Page 97 of Echoes of the Raven
It is a strange request, but I scoot down until my waist is parallel with Valeria’s.
Thoran comes around and stands on my right side, in full view of the bed. He uncorks one of the bottles and dips his finger in it. Eyes flicking back and forth between Valeria and me, he seems to calculate the exact spot of her wound. Carefully, he lowers his muck-covered finger to the right side of my abdomen, marking the exact spot. At his touch, a stab of pain runs me through. I clench my teeth, and my growl of agony hisses out.
“A warning would have served me right,” I spit, lifting my head to look at the spot he marked. I expect to find a wound, but there is only a small blemish made of the brown liquid he pressed onto my skin.
“Interesting,” Francisca murmurs, watching from the corner.
The stark pain slowly morphs into an acute throbbing sensation deep in my gut. I settle back down, my doubts growing. How will he save Valeria by hurting me?
At least if she dies, I will soon follow.
Forming a circle with his thumb and forefinger, he hovers his hand over my side and aligns the circle with the brown muck. Murmuring words I do not understand, he begins to recite the same chant over and over again, while he makes the circle of his finger smaller and smaller.
The pain on my side fluctuates as if someone is repeatedly stabbing me.
Digging my nails into the wooden floor, I watch Valeria’s face through bright flashes of pain. Her features tense with each fresh wave that assaults me. Her body spasms, betraying her anguish.
Thoran’s chants stop when the circle of his fingers closes. I dare hope it is all over, but then he picks up the fishing hook and line, pinching them between the same two fingers.
Sweat slides down the sides of his weathered face.
Heating the tip of the hook in the candle flame, he warns, “’Tis going to hurt.”
I glare at him.
“More,” he clarifies. “But if you care about your girl, you will bear it like a proper male.” He cocks his head in question.
I nod to let him know I can take it. I have been through worse, after all.
Without further ado, he stabs the hook into my skin and proceeds to sew me as if I am nothing more than a tattered rag doll. Every stab of his curved needle feels like a thousand daggers mercilessly tearing at my insides. I claw at the floor until my nails feel ready to rip from their beds. My vision wavers, but I manage to gaze at Valeria, who shares the same agony. Her body trembles uncontrollably, and sweat pours down her brow. Her face is covered in a glistening sheen, illuminated by the flickering candlelight.
An eternity seems to pass as I silently plead for each stitch to be the last, yet there is always another, and another, and another.
All the while, Thoran murmurs under his breath, this time a different chant that sounds like gibberish to my ears. When I think I cannot endure it any longer, he stops and casts the needle to the floor.
The ping of metal reverberates through the air, as loud as the pounding of my heart, my harsh exhalations, and Valeria’s feeble whimpers combined.
Abruptly, Valeria sits up, her face ghostly pale, her eyes sunken hollows. A blood-curdling scream erupts from her lips. Time seems to stand still for a moment, before she collapses back down, her features slack and devoid of her normal vitality.
Groaning, I roll to my side and crawl toward the bed. Grabbing the mattress, I pull myself up and peer at her face.
“Valeria. Valeria!” She is deathly still. I turn back to the dwarf. “What have you done? You killed her!”
He is slumped against the wall, looking as if he has run for leagues without stopping. “I have done what you asked,” he replies, words choppy and breathless. “I saved her, and we both paid. Nothing is free in this world. There must always be balance.”
A small exhalation comes from Valeria. My gaze flicks back to her, and though she is quiet once more, I notice her pulse beating lightly at her throat. It is still weak, but her brow has relaxed, and her expression seems peaceful.
My head slumps on the mattress. Gingerly, I press a hand to my side, the ache of the dwarf’s ministrations still festering deep in my gut.
The innkeeper pokes his head through the door. “Is it done? Did he pay up?”
Francisca swats him, and he vanishes once more. My eyes drift closed as I watch Valeria’s chest rising and falling. I am suddenly tempted to press a kiss to her lips. The feeling is unwelcome, not unlike the lust that drove me to the wagon the other night. There should be no room for sensibilities left in me. I shut that door a long time ago.
Even when life seemed to offer me a perfect opportunity for happiness, the facade unraveled to reveal a rotten core. It would be ludicrous to expect anything different from whatever this is between Valeria and me, a relationship born of my deceit and laced with her greed for The Eldrystone.
No. That door must remain closed.
The dwarf puts his tools away. Wiping his brow with his sleeve, he shuffles toward the door.
