It was dark. Cold. His head was full of cotton, and his ears were ringing. His limbs felt like they were made of paper. No sooner had this thought formed that he felt his knees buckle under him.

Just as he tipped forward, he heard a soft, vehement, “Fuck.”

Strong hands hooked under his arms and hauled him upright. Another pair of hands grabbed his chin and tipped his head back while pressing a cool thing to his lips.

Dimly, he was aware that the thing at his mouth was a bottle. As though to confirm this, the voice whispered, “Drink.”

Was this poison? He opened his mouth obediently.

His mouth felt sandy so he was unable to taste anything. Even if he could, it wouldn’t have mattered.

It was a familiar dream.

For a while, he swayed between states of awareness.

Memories flashed through his consciousness, blurring the line between what was and wasn’t real.

A man’s voice broke through at one point, sounding both frantic and relieved. He couldn’t make out what was being said.

There was the gentle rocking and distant sound of hooves and low voices. Then, a spell of darkness.

A feminine voice snickered, piercing through the fog. He struggled to find her within the void.

“Gods, again?” Her tone was disbelieving. “How unlucky is this bastard?”

The sun stung his eyes behind closed eyelids at another point in time.

The same voice, indifferent, asked, “Why are you here?”

He frowned, patience running thin. “Were you not paying attention to what I said?”

“I heard you,” she said. There was a clink – like a shot through his brain. Her words were growing fainter, as though she was traveling further and further away. “But I fail to understand how my business concerns you.”

When he finally had the strength to open his eyes, an ornate ceiling swam into view. His eyes stung, and he closed them quickly. Someone seemed to notice that he was awake, however, as a small exclaim could be heard by his elbow.

He opened his eyes again, and painstakingly turned his head. The muscles in his neck were reluctant to cooperate. Vision blurry, he had to stare at the sitting person for a while before they came into focus.

A young woman who looked like the sun was staring at him. Her eyes were a pale gold, and her hair flaxen. It draped over her shoulder in a simple braid, long enough to tickle her elbow. Soft features, pale and delicate skin - it was like she had walked out of a painter’s dream.

He blinked slowly at her.

The woman gave him a dazzling smile. “You are awake at last. I have called for the doctor, please stay still until he gets here.”

“Where is this?” He croaked.

“This is my family’s estate outside Rickdarl,” she replied. “You have been unconscious for four days. We were starting to worry that you would not wake.”

“My men?”

“They are encamped outside,” she smiled gently. “This estate is small, so we could not accommodate everyone inside. Once the doctor gets here, I will call for your Lieutenant.”

It took a lot of effort for him to speak, and his throat felt like it had been singed. He nodded slightly and then closed his eyes while he waited for the doctor.

Xx

The doctor was still in the midst of his examination when the door burst open.

A uniformed man strode into the room, all but throwing himself down at the bedside. His eyes were red-rimmed, threatening a show of waterworks. In contrast, his voice was flat. “You’ve done it, Captain. You’re officially a martyr. Even Hillman can’t think of a better way to court death.”

Lucas frowned and would have flipped his Lieutenant off if there hadn’t been a lady present. His eyes managed to convey his intentions, making a wolfish grin spread over the brunette’s face.

“How’s he doing, doc?” Vellfri turned to the bespectacled man who was taking the Captain’s pulse.

The doctor barely spared him a glance. “He was doing better before you came in.”

Vellfri’s grin disappeared, and Lucas gave him a somewhat smug look and shooed him away. His throat was still sore – even swallowing was a chore – but he and Vellfri had fought alongside each other for the better part of a decade. They had long perfected the silent exchange.

This time, Vellfri was the one sending him a wordless rude gesture as the pair made eye contact. With a dramatic huff, he turned on his heels and stormed out, not forgetting to close the door loudly. It wasn’t a slam – they were guests, after all – but it was enough to announce his displeasure.

A short silence fell among the three remaining occupants of the room. The doctor soon finished his inspection. He spoke while putting his equipment away. “You are quite fortunate, Master Turnique. The earthworm that you encountered must have been a juvenile. Other than the paralysis, you have no lingering side effects from being bitten.”

Lucas thought back to the five-meter wide monster that had nearly taken his life. When the creature opened its mouth, he had briefly seen a sea of teeth, each one as big as his hand. There had only been a dim light in that tunnel from a small flashlight he had dropped while shoving the last of his squad out of the way. He could have done without witnessing what nearly ate him.

“It was an adult,” Lucas murmured. He glanced down at his bandaged leg. “I thought I lost my leg.”

The doctor snorted. “You should have lost more than that.” He pointed at a small pile of dark clothing to the side. “Your armour did its job. It always amazes me, the things that they make in the Rift. It is no exaggeration to say that Salayem would have a much smaller population if not for the things that you have procured from the other side.”  

The woman who had been silent since the doctor entered, finally spoke up, getting the man back on topic. “So, will he be okay?”

Nodding, the doctor said, “Nothing a good rest won’t cure. Stay in bed for the next few days and drink plenty of fluids.” He put a small clear bottle on the bedside table. In it, there were some white tablets. Lucas recognized it as a common cure-all that was popular with Rift explorers.

“Take three a day, one with every meal,” the doctor instructed. “Miss Madrich has healed the worst of your wounds. You should be grateful. She tended to you for several hours when you first arrived.”

Lucas shared a glance with the woman, who gave him a bashful smile. He looked away, but his voice was gentle. “Thank you.”

He did not see her smile bloom beautifully in response as his attention was drawn by the doctor getting to his feet.

“Thank you, doctor,” he said sincerely. He was a soldier. Doctors were the last thing you wanted to see on the battlefield, but the first person you needed when everything turned ass up. They could put you in a world of pain or make you forget your worries.

Every soldier quickly learns that it doesn’t hurt to be nice to a medical professional.

The doctor nodded his acknowledgement, gave Miss Madrich a nod, and left.

When it was just the two of them, the atmosphere became a little strange.

“I did not know that you were coming back so soon.” The woman cleared her throat softly. “Have you been well?”

Lucas’s lips quirked upwards. “All things considered.”

“Right.” She cleared her throat again. “You’ll be just in time for the banquet.”

“Yes.”

“Lord Eallan’s achievements are very impressive. I heard that the King wants to bestow a greater title upon him.”

Lucas smiled wryly. A title. The country’s way of extorting greater tax upon its astounding citizens. He kept these thoughts to himself. Out loud, he said, “Yes.” He added, “I have heard.”

Miss Madrich said nothing for a while. Finally, she began, “Lucas, I—”

“Apologies, my lady,” he interrupted. “I would like to rest.”

She smiled apologetically. “Of course. Silly me, it must be taxing for you to speak. I will return later with dinner.”

“No need,” he said. “Sending a maid will do.” He paused. “Or Vellfri.”

“Certainly.” Her smile had dimmed. She made her way toward the door. “Well then, rest well, my lord.”

“Wait,” he called out as she passed the foot of the bed. He pointed at the pile of clothing that had been stripped off him. “My jacket, please.”

She retrieved the dirtied jacket and passed it to him. He accepted it with a word of thanks and waited for her to leave before rummaging through the right inner pocket.

Unconsciously, he let out a relieved sigh as his fingers found the soft piece of cloth. He pulled out a folded white handkerchief. Despite carrying it on his person for so many years, and into so many battles, it was still spotless.

It was his lucky charm.

It was made with the finest cotton and the edges were lined with gold thread.

As he had done countless times for the past five years, he gently traced a thumb over the four beautifully embroidered letters on the bottom right. As always, whenever he did this, his handsome face turned wistful.

R.R.G.M

Those were not her initials.

But this was all he had left of her.