As the blizzard continues to bellow against the freshly pitched tent, Ilyas and Dean wait for Einar to return with Qwin from it’s freezing wind. Kymil, uncomfortable in the warmth of the tent, waits outside for shadows to appear from the thick swarms of ice, close enough to hear voices come from inside the canvas if those inhabiting it were not deathly quiet.
...
Einar’s been gone longer than Ilyas could have hoped for, surely Qwin couldn’t have fallen too far behind before the Blizzard hit. Right? Ilyas had seen him only a meter or two behind him when the snow started to kick up. He was still moving, though sluggish.
Why didn’t he just carry him again? Now Einar and Qwin were both out in the cold.
Ilyas hums, and stands, retying his scarf around his neck and bringing it up over his nose.
“I’m going to go looking for them.”
Dean looks up from the space heater she sat next too, the crease of worry on her face growing deeper. He could hear Kymil shift against the outside of the tent and the blizzard’s winds battering against the side of the canvas, breaking up the moment of quiet that followed Ilyas’ words.
“You shouldn’t go out there, you’re already sick and Einar told us to wait for him here.”
Dean’s voice was level and firm, the only other time he heard it sound like that was when they were in the Rime Desolate. It was strange hearing the tone again.
Ilyas knew he wasn’t healthy enough to be doing this, his temperature had been going down for days, and his legs felt as if they were filled with water, but he couldn’t leave them out there any longer. While Einar was a skilled Runner, Qwin was weak and still suffering from a low body temperature. He worried that Einar might have found trouble considering how long he was taking, if Qwin was out there any longer he could die.
“We’ve waited too long and I’m still better equipped to go out to look for them.”
His voice echoes Dean’s tone, though that wasn’t saying much, his voice always sounded like that.
She shifts, pushing her lips together and looking past the tent wall they both knew Kymil was behind. Her eyebrows were brought together, and she seemed deep in thought. The silence only lasted a few seconds before she sighs and stands, taking a blanket from their supplies and pushing it into his hands, a little frown on her face.
“Just because you’re a couple of degrees higher than me doesn’t change anything. Get back here soon okay?”
Her tone had shifted, it sounded playful? Though her face once again seemed sad or concerned, her ‘thinking look’ now gone. Ilyas really hated trying to read people, it was too complex. He just wanted to get Einar and Qwin back to camp before anything got worse.
“I promise.”
He gives her a nod and turns, leaving the tent but not before grabbing a lantern. It won't do him any good in the storm, but it might help Einar or Qwin spot him in the dark of dusk. Ilyas hovers near the front of the tent for a moment, allowing Kymil time to float to his side.
“Do you need company?”
Their voice was as wispy as usual, always full of such care. While he would have loved their company, Ilyas shakes his head, gesturing toward the tent.
“I’ll be fine, stay with Dean. Both of you keep safe, I’ll be back soon.” He flips the hood of his cloak up, bundling his furs up as tightly as they go.
Kymil gives him a small smile, and nods, following him as far as the light touches from their campsite, before watching him disappear into the deep snow. Ilyas can see their shadow bring a hand up in a goodbye when he glanced behind him, and he returns it, though he wasn’t positive Kymil could see anything other than the light of the lantern at this point.
He continues, though slow going. The snow bit his skin, and the winds cut though the wools and furs of his clothes. His already weakened state forced his feet to a slow crawl, trudging through the snow and following the barely visible path he hoped was made by Einar. Ilyas pushed through the thick snowfall, listening for any noise other than the winds and snapping of the trees that grew brittle in the dead season.
As he walked the sun attempted to peek through the thick ash clouds of the horizon, now working to break though the frigid clouds that collected and released the current snow. He needed to find them before the sun was snuffed out, the dark made things significantly more deadly.
He continues. Straining his ears, and thinking about anything other than how cold his hands felt.
And then he heard it, a low roar, a deafed yell and a whistle blow. He squints towards the sound, the barest of light poking past the snow. It had to be Einar.
He moves his legs faster, adrenaline pushing through his veins and breaths coming out in heavy puffs, Ilyas runs towards the shadows that grew clearer the closer he got. He could only hope he was okay. There was no way he was alone, that second shadow was far too large.
Another roar sounds past the winds followed by a gunshot and a bright flash, and Ilyas pulls out his poleaxe, grasping it in his free hand as he pushes through the snow, the image in front of him as clear as it needed to be.
The giant bear towers over Einar, his lantern sinking in the snow, while his gun lay abandoned next to it, either malfunctioning or empty while his hands frantically try to untie his kopis. He stood tall despite all the blood in the snow as he braced himself for another swipe of the bear’s claws. The bullet wound in the bear doing nothing to affect its stamina.
Ilyas yells as loud as his lungs allow him to and he runs forwards, swinging his lantern back as the bear brings its full weight onto Einars shoulders, staining the healing snow with more blood. Ilyas brings the lantern forward, forcing his freezing fingers open and launching it towards the large target, its glass breaking on impact. The oil from the lamp escapes its container and lets the fire consume it, lighting the bear’s back aflame.
It roars and turns towards its newest challenger. It was infected with that same frost sickness so many other animals were falling prey too, making it far more violent than the bears naturally were.
It leaves Einar in the snow, and runs at Ilyas. He jumps to its side, bringing up the bud of his poleaxe to stab into the thick skin of its neck, as it skids to a stop to follow Ilyas’ bright hair. The fire had puttered out rather quickly, but it had gotten the bear off on Einar, and scared its white fur with black. It charges again, baring its teeth and snapping at Ilyas when it gets close enough, he had to throw himself to the side again to escape it’s jaws, but he wasn’t quick enough to get on his feet as the bear turned again, nearly taking his head in his teeth if not for the poleaxe between it’s lips.
Ilyas pushed back against the head of the bear with all the strength he could muster, slowing its steady descent towards his face and bending the wooden handle of the poleaxe with too much ease. It’s spit dripped from its mouth and onto his face, its warm breath choking his own. Thoughts flooded his head and time seemed to slow. Einar would never see his family again, Ilyas would never know more than his name, Dean and Kymil would be left wondering what became of their bodies and Qwin would freeze to death alone, lost in the forest of ice.
And as he stared down the throat of his bear, he felt anger.
His grip tightened, lost energy suddenly dripping forward, and perhaps it was his imagination, but the bear's push seemed to suddenly falter for the barest of seconds and his hands warm in the briefest of moments.
He could feel the large claws begin to tear into the skin of his chest when a shot rang out.
His ears rang, and he lost whatever he was concentrating on but the bear stumbled enough for him to rip the poleaxe from its jaws to plunge the hard tipped end into its soft palate. The metal of the weapon burying itself into the skull of the animal. Its sudden struggle sputters out almost immediately as its head dips to the side, body following as it flops to the left of Ilyas, its heavy body producing a loud thump in the thick snow, Ilyas’ body partially crushed by the animal.
He lets out a breath he didn’t know was trapped in his lungs, as his chest heaved to catch his missing breath. Frozen in place as he waited for the ringing in his ears to quiet. He lay still, his mind attempting to catch up with his body, hands still gripping the now bloody poleaxe.
Where did that shot come from? Is Einar okay?
He jolted at the sudden thought.
Ilyas crawls out from under the bear, letting go of the weapon and willing the adrenaline back into his blood. Taking large strides towards the red stained snow where Einar had fallen when he escaped the weight of the bear.
“Einar!”
His voice felt raw, and the winds seemingly picked up.
He eventually locks eyes with him, and kneels at his side. Taking in his damaged body. His eyes seemed unfocused but he was still awake. His bloody chest moving up and down in uneven breaths. His arms seemed to be in the worst condition, but his neck was still in working order despite some almost too deep cuts.
Einar held the seemingly abandoned gun in his hand, sword not too far from his body. He was shaking, which was good, but he worried that it wouldn't last long when the sun set, which was happening pretty much at this moment. Not to mention he was still bleeding.
He needed to get him out of here and to Kymil.
“I’ll be right back.”
He runs over to his previous spot but not before digging Einars lantern from the snow. It seemed as if it might have started to freeze, and the flame was out, but he was sure he could get it on again. Ilyas grabs his spear and the blanket he dropped, quickly making his way back to Einar and dropping to his side.
What he wouldn’t give for a medical kit right now. He was stupid not to bring one in his light bag.
He lays the blanket out next to Einar, wrapping his poleaxe in one end. It was getting darker, and he decided to use the last of the light to get the lantern back on. He was lucky he had some matches on him, using 3 of them to get the wic to light again, just as the sun disappeared.
Ilyas sets the lantern down between him and Einar. Bringing his arms under his shoulders and knees, preparing himself to lift the man the few inches he needed to get him on the blanket. Counting down in his head and taking a deep breath-
“Roll me.”
He stopped in his tracks. His voice was weak, but Ilyas was glad he could still muster a voice.
“No. You’re bleeding and I’m not risking further injury.”
Einar had the audacity to huff at him.
“You’re going to hurt yourself, I’m nearly twice your size.”
“I only need to lift you for a few half-seconds.”
He huffs again, but seems to brace himself for the lift, closing his eyes and clutching his middle a little tighter. Ilyas prepares himself again, willing strength into his arms and lifting the man. Only holding him for a second before he's over the blanket and putting him down as gently as possible.
Einar grunts in clear pain, but the bleeding didn’t seem to be any worse in the low light.
He grabs Einar’s kopis and gun, tying the sword to his hip and storing the gun in a spare loop on his belt. He removes his cloak to lay over his friend, a large shutter immediately taking his body, as the cold sinks into his bones.
He’ll make it back, and when he gets Einar back to camp and in the warmth of a fire, he’ll take his cloak back and look for Qwin before the oil in the lamp runs out.
Easy.
“You need your coat.”
His voice was getting shaky, and Ilyas was growing afraid. He wasn’t sure if he hoped the shaky voice was from the wounds or the cold.
Ilyas moves again, grabbing his poleaxe and the blanket around it, hooking the lantern on the axe front of the poleaxe as he begins pulling him back to camp.
“Did you hear me? Just because you run high does not mean you get to be reckless.”
Ilyas ignores him, moving as quickly as he can in the snow. He can feel his adrenaline start to wear off, and the snow turns icy. His legs and arms burned from the extra weight, and he could almost feel his inter temperature steadily drop the longer he found himself being pelted by ice that only melted when it touched his skin, and cut by the wind. He shook violently but he matched forward.
“You were already sick.”
He didn’t, couldn’t respond to Einar. He just hoped he kept talking.
He continued forward, his breathing labored as he moved as fast as he could though the snow. His hair was freezing without his hood, and his face felt frozen. He didn’t wanna think about how close or far the camp was, he was only grateful he managed to keep a sense of direction.
The scary part of this last half of the trip was that Einar had stopped talking a few minutes ago.
As he moved closer and closer to the camp he could see hints of its light in the distance, Kymil should be able to pick out the light of the lantern soon, and sure enough. When Ilyas was close to collapsing he suddenly found the poleaxe being taken from his hands, Dean at his side as she practically dragged him into the tent followed by Kymil, who, despite being weakened around heat, joined them in the tent to begin healing Einar.
He felt hypnotized, like his limbs weren’t his own.
They were both covered in thermal blankets, and Ilyas got his blood-covered cloak back so that Kymil could get a better look at Einars wounds. Cutting open his wools as to not disturb any of the more serious injuries.
He was pretty sure they had extras.
“What happened?”
Dean’s slightly panicked voice broke through his trance. He clears his throat and attempts to blink away how unfocused his eyes were.
“I found Einar being attacked by a bear, we managed to take it down. He’s hurt.”
He shivers, and he can’t recall when he had stopped on that last half of the, frankly, short journey.
Ilyas looks over Einar’s body, his senses still foggy. He could see Kymil's magic doing its work, large slashes being zipped back up like nothing happened, Kymil and Einar would just need some rest afterwards. At this point it wasn’t wounds he needed to worry about. Kymil was a skilled healer, now they just needed to make sure Einar wouldn’t lose any more body heat.
He probably needed some rest too but, why did it feel like he couldn’t rest yet?
“I’m forgetting something…”
He mumbled, talking mostly to himself at this point. He pushes through the fog of his brain before a bolt of panic shot through him. Bringing him to his feet immediately.
Qwin was still out there.