Page 40 of Boundless
Daega was marching for the door even as Len explained that he'd started going downstairs, only to realize he heard fighting there, too, so he'd doubled back and grabbed her sword from their room before climbing out the hall window the next floor down.
Her husband was so damned clever.
"How are you with a sword, sweet?" she asked, pausing at the closed door. Now that things were quiet out here she could hear the struggle inside.
"You just s-saw me in p-peak form," he told her, a pained smile on his face. "I'm not m-much better with a b-bow."
She nodded, handing him her crossbow and quiver anyway. "Hang back, stay behind cover. Don't attack unless it's in self-defense. The goal is to stay hidden and safe. Alright?"
Len nodded, worrying a full lip with his square elf teeth. "Be careful," he whispered.
She snatched a quick kiss and then slipped inside, assessing the melee as best she could. There were three more in here—two downed though, luckily, though less luckily five of their guards had also fallen. The last cloaked figure up and fighting had pinned the survivors down with a bow, the group clustered behind a table turned on its side.
The remaining assailant turned to her with a hiss, backing into the wall behind them and swinging the bow around to face Daega. This one didn't bother with chatter, loosing an arrow that found the meat of Daega's right thigh.
She fell in a heap, crying out, but saw in a flush of calm that she'd managed to buy the guards enough time to throw a dagger at the lone bowman. It hit them in the side, between their ribs, dropping them.
"Clear," she moaned, letting herself lie there, feeling like a cold lump aside from the burning points where arrows were still embedded deep in her body. She should try and get those out and treat the wounds, but she was just sotired. The only important bit, keeping Len safe, was done, so what was the harm in a nap? She had nothing left to tend to herself with. All she could do was close her eyes and drift off.
She hoped she’d wake. But she wasn’t sure she would.
LEN
SALERAH'S FUCKINGfires, what ishappeningin there?, Len thought, every muscle in his body tense to the point of shivering. There'd been a burst of noise—he'd thought he might have heard Daega's deep feminine voice at once point—and now silence.
He'd promised her he'd stay out here, that he'd stay safe, but every sluggish second that dragged by had him feeling more and more convinced his place was inside, by his wife's side.
He checked the crossbow was ready with trembling fingers, then slipped through the door.
He was greeted by the frightened shouts of several of the inn's patrons, huddled behind upturned tables.
"Len!" Sevren shouted from behind one, darting out and flinging himself right at Len, squeezing him tight in a hug. He returned the embrace, letting out a shaky sigh of relief that his old friend was alive and well. "Thank the gods you're alright," Sev rasped in his ear.
"Thanks to D-Daega," he managed, cursing his stammer for always getting worse when he was upset. "I-I'm so relieved to see you, t-too. Where's M-Maleom? A-a-and have you seen Dae?"
Sevren pulled back, his eyes shooting over Len's shoulder. "Maleom went to bed early. He should be okay, the bandits never went upstairs. But Dae..." he trailed off, pointing across the room.
Len spun, letting out a distraught cry when he realized one of the dark lumps strewn on the floor was his wife. "No!"
He ran to her, tears prickling at the backs of his eyes, but there was no time for that, and he managed to keep them from spilling. He fell to his knees as soon as he got to her, his lungs finally able to take in a full breath when he saw she was still breathing, her pulse unusually slow and weak under his fingers. Someone had already removed the arrows and bandaged her wounds, but there were so many others needing aid that she'd been left like that. He wanted to be mad that she should be treated like this, being the princess, but he could respect that she would have wanted it that way. She may have even requested it before she'd fallen unconscious.
He bit his lip to stop it wobbling and squared his shoulders; no matter, he was perfectly capable of helping her himself. He'd had to learn a fair amount of healing magic when he was just a boy struggling with his heart condition, and his thirst for knowledge and excellency had made him a better healer than a fair number of the professionals he'd encountered.
He used one of her claws to prick his finger until a fat bead of blood welled. He then used it to begin drawing runes on her bandages that would direct the flow of aether to where it was needed more precisely. Then he cupped his hands over her heart, and began.
He was soon completely lost to the tide, to the ebb and flow of aether carrying information about her injuries into him and the knowledge of what her body needed to do out into her. It was a delicate task, requiring a lot of energy, and he knew that after this he would likely need help getting back to their room. Or wherever they would be sleeping tonight. He almost lost control of the spell several times, but he refused to fail, refused to let Daega suffer or—still more horrible by far—to succumb to her wounds.
When he finally had her deep puncture wounds healed up enough that she was stable, her beautiful heartbeat once again bright and strong, he let himself pull out of the spell, exhaustion like he'd never known immediately swamping him.
Daega was still unconscious, but Sevren had joined him at her side, silently watching Len work.
Len sagged into his friend, his body feeling impossibly heavy and ungainly. "W-what are we going t-to do?"
Sev took his hand, squeezing it tight. "Rodrick wants to move out. Aevel thinks it would be better to stay here and let everyone regroup and rest. We lost five guards, with two more very badly injured. Can you stand?"
"I-I don't know," he murmured. "B-but I-I don't w-want to leave her."
Sev nodded, squeezing his hand again before dropping it to get to his feet. "I'll get your pack from your room.”
