“Gizzal, you madman!”

It all happened so quickly. First, they ran. From what, neither were sure. But for a moment, the Eivettän Death Worms Appo had for so long mocked seemed too real. They reached their camels, but then the sand underneath their feet burst again. Appo was certain he was about to be devoured.

But with that third burst of sand, something happened. Without another word, Gizzal yipped his camel towards the dune on their left. Appo knew he had to stay close and struggled to catch his reins before pursuing after him. Fortunately, whatever was under the ground had stopped chasing them. Did Gizzal know to get to higher ground?

But Gizzal had moved too quickly, too pointedly. It was as if he were in pursuit.

Then, just as Gizzal crossed over the edge of the dune, it exploded.

Before Appo could rationalize the sight, a voice called out. One he recognized, fortunately. “Healer! Come, quick!” Gizzal said, winded, but very much alive.

Appo led his camel around the side, noticing a pit a meter wide where the explosion occurred. Sand particles twirled through the air, stinging Appo’s eyes.

Above the ridge, Appo made sense of the scene: Gizzal was on his feet, trying to pull something off of his agitated camel. He must’ve fallen, as sand coated his face and body. Appo was happy both were standing, though Gizzal seemed to clutch his chest. A few meters away, a small figure in tattered clothes lay face-first in the desert.

“I fucking knew it,” murmured Gizzal. “All this time… after everything those worthless traders told me, I knew it couldn’t have been death worms... Lazy shits!” Gizzal grimaced as he spoke, squeezing his chest tight.

“Ah, of course,” said Appo, “worms don’t exist.” Even so, they certainly felt real to him then. Something had to have moved all that sand.

“I knew it had to be a magi. I just needed to see it with myself… This scheming little bitch must have caused so much trouble in all these years. To think it only took me a single trip to the Rust Waves to sort this out. All the coin I’ve lost… I’ll have her head!” Gizzal’s ranting came in gasps, as if he was struggling to catch his breath.

“Are you hurt?” Appo asked. He approached Gizzal, who twisted away as Appo reached out. The fall could have knocked the wind out of him, but it was possible he broke a rib as well.

“Cunt hit me in the chest with something as I fell… Don’t worry about me, I’m fine… Get the crossbow out before she wakes up!” It irritated Appo that Gizzal had taken the lumpy, misshapen instrument with him, for Isbibarra had specifically brought it along for their collective protection.

Through the darkness, Appo made note of a dark crimson pooling into Gizzal’s white tunic. “You’re bleeding, Gizzal…”

Gizzal looked down, cursing as he did so. Small bronze rod stuck out of his chest, just below his nipple. It clearly missed Gizzal’s heart, but it could have easily pierced his lung. The fact Gizzal’s breathing had worsened wasn’t helping such matters.

“Ati’s dirt… A fucking throwing knife, the bitch!”

“You’re seriously injured, Gizzal. I need to look.”

Gizzal waved him away. “No… Not until we deal with her.”

Gizzal’s reluctance for help perplexed Appo. His fear of this young magi appeared to outweigh anything else at the moment. “Alright. Just don’t take it out yourself, okay? You’ll bleed out. It may be best to leave it in until we’re safe… Do you feel lightheaded at all?”

Gizzal shook his head. “Hard to breathe… but I’m standing… Let’s kill her quick and then you can stitch me up.”

“Wait, perhaps we should think this through,” Appo warned. “What if she isn’t alone? She could be with the group you’re after.”

Gizzal huffed, as if he hadn’t considered the possibility. “Did you see what she did? She exhausted herself after trying to kill us!... She fucking stabbed me, remember? We acted in self-defense!”

“We could always leave-”

Behind the two, the girl in tattered clothes rose from the ground. She was utterly exhausted, swaying like a drunkard. The girl was small and unintimidating, but if she was truly the one responsible for the prior attacks, she wasn’t one to be trifled with.

Appo had encountered a few magi before. Anyone could learn the intricate skill of magic casting, but few had the patience to learn it. Magic wasn’t something that came easily to most; the few restoration magic spells Appo had attempted were so ineffective they were of little practical use, and many healers spent decades learning its intricacies to no avail.

Gizzal aimed his repeating crossbow at the girl, struggling with his aim. The girl paid no mind. She simply stared at the two.

“Huh,” the girl mumbled in a slight accent. “Strange looking raiders…” She looked delirious, paying no mind to the bow as she stumbled.

Appo stood behind Gizzal, observing the odd scene. Neither was in any condition to fight. Appo stepped forward, holding out his single hand.

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“We’re not raiders,” Appo said calmly. “We come from Ash.”

Before Appo could continue, Gizzal dropped his repeating crossbow. He doubled over in pain, clutching his chest.

“What’s wrong?” Appo yelled.

Gizzal tried to respond, but couldn’t. His voice became a gasp as he struggled to breathe. He lost his balance and fell to his knees. He reached for his neck before collapsing to the ground and rolling over onto his back.

Appo rushed over to him, uncertain of what to do. He could remove the knife, but if it had reached his heart, Gizzal would bleed out.

Appo’s mind began running, coming up with diagnoses. “Heart attack? Easily could have nicked the arteries. More likely, it pierced his lung, judging by the angle. But he was fine just a moment before? Maybe this is a magi trick, and the girl is doing something to him? But in that case, why would I be standing?”

“Talk to me Gizzal,” Appo asked. “Where does it hurt?” He wasn’t sure whether Gizzal heard him. The rosy cheeks of Gizzal morphed into a shade of blue, the unmistakable sign of asphyxiation. Somehow, the air wasn’t getting to his lungs. But why? The arrow could have pierced Gizzal’s trachea, or the blood his pericardium could be pooling with blood, or air could be leaking out of his chest. Lots of things could be going wrong, most of them fatal.

“His lung is getting crushed.” Appo turned. It was the girl. She had gotten closer to them. If she had shown concern prior, there was none to be found here. “He has too much air outside of his lung.”

“Stay back! Go get help if you can!” Appo didn’t have the time to deal with ramblings of a little girl.

“Okay.” The girl nodded but didn’t move. She was useless right now. It was no concern as long as she didn’t hit them with another blast of energy. “But there’s more air than lung, now.” The girl said. “He’ll die soon if he doesn’t get it out.”

“What are you on about?” Appo finally replied in annoyance.

“The air is coming in.” The girl pointed at Gizzal’s chest, right where she hit him.

“Like… a pierced lung?” Appo suddenly had a moment of clarity. The girl was a magi, and if she had caused the explosions that hindered them earlier, it was possible she had complete awareness of the surrounding air. They had traveled with a blind man who could see with perfect clarity by simply touching the ground. How much stranger was this?

“No. It’s coming in. It’s crushing his lung.”

Appo looked at Gizzal’s chest again. The metal rod wouldn’t have been deep enough to penetrate the heart. Appo knew how the lungs expanded and contracted with breathing, for he had seen horrifying demonstrations some of his colleagues would put together, acquiring bulls and stripping away the flesh around their breasts to expose the inflation and deflation of the lungs.

“‘Air is coming in,’” the girl had said.

Air was coming through Gizzal’s chest cavity. Appo had heard of rare cases. How men had died after being suffocated by air not coming through the mouth and nose, but from a wound in their torso. Their shallow wounds pierced the chest through the ribs, but not quite through the lungs. Slowly, air would make its way into the pleural space, gradually building until the buildup of air pressure crushed the lung. It was like the inverse of drowning. The Healer’s Guild scrolls had called it “pneumothorax,” or a collapsed lung.

Appo didn’t know for sure what was going on, but he had to move fast. The only way to treat pneumothorax was to release the air from the chest without worsening the bleeding. Appo couldn’t simply remove the knife: by this point, it could be the one thing keeping Gizzal from bleeding to death.

Appo knelt down next to Gizzal, awkwardly pulling his robe off with one hand. He maneuvered the robe around the knife hilt, making sure not to aggravate the injury. As he did, Appo saw something around Gizzal’s neck: the adamantine necklace. The same they had been risking their lives to return.

There was no doubt about it; he had stolen it. A flurry of emotions hit Appo: rage, frustration, and disappointment. Gizzal was a loathsome miser, through and through.

For now, Appo had to push all that down. Gizzal was close to death.

“Maybe he deserves it,” a quiet voice whispered in Appo’s head. To his horror, he realized it was his own.

Appo fumbled with his surgical kit, prepping a washcloth with his spirit. He kept looking back at the knife sticking out of Gizzal’s chest. At some point, he would have to pull it out. But he had to allow enough air to come out to release the lung, but by the time that would have the wound would become too great, and the bleeding would become internal.

Appo looked up at the young girl. She was standing only a meter away now, watching as Appo struggled to figure out a plan. Perhaps she could help.

“Miss,” Appo asked as he wiped the blood away from Gizzal’s bare belly. “When you say you feel the air inside him… what do you mean by that?”

“He has air around his lung,” the girl repeated.

“Yes. Can you control it?”

“Control… the air?”

“Just the air around his lung. Can you manipulate it?”

The girl still seemed dazed, but she nodded. “Yes,” she said.

“This man is no raider, and he doesn’t deserve to die. We’re just trying to make our way through… Can you help him?”

The girl’s gaze traced down Gizzal. She made no expression, but in time, she nodded again.

“Okay,” Appo said. “I’m going to pull out this knife. When I do, I want you to push the air out. Or pull it, however you do it. Let me know when you’re ready, and I’ll pull on the count of three. It has to be quick. You understand?”

The girl nodded. She held her hands out, shaking. Appo was becoming more and more unsure about his plan. Appo didn’t even know if Gizzal really had pneumothorax, and he was relying on this stranger who he had met just moments ago. And who knew if she knew how to control her powers like that? She very well could take out Gizzal’s lungs with the air. And that was all beside the point whether Gizzal himself was worth saving.

Appo decided he was thinking too much. He had to save a life. That’s all that mattered.

Appo grasped the throwing knife. He had a spirit soaked washcloth on Gizzal’s chest right next to the wound, ready to be packed. Appo looked at the girl, who still held her hands outwards.

“Ready?”

The girl nodded. As she did, Appo could feel a change in the air. He heard a faint buzzing in his ear, like gnats. Although nearly unconscious, Gizzal grimaced and reflexively reached for his chest.

“One… Two… Three!”

Appo tugged hard at the knife, but hadn’t expected it to come out with such force. A popping sound burst from Gizzal’s chest, launching the knife over the edge of the dune. A splattering of blood burst into the air, spraying Appo’s face. He reflexively shut his eyes, but his hand immediately went to the washcloth. Appo got a brief glimpse of pink spongy lung before sticking the tightly wound bandage into the fresh hole in Gizzal’s chest. Gizzal gasped, arching his back as he tried with all his might to breathe fresh air again. He grimaced from the fresh pain in his chest, but it was a relief compared to the suffocation. His gasps became shallower and slowed before eventually returning to normal.

“Can you breathe, Gizzal?” asked Appo. Gizzal responded by sucking air through his nose, as if inspecting a fine wine. “Okay… good. You’re going to be okay.”

As Appo said this, he couldn’t help but look back at the silver visage of Lowya around Gizzal’s chest. Maybe Lowya had saved Gizzal. In any case, Appo promised it would be the last time Gizzal wore it.