Page 156 of The Last One
I throw my hands and the air crackles blue, my power sending those rocks the gerammoc’s way. My fingers buzz as though they’re scraping the crags of these boulders now soaring up…up…up to strike the gerammoc. But only one rock hits its wing, the impact producing an arc of flying sparks. That’s enough to make it mad.
“Hurry!” I urge those ahead of me.
Jadon’s breathing is labored as he carries Veril across the field. Behind them, Philia trips on a gopher hole. She hits the ground with an “oof” but rallies, pushes to her feet, and limps on her twisted ankle to catch up. I follow, while behind us, the aburan continues to throw rocks. I swoop my fingers, blue bolts now chasing the wind, and the wind propels the rocks into the flying otherworldly.
Eventually, the gerammoc spots the giant aburan, then darts down like an arrow with sharp talons and feathers that crackle and click.
Gilgoni roars, then springs from the ground into the air. He barely misses the gerammoc.
The bird shoots a bolt of lightning. At a full sprint, I don’t look back to see it strike the aburan, but I smell the stench of burning fur and hear the anguished cry of a beast struck with crackling death. After one last circle, the gerammoc rises into the sky and disappears behind the clouds drifting below the nightstar.
We finally reach a copse of tall spruces. The forest offers protection, but all these trees… They look the same. I don’t know where we are. That tree with broken branches looks just likethattree with broken branches. That tree is just as tall as the other. Nothing makes one stand out from the other, but at least we are relatively sheltered here.
Jadon settles Veril onto a log and gawks at the bloodied hem of his trousers. Blood pools in the dirt beneath the Renrian’s foot. He is panting, and his eyes are glazed. His quivering lips move as he mutters, “Blighted grounds…tender…space…part…part…”
Jadon and I exchange looks, and his blue eyes are wide with alarm. I don’t think he’s aware that he’s shaking his head over and over again. His thoughts careen and crash into each other.“Too much blood. This isn’t good. Too much blood. Fuck. Why? Too much blood.”
“We’ll die if we stop moving,” Jadon says, holding my gaze for a moment more before looking back at Veril. “We need to go.”
I bend over to peer at Veril’s violent laceration. The blood is clotting, but he’s lost so much already. “I’ll tend to his wound, fix what I can.” I peer up to Jadon, whose eyes are bright with heartache. I try to smile. “Go. We’ll catch up. Don’t stop. I won’t.”
Jadon sighs, bends before Veril, setting a hand on his shoulder. He opens his mouth to say something, but he swallows it and stands. He nods to Philia, who picks up her satchel and pushes to her feet. “You got him, Kai?”
I nod, not wanting to meet his mournful gaze, or Philia’s mournful gaze, or Veril’s bloody trousers. There’s no resting place for my eyes. “Yep. I got him.”
“Kai,” Jadon says again.
I frown and my eyebrows crumple as our eyes meet.
He mouths, “It’s okay.”
My nostrils flare, and my throat burns.
“Don’t stay too long.” Then he’s off, Philia limping behind.
I smile back at Veril. “A little interruption.”
“Really? I didn’t notice.” The old man’s eyes have lost some of their earlier gloss, and now he strokes his beard with a bloodstained hand.
I roll up his soiled pants leg again and wince. “Okay. So.” I rummage around Veril’s bag, finding a canteen of clean water, gauze, and a tin of mystery paste. “I’ll do as much as I can, okay? When we get to our campsite, I’ll dress it better.”
The old man’s eyes focus on me. “Campsite?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say. “First things first.” I pour cool water onto the wound, and blood-tinged runoff soaks his boot. I open the tin and sniff. Smells like cropleek and elk hair. Binder. Anti-nausea. I slather the dressing over the wound, packing in as much as possible.
“How?” he asks. “How?”
I wrap clean gauze around his leg. “I’m gonna carry you.”
That sobers him a bit. “Our packs and our weaponsandme?” Veril shakes his head. “If you were at your peak maybe—” Unsteady and faint, his eyes gloss over again.
“Let’s not worry about that now,” I say, arranging Warruin beside my longsword.
Veril grabs hold of my arm and sways as he stands. “It has been wonderful serving you again.” His head droops.
I tie his pack to my pack.“Again?”
“Twilight…pain…ethereal,” he says, his tongue thick.
