A few minutes later, he and a few of the sober men rowed the dinghy to shore. When they reached the unconscious figures, snow sticking to their wool cloaks, Thaellas scanned the blackness for signs of ambush, rifle held at the ready, and then paused again as he looked down at the rendeilxue. As seen before, there were two, their clothing hard-worn and half-frozen, both looking sickly and underfed. One man was taller and more physically robust–almost human even, in his breadth of body compared to the fae-like litheness typical of his race−while the other looked more like a waif than a man. But Thaellas felt sure that the thin, stick-of-a-man was the one who had called out to him while carrying his companion. Perhaps he was mistaken?
“Sir?” Mauranius shouted over the wind.
Thaellas shook the thoughts from his mind. Now was the time for action. With as much speed as care would permit, the merchant crew got the two strangers onboard the ship and changed into spare clothes, Thaellas snapping out a few choice insults along the way as the men stopped to stare at the veins visible on the rendeilxue’s backs in the tree-like patterns that marked every member of their race. Soon they were both bundled up and laid to bed within Thaellas’s own cabin. Both ran high fevers, their pointed ears and youthful faces an odd, olive brown due to their inhuman blood, and they both shivered horribly despite the multiple blankets. Makeshift bandages wrapped around ugly, infected wounds were changed, and the ship’s physician somehow managed to get some water and medicinal broths down their throats. He shook his head in doubt that either one would last till morning. They were too weak, he said, and had signs of frostbite. Not bad enough to cause permanent damage, but still evidence of the conditions they had been enduring. Even if they survived the night, they probably wouldn’t live long enough to get proper treatment. However, in the face of Thaellas’s protests, the doctor agreed to do what he could but would make no promises of success. Thanking him curtly, Thaellas dismissed the doctor so the man could go make the necessary preparations for the all-night vigil he would now have to keep.
Thaellas released the other men to their respective tasks, having already decided to stay up and help the doctor himself. Once alone, he settled into a chair by his cot, now occupied by the smaller of the two rendeilxue for the purely practical reason that the other was too tall for it. Rubbing his hands across his face and through his hair, the Ithaenian merchant released a long, loud sigh. He knew the doctor was right. These two were in bad shape. Very bad. He shouldn’t get his hopes up. By all rights, he shouldn’t even be disturbed by the diagnosis. He didn’t know these men. No. They weren’t even men, only half. And yet, he had still taken them under his care. Against all his reason told him, even though they were only half-human, he cared about them now and didn’t want to fail in the responsibility he had taken on.
A low groan pulled him from his thoughts to the patient lying beside him. The figure moaned again and slowly opened his pale blue eyes in a half-focused stare. Thaellas jumped to his feet, and the eyes sluggishly strayed to him. The wind-chapped lips parted, moving wordlessly before their owner croaked out, “H-help.”
Kneeling down to better hear the weak voice, Thaellas said, “Yes. Don’t worry. We’re here to help you. You’re safe now.”
The eyes stared at him without comprehension, and Thaellas wondered if the mind behind them even understood him. After all, just because Thaellas had picked up a few rendeilxue words after years of working up and down the river, trading with the different tribes, that didn’t mean he knew the language. Maybe it was the same for this pale-eye half-man.
After a moment more, the rendeilxue repeated, “Help… help.”
“Yes. We’re here to help,” Thaellas said again, more slowly this time.
Suddenly, the rendeilxue’s eyes widened, and Thaellas saw fear in the unfocused gaze. To his shock, the sick man tried to get up. Thaellas protested, insisting that the man, who looked ready to keel over dead at any moment, lie back down, but he seemed determined to not just sit up but stand. Between shivering breaths, he muttered, “R-Restag… help… Restag….”
“Restag? Is that your friend? He’s here, too. Look,” said Thaellas. He took the sick man by his shoulders, turning and supporting him so he could see his companion sleeping on a pallet on the floor. Immediately, the worry left the rendeilxue’s face, and Thaellas nearly dropped him as he suddenly went limp. Once lowered to the bed, the man then reached within his shirt, and again he looked afraid as he mumbled, “B-bag?”
“If you mean the bag you had hanging from your neck, here you go,” said Thaellas, picking out the item from the disordered pile of the men’s meager possessions. He handed the small bag to the rendeilxue, saying, “Had to take it off, since it’s cold and wet. A bit heavy, too, not the kind of thing a sick man should be wearing, let me tell you.”
Even if the barbarian had understood that string of words, he completely ignored them as he struggled to open the little drawstring bag. Eventually, Thaellas took it and opened it for him, dumping the single item inside into the sick man’s palm. It was a ring. Beautifully crafted, even when compared to other pieces Thaellas had procured from the preternaturally skilled metalworkers of the northern rendeilxue, made of thin wires of pure gold twined together into a delicate band that wound around the finger and then around a large disk imprinted with an intricately designed and stylised animal–a ram, he thought–and a circle of rendeilxue runes. A seal ring, Thaellas realized with a start. Holding out the ring, the barbarian said, “Th-Thenika… take… Aleu...kus… give… A...leu….”
The hand fell, and the ring clinking to the cabin floor as Thaellas stared pale-faced at the once again sleeping form that breathed raggedly before erupting in a fit of wet coughs. The horrible sound unnerved Thaellas, who could only look helplessly on. Thankfully, the physician returned moments later, taking over and directing Thaellas until the fit passed and the sick man settled back into fevered sleep. While the physician began unpacking his supplies, Thaellas picked up the ring. He stared at it till the physician called his attention again, shakily dropping the item into his pocket.
Thenika. That was the capital of Thaellas’s homeland, Ithaenia, currently ruled by King Aleukus III, a name no rendeilxue barbarian, to his knowledge, even cared to know. But this one did, and he had a seal ring, another anachronism among a people that barely used their writing system for more than keeping inventories. One of those facts was odd enough. Both together….
As the night and battle against death dragged on, Thaellas prayed to God the physician’s prediction would prove wrong.
