Page 75 of Storm to Victory
They didn’t have much to set up for camp. They didn’t light a fire since that would be far too visible. The straw mattress remained in the back of the truck, and Fieran managed to convince Aaruk to claim that sleeping spot. The young ogre was still rail thin after his ordeal. He deserved the best bed.
Dacha and Fieran spread their bedrolls—Mongavarian ones they’d scrounged at the facility—underneath the truck where they would be protected from dew.
Once they finished setting up their meager camp, Fieran leaned against one of the truck wheels, his legs stretched out in front of him, as he munched on the cold rations of smoked meat and dried biscuit.
Dacha jumped down from the cargo bed, holding their medical kit, a canteen, and a human-magic-powered torch they’d found at Ludin. He knelt next to Fieran. “We should check on your wound.”
Fieran sighed, stuffed the last bite of meat in his mouth, and lifted his shirt, holding it out of the way. With his other hand, he took the torch and positioned it on the running board so that it provided a dim light. He could tend the wound himself, but it would make Dacha feel better to fuss over him.
After untying the bandage and unwrapping the extra from around Fieran’s waist, Dacha tugged on the section of bandage directly over the gash.
Fieran sucked in a breath through his gritted teeth. “Ouch, that hurts.”
“We should have taken the time to change the bandage more frequently.” Dacha sat back on his heels for a moment as he regarded the bandage. “It appears to have dried to the wound.”
“Yeah.” Fieran released a slow breath and braced himself. “Perhaps you need to just rip it off?”
“That would risk reopening the wound.” Dacha uncapped the canteen and dribbled water over the bandage, using the excess bandage to keep the water from simply running off. He gave another tug.
Fieran hissed and pressed his back harder against the wheel behind him. His magic rose in his chest, sending another twinge of pain through him. He tamped down on the magic, gasping at the competing stabs of pain.
Dacha halted. “Are you all right?”
“Fine. I’m fine,” Fieran gasped between his clenched teeth. “Don’t get your magic half-yanked out of your chest. It’s uncomfortable.”
“We should check on your magic as well.” Dacha braced a hand against the running board of the truck and pushed to his feet.
Aaruk’s soft snores echoed from inside the vehicle. After setting up camp and nibbling on a biscuit, he’d collapsed on the mattress and gone right back to sleep.
Fieran reached for Dacha’s arm but missed. “Don’t…”
Dacha was already climbing into the truck, disappearing past the canvas flap.
Fieran closed his mouth and just breathed for a long moment. It wouldn’t do any good to protest that his magic was all right. It just hurt when it tried to lash out. Dacha was too worried to listen, and checking on Fieran’s magic was one of Aaruk’s main reasons for being on this trip.
Aaruk’s snore ended in a snort before his sleepy voice came from the back of the truck. Moments later, Dacha exited, followed by Aaruk.
Still rubbing sleep from his eyes, Aaruk knelt in front of Fieran and held out a hand. “May I?”
Fieran nodded. “Sorry to wake you.”
Aaruk shrugged as he placed a hand on Fieran’s chest. “I should’ve thought to check before going back to sleep.”
Ogre magic tickled within his chest, and he struggled to keep a hold on his magic so that it didn’t lash out painfully once again.
To distract himself from the wiggling discomfort, Fieran forced a smile. “Ogre magic is pretty impressive. I never thought there could be a magic that could overpower the magic of the ancient kings.”
Aaruk grinned, even as his gaze went a little distant in that way of someone focusing on their magical senses. “That’s because our magic doesn’t try to overpower it. It can’t. Your magic is too powerful. We, instead, use the power of other magic against itself.”
“Ah. That makes sense.” Fieran had, after all, been able to overpower and disintegrate the deflecting magic eventually. But it had been when he hadn’t tried to overpower it but instead had used its deflecting power against itself, such as forcing those aeroplanes to the ground or shoving back Mongavaria’s tanks.
Dacha was nodding, his eyes contemplative as if he, too, were thinking through the magical theories and ramifications. “I can see why your magic would have been both exploited and feared in ages past. It is remarkable.”
“Yes.” Aaruk grimaced, although it didn’t appear directed at Dacha. “Hiding has become our way of life, so deeply ingrained in our culture that, even when we were under attack by Mongavaria, we didn’t reach out to take the hand of friendship the Alliance offered us. There were those of us in the younger generation who wanted to, you know. I’ve visited Escarland. I believe it’s time to come out of hiding and rejoin the wider world again.”
“It seems your grandmother might be reconsidering her stance on the Alliance.” Fieran breathed a shallow breath past the continued tickle of ogre magic in his chest.
“Perhaps. It was a big deal that she agreed to head for Escarland rather than return to Groyria.” Cutting off his magic, Aaruk withdrew his hand and sat back on his heels. “Your magic is settling in nicely. You must have exerted quite the claim on your magic while fighting the machine.”
