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The BloodVaine EpicChapter 100: Fields Of Rye
Jack slumped in a corner of the makeshift healer’s tent, his head on his knees. He had been there for over an hour now, since Shainya had begun to order the various chuirgeons and herbalists about on her own. Jack quickly decided that it was probably better that way, anyhow, since most of them knew far more about their profession than he did. He had done what he could. Maybe he had saved a few lives.
“Wars don’t change, Jack-me-lad. Still the same millstone of the young.”
He wondered if he was the only one who had noticed that the field of battle had been a field of rye, not so very long ago. No doubt it was part of the Palace orchards, and had been planted to feed the peasants under the castle’s protection.
“No rye left. Trampled and crushed by the march of armies. Aye, but there’s probably precious few yeomen left to eat it, too.”
The bodies that fell there today would feed tomorrow’s crop. The earth would heal, and forget. Jack wondered if he could manage the same. He glanced around the relative quiet of the camp, at least when compared to the horrors of the past few hours. The healers had everything under control for the time being, and the warriors believed the area was secure. Jack let his gaze drift over to the corner where Bjarn lay, still unconscious, and felt his stomach clench. He staggered to his feet, numb from his cramped position, and stumbled out of the tent.
He had a sudden urge to get as drunk as he could. He wondered if there was any rye whisky around the camp.
When Shainya found Jack, he was sitting cross-legged in the weeds behind the supply carts, too drunk to stand steadily and not quite drunk enough to pass out. He was apparently engrossed in moving tiny armies of pebbles back and forth in formation, and occasionally grinding one or more of them into the dirt when it became necessary. Complete with sound effects.
“Aye...you’ve had it now...slash and off comes your head...now comes our reinforcements...thwak, thwak archers! Fall back to the west! Aye! And two more dead!”
He looked up as Shainya’s shadow fell across him, and tried to scowl, take a swallow from a clay bottle, and push two of the pebbles into the dirt at the same time. He succeeded at only two of the three.
“Unless you’re here to act as an attacking dragon, yer Ladyship, I’d just as soon keep this war private.”
“Tyco, so this is where you’ve gone. What’s gotten into you?”
Jack shook the bottle next to his ear, and tried to peer down its neck.
“About two pints, I think. Aye, maybe three.”
He grinned hollowly and seemed about to offer Shainya a drink, then thought better of it and took a long swallow himself.
“So you snuck off to get drunk? Is this because of what I said to you when they brought Bjarn in?”
“Aye, and no, and aye again,” he nodded sagely, reaching for a squad of pebbles as he did so. Shainya put her foot into the dirt between his hand and the mock battle, and he drew back slowly, bewildered.
“Well, what do I play that as? A rockslide, maybe? Aye, crunch, we’ve been cut off from the main…”
Shainya snatched the mostly empty bottle from his slack fingers and hurled it into the bracken, where it landed with a soft noise.
“Stop it! Why are you doing this!?”
“Isn’t that the whole warp and weft of it, your Ladyship?” Jack tried to lean back nonchalantly on his elbows, and nearly went sprawling. “The generals move the pebbles back and forth on the board? Jack just wanted a bit of the fun for himself?”
He rubbed at the bloodstains on his sleeves and front, brown now after many hours. Bjarn’s blood, Shainya thought, her eyes widening a bit.
“Bjarn’s,” Jack mumbled, seeming to echo her thoughts, “and the Fox’s, and that young scout’s, and…and...I don’t even know most of them.”
She knelt down next to him, her tone softening.
“Yes, and some of them survived because of you and your group.”
Jack shook his head.
“Not enough. Never enough. There’s a haystack of bodies on the edge of the woods.”
“So you couldn’t help all of them, and you snuck off to feel sorry for yourself. Well, you’re coming back to the healer’s camp with me. Whether you can walk or not.”
“Aye, and why would I be doing that, then?” Jack thrust his chin out like a stubborn child.
“Because Bjarn’s awake.”
I’m dead...I’m dead, I’m dead, I’m dead, I’m dead...I’m dead.
I have to be dead. There is no other explanation. I’m dead. Tyco, it must be boring to be dead. Just sit here, doing nothing. Infinite whiteness is rather dull...you’d think they’d have some interior decorating...
Tyco...I’m going be like this forever...being dead is going to be worse than I thought...maybe Dale could teach me how to come back as a ghost...then I could haunt Green Fox...Being dead is such a drag...I wish I could have kept a few more years...
“Bjarn?”
I didn’t know I could talk to someone else...
“B-Bjarn...?”
“Hush...he’s asleep...resting...come on J’anrya…”
Pain suddenly smashed back into Bjarn, he cried out, and awoke. The eyes of the Elk Man fluttered open, to stare into the soft brown eyes of...
“J’anrya...you…”
“Bjarn!”
“Steady, J’anrya...he’s ill...ahh…”
Bjarn twisted his head - a painful movement - to stare at Green Fox, who scratched his nose, embarrassed.
“Fox...how..?”
“Pulled a few strings...er...mate...Bjarn...sir…”
Bjarn attempted a smile, but failed.
“Don’t talk…” pleaded J'anrya, “Shainya’s getting Jack now…”
I’m not dead. Bjarn realised. Now he wished he was.
Megabloks, I could deal with the boredom...but this pain...
“How bad?” Bjarn choked out loud.
“‘Lo...Bjarn…”
Jack entered, followed by Shainya. Even Bjarn, in his pathetic condition, could tell Jack was drunk.
“Jacky, ye as drunk as...well...I usually am!” exclaimed Green Fox.
Shainya approached Bjarn. “You’re fine, Bjarn...you’ll be well soon.”
Bjarn’s eye hardened. “Tell me exactly what is broken, now. If I am to heal, I need to know so I can tell my bones what to do.”
Shainya looked shocked, remembering Bourne's words.
“Bourne-"
“…Has a knack of being able to talk to people.” Bjarn concluded, “Even those who...incapacitated.”
Shainya took a deep breath and then said, “You have four cracked ribs, one broken, a cracked left shoulder, two broken legs and...a mauled hand.”
Bjarn lifted to look at his right hand, then fell back, sweating.
“Best-Lock…” his whispered, “I miss my tyco ear…”
He slipped into sleep. Later, Reno slipped into Bjarn’s tent under the cover of darkness and sat beside Bjarn, his good friend and leader. No one was around and Bjarn was sleeping quietly.
“Reno Regga.” Bjarn muttered suddenly, and Reno jumped in shock.
“You should know not to scare me.” Bjarn said sternly.
He then began to laugh gaspingly. Reno joined in.
“Bjarn, how are you? Will you be ok?” Reno asked.
“Yes...I will be fine.” Bjarn said through the pain.
“He will be if he gets his sleep!” Shainya’s voice whispered.
Reno looked around. It was the first time Reno had seen Shainya since the end of the battles. Reno smiled, as did Shainya.
“You did great Shainya, you saved a lot of lives today” Reno said.
She smiled.
Reno turned to leave, but Shainya said softly, “Reno...wait…”
He turned back to here, the color rising in his cheeks. Shainya, with infinite slowness, removed the Pendant she had worn and looped the chain around Reno’s neck. In the close proximity, their noses almost touched.
“Reno...thank Chodan...you’re alright…”
Reno said nothing, but drew her close to him. They kissed. In the guise of sleep, Bjarn smiled.
Aros squinted at the shadow of the two embraced figures in Bjarn’s tent, then snorted with glee.
“Reno’s never gonna hear the end of it! He could have at least picked a secluded spot to make out with Shainya. Half the camp is gonna catch sight of this spectacle!”
Barbod chortled, then grasped his side in pain. “Lucky tyco!”
Bourne allowed himself a smile. “Even through bloodshed and war, love still presides over all.”
Willem stared down at the broken remains of Orion’s Gate, and further on, the bleak Yellow Castle.
“It will take more than love to repair the rift created by BloodVaine. Winter is nearly upon us, yet there are no crops to reap, no buildings to shelter in, no blankets to keep us warm. Last year was the warmest winter ever recorded in Dametreos, with barely any snow. I fear Mother Nature is going to make it up to us this year.”
Graygon sniffed the wind. “Aye, I fear your are correct, Lord Willem. The prelude of Fall was short. That be snow I smell on the wind.”
Radjar swore. “We can’t waste any time then...we will freeze to death if we remain at the Yellow Castle in tents…we should return to Fell Isle. Trees there survived the Wildfire, we would have fuel aplenty.”
“I agree, Milord, that some of us, like Lord Bjarn so that he may recover, should return home.” countered Gerald Vos, “but we would be abandoning the other factions, Royals, Classics, Crusaders, Black Knights, to the mercy of the winter.”
“We can’t help all.” commented Trevelayn quietly.
“No, but we can do our best-lockest to save as many as we can!” retorted Rosa.
“Let not us discuss this now.” intervened Sir Dractor, playing the peacemaker, “I see Bersun and his army of Black Falcons have returned from their scouting of the Yellow Castle…”
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