrm was very much still alive and was baying for his blood.

Turning quickly around, dragging its lame lower half behind it, the Bramble Wyrm snapped blindly in Marcus’ direction. Not expecting to kill the creature instantly, he had already started to move as soon as his hammer finished its swing, that forethought had saved his life. The Wyrm’s wide jaws sent sharp cracking sounds throughout the clearing as they opened and closed violently, some of its teeth being knocked loose by the force and flying through the air like shattered glass.

Marcus sidestepped again as he peddled backward, avoiding gnashing teeth as he struck out with his warhammer. The blow glanced off the monster’s hard skull, the steel hammer casting sparks as it collided with the green scales. He had been hoping for a decisive blow that would kill the massive creature quickly, but he wasn’t able to get a good hit in while making sure he wasn’t caught in its jaws. He felt the best bet would be to let it tire itself out, but Jorel had yet to move, and Marcus desperately needed to check on him.

Jumping back, Marcus let the Wyrm’s claws slice the air just in front of his face, then moved forward before the Wyrm had a chance to stabilize itself. It was a dangerous move because it put him well within range of its frightening mouth, but Marcus needed to take risks if he wanted to end this quickly. With a horizontal swing, he swung his hammer like a lumberjack felling an ancient oak. The head of the hammer hit the Wyrm’s leg like a freight train, snapping it in half and violently sweeping it out from underneath it.

With a resounding thud , the Wyrm hit the ground hard. Not stopping his swing, Marcus used the remaining momentum to spin his body while at the same time bringing the hammer up and over his head. He didn’t exactly know where the monster’s head had ended up but bet on it being large enough that he almost couldn’t miss, and with a deep cry of his own that momentarily drowned out the Wyrm’s pained hisses, he brought the hammer down.

The now familiar crack of bone shattering filled his ears, quickly followed by a wet squelch as the skull gave way into spongy grey matter. The Bramble Wyrm’s body continued to move, but in twitching spasms that sent ripples through its massive frame. As soon as Marcus felt that the Wyrm was no longer a threat, he abandoned his hammer still in its skull and rushed over to Jorel, who had yet to get up.

He lay amongst a smattering of little red flowers, his ebony hair tangled amongst the little stems and thin leaves. One of Jorel’s slender arms was draped over his eyes, almost as if shielding them from the bright sun overhead. The other was bent behind him, the angle painfully unnatural. His one leg was unharmed, perfectly whole in every sense of the word, but the one that had been captured between the Bramble Wyrm’s terrible jaws was anything but.

Marcus grimaced as he looked at the jagged wound, blood seeping out of it in thick ribbons that stained the weedy ground beneath Jorel’s limp body. It looked like something out of a horror movie, like a psychopath had gotten to the half-elf with a chainsaw with the intent to cut it clean off.

“Ah, shit. He’s gonna bleed out…” Marcus winced, looking around in a panic for anything that could help. He had left his pack back in the bush they had originally hidden in, abandoning it as he ran for his life through the woods, and as he looked around, came to the conclusion that Jorel had left his behind as well. All he had was the armor covering his body and the boots on his feet.

Without a second’s thought, Marcus freed his feet from his boots, working his thick fingers to undo the lacings holding them together. Soon enough, he had about three feet of leather cord, and he quickly wrapped it around Jorel’s leg, just above the bleeding wound. He pulled firmly, the brown leather creaking in protest as he tied it off as tightly as he could. Once finished, he used his second boot’s lacing to make another tourniquet just above the first. The constant stream of blood slowed to a stop, leaving behind an open wound that showed glimpses of white bone underneath the mangled flesh.

Done with his hasty treatment, Marcus let out a breath he had been holding in as he checked over the rest of Jorel’s body. Everything but his broken arm looked to be intact. Of course, he very well could have some internal injuries, but there was nothing that he could do about that.

“…Jorel, Jorel, wake up.” Marcus called as he gently shook his shoulders, getting nothing in reply.

He was out cold but was still breathing. Marcus knew that he had lost a lot of blood, but with the two tourniquets in place, he shouldn’t lose anymore; he just hoped it already wasn’t too much. Feeling confident that Jorel wasn’t going to go anywhere, Marcus made his way back over to the very large, very dead Bramble Wyrm.

Marcus only wanted to retrieve the warhammer he had left inside the beast’s skull and gripped it with both hands before pulling it out as King Arther did with Excalibur. Bits of bone, brains, and blood dripped onto the ground with wet plops that, combined with the smell, caused Marcus to gag. As he shook the gore from his weapon, and just before he turned to head back to Jorel, Marcus noticed a faint glow leeching through the macabre mess before him.

Knowing instantly what it must be, Marcus steeled himself as he plunged his hand into the sticky grey matter, pulling out a mana stone the size of a walnut. He immediately felt the warmth from the stone latch onto his hand, the pleasant sensation permeating deep into his body. In less than a second, an extreme itch settled onto his back, right where the Bramble Wyrm had grazed him with its razor-sharp talons.

He had already suspected that his body reacted differently to these mana stones than ‘normal’ people did in this world, and this only worked to confirm it. Jorel had said nothing about mana stones being able to heal people, only that, if not handled carefully, they were capable of killing those exposed to them for too long. Marcus did pass out when he ate one a few nights ago, so he knew they weren’t completely safe, but still felt that the benefits outweighed the risks.

He also couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if he kept absorbing the mana from the stones.

Hurrying back to Jorel still passed out on the ground, Marcus thought about what he should do next. Although he could heal himself by using the mana stone, the same couldn’t be said about the half-elf. He needed to find a doctor. Quickly.

They were deep inside the Dead Forest , several days travel north-east of Lorenth. Marcus knew there were smaller villages dotting the countryside around the city, and one of those may very well be closer than the capital to where he was now, but there was no way for him to know for certain. He didn’t feel like he could risk wasting time looking for one. The only option was to move as quickly as he could to Lorenth and hope that Jorel would last that long.

Popping the mana stone into his mouth and pushing it into his cheek like a hungry hamster, Marcus picked Jorel up into a princess carry. He would have preferred to carry him on his back, but until he regained consciousness, he didn’t think that would be possible. It was very awkward to find the right position to carry the half-elf and his hammer at the same time, but after some finagling, he managed to find something tolerable.

With everything and everybody in place, Marcus chose a direction based on the position of the sun and took off into the forest as speedily as possible.

He ran for hours on end, the sun falling behind the crowns of the trees, the crescent moon pursuing closely behind it. There was barely enough light for Marcus to find his way. So, he only slowed his pace as he carefully picked his way through the forest. He only stopped when the still-unconscious Jorel began to shiver in his arms, prompting him to find a place to rest.

Marcus hadn’t thought the night was very cold, but when he thought about it, it made sense. He was the one running through the woods, not the barely alive half-elf in his arms.

Finding a fairly sheltered place to stop, Marcus placed Jorel down on the ground like he was crafted from the finest china. On his way through the forest, Marcus tried to locate their packs as he passed by but didn’t know for sure which bush they had been hiding in and couldn’t justify the time it would take to find it.

That left him with no way to start a fire.

Or any water to quench his growing thirst.

He and Jorel were in a tough spot.

Still, he would do his best to keep his friend alive. Marcus shook him once again, saying his name as loudly as he dared. He didn’t know if any more of those Bramble Wyrms, or any other nasty monsters, were lurking nearby. But there was still no response. He was starting to become really worried that he wasn’t going to make it.

“Damnit…” Marcus grumbled as he chewed on the mana-stone in his mouth. “Just wake up already…”

Only the cool night breeze answered his rumblings, causing Jorel to shiver even more on the cold, hard ground. Marcus let out a sigh. He knew what he needed to do; he had been in the Boy Scouts when he was younger, and they had taught them all about surviving in the wilderness. At least, he thought they did; he hadn’t really been paying attention back then, as he had been much too busy horsing around with his friends to listen. But he did remember one thing from those uninteresting lectures.

Marcus peeled off his leather armor, exposing his naked torso to the crisp night air. He had already torn apart his only shirt in order to wrap his leg after his fight with the krillgor, so he had nothing to cover himself other than his armor. Kneeling on the ground, he did the same to Jorel, doing his best not to injure his broken arm any further as he stripped him of his light leathers.

Soon enough, they were both naked from the waist up, and Marcus quickly wrapped the injured half-elf up in his thick arms, holding him closely and rubbing his much smaller frame as vigorously as he could without hurting him. He used their discarded armor as makeshift blankets; they were a poor substitute for wool, but they would have to do.

It took a few minutes until Jorel stopped shivering, and Marcus was relieved when he did so he could stop rubbing him. Still, he held him closely so that he wouldn’t lose any more heat and stayed that way for the rest of the very long night.

Marcus was up before the dawn light pierced the thick foliage of the trees. He had wrapped Jorel up in their armor like one would swaddle a newborn. This would help to keep him warm while he carried him towards the city and would also maybe stabilize his broken arm. He didn’t want to make anything worse with the way he was carrying him.

Finding the sun, he put it to his left and started to run. He knew they had been northeast of the city, and that meant that if he just ran south, he would eventually find it. Lorenth had a massive footprint after all, spanning several hundred square miles, so he had faith he’d be able to find it without issue.

Marcus ran and ran, pushing through thick overgrowth and trudging through muddy streams that sucked at his feet. His boots were lost in one such streambed, his feet pulling out of them without any lacings to hold them in. Marcus cursed as he felt the gritty mud squeeze between his toes, but he still didn’t stop.

Another night quickly approached, shrouding the forest in a blanket of darkness. This time, Jorel didn’t start shivering, telling Marcus that his swaddling was at least somewhat effective.

The trees started to thin, and the air carried faint traces of the stink one would only associate with large gatherings of people. Marcus knew he was getting close. His feet were raw from running barefoot, and his arms felt like they were liable to fall off at the shoulders. He was surprised he had been able to push himself to this extent and thought that the stone pushed into his cheek with a pleasant warmth was the reason why.

Flickering lights through the trees signaled to him that he had finally made it, pushing him to practically sprint the final distance. As he approached the towering walls of Lorenth, he couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t recognize this section of the city. That was of no great surprise to him but would make it more difficult for him to find his way back to the barracks once he was done.

But that was a problem for tomorrow’s Marcus.

He ran towards the nearest gate, a sigh of relief escaping him as he saw it was still open. He was afraid that they would close them at night, not allowing anyone entrance until the next morning. As he approached with Jorel in his arms, the guards manning the gate immediately called him to a halt.

“I need a doctor!” Marcus yelled out at the two armored men, hurriedly running towards him. “My friend needs a doctor. Hurry!”

“What is going on?!” One guard questioned, his pudgy belly heaving as he attempted to catch his breath from the short run over from the gate.

“We were attacked in the forest. He’s hurt, he needs a doctor. NOW!” Marcus’ timber was one that brooked no argument from the men in front of him, and sure enough, the thinner of the two turned on his heel and took off at a sprint back through the open gate.

“All right, all right, bring him inside the guard house. “Brechton has gone to summon a healer.”