NEW CHAPTER Sixty-Three: Battlefield Healing

SIXTY-THREE

Roan jerked upright with a scream as pain pierced through his temporary escape. The sky was alight with fire, burning plumes of it rising in the distance that lit the entirety of the world. Razor white-hot pain continued to pierce him as he thrashed about, but strong hands held him pinned to the ground.

“Keep him still!” Moira ordered, her face wan as she leaned over him. Her hair was plastered to her face as she held up a piece of the mushroom that he’d found from the other dead climbers. It was a finger length piece of flesh, but a glow had started to fill it. In Moira’s other hand was her amulet, gripped tightly as she looked him up and down.

“What?” Roan gasped as he focused on his breathing, trying to find the balance he’d been holding for the entirety of the night. It came slowly to him, the mental resistance helping him cope with the pain. It didn’t eliminate the pain, but made it so he could focus.

Cold. He was so cold. If it wasn’t for the pain that radiated through him, he would think he was dead. He couldn’t feel his limbs, his lips, anything besides the cold and the pain.

“The piece of shroom you have isn’t pure. I’m trying to purify it with my amulet, give me a second,” Moira said as more sweat slicked her face.

“We should just wait until we’re into the village, this is dangerous,” someone said. It sounded like Darren, but he couldn’t be sure.

“They won’t open the gate and if we try to move him he’s going to fall in pieces. We do this now or he dies,” Moira snapped. She wrapped the amulet around the mushroom and reached down and rammed her fingers into Roan.

He screamed as fire flared through him. His limbs awoke as clarity forced its ugly head. Moira’s hand was wedged into him up to her wrist. Heat pulsed through him and he jackknifed. Taoya appeared, haggard and exhausted looking, but his hands were iron as they held Roan down.

“Moira! What are you doing?” Taoya asked, even as he held Roan’s bucking body. Tendons strained in his arms and neck as he strained to hold him down. Another pair of climbers rushed over and more hands pushed down.

“He’s strong as fuck,” someone complained. An itch started at his scalp and hip and began to work their way toward his center where Moira’s hand was. Horns blew in the distance, the same ones that had started this disastrous night.

“They’re retreating,” Darren said as he entered Roan’s field of vision. He leaned down over Roan and stared at the wound. He cocked his head to the side and seemed interested rather than disgusted.

“What are you doing?” Darren asked. Roan grunted as he tried to keep his scream buried in his throat. The itch made him want to peel his own skin away from his body, so consuming it surpassed the burning pain.

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“There’s still hints of corruption inside of the mushroom. My bloodline can’t purify it, but I’m trying to keep it still while burning through the rest of the flesh. I did this earlier with my alchemy, but I can’t here.” Moira was looking desperate as she kept focusing. Roan could feel it when her fingers shifted, easing and tightening in pulses. There was a feel of her strength there, pressing against his body that had nothing to do with the physical.