Seven hours had passed when Iris was last awake. She blinked her eyes open, groaning as she glanced around at her surroundings. Noting she was no longer wearing her gear, but instead in a soft silky robe made for comfort.
“Water…” she said with a strained voice.
“You’re awake!” the ginger haired healer yelled out rushing over towards her.
Margei, the only healer who was present at the moment, stopped for a second to reach for a cup. She took the cup into her small hands and poured warm water out from a ceramic kettle and into the cup, filling it to the brim. Margei placed the kettle down and carefully made her way towards Iris, in hopes of not spilling any of the water. Margei arrived at Iris’ bedside with the cup still in hand, offering the warm water to the huntress.
Iris sat herself up and reached for the cup, gulping the water almost immediately. Margei couldn’t help but giggle at Iris who spilled some on her chin.
“How are you feeling?” Margei asked.
“I'm fine.” Iris replied rather dryly, handing the healer the cup back.
“Hm, considering you were almost dinner for the Black Bloods I would have assumed you might have been more…I don't know…shook?” Margei said, taking the cup from Iris.
“I'm fine. Just a bit sore, ya’know?” Iris said, looking over to her bandaged shoulder stained with dried blood. She wiggled her shoulder back and forth a bit to get a feel for it.
“Well, I'm glad you didnt end up like most.” Margei said, walking towards the table where she had left the ceramic kettle. She lifted the kettle up once more to pour warm water into the cup. Making her way back over to Iris once the cup was filled.
“Thanks I guess.” Iris said, obviously in a sour mood. The memories of Victor and Tunis’ screams, still fresh in her mind.
“Oh, uhm before I forget. The High’lord needed your name.” Margei said handing the cup of water to Iris, then taking a seat on one of the empty beds across from Iris’
“The High’lord needs my name? What..?” Iris muttered before taking a sip of the water given to her. “I’m Iris.”
“I'm not entirely sure why they wanted your name…” Margei said, following up with a hand to her chest. “I am Margei. Short for Margeitta”
“Well, you’re obviously not from here with red hair like that, Miss Margeitta. So where are you from? The Valen?” Iris said, muffling her voice into the cup of water as she drank the rest of it. While using her index finger to point at Margei’s ginger-colored hair.
“Hah! No, I'm not from the Valen. I was born in the Reaver Isles. Village of Dimfjord to be exact.” Margei corrected.
“The Reaver Isles? Isn’t that place all nice and warm? Why come up here to the Ivory?” Iris questioned, placing the empty cup on her lap.
“I can tell you have not gone far from home.” Margei said, sprawling her arms out behind her to rest herself against her elbows on the bed.
“The Reaver Isles is a mountainous landscape of never ending rain. It's always wet, muddy, and miserable. Gah, I hated it there so much. I felt like I needed a new place to go. So, I picked the Ivory.” Margei said with a smile “Have you ever thought of traveling from the north?” Margei questioned.
“Never thought about it, nor cared. I just want to serve the Ivory Hunt as best as I can.” Iris stated
“You are with the Ivory Hunt?” Margei asked with a curious note about her face.
Their conversation was cut short by a knock at the door. Margei hurried herself up to her feet and made way to the front door, all while Iris watched curiously. Margei opened the door only to bow her head to a stranger standing at the other end. The healer stood aside allowing for a well dressed woman to enter.
“Good Morning! How can I help you?” Margei asked the woman.
As soon as the woman entered Iris’ line of sight, a smile grew on Iris’ pale face.
“Huntmaster Renzeel!” Iris yelled, forcing herself out of bed in order to salute the well dressed woman.
Renzeel dressed, walked, and even talked like an elder, but her face only appeared to be around her late twenties. Her white hair was neatly combed to the side, held up by a pin that was placed on the right side of her head.
“No salute is necessary, Valdya.” Renzeel said, holding a palm out towards Iris. Indicating that she didn’t want the wounded woman to get out of bed.
Iris stopped herself and instead gave a light bow of her head before she settled back into bed. Her blue eyes wandered over to Margei, the healer.
“Margei, I want to introduce Huntermaster Renzeel. She is one of the few Huntmasters in all of the Ivory Hunt.” Iris said, gesturing her arm out toward Renzeel.
Renzeel gave Margei a light smile and in return Margei waved at the woman. In truth, Margei wasn't too knowledgeable on the significance of a huntmaster so she was unsure on how to properly greet the woman.
“You’re fine outsider. I do not expect you to know our customs.” Renzeel gave a chuckle, picking up on Margei’s lack of manners. “It is a pleasure to meet you, healer. But I must have a word with my huntress, for just a moment.” Renzeel said.
“Oh, of course.” Margei said, relieved to be able to leave the tense social interaction. Without another word being said she made her way to the front door and stepped out, leaving only Renzeel and Iris in the healers den.
Renzeel watched as the healer left. She kept her eyes trained on the front door, the moment it was closed shut, the Huntmaster turned her gaze back towards Iris who was watching curiously from her bed.
“The ramparts commander came looking for me. I’m glad you’re ok but the Seer found your Ward dust,” Renzeel said with a stern tone, and a wrinkle appearing right between her brow. “Iris. You messed up and messed up badly.”
“Wh- What are you talking about?” Iris said, feeling a lump form around her throat.
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“Do not act stupid with me, Valdya. They found the pouch of Ward Dust still in your chambers. You forgot to take it on the hunt.” Renzeel said, folding her arms.
Iris was in disbelief. The memories of her searching for the pouch on her hunt began to flood back to her. Tears welled up in her eyes, but it was clear she was fighting the emotions back. Iris could say nothing as she found any attempt at forming words only to end up in a choke.
Renzeel softened her face, she knew it was a devastating situation. A sister that lost her brother and a dear friend during a hunt was never an easy thing. Renzeel made her way to the foot of her bed sitting at its edge.
“High’lord Castor is furious,” Renzeel explained.
“I will speak to the High’lord and try to soften his punishment. Until then you focus on recovering, I will return tomorrow with news.” Renzeel then stood herself up from the bed. Making her way towards the front door.
The Huntmaster made her way out of the healer's den giving a nod of her head to Margei who was waiting outside in the cold. Once the Huntermaster gave the nod and walked off, Margei rushed back inside blowing hot breath into her cupped hands. The healer was happy to be back in the warmth of the den only to see Iris was crying into her blanket.
Margei approached the crying woman with a gentle step. “Iris, are you ok? D-do you want water?” she offered.
Iris only continued her crying fit. Every tear that rolled down her white cheeks, was wiped off with the furred fabric of the blanket. Margei could do nothing but watch, feeling helpless in the situation.
The front door opened once more with the two healers from earlier last night stepping inside the den. The first to enter was the more senior woman who quickly heard the cries. The second to enter was the younger more apprentice man who carried a burlap sack full of medical supplies that was desperately needed.
“What's going on Margei?” the Senior healer asked.
“I- uh, i’m not sure. Her Huntmaster came by and spoke with her in private.” Margei replied.
“Dear, being a healer isn’t all cleaning wounds and poking needles into people. Sometimes we comfort those who have lost more than we can comprehend.” The senior woman said as she made her way across the den towards the bed to curl Iris into a hug. She pulled Iris’ head against her chest and silently rocked her body back and forth, using her other hand to rub at her back.
The youngest of the healers dropped the burlap sack on one of the tables that wasn’t cluttered with various medicines and tools. He then made his way to stand beside Margei, watching as the hug helped in soothing Iris’ distress.
“Did you offer her water? That usually always helps…” the apprentice whispered to Margei.
Margei elbowed his stomach.
Iris rested her head for a bit on the senior healer’s chest. Her puffy red eyes found it difficult to shed any more tears.
She offered a weak smile as she pulled herself away from the embrace. She found it nice to have a moment of kindness in what was possibly the worst time of her life. Iris had been through so much in the last two days. Losing her brother, practically feeding her friend to the Black Bloods, and now she was being blamed for it all. Maybe it was her fault it all happened?
“The High’lord is going to use me as an example.” Iris finally spoke out.
A silence swept over the room. None of the healers knew what to say. Margei finally broke the silence shared between them, speaking what no one wanted to say into reality.
“Just run away. Go south to the Valen! We can use the cover of night to get you through the gates,” Margei suggested with an intense passion in her words.
“It is no use,” the elder paused, “the Ivory is home to the greatest trackers in all of Ikorum. She will get caught, and then her punishment will only worsen.” the elder healer stated
“She's right. I’ll just wait for tomorrow, my Huntmaster said she would return with news.” Iris said
“Very well, dear. Let us know if you need anything, until then, get your rest.” the eldest healer said, giving Iris a light tap on her leg before getting up from the bed.
The eldest gestured for the male apprentice to follow her as they were about to work on unloading the burlap sack and its contents. Margei meanwhile stared at Iris, a hint of sadness blanketed over her eyes as she gave a heavy exhale. Shaking her head she turns around to help her fellow healers with unloading the burlap sack. Leaving Iris with her own thoughts.
The rest of the day Iris spent trying to get any rest that she could, although she found it extremely difficult when flashes of the night before came into her mind. Even the anxious feeling of what would happen to her tomorrow kept her stomach turning at just the mere thought. Getting any sleep proved to be harder than she expected.
Nearing the end of the day Iris was given a small meal of peppered rabbit meat and warm mashed soup with a light brown coloring, along with a cup of water to wash it all down with. Being absolutely famished, Iris ripped into the meal, gulping down chunks of rabbit meat and even dipping some of it into the soup. Once she was all done she thanked the eldest healer for cooking her the meal and gave her back the plate that she had emptied.
Nightfall had come and Iris settled snugly into the bed she had been laying in all day. She lifted the warmed blanket up to her chin and closed her eyes.
“Iris. IRIS. IRIIIISSSS!” yelled out a voice.
Iris sleepily opened her eyes, seeing faintly through her white eyelashes. She took a moment to adjust what she saw, only to widen her eyes in shock. Tunis and Victor stood before her in a bloodied mess. Limbs missing and torn to an almost unrecognizable state. Iris stared in horror knowing full well she was the one that caused this. The idea of her forgetting the dust slithered into her mind. How could she be so stupid?
Iris suddenly woke up in a cold sweat. She sat herself up and shot her eyes around the room, much like a spooked elk. The young apprentice who was the only healer in the den saw the huntress awaken, and walked over to her.
“Ah, good morn. I didn’t expect you to awake so early.” the apprentice said
“Morning? What time is it?” Iris said, rubbing one of her eyes.
“Eight o'clock.” he answered
“Already? Where is Margei?” Iris asked, looking around the den.
“Margei and Mrs Garetta are off. I have the morning shift, watching over you and such.” the apprentice said.
“Damn it all. I should have taken her offer last night.” Iris stated.
“You’re having a change of heart?” the apprentice asked with curiosity painted into his tone.
“Yes. I fear the High’lord plans to execute me.” Iris said, looking up to the healer's soft featured face.
“May I ask….why?” the apprentice asked, with curiosity getting the best of him.
“I forgot to take Ward Dust on my hunt,” Iris responded plainly.
“Forgive my ignorance, for I am no member of the Ivory Hunt. But, what does that mean?” the apprentice asked in a hushed voice.
“What? Have you never left Wighthall’s walls? Everyone should know what Ward Dust is.” Iris irritatedly said.
The apprentice shamingly looked down to his feet. The huntress noticed this and gave a long and exaggerated sigh.
“You're young, it makes sense I guess. Ward Dust is what travelers pour on their flames to alter its color to that bluish hue you can see atop the walls.” Iris explained. “It's what keeps the Veiled Ones away…that's why it's all over the walls.” She muttered under her breath.
The boy listened intently, having a sort of overwhelming focus. In truth, he didn’t know much about the outside world. Iris was his glimpse to what the rest of the world outside of the walls had to offer.
“Sorry for the stupid question. Mrs Garetta thinks I'm too young to know, but I don’t think so.” the boy explained.
“No one is too young to learn about the real world. But, you seem to have a great teacher and I am sure she only wants what's best for you” Iris said, trying to comfort the young apprentice.
The boy smiled but shook his head at her. “I don’t really wanna do any of this. I want to be a member of the Ivory Hunt! I’m not entirely sure how Mrs Garetta will feel about that,” the boy exclaimed
“It's hard. The Ivory Hunt only wishes for the best archers. Pour your heart into your training and I am certain you will be a great hunter one day.” Iris said
Before the boy could respond, the front door swung open with a group of people entering the den. The group was led into the den by Renzeel who was accompanied by five other men and women of the Ivory hunt. All armed, and dressed in the signature heavy furs.
“Miss Valdya, let's go.” Renzeel ordered.
Iris stared wide eyed at the group of armed soldiers that marched into the den, but she offered no retaliation and nodded. She pulled her furred blanket off, pushing it to the side and planted her feet onto the warmed stone of the den floor.
Iris lifted herself up from the bed and planted her weight firmly on her legs, turning her face towards the boy to give him a hug. The young apprentice did not hesitate in wrapping his long sleeved arms around the huntress to give her a final hug.
“Good luck…” he muttered before letting her go.
Iris then stared at Renzeel and nodded at the Huntmaster, making her way to the group of soldiers. Once she stood in front of them, two of the armed men moved to her sides grabbing at her arms with a gentle grip, Renzeel would make sure that Iris was not hurt any more than she already was.
“Let's go.” Renzeel said, leading the group of soldiers out of the den.
Iris and the men holding onto her followed behind the group making way for the outside.
A flash of brightness hit Iris as she left the dim-interior of the healers den. She squinted her eyes and swiveled her head to the side, being overwhelmed by the sun casted above.
Despite her eyes adjusting, the group continued moving forward. Men and women of the city stopped their everyday lives to watch Iris being marched by the Ivory Hunt. She shivered with every minute they walked, the huntress no longer wore the gear needed for the cold. She was instead in a thin robe and bare feet.
It wasn’t long before Renzeel and the group of soldiers stopped in front of a large pillared cathedral with a long flight of cobbled stairs between them and the entrance. Iris stopped beside the soldiers only to glide her blue eyes all along the dark stone pillars of the structure. A nerving twitch caught her upper lip as the cold breeze blew through her white flowing hair. The end was near.
“Ok, i’m ready.” Iris said, stepping forward to climb the cobbled stairs.
Silence filled the air with every step she took on the cobbled stairs. Everyone accompanying her knew what was about to happen.