Aftermath of Battle

 

Erdric was barely awake when a pair of hands turned him over from his comfortable sprawl upon the hard ground.

“Don’t want to move,” he murmured. “Sick . . .” He rolled over, his stomach heaving as he retched. His blurry eyes opened as he wiped a shaking, bloodstained hand across his mouth. He lay there trembling violently, shuddering in the snow that had fallen, covering the gore of the field.

“We’ve got to get him back!”

“How? He’s not fit to be moved, Nara.”

“He’s got to be moved! He’s loosing too much blood, Cerith.”

There was a sigh.

“Alright. Just keep the way clear, Diviner.”

Erdric was not quite aware of anything, the pain was swimming within his head was too great and he barely held onto his stomach as he was pulled rather violently upwards into a pair of arms. With a whimper, he went limp, trying to prevent any more pain. As his head slid across the arm, he could feel something warm trace its way across his throat.

“Hey, Erdric. Are you awake?”

He tried to concentrate on that familiar voice, his mind not working quite as fast. He blinked his eyes as the arm shifted his head upon a leather-clad shoulder. Through his blurry eyes, he saw splotches of cinnamon and black, and felt the warm pulse of energy into the muscles of his thigh and shoulder.

Wetting his lips, he tried to make his throat work. After several failed attempts, he was able to croak out a name.

“Cerith?”

“Yup, that’s me. Just relax, Erdric. You’ll be back home in no time.”

Erdric’s eyes fluttered. “Aryun?”

“She’s fine, Erdric. Still on the field. She’ll be up to you soon.”

“Why . . . aren’t you there still?”

“Because I was asked to watch over you.” Erdric felt the soft brush of lips over his forehead before he dropped off into oblivion.

Cerith watched the Regent who he held in his arms and shook his head. “Because Aryun knew you would be wounded.”

With a sigh, the cinnamon haired man arose up the steps to the tower quickly, not wishing for any more harm to come to him.

Swiftly, he stepped upon the teleporter and wound up in the Great Hall in front of a startled Elysian.

“Hey, Cousin, care to help me out here?” Cerith gritted, not wanting to jar the Prince Regent any more than what he would have to do.

Elysian was shocked for a moment before he shook himself and stepped up to Erdric’s lifeless body. His hands gently touched Erdric’s face, brushing bloodstained hair away. “What happened?”

“As far as we know, we saw him fall after a blow to the back of his head, or at least that’s what we thought. I think something’s wrong with his leg. It wasn’t moving normally when I turned him over.” Cerith shifted slightly causing Erdric to moan. “Yeah know, I think we should take him upstairs and check him out.”

Elysian started and looked at the floor. Erdric’s blood had run down his hand to drip upon the white marble. Quickly, he motioned for Cerith to follow him and swiftly walked the distance to Erdric’s chamber.

Cerith followed closely, trusting his body to follow Elysian as he kept his gaze upon the battered man within his arms. He watched intently as the Regent’s chest rose and fell shakily, shallow with every tortured breath. His delicate face was pinched in pain and was drawing tighter with every breath, every movement.

Within moments, they were at Erdric’s chambers and had swiftly started to pull off pieces of armor and clothing from the limp body. They swiftly bound his leg tightly, neither one being healers, and bandaged his ripped side.

Cerith wrung out the rag and wiped down Erdric’s face, taking away the dried blood. “I wish I could bath him. I don’t want to risk anything.” He sighed. “Xristis should know what to do. Hopefully, he’ll be here soon.”

                Elysian brushed his fingers through Erdric’s hair, gently wetting them down to cool him. The forehead under his palm was burning and he sighed, brushing cool, wet fingers along the brow. With soft fingers, the gentle god dipped them back into the water and brushed them along Erdric’s lips.