15 #4
“The other went around to the back door. From what I could hear, the prince tried to leave by that route as soon as he heard the knock. A fight ensued—glyphs used on both sides. Once their magic was spent, they struggled hand-to-hand, all the way down the hall and into the front room. The prince fought like a beast, but they overcame him. He screamed for you at the end. He said if they had hurt you, he would eviscerate them, cut off their balls and their nipples—all sorts of unpleasant things. He called down a thousand curses upon their heads. Gwin told the hunters to shut him up, and they finally knocked him out. They discussed their travel plans with her, advising her how long it might take for them to transport him to Zeletas or Kyr, and she made them swear to come back afterward and deliver her share of the reward.”
“I doubt they will.”
“You’re probably right,” Severin agrees.
“After they left, it was quiet for a while. I was conscious of everything unfolding and I wanted to move or speak, but I could not… until I heard your call. It was like a rope tied to one of my tassels, pulling me toward you. I found that I was able to slide out from beneath the hoof’s weight, bit by bit, until I got free.
One of the younger children had come down for a drink of water, and he laughed in delight when he saw me fluttering near the door. I convinced him to let me out.”
“His mother won’t be pleased about that.”
“If he hadn’t been there, I would have found a way to get to you, even if I had to go up the filthy chimney.” The carpet shivers at the idea.
“I appreciate your loyalty.” I smooth my hand across his surface. “You saved my life. Again.”
“Until I met the two of you, I never had the chance to save anyone,” Severin replies. “Being of such vital use is a greater satisfaction than I anticipated. And now we must both save the young prince. If you can handle a bit more speed, I will go faster. Let me know if it’s too much.”
I put my head down and shut my eyes, focusing all my strength on the handles. The carpet curves his front edge a bit to shield me from the wind of his speed, and he zooms ahead with all the urgency I could wish for.
The intensity of the pain in my body makes my brain circle back to the carpet’s suggestion—that we find a healer.
Healing glyphs are rarely used in this kingdom or any other, because they don’t work without a special morpheme, an add-on symbol that siphons the life energy of their user.
That life energy can’t be replaced. In order to heal someone, the healer must give their own life force, which, depending on the severity of the wound, can take hours, days, weeks, or even years off their lifespan.
It’s a sacrifice few are willing to make.
The few healers in existence typically demand fees so high that only the wealthiest of the land can afford their services.
One or two might be willing to perform healing on certain candidates for free, but that grace is reserved for immediate family or for a cause the healer deems worthy.
I once heard of an elderly healer using his last bit of life-force to restore sight to a child who had been blinded in an accident.
Even if the carpet did know of a beneficent healer, I don’t deserve such a gift. I need a regular physician to bind my finger and prescribe tonics for pain and inflammation, and then I need rest. I probably won’t get either for quite a while…
Something jerks below my navel, and my limbs flail wildly and painfully. I’m spinning through midair, free-falling, hurtling toward trees draped in blood ivy—
The carpet sweeps underneath me, arresting my descent.
“What happened?” He sounds angry and shaken. “You just let go.”
“I don’t know.” I grab the handles, half-sobbing. “I think I fell asleep.”
“You can’t do that.”
“Okay.” I blink away the panicked tears. “I’ll try to stay awake. I’m so tired, Severin.”
“What if I talk to you? I could tell you the history of the Xarsian nation and the origins of their cities deep beneath the eastern mountains. It’s fascinating.”
“Oh…” I wince, trying to be delicate in my reply. “That does sound fascinating, but I think I need a more stimulating story.”
“Perhaps the Ballad of Grimsbane? It’s a thousand-stanza epic oration.”
“I need something dramatic and loud. Something with shocking bits.”
The carpet scoffs. “You and the prince have something in common there. You both think with your genitals.”
“He might think with his dick, but I do not think with mine. Not that I have a dick, I just mean—never mind. I wasn’t asking for a salacious story, just something with surprising twists. Although salacious could work.”
“I will recount the Kredissian Tragedy of the Fates, all seven acts,” says the carpet. “And I will speak the parts loudly, in different voices.”
“Fine.” I grimace, hoping he can’t perceive the expression while in flight. “But if you spot any sign of the hunters, you’d better quiet down. I have no glyphs and a damaged body, so my only advantage is going to be that of surprise.”
“Very well.” Severin puts on more speed and begins declaiming lines of poetry in the shrillest, most annoying voice I have ever heard.
Fortunately, it keeps me awake.