As soon as Uther delivered the finishing blow, I was already running in his direction.

  He staggered sideways, leaned on a tree, and sat with jagged movements; his shirt wet with blood that was seeping from his injury.

  “Let me see the wound.” I did not wait for an answer and was already raising his shirt. I opened my bag and got a piece of cloth and cleaned the blood.

  It was a small cut, but it was deep, entering the lower abdomen at an angle. I put pressure with the piece of cloth to stop the bleeding, but it was not that that was worrying me.

  “I think it hit your bowels.”

  Gastrointestinal Perforation need immediate surgery and powerful antibiotic magic, or it will lead to severe infection and death in a few days. You could only find this level of care in regional capitals, and we were not even close to one.

  There was only one option.

  “We need a healing potion.”

  The problem now was time, I had less than one hour to administer the potion, or the stabbing wound would not heal.

  Near the road there was a fishing village that could have one, but it would be impossible to get there in one hour, not even if we had a horse.

  I left Uther holding the cloth in place and went to check the bodies, but I had no luck, none of them had one.

  “I will get one of the potions we left with the scouts, if I run, I can get there and back in time.”

  Uther shook his head.

  “No, this is too risky.” He let slip a wince of pain and continued. “We don’t know if the scouts are traitors or not. Your power will not work on them, and if they get you... No. I want you to go around the scouts and go to that village, from there I want you to go back to the Capital and tell what happened here.”

  “No, you will die if I do that. I can get …”

  “Gift!” He interrupted me. “This is an order. I can’t risk you getting captured by them and I need you tell what happened here to my brother.”

  “But maybe they are not traitors …”

  Uther just stared at me angrily.

  “Sorry, I understand, master.”

  I was a slave after all, it was not my place to question my master’s orders.

  Uther was a prince and a soldier; when push comes to shove, he took his duties to the country seriously. Telling Allan what happened here was critical.

  His order made sense; it was the best option.

  “Don’t worry, you know me, things will work out well in the end.” He spoke with his mischievous grin that had been my source of infatuation and exasperation in equal measure.

  But he is not going to be ok. He will die. I will let him die.

  Am I fine with that?

  All my life I had obeyed orders without even considering that there were other options. At first, it was because I was afraid of been punished, in the school any minor disobedience was severely disciplined, but after that it just became part of who I was.

  I am obedient and aware of my place...

  For the first time those thoughts left a bitter taste in my mouth.

  I stopped, my body tense, nails biting the palm of my hands.

  “Screw that.” I said under my breath. “I will get the potion.”

  “I told you; this is an order!”

  I was looking around for something I could use.

  “I will not stay idle and watch you die. You can do whatever you want with me after I do this. I will accept any punishment for my disobedience, flay me alive if you so desire, I will accept anything as long as you are alive to do so.”

  Uther looked at me intensely, but I was not going to back down, no matter what he did. Realizing that, he just gave up, emitting a defeated sigh.

  “And how do you plan to get the potion?” he asked, still angry.

  “I will think of something, I will improvise. Someone I know calls that planning.”

  Uther let out a chuckle that finished with a grunt of pain. “You are really picking up my bad habits.”

  I was taking the cape Ectar used, it would work as a disguise if necessary. “You are a terrible influence, master.” I put the cape on, lowered the hood and used a scarf as an improvised mask. That was all I had time to do, but since it was getting dark, that would probably be enough to conceal my identity.

  It was getting dark …

  That gave me an idea. It was a gamble, but without some luck it would be impossible to even get to the campsite on time.

  “If any warg can hear me, please, I need help!” I screamed at the forest.

  Wargs were the primary monsters that plagued the forest outskirts, if any were in range of my call for help was totally in the hands of chance. I never even knew if some general request like that would trigger the Seal.

  All I could hear in reply was the wind and the chirping of insects. The twilight made the shadows longer and gave a spooky quality to the swing of the trees.

  I waited for a few moments, but since I got no reply and time was so short, I turned and decided to try something else.

  And I was surrounded.

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  I did not hear them coming, nor did I see any before they were all around me. There were nine in total, looking like big wolves with fur so black that they appeared to come out of the shadows. They had red eyes that betrayed their vicious intelligence.

  One of them stepped forward. He was scarily big, almost the size of a horse, with a mouth that could easily fit my thorax. The grey fur on his face indicated that he was the oldest.

  “You called us. What you need?” The warg talked like a grumpy, no-nonsense sergeant. Dry, but not hostile.

  I gave him a quick explanation that I need to get something from a campsite outside the forest.

  “Get on my back and I will get you there.” He lowered himself for me to mount him.

  I was a passable horse rider, but I was unsure if I would be able to ride a warg without a saddle. Well, I had lost any right to hesitate, so I mounted him, holding myself in place by grabbing his thick mane. His fur was coarse and had a strong smell.

  My sprained elbow hurt as I needed both arms to keep myself stable, but I ignored it.

  “Can you find a troll that lives nearby?” I asked the old warg.

  “I can smell him from here.”

  “Please, take me to him as fast as you can.”

  ***

  The campsite lay just outside the forest, surrounded by bushes and low trees. Four tents circled a lit bonfire at the center. Sharpened sticks, arranged in a perimeter, served more to deter wild animals than to provide real protection.

  I could see five of the seven soldiers. They were starting to prepare a stew for supper. I had tried their food before, and it was surprisingly good for outdoor cooking, especially if compared with travel rations.

  One of the scouts was standing guard. He was the first to notice the sounds of broken branches and heavy steps coming in their direction. He called for the others in time for them to see the looming shadow that was coming out of the forest.

  The troll let out a deafening roar that I could feel in my chest, even from a distance. Swinging a tree trunk like a club, he smashed through the forest, sending splinters flying.

  In matters of creating a distraction, Mister Troll was second to none.

  The soldiers wasted no time; they lit torches and, carrying flame and steel, hurried in the direction of the monster, meeting him halfway between the forest and the camp.

  They were professionals, their coordination impeccable, and without any spoken order they moved to encircle the troll.

  And at that moment they heard growls coming from their backs.

  As they tried to encircle the troll, the wargs encircled them in turn.

  I did not know if the scouts were enemies or not, so I could not simply attack them. I just needed to keep them pinned for a couple of minutes away from the camp, so I had the idea of creating a stalemate just like had happened with Uther. If they attacked the troll, the wargs would be at their backs; if they attacked the wargs, the troll would be on their backs. They knew that, so they could not risk attacking.

  During all this, I was at the back of Sargent Wolf (provisory name) sneaking our way into the camp from the opposite side. How a creature so big could be so stealthy was unbelievable.

  We were able to get to the camp without been noticed.

  I dismounted quickly, trying to keep myself covered by the cape in case someone spotted me. Explaining why the prince’s slave was riding a warg and commanding a pack of monsters would be a real challenge.

  I knew the place the potions would be stored because I was the one that chose it. I entered the tent and darted in the direction of a dark brown leather bag. The moment I touched the coarse leather with trembling hands, I felt a pang of doubt. What if they had used the potions? What if they had moved then to another place?

  Please be here. Please be here. I repeated it in my mind.

  There were two flasks of red liquid nested in slots made of cloth to avoid breakage.

  I felt so relieved that I could cry.

  Without any time to spare, I just slung the bag on my shoulders and ran to Sargent Wolf. I was about to mount him as I heard a pained whine.

  One of the wargs was thrashing with an arrow piercing his neck.

  The two unaccounted scouts were returning to camp carrying game. One of them had a bow and was cocking another arrow, ready to take out the wargs from a distance.

  “Retreat, go back to the forest!” I screamed without thinking. They were helping me; I could not let them be picked apart for my convenience.

  The wargs dashed so fast that it was almost like they had melted into the shadows. Mister Troll just turned slowly and walked away; the scouts were in no rush to chase him.

  They escaped, except by the one warg hit by the arrow, he just fell to his side and there he stayed. I felt a stab of guilt, but I had no time to mourn because the warning revealed my position.

  I mounted Sargent Wolf as the first arrow whizzed near my ear, missing my head by a miracle.

  I just grabbed the coarse mane with all my strength as the warg ran in the direction of the forest.

  Every few seconds I could hear an arrow flying. I just tried to keep myself as low as possible, but the movement made that challenging.

  The scout continued to shoot, but each time he missed by more.

  I am going to make it, just a little more.

  The forest was getting denser, the shadows started to obscure our silhouette, the distance alone would be enough to make that a challenging shot.

  I started to laugh.

  I did it …

  And then I felt it. Like someone poking my back below my left shoulder blade.

  At first there was no pain, just a discomfort.

  I moved my hand to below my left breast, the source of that discomfort.

  It was a metal tip, barely breaking the skin, coming from the inside.

  I tried to exhale, but there was resistance. I tried again. The resistance was still there.

  The arrow was blocking my diaphragm.

  I can’t breathe! I can’t breathe! I am going to die! I am going to die!

  I started to panic.

  But there was a small part of me, like a calm voice in the middle of screams, that knew that if I panicked now, I would die, and Uther would die too.

  All would be for nothing.

  Instead of exhaling, I tried to inhale.

  I was able to draw in some air, thank the Gods there was still some room.

  Then I exhaled with all my strength, the sensation was like twisting a knife inside me, I felt like giving up from the pain alone.

  But I couldn’t, I needed to hold for a little more.

  Everything is fine. Everything is fine. I have two potions. I just need to endure this for a while, that is all. I will heal Uther, he will remove the arrow and heal me. Everything will be ok. I just need to keep breathing and not go into shock. I got this. I tried desperately to convince myself.

  Every breath was agony, and for so little air.

  My entire world was reduced to inhaling as much as I could and exhaling until the pain became unbearable, rinse and repeat. Any spare strength was used to hold the mane and avoid falling from the warg.

  In the middle of so much self-inflicted agony, time starts to lose meaning, seconds feel like hours.

  So, when the warg stopped moving, I was taken by surprise.

  “Gift, you really got the potion!” I could hear Uther’s voice, so I must have arrived.

  I raised my head, there was little daylight left, so his form was just a silhouette.

  I don’t know how much time has passed, I don’t know if I still had time to administer the potion, but I could not waste any of it. I inclined to my side and dismounted, what was basically a controlled fall. I was able to slide until I was on my knees, what was as much as I could hope for.

  Finally, I put the leather bag in front of me.

  There was an arrow stuck in it, and I could feel the dampness with my hands.

  No no no no no no no ...

  I opened the bag. One of the slots had a shattered flask, an arrowhead still in there, the protective cloth wet with a red liquid.

  I stared with incredulity, that could not be happening.

  There was only one potion left.

  But then, I was hit by a sudden sense of tranquility. There was no dilemma, no conflict; I simply knew what I had to do.

  Discreetly, I wiped the tears from my face.

  Adjusting my cape to cover the blood on my shirt, I grabbed the potion and stood up, taking extra care to block the view of the arrow on my back.

  The little energy I had was used to give a few paces, disguising my ragged breath as much as I could.

  “Gift? Are you ok?”

  The low light disguised the bluish tinge of my skin and the unevenness of my steps. I was able to kneel beside him.

  “Gift?”

  I removed the cork and forced the flask to his lips, not giving time for him to access the situation.

  “Drink.” I was able to say it. Thank the Gods I still had strength enough to say it.

  By pure reflex, Uther drunk the potion.

  It took only instants for the potion to start working, but again, it felt like hours.

  For a moment I thought I had arrived too late, I could sense the panic resurfacing …

  But the wound on his abdomen started to close, until it closed completely.

  I smiled, a genuine, full-faced smile, my lips bluish with a smear of blood.

  “Gift what … Gift! They hit you! What have you done?”

  I felt so happy, so relieved. And with whatever animus that got me this far spent, I collapsed.