“C’mon Danny, you’re not out of the game yet,” Ruth grunted, hoisting the injured and taller man up.
The elf had been making his way back from the front lines, weaving through rubble choked streets and defensive wards. They weren’t far from their lines, but a distance enough help would be hard to come by. “You bastard sneaks, why do you always take the awkward routes, eh?” Ruth grumbled, nudging the man in his grasp. Danny would groan, reassuring the healer his patient was still with him. “Sorr-”
But the sound of something sizzling through the air had the two only spare each other a quick glance before both threw themselves down for cover.
The spell struck against something above, or behind them, Ruth wasn’t sure. The only thing coursing through his mind was finding better cover and then taking it from there. Then there was Danny. “Danny?!” he’d cry over the spellfire, praying he didn’t have to explain to Nairn why another Coterie lackey was dead. Ruth couldn’t make out the other side, the smoke beginning to billow from the magical fire beginning to catch from the first round.
“Danny! I swear to Mythal, you better grunt or something or I’m gonna send you to the fucking Maker!”
Shit. Pinned down by spellfire, with zero visibility on the assailant and him lacking in backup? Were they fucked? In a brief lull in the noise Ruth would catch the pitful groan of the artificer, a small wave of relief hit him, but Ruth needed cover, back-up, to get to Danny.
Out of the fire, into the frying pan, or was it the other way around? Either way, Kellam had managed to drag his people out of two blights and across the kingdoms, thinking they’d found safety, only to end up in the middle of a turf war between self-proclaimed Elvhen gods.
He had to hand it to them though, he was a bit impressed when he learned the actual history of the Elvhen gods, the things they’d done during the last time they’d walked the earth. As someone who’d always sought positions of power, he could understand the ambition. The similarities ended there though, as despite the things that Kellam had done in his past, even he had limits, and slavery left a bad taste in his mouth.
The situation was dire, but if there was one thing Kellam had learned over the years, it was that you never gave up, no matter how bleak things looked. He squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and plunged back into the chaos, ready to do whatever it took to keep his people safe.
Kellam was trying to give people cover who still needed to get out of harm’s way, as well as backing up the healers. Every ounce of his body was in action mode, no thinking, just action. Until he came upon his son. Something halted him for a second. His son was in danger and he was suddenly starting to feel something, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever felt before. He wasn’t even sure what he was feeling. It threw him for a split second, long enough to be a noticeable pause, but not so long as to look dense for standing there in the action unmoving.
Kellam turned and ran towards his son, a ball of spellfire grazed his arm, but he didn’t flinch. As soon as he got to Ruth and the other elf, he spun around and put up a shield covering the three of them, about two seconds before a ball of spellfire blasted into the shield, making Kellam flinch, but otherwise he kept the shield in place.
Are you all right? Kellam asked Ruth, had he ever asked his son that before, probably not, but he was asking now, in the heat of battle. Somehow all the shit from their past seemed to pale in comparison to the fact that his son was in trouble. He was acting purely instinctually, the part of him deep down that did love his son and wanted him to be safe. A part of him he’d never spent a lot of time thinking about, a part of him he probably didn’t even realise he had until then.
There was an unwritten list of rules for a healer during warfare. One was that they kept their magic reserved, rationed to triage and stabilising their patients to be moved, not concentrating on a single life, but many. Decisions had to be made. Difficult ones. No matter how many years he had spent amongst close calls and skirmishes between his time serving mercenaries and the Inquisition, Arlathan was worse than any. The clashes between the Inquisition and Coryphaeus's forces was child's play compared to the assault here.
Twice, he tried to scramble across on his belly towards Danny, but each time the spells effects or the magic raining down would have him scooting back behind his cover. Ruth seethed, eyes still trying to find another way to the other elf, but with each desperate sweep hope dwindled. And as if by some miracle a shadow passed over his face and the glittering shield blooming into life causing him to give out a sigh of relief.
The voice though caught him off guard, stunned into staggering up to his feet as he looked Kellam up and down. Uncertainty filled his brow, mouth opening to begin and then reality quickly came to sober him. “Fath-" the word almost foreign to him and Ruth couldn't help but correct himself, "Keeper Yoesif." was that concern? No, surely. "Um, I’m fine… thanks,” but the fucking artificer? “Danny!” Blue eyes widened, concern rippling heavy in his voice, Ruth moving to search for the already injured friend, “Danny!?” nothing. Ruth darted over, aiming to turn the elf’s slumped form against the gravel. “You’re not allowed to check out, you stupid…” his voice ran silent when he felt his hands slip, drawing it back to find it slick with blood. “... Gods damn it. I need to check this wound.”
Kellam's heart tightened at the sight of Ruth's blood-soaked hands, his instincts screaming at him to protect his son. He held the shield firm, sweat trickling down his forehead as he fought to keep it steady amidst the chaos.
**Ruth, I've got you. Just... just do what you need to do,** he managed, his normally confident voice tinged with worry. He didn’t have time to think, only react. For now the voices in his head were kept at bay by the seriousness of the situation. Though he did wonder, just how far would Ruth go to save this one person, when so many needed his attention.
Son, the hardest thing about responsibility is knowing when to walk away. He’s not the only one that needs you, sometimes the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. He wasn’t trying to say don’t try, only that at some point if things still looked bad, a decision would have to be made.
His hands were already working, tearing cloth to expose the open wound down the man's side. This was familiar, he’d seen similar injuries before though not nearly as gnarly as poor Danny. He reached for the lapels of the artificer’s jacket, yelling his name, “I got you bud, I got you. Ruthie’s not going anywhere. You’re gonna be fine,” he glared at his father, the suggestion not even up for discussion.
“Just fucking hold it as best you can,” he’d growl, palms rubbing together as he inhaled a number of quick breaths to get him started. Danny whimpered pitifully, skin ghostly pale, his eyes rolled around the scene in a haze, unable to comprehend that a chunk of his side had a large fist size hole Ruth was slowly working to piece back together.
Even as he wove the surgical sigils and signs, muttering incantations and invoking the gods themselves at one point, the artificer paled further. “Don’t you fucking do it, Danny. I haven’t got the time for your bullshit! We gotta get back to the Stoner, or Nairn is going to kills you, kill us fucking both. You’re not allowed to leave me in the shit!”
Removing a palm from the sticky flesh, Ruth planted it to the ground, index finger marking the outline of a barrier, with the inner sigil, one of rejuvenation. A bold move, but no-one ever really gave him the sort of praise unless it worked. Planting his palm over it, he just hoped it would be one of those few times where lady luck was on his side… for once?
“Do not lecture me on responsibility and walking away.” Jaw clenched, Ruth tried his best case plan to buy them some further time to stabilise the Coterie whelp.
Meanwhile, the battle raged on around them, chaos and magic filling the air. Kellam's heart pounded in his chest as he watched his son work, a fierce determination in his eyes that he'd never seen before. He held onto the shield with all his might, praying to any god that would listen that they would make it out of this alive.
But why? You’re usually so good at the walking away part. The words were out of his lips before he could even think. The voices in his head tumbling to the surface, the boy could never listen, no, wouldn’t listen. He wasn’t sure why he even bothered, what was the point in any of it. Kellam shook his head, closed his eyes, tried to block everything out. He felt a rage welling up inside of him, anger, jealousy, blame. It felt a bit like getting blown over by a dragon, and all this was happening while he was doing his best to keep the shield up.
The shield faltered for a moment and another spell got through and grazed Kellam, but he quickly got the shield back up. It was hard fighting the Eth and fighting his demons, fighting the conflicting feelings of wanting his son to be safe but also wanting to yell at him. He shook his head, clearly tired.
Why had he expected this time to be different than any of the others? In the space of three sentences, he had contradicted himself. I’ve got you, now, Walk away as always. Ruth couldn’t help but laugh even as chaos rained around them. “You really are just… a full blown fucking arsehole,” he sighed, returning to the task at hand. Fuck him. He’d drag Danny out of here his goddamn self if he had to.
He drew out the glyphs, palm planting over it as he closed his eye to concentrate on the layering of the two spells. Megara made this look far too fucking easy.
I don’t ask for much, but if you could just…
[color=#aaaaaa]Of course, Rut’theran. [/color]
Biting back a snide remark the healer sank into commune with the spirit of compassion. A sense of calm replaced the building hopelessness he felt with Danny’s condition. The spirits power mingled, interwove itself with his effortlessly and the dual cast of shield and ward of regeneration expanded around the trio. Ruth heard his father become injured but until the shield and glyph took effect he remained with Danny.
Returning both hands to his patient the healer took a deep breath to steady himself, “I don’t hear much complaint so… you’ll live, I’m assuming?”
Well it was true, Ruth had been the one to walk away from the Clan, walk away from Kellam, from everything. It had hurt Kellam, not that he’d been able to admit it out loud. He loved his son in his own way, in the only way he was able. He fought against the gremlins in his mind that told him things like how worthless he was and how he was better off dead.
When Ruth had been young, after his mother had died, Kellam had projected those feelings on to Ruth, feeling his son was a worthless waste of space. He was good at projecting his issues, and not admitting he had any.
It’ll be fine until we get back. He grumbled, as he started thinking about how easy it would be to let the shield down and take the chances with the spellfire. Maybe that would be easier, to just give up, but he fought hard against these thoughts and just became angry on the outside like he always did, because feeling sad hurt too much, but feeling angry was something he did so well.
One would think almost twenty years of separation might have changed some things, but no. And it stung. It still pained him deep down somewhere where his heart was, startling the healer into doing one thing he was perfectly versed in. Defying authority in his own way.
As the magic settled around them, Ruth attended to Danny, paying his father’s reply little mind for he stabilised the artificer. The gaping wound was beginning to close at a rapid pace as Ruth weaved signs with a dance of fingers. “C’mon Danny.” He’d mutter quietly and the tautness in his jaw would begin to slacken after a few more moments.
Ruth’s shoulders sagged in relief, but he fought against the wave of exhaustion, “Ok… I think… that’s enough,” enough to get him elsewhere and with someone fresh with magic. After checking Danny and tidying him up, Ruth got to his feet, crouching to hoist the man back up. With a timed and deliberate jostle, the shorter elf managed to slide Danny over his shoulders, bearing the man's full weight on himself.
Ruth’s gait faltered but soon recovered again, scoffing, “Gods, you're heavier than you look Danny boy,” turning, but choosing not to meet his father’s gaze. “Enjoy whatever regen you can… it’ll be gone soon enough and we’re still a bit away from the aid station.”
Kellam hesitated slightly as Ruth got the injured man on his feet. He imagined Ruth was probably tapped from all the healing magic, otherwise he would have considered using a levitation magic on the injured man to make transporting him faster and easier. Kellam debated if it would be quicker if he focused on the levitation instead of the shield. The longer it took for them to get back, the more energy Kellam was expelling on the shield. If he focused on levitation they could move quicker and be out of harm’s way quicker. He was a leader, this sort of situation should come easy to Kellam, but his son was involved and he suddenly found himself second guessing what he should do. Which was frustrating the piss out of him.
Taking a deep breath, Kellam made a quick decision. Dropping the shield, he swiftly cast a levitation spell on the injured man. The action was met with a moment of resistance, but eventually, the man's body lifted slightly, enough to ease the burden on Ruth. Kellam then quickly raised another protective shield around them, ready to guide them back to safety. It would drain Kellam by the time they got back, but at least they’d get back quicker and hopefully in one piece, though the shield wouldn’t be as resistant to magic with his focus split.
Better we get back faster. Though he didn’t feel he needed to explain, there was a brief moment of him looking a bit like he didn’t know what to make of his son. How on one hand he wanted to yell at Ruth, but he also couldn’t deny there was another part of him that wanted to wrap Ruth up into a bubble where he’d be safe from harm. It was conflicting emotions, and he hated when his emotions conflicted.
It was easier, faster to hoist the man over a shoulder, save the remainder of his magic for a later time, where things were more dire. He had to think about Megara too, she was his true patient and Ruth had to get back to the stoner protecting the sanctuary. While Danny was gravely injured he’d live, with one good bloody story to share and a horde of pints now owed to the elf who’d saved his stupid ass. His father deserved some credit, Ruth supposed, he had created the opening so Danny was breathing steadily against Ruth’s neck.
His burden eased suddenly, the shimmer of the shield dwindled as the trio retreated into further cover and back towards their front lines and aid. The expression across Kellam’s face was one he couldn’t quite recognise or place having never seen it. “Right… let’s hop to it, shall we?” Moving with a lightness unexpected even with the added levitation, Ruth weaved his way through the war torn streets back towards the vhenadahl and the medical core.
He’d release Danny into the care of the healers there, leaning forward to catch his breath and take a moment before waving a healer over to his father. “He’s also injured, side wound and down on mana… How is Megara?”
[color=#419dc1]“She’s stable from what we can tell, but since only you can get close enough, that's only a visual assessment.” [/color]
Nodding silently he’d look up towards the meeting chamber, gaze narrowing as his mind worked over. “We got pinned down, but Clan Ghilain showed up so I managed to return. Megara blended a strand of magic to recognise my own while she was under, anyone else that approached would be repulsed, maybe even killed. You were wise to keep your distance. We have no idea what those wards can do, especially with Sylaise’s influence.”
Between the minor wounds and the exhaustion of mana, Kellam swayed slightly on his feet. He was doing his best to just stand there and look, stoic? Strong? Unphased by the battle? Things a leader needed to be in times like these, but he felt his determination falter. At first he tried to refuse treatment and go back out to others in need. There were more out there, pinned down, he couldn’t afford to rest.
Oi! I’m fine, just let me get back out there. He looked to his son, a sort of half exhausted half determined face, pleading to be let back out, but then before he could say anything else, the exhaustion felt heavier and heavier around him, like he was wearing a weighted blanket that was steadily getting heavier. He looked at his son and said the first thing that came to mind.
Son, I’m s…. With that he succumbed to his exhaustion and blacked out, collapsing with a thud to the ground. He probably shouldn’t have kept up the shield and did the levitation spell at the same time, it had zapped him more than he realised, but he hadn’t seen any other choice as long as his son had been so determined to save his friend.
He was too busy listening to the healer talking about Megara to pay much attention, only idly nodding and waving at the healers approaching his father to carry on. This was not Ruth’s first skirmish and while he physically waned, his magic had been bolstered by the spirits aid. He understood his fathers urge to return, but as a leader he should know when to take pause, regroup.
After his brief discussion he’d looked back to Kellam beginning to tip, the slow collapse of the man was caught in time by two healers each grabbing an arm before his head struck ground. Despite everything, Ruth struggled to move forwards caught off guard by his fathers final words. Was that the beginning of an apology? He was imagining it surely. While Danny he trusted to be treated easily, his father was a less predictable patient.
Get him on a stretcher and follow me into the Chamber. He can be difficult and I’d rather he not disturb the other patients when he rejoins the land of the conscious.
It might have seemed unkind, but Ruth had another, more important patient in his care and as his small group climbed the stairs to the inner chamber he ordered them to set his father down and leave. His wound was simple to fix, a simple cauterising and regeneration spell would see him right while a poultice and potion would take care of any further surprises.
Lingering at the Chambers doorway, he appraised his friend from a distance every few minutes taking a sip from a draft of his own making. Rum and a mana draft, though slightly counterintuitive, was needed to give him courage in approaching the casting she-elf. Always gotta be you, doesn't it Meg, he'd sigh to himself.
Kellam began to move a bit in his unconscious state, as he slowly came to. At first he just pretended to still be out, listening to the sounds of the people and things around him. He felt foolish for having let his mana and stamina get so low that it caused him to pass out, he really should have known better, but despite the fact he believed Ruth should have left his friend behind and gone on to help others in need, Kellam found that he couldn’t just leave his son to his own devices.
Kellam slowly opened his eyes, blinking against the light. He felt a rush of relief to see Ruth's familiar face nearby, hard at work. He sat up slowly, watching his son with a mix of pride and concern. Ruth, he called out, his voice hoarse. He wasn’t sure what to say, he’d been in the process of apologising to his son before passing out, but now it felt like that moment had passed and he wasn’t sure where to go from here.
Did your friend make it? If Kellam found out the young man had died despite their efforts, there would probably be a lot of I told you so’s coming Ruth’s way, but Kellam wasn’t going to assume anything, especially with how hard his son had worked to keep the man alive. Then he tried to stand. I should get back out there.
He was concentrating on the pattern of shifting strands of magic that Megara and Sylaise were weaving, remembering what they had talked about when the duo had come to him. The line across his brow smoothed as Ruth finally noticed his string, the elfs own contribution to the undertaking, dancing alongside both her and Sylaise magic. The familiar voice of his father broke through the quiet, Mhm? though Ruth was slow to turn and answer, wanting to be certain in his next task.
Danny will be fine. He will have a large scar and a hell of a story, but he will be back, annoying Nairn and I with his perfect teeth. Slowly, he’d approach Kellam, his pace hastening once his father tried to stand.
Ruth shook his head and gritted his teeth. No. You can rest. The battle has already turned in our favour. The enemy is on the retreat now. He firmly put his father back on the stretcher. Now. If you don’t mind. I have a very complicated wake up call to perform and I’d rather not be diced into a million pieces while trying to do it. Sit.
Walking back to the threshold Ruth paused once more to take a deep breath and steady himself before beginning the exhausting task of guiding Megara out, layer by layer of her tapestry of wardings over the Vhenadahl. Sat across from her, his thumbs lay over her wrists mind following the thread of magic, his key, to helping her unbind the tapestry of defences. After a few hours Megara slumped forwards into his waiting arms, slowly pulling them to standing before turning to his father and gesturing with his head.
Alright now you can do something. Come here and let her have that stretcher. I think we can both agree she’s earned it.
