Chapter 15 #2
We had to be willing to make all necessary sacrifices in the name of the emperor, which meant not only did we have to willingly place ourselves at risk for the others, we also had to be prepared to sacrifice each other if it was necessary.
Beyond the comradery of the battlefield, we were not encouraged to know each other well or care for each other as individuals.
Nothing should cloud our judgement in a fight, least of all concern for another guard who could compromise my own actions.
Still, I had known with all my heart that I could trust the men on either side of me to do all they could in the name of Osaria which meant I could trust their honour above all else.
Drake and the rest of The Forty only seemed able to rely on the fact that each and every one of them would do all they could to protect and benefit themselves. I knew which system I preferred.
Drake arrived beside me, biting into a shiny red apple he'd thieved. He held another one out for me and my eyes narrowed. The sweet scent reached me, and my stomach growled. The small bread roll Pip had given me hadn’t been nearly enough to satisfy my hunger.
And before that, I’d been living on cold gruel in the dungeon for three days.
What I’d give to have a hot breakfast handed to me right now. ..
“One time offer.” Drake waved the apple under my nose and I snatched it.
I held it close to my tunic, about to shine it on my clothes when I thought better of it.
Who knew when these items had last been scrubbed?
They didn’t seem particularly dirty, but they weren’t freshly pressed and starched the way my own clothes always were either.
As I brought the fruit to my lips, I spied a curly black hair sitting atop it and thrust it back at Drake with a lurch of disgust in my stomach.
“I'm not hungry,” I grunted.
He frowned, pocketing the fruit and shaking his head at me.
“Oh, what a charmed life you must have led to so casually reject good food, Cassius,” he mocked and my spine stiffened as I realised the insult I’d just given him.
“I’ll be certain not to waste my time in offering you any more in future.
” No doubt his contempt for the upper classes had just been strengthened once more, and I stifled a sigh as I realised he had a fair point.
“Come, Hagot will check up on your torture wounds before we leave,” he added, jerking his chin to draw my attention to the healer who I hadn’t noticed slinking closer to us as we spoke.
“No, I am quite fine,” I said quickly. In fact, I was fine. The swelling in the burn the healer had tended to had gone down overnight, and a lot of the redness had faded out of it too. But his process left a lot to be desired.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I can’t have you dropping dead before you hand me my treasure.” Drake gripped my shoulder, leading me towards Hagot and my skin prickled uncomfortably as the man gave me a watery smile.
“Show me your wound, lawman, don’t be shy,” he purred, tilting his head as he assessed me and I shifted uncomfortably before him, not liking the way his too perfect flesh seemed to be stretched over his bones.
Healers had always given me the creeps when they used their Affinities like that. Keeping their skin youthful in appearance even when everything else about them proved that they were far from young.
My moment of hesitation was short lived as Drake grasped my tunic and yanked it up, making me grunt in annoyance as he exposed the burn wound at my side where the poker had been driven into my skin. It still hurt, but nowhere near as much as it had before.
Hagot nodded, tipping his gaze to Drake. “I’ll take a cut of the loot you’re heading after in payment for last night’s treatment and this follow up,” he said, ignoring me like he already knew I had no means to pay for his services.
“One gemstone, fat as a grape,” Drake agreed but Hagot was already shaking his head.
“Five.”
“One,” Drake growled.
“Four. Or you can risk your guide collapsing when the rot sets in and his wound festers-”
“Rot? I thought that paste you gave me last night healed it?” I asked, my lips parting in concern as I looked down at the burn on my side again, hunting for any signs of that, but the two of them ignored me as if I wasn’t even here.
“Two,” Drake shot back. “Final offer, and I won’t tell the men visiting the whore houses where you pedal your tonics that the one you offer up to protect them against cock boils contains camel dung and rotten cabbage.
I’m gonna guess they’d be a whole lot less inclined to smear their manhood in it and pay you for the privilege if they knew that. ”
“The ingredients work,” Hagot objected while I recoiled in disgust.
“I’m still thinking that knowledge would be off putting,” Drake shot back and Hagot huffed.
“Fine. Two stones as fat as grapes and your silence on my methods.” Hagot held a hand out and Drake slapped his into it, the tattoo on his forearm catching my attention for a moment as his muscles flexed at the tightness of his grip.
The curving lines and intricate symbols of the black ink almost seemed to shimmer for the briefest of moments before I blinked, and the illusion was gone.
I’d never seen finer tattoos in all my years and the time he must have spent beneath the needle to have gotten them was astounding, let alone the cost of such art being cast upon his skin.
There was a story there and I was curious as all hell about it.
I was distracted by my interest in Drake’s ink, so I didn’t notice that Hagot had dropped down and started preparing a poultice until his elbow crashed into my knee in a demand for me to give him more space.
“Are you sure I need more medicine? The wound looks much improved to me,” I said, and he laughed obnoxiously.
“Stupid muscle man knows nothing of healing,” he muttered to himself, and I pursed my lips.
I watched as the strange healer got to work mixing herbs with a cut of aloe vera leaf and grinding them into a pestle before me.
My nose wrinkled as he pulled a dried, red beetle from a little pouch and crushed that into the mixture too.
I outwardly recoiled when he finished by spitting in the mixture before scooping it onto his unwashed fingers and standing before me.
Gods be damned, did he really need to add his fucking saliva to it?
“What are you going to do with-” I began, but I was cut off by his lightning-fast movement as he slapped the slimy poultice against the burn on my side and stole a curse from my lips.
“Oh, for the love of the Fallen,” I swore as Drake caught my arm to stop me from pushing the healer away from me in disgust and a large, waxy leaf was slapped over the wound to keep the revolting mixture against my flesh.
“There,” Hagot announced with a smile as he looked to me at last. “Better?”
I couldn’t hide my revulsion at his methods, but as Drake continued to hold my arm and stop me from peeling the leaf away, I was forced to accept the lessening pain in my side and the relief the mixture was affording me.
“It works,” I said in surprise and Hagot nodded, tapping the side of his nose.
“Your fancy upper Fae healers will always hide the spit from your la-de-da eyes,” he said. “But essence of a healer is key. As are many other natural ingredients which can turn delicate little stomachs like yours. But the proof is in the pudding as they say. And it’s working, ain’t it?”
“I don’t have a delicate stomach,” I muttered, not liking the way these criminals seemed to look down on me for my upbringing despite the fact that I’d clearly had it a lot better than them.
“You gonna leave that little potion in place to stop the rot setting in then?” Drake demanded, still holding my arm like he didn’t trust me not to rip the leaf off, and I could admit it was tempting to do so.
But I could also admit that the lasting pain was ebbing and some of the tension of holding onto that agony was finally fading from my limbs.
“Yes. You can unhand me now before I have to put you on your arse,” I grumbled.
Drake laughed and slapped me on the shoulder. Not like he didn’t believe I could do it, more like he’d enjoy it if I tried, and I supposed we had a love of fighting in common if nothing else.
“Come on then. Let’s get the fuck outta here,” Drake said before tugging open the hatch and leading the way out of The Den.
Thank Osaria I'm leaving this shithole at last.
I waited for the others to go first, watching the beastly looking men who Drake had selected to help him carry the treasure, and assessing each of them for any weaknesses I could take note of just in case this turned ugly for me once they got what they wanted.
I wasn’t a fool. I held value to these men for the moment, but once they had the treasure, all bets would be off, and there was clearly no honour among these thieves.
I continued to conceal the scimitar behind my back as they went and Hagot headed away, calling out to the other gang members close by to ask if any of them needed his assistance before he packed his things away.
Once the last of the men had headed down into the dark tunnel beneath The Den, I followed them and slammed the hatch above my head.
As I walked deeper into the dark passage, Drake noted the weapon at my back without saying a word. His eyes glinted with amusement for a moment before he whipped the cape off of his shoulders and threw it over my head to blindfold me once again.
I sighed as two of the gang members grabbed my arms and roughly guided me along the tunnel like they were trying to knock me into every wall on the way.
I stumbled over the uneven floor, fighting against the impulse to rip the hood off so that I could see better and forcing myself to trust these arseholes.
The change in the air soon told me we'd exited The Den, but they didn't take the hood off of my face until we'd marched on for several more minutes.