Chapter 39
“Do not worry about cleaning it, the blood has dried over anyway it would be a waste of good cloth, they’re worse injured than me, never mind about stitching up my other wounds just plug them good and tight!” The strong words came from the mouth of Juruz, the medics working on him heard his words well.
“Captain,” one said sternly, believing Juruz didn’t realize how injured he actually was. “You’re arm is broken in several places.”
“It matters not, I can still wield a weapon in my other hand, just tie a shield to my broken arm, don’t waste good cloth just use leather, it shall work fine.” The medic shook her head, it was against everything she knew about anatomy and healing, but Captain Juruz was hard to say no to, especially when he spoke with such furore.
To say he was in a bad way was an understatement, there was over a dozen wounds on his body. He had only left the thick of the fighting when he had been dragged away, screaming in defiance, by his fellow soldiers. His once well-made armor had taken enough blows that it was cracked and broken in many places. He wasn’t an idiot, he could feel the sharp flares of pain across his body. His limbs pleaded with his mind to allow them rest, but Juruz would have none of it, the enemy was still many. Juruz had actually planned on returning back to Ebulon, but when the shadow fell over the field and the Ulnath multiplied like cockroaches he had chosen to stay, if they weren’t stopped here they would run over Ebulon like a horse across a colony of ants.
He had little concern for his own well being his focus now was upon Yadi. The king had passed out in his arms and no amount of medicine or magic was able to awaken him. He had brought the king to these tents and left him in the care of the medics before returning to the battlefield, knowing the king wouldn’t survive the journey back to Ebulon. From where Juruz sat, his legs covered in just as much of his own blood as that of his enemies, he could see Yadi upon the table. His armor had been stripped from his body revealing the once fine materials of his garments utterly drenched in his own blood. Doctor Ceros, Luzon and several mages anxiously worked together in a bid to stop the bleeding. Doctor Ceros was sweating, even though there was little humidity in the air, the perspiration was his body trying to deal with the concern he felt. Yadi’s wound was nasty, a wound he had seen many women and men die from. The blood continued to flow like the descending larva of a volcano.
“Why won’t the bleeding stop?” a mage asked, anxiously, her tone nervous.
“Because there is more damage than we can see,” Ceros said gruffly, his hands working as quickly as possible, scooping up instruments and other such things as he fought against the flow of blood.
“You will be able to save him though right?” the mage called Soin asked. Ceros took a long breath but didn’t say anything, clearly a grave sign. Yadi was motionless, his breaths weak and near silent.
“There must be something more you can do!” the female mage demanded.
“We are doing the best we can!” Luzon spat back. “Frankly I am surprised he isn’t dead already,” Luzon fell into a hush, the words like needles in his mouth. It was a callous thing to say but he couldn’t hide such a truth.
The revelation fell like hail upon everyone in earshot, including Juruz. No longer did he bellow and grunt through the pain, he became very silent. His eyes narrowed, almost flinching, but not quite as he looked back at the battlefield. The added might of the freed dragons, the greatest beasts of this world hadn’t turned the battle back in their favor. The Ulnath forged from shadow continued to multiply and for each one that was killed they took 3 refugees or Ebulon soldiers with them. The battle was becoming all out slaughter, the refugees and soldiers fought bravely, but it wasn’t enough, not against the darkness that consumed the battlefield. As Juruz glanced upwards he wished he could see the sun, just like his former lieutenant Ulka always spoke about.
The sun was nowhere to be seen, the darkness had long consumed the sky. The only thing in his ascended vision was the large platform where Viadi fought against the otherworld heroes. Juruz couldn’t stomach the idea that the man in the armor, the one who had brought this darkness was of the same blood as his king. There was more darkness within Morzu than just the power of the Shadow Stone. Juruz could almost smell the corruption the Ulnath had instilled within him. He looked back momentarily to the battlefield where he saw dozens of Ebulon Soldiers butchered in moments, it would only be a matter of time before there was none left standing. As he looked back to the fight above he was filled with the bitterness of irony.
He had been the most opposed to calling for aid from these heroes and now they were the only ones with any chance of ending this darkness. Having known Cada Varl the best, he was unnerved by how easily Morzu was beating the group of heroes. He respected how vehemently the otherworld heroes fought, they got knocked down hard many times over and each time they got back up and fought on. He hoped they would succeed although it was at best a vague hope.
“What’s wrong?” the woman mage asked, bringing Juruz’s attention back towards his king. He didn’t like what he saw one bit. What the Captain was to battle Ceros was to medicine, the greatest Ebulon had to offer. Now he was standing with the instruments raised, his face a mask of bewildered fear.
“What is it?” Luzon asked before peering down and finding the answer for himself. This was no time for waiting the mage spoke with sharp words. “What is it?”
Ceros shook his head, a slow heavy gesture that was unnerving. “Something…is happening to the wound…”