CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE
*~~~**~~~*
Urman Gant
*~~~**~~~*
1st of Janus, 935 PC
----------------------------------------
Their time together wasn’t anything like the stories always said; wander through the wilderness with a stranger, start off quiet and awkward, end up best friends for life. Things couldn’t have been further from that. He was quiet, she was quieter. On and on she went, dragging him by the ankles with her chain until they came to the walls of Locke.
The main gates would have been too formal for a duo like them so they ended up on the west side of the city. Gray stones stretched all the way to the fields in the north and the Jazak Sea to the south. A big red gate stood at the end of the dirt trail they’d walked in on. It was tall and handsome in its own right but had a tendency to cater to a bad crowd in the same way the drunken regulars at a pub are welcome to use the back door. He’d made a point of only using the west gate if he had no other choice back in the day. At least until he’d changed so much even he didn’t recognize himself anymore. Then he came and went wherever he pleased.
There weren’t a whole lot of Lotus manning the wall but his head had gotten foggy again during the trip so counting them was out of the question. How many there were didn’t matter anyway. Even one was too many in his condition. The sight of them walking sure did make him jealous though. Didn’t seem fair that bastards like that could still walk while he was being dragged around like a hunter’s kill.
Ol’ Chains didn’t say a word when the Lotus spotted her. Just brought him up to the gate and stood there patiently. Course, if she was anxious there wasn’t any way he’d be able to tell. He struggled with the decision to kill her if he got the chance or not. On one hand, she’d brought him to the people that were likely his captors. But on the other hand, she hadn’t killed him like damn near every other person in the empire would have if they had to do what she’d done. Maybe it was his ruined legs talking, but he decided to give her a pass.
The cranked creaked and shrieked like a bad bard and the gates opened with that deep grumble they all made. Gates always had a way of sounding like you were putting them out by asking them to do something other than just stand there. And then he could see it; his old stomping grounds. Or should he say the grounds he’d been stomped by. Every bad memory, every image of Harlow, and every cut and bruise from his past hit him like a boulder of sadness. He knew before the gates were completely open that his sadness was going to come out as anger real soon. Only took a second to spot the prick he’d be letting it out on too. The old fucker standing at the gates was Tripelthin Styner and he looked every bit as in love with himself as Urman remembered.
“Manaya,” Tripelthin said. For some reason, Urman felt a little better that Ol’ Chains didn’t respond to Styner either. “I’m glad to see you’re safe and sound. I hope you’ve brought good news.” She nodded her head. “Excellent. Captain Briviera, have one of your Lotus bring me a cart.”
“Right away, sir,” a woman yelled from the nearest tower.
Ol’ Chains drug Urman the last ten feet into the gates as if he didn’t have scrapes and sores all over his back from two days of being slid across the earth like a dead animal. Tripelthin wrapped an arm around her shoulders and told her to rest, that he could take it from here. Urman had been in enough places he wasn’t supposed to be in to see when someone else was the turd in the basket of oranges. Ol’ Chains was the turd here. A hard one, not easily dealt with, but a turd nonetheless.
She knelt down and took the chain off his ankles then put her creepy eyes on him and sent some kind of message he couldn’t understand. When she stood she wrapped her chain around her body like a pet snake, then handed Tripelthin the box with the formula in it.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
He turned to Urman. “It seems you’re half the man you were when I saw you last.”
It seems you’re a cunt is what he wanted to say. He would have if he had legs under him but it seemed too desperate as he laid there helplessly. “All I want is Harlow. Told ya that from the beginning. Ya won’t hear another peep outta either of us once I get him.”
Styner held up the box. “You no longer have anything to negotiate with, Urman. I’m afraid if you want Harlow back, you’ll have to work a bit longer.”
“That ain’t the deal, Styner!” He made a move to stand up but the demand died at his waist. His legs were nothing but rotten meat. Still brought the Lotus on the walls to attention though. Not one of them wasn’t pointing their ugly purple fingers at him.
Tripelthin put up a hand to keep his Lotus in order right as the cart arrived behind him. “Perhaps if I gave you your legs back you might be more willing to work with me a while longer…” When Urman didn’t say anything, he said, “Otherwise these fine men will be taking you to your watery grave instead of another step closer to your brother.”
The Lotus from the cart were on him before he ever gave his answer. He was glad they had enough respect to pick him up so he looked like he was walking and not by the wrists and ankles like a dead body. Even though that’s exactly how he felt.
He’d felt like this before, like death was the best option. Three hells, anyone would get tired of climbing a mountain so big it looked like it was gutting the clouds like a dagger in the belly. But he’d never quit. Always kept waiting for those puffy dark clouds to move out the way and let him see that beautiful tip at the top. Well right now, the dark clouds shifted and there was no peak anywhere in sight. Just more climbing and more fighting. Dawned on him then… He’d have to climb so high that he was sitting right beside The Creator before he ever found Harlow. Still, as he passed Tripelthin he said, “Fix ‘em.”
*~~~**~~~*
He’d expected one of Iris’ alchemists to sprinkle some magical liquids on his legs and tell him to lay down for a week but he should have known better. Rather than get a well-deserved nap in a comfortable bed he got dropped hard on a wooden plank in a Cloudcruiser’s brig. At least he had company. A young man with hair he’d run his hands through enough times to teach it to stay wavy had been sitting on the other bed when Urman got brought in. He looked like he’d cried enough for both of them. Good thing too because Urman never had any tears of his own when he needed them.
Tripelthin stood at the bars and pointed at the boy. “Master White, Urman could use a hint of your magic.” The grimace on the boy’s face told Urman he’d heard his name before. Nothing like getting off on the wrong foot with every person you meet. “Quickly now. Mister Gant will be needed soon.”
“I ain’t gonna hurt ya, boy. Just tryin’ to get back on my feet,” Urman said. His voice never quite let him sound as sweet as he wanted to. Not like it used to. That side of him died on the streets of Locke a long time ago if he had to reckon.
Therrin made his way over to him like he thought it might be the last thing he ever did. He held his hands out in front cautiously, hoping he wouldn’t upset Urman. Only thing upsetting was how long this shit was taking but too much innocence was seeping out of the boy to dare scare him anymore than he already was.
Urman kept his lips shut tight as Therrin studied his wounds. “I can help you,” the boy said. Urman gave him the least intimidating nod he could muster up.
He’d been around plenty of Purists over the years but never once had any of them used their magic on him. He felt a tingle of nerves trickle through him as he watched the hands float down to his thighs. “Be easy. I ain’t never done this.”
He had to fight back a groan when the healer put his hands on the crusty skin. He closed his eyes tight. Something thick poured over his legs. A lot of it. It crawled into the gashes and then right down into the muscles he didn’t know he could feel. Slowly, the pain began to vanish until it was completely gone. Took no more than a minute. Urman opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, almost too afraid to look down and realize he’d imagined it all, that he’d still be useless to Harlow. This was about the time he’d wake up from a dream, after all.
His hands bounced around on his legs first. No pain. He snuck a peak. Nothing but the holes in his pants. He wanted to jump up off the wooden bed and hug the boy but all he did was nod again.
“Please help me,” Therrin whispered, then turned around and spoke to Tripelthin. “He’ll be fine, sir.”