DORULL SAGA - SWAMP OF DEATH
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Thorin dragged himself ever so
slower, across the muddy, meandering road, leading towards Issurk. His injured
ankle hurt more with every passing minute. Beside that, he had a couple of
gashes across the palm of his hand, from the branch he used as improvised cane.
But without it, he knew he couldn’t walk more than five steps. It took a
phenomenal effort to do what he was managing. Thorin drew every bit of his
energy to reach Issurk. Thought of his injured son drove him to move forward.
From what he knew, the situation was serious. Councilor Falkner didn’t specify
the extent of the injuries, but her tone suggested the worst. What if half-orc
was dying? What if he’s already dead? Dark thoughts crossed his mind,
terrifying him in an instant. What if he arrives late?
Thorin shook his head angrily. That
was never going to happen. Bagtur is young and strong. He is a fighter, and a
little bit of poison will do him no harm. He’ll be waiting for him, on his
feet, ready to head back for the Thirel post. Half-orc is going to be just
fine, but then he’ll be the one in need of attention. In a single inadvertent
moment, Thorin took an awkward step, leaning a bit much on his injured leg.
Harsh, flashing pain, sends waves through his entire body. He almost fell
unconscious. Spitting and cursing, Thorin grabbed his hurt ankle, waiting for
the pain to go. How is he going to reach Issurk? Doubts emerged, as captain
Lutir realized, his leg is now looking even worse than before. What was he
supposed to do? Crawl?
Lightning tore across the sky.
Thorin looked up, he was sitting just about two hundred yards away from the
massive, stone walls of the Issurk fort. He slowly stood up, leaning on his
healthy leg. The first couple of steps almost made him drop again to the
ground. But he carried on, clenching his teeth, limping through the pain. No
way he was going to give up now, this close to the fort.
“Don’t give in.” Thorin cheered
himself “Just a couple of more ste…”
He stopped in disappointment, at
the edge of a deep moat surrounding the outer walls. Heavy, wooden drawbridge,
used to cross over it, was up. Gate and portcullis were closed and shut. He
could not spot any sign of light from the embrasures. It was still at least a
couple of hours till morning. But the tired, hurt captain had to go inside now.
Beside that, the pain in his ankle served as a constant reminder of him needing
to receive the help as soon as possible.
“Help! Can anyone hear me?!” Thorin
yelled “Anyone?!”
He waited for a few moments
listening, but beside the rain and occasional thundering coming from afar,
nothing disrupted the silence. It seemed as if everyone, even the guards, were
asleep. And with walls thick and high as those surrounding the Issurk, perhaps
it was to be expected there was no one for a lookout. As if any army would even
dare to attack this fort.
“Is anyone there?! Help me!” Thorin
yelled again “Open…”
“Who’s shouting down there?” a
distant voice came from the half opened window of the barbican, left from the
gates.
“Captain Thorin Lutir from Thirel
post!” he said loudly “Open the gates, now!”
Thorin could barely hear the
whispers from the gatehouse, as more and more oil lamps began to lit up.
Several loud shouts came from within the bailey, once soldiers got alerted.
Heavy chains rattled, as the drawbridge started to come down. At the same
time, huge iron portcullis started to lift. Massive doors opened loudly,
letting a couple of soldiers out, who marched saluting at the captain.
“Would you mind helping me lads,
I’ve hurt my leg.”
Guards readily acted, carrying him
inside.
“Thorin is that you?!” high up,
from the balcony of her tower, yelled Eilonna, dressed in the fluttery, silk,
night gown “I presume the attack on Nual-Deu was successful, and you received
my message. Wait there, I’ll be right down.”
And she was. Just several seconds
later, which was odd seeing how tall the tower was. She must’ve used some other
means beside the stairs to do so. Also now, instead of the dress, she was
wearing her armor. Thorin spotted the change of clothes, wondering how it is
possible, she did it so fast.
“I was hoping my letter wouldn’t
worry you too much.” Eilonna said quietly “But seeing you here, now, it seems
it did. The condition of…, but Thorin, you are injured.”
“Never mind that.” Thorin retorted
“Where is Bagtur?”
The councilor recognized the
determined look in the captain's eyes, waving to follow her. They went across the yard,
and towards a small building made out of stone. Towards the healer’s residence.
Eilonna knocked lightly, but to no one's answer. Light from the lamps coming
from the small windows, told somebody must have been inside. Councilor knocked
again on the doors, this time a bit harder.
“Open, or I’ll break your damn
doors!” Thorin yelled all of the sudden.
They could hear the fast
approaching footsteps coming from the house. Moments later, someone was
fiddling the lock, a bit nervously. Scrawny, greyish looking, old man appeared
on the doorstep, frowning, as he held the candle in his left hand. Behind him,
stood a couple of scared women, wrapping and rolling several recently washed,
soft, linen, bandage strips.
“Lead us to the half-orc, master
Palgrin.” Eilonna said calmly.
Old man, a sorcerer, nodded,
showing them towards the small room to the left. It was a dimly lit room,
smelling of soap and concoction of various herbs, slowly burning in the bowl,
near the window. Beside the bed, in which lay Bagtur, and a small table adjacent
to it, the room was practically empty. Thorin pushed through, reaching the
unconscious half-orc in just two jumps. He kneeled by the bed, looking worried.
Bagtur was pale as a ghost. His breathing was shallow, sporadic, and highly
irregular. He would twitch from time to time, feverish and weak. Eilonna joined,
placing her hand unto Thorin’s shoulder.
“He has been like this for quite
some time.” the sorcerer whispered “I’ve done what I could and knew. I drew out
and cleared a lot of poison from his blood, but he was already affected by it,
before they could reach me.”
“What are you saying old man?” Thorin asked.
“All we can do now is to wait.” Palgrin answered “Wait, and hope.”
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