23: We Won... Sort Of

 

 

 

Sevei began frantically pulling at anything that would come off; gauntlets, helm, sword belt. That hurt. He loved that sword. He pulled a dagger from his boot and began hacking at the leather straps of his various pieces of plate armor. It was hopeless, he knew. There was no way he'd get enough weight off in time to get up to the surface, and the current would have him at any moment.

His lungs were already burning. It wouldn't be long before they would suck in the river against his will. Then it would all be over. The abysmal cold of the water was already chilling him to the bone, and his muscles cramped. His body began to thrash of its own accord. The murky darkness became darker, and he knew that was his vision fading as unconsciousness crept in. He felt his jaw begin to go slack. It was time.

Just before his mouth could open to take in the water, the surrounding darkness was flooded with blindingly brilliant blue light. Arms encircled him, and he was pulled back against a solid body. The water began to swirl as if he were at the center of a whirlpool. Then he felt the chill of open air against his wet skin just before his back slammed into hard ground.

His rescuer collapsed on top of him, compressing his chest and thwarting his attempts to gulp air into his searing lungs. He pushed up to roll them off, then lay gasping and coughing, still uncertain that unconsciousness wouldn't take him. Above him, the sky flickered with ethereal energy as the crack and sizzle of Alchemist battle raged around him. He turned his head to the side.

Urskatha lay next to him, still and quiet, his eyes closed and his soaked hair streaked across his face, dripping water into his open mouth.

“Yeresym...”

With a surge of adrenaline, Sevei propelled himself up and grabbed Yeresym, smacking his face.

“Yeresym, wake up!” he shouted hoarsely. He pressed two fingers into the side of Yeresym's throat, then sighed with relief when he found a pulse.

“Help!” he called, hoping his strained voice could be heard in the din of battle. “Medics! Here!” He turned back to Yeresym.

“Hold on,” he pleaded. “You just hold on.”

He rolled him onto his stomach and began tugging at the buckles of his maille tunic. If there were water in his lungs, it would need to be pushed out. Sevei's hands shook, and tears pricked his eyes. The terror of the river was nothing compared to this.

As he got the buckles open and began to push on Yeresym's back, a flash of red fabric crossed his peripheral vision, and a small hand laid over his.

“This won't help,” Meira said. “He won't have drowned. It's his energy. He's drained.”

Sevei looked up into Meira's black-rimmed eyes in the slit of her red veil, his brow furrowing in desperate bewilderment.

“A portal through water requires an immense amount of energy,” she explained. “Most Alchemists can't do it at all. He just did it twice.”

“He'll be alright then?” Sevei said hopefully. Meira's eyes narrowed. He could see the makeup on them beginning to streak with her tears.

“I don't know,” she said quietly.

“Why did he do that?!” Sevei howled, his already raw throat tearing with his anguish.

“Do you need to ask?” she replied, squeezing his hand.

Sevei pulled Yeresym up again, turning him face up. He smoothed the wet hair away from his face, then bent down to listen for his breath. It was shallow, but present.

“You... Meira, you should go,” he said, trying to order his thoughts. “This was your chance. It's time.”

Meira shook her head. “I can't leave him like this.”

“You think... he might...?”

She only looked back at him with worried eyes.

“Where are those medics!?” he called out again.

He slumped down beside Yeresym. The adrenaline was dissipating, and his body felt so heavy now. His vision swam as a wave of vertigo washed through him. The air beside them rippled, and an Alchemist appeared and knelt down beside Meira. As Sevei passed out across Yeresym's body, he heard her faraway, distorted voice saying, “Get them both out.”

 

 

 

When Sevei opened his eyes again, he was lying in an infirmary tent with Yanek dozing in a chair at his bedside. Yanek startled and straightened up as Sevei struggled to rise.

“Hey!” he said cheerfully while pressing Sevei back into the bed.

“How is he?” Sevei asked, his head full of fog.

“He's... alive,” Yanek said hesitantly. “But still out. There's nothing you can do just now so stay put. You've been out almost two days now.”

Sevei sat back against the headboard slowly, wincing. Everything was sore.

“Two days?” he peeked through one eye at Yanek. He had a headache, and the light in the tent was unbearably bright. “Um... how did the battle go?”

“Well, we won... sort of,” Yanek said wryly. “They just wanted to make their point to Brinland. They retreated once they'd made it.”

“Did Brinland bite?”

“Not a nip. In fact, they're sending more reinforcements, and so is Valesk. Our operation's about to get a lot bigger.”

“Casualties?” Sevei asked, bracing himself.

“Three hundred forty-four,” Yanek said softly. “One hundred seventy-two from the Third Cavalry.”

Sevei sighed. For a war that was a low number, but any number was too high, wasn't it? He nodded gravely.

“What kind of General am I thinking of my personal matters first?” he muttered.

“The human kind,” Yanek assured him.

“I need to see him.”

“All those Alchemists are in there doing their Alchemist hokum on him. They won't let anyone in. Not even Meira.”

Sevei startled and tried to sit forward. “Meira! She's...”

“Yes, she's still here,” Yanek said. “And I know all about her plans. She told me. It wasn't hard to figure out seeing her in that Sekkha getup.”

“Did anyone else see her!?” Sevei asked, alarmed.

“I don't think so. There was that Alchemist who brought you in, but I don't think he recognized her.”

Sevei blew out a breath and sat back again. “I'm sorry,” he said. “I lied to you.”

“I'm not upset about that,” Yanek consoled. “It wasn't your secret to tell. But now that I know, you'll let me help. You might need it if...” He trailed away nervously.

“If Yeresym doesn't wake up,” Sevei finished for him.

“Hey, your man is going to be fine,” Yanek asserted. “Meira said if he hasn't died so far, that's a good sign. But he might be out for a while.”

“How long is 'a while'?” Sevei countered.

Yanek shrugged. “A while. Days... weeks?”

Sevei's face crumbled. “He's not... my man...” he said lamely.

Yanek smiled. “After this? Can you really still think that?”