Part II
Sounsyy's eyes flickered but saw only darkness. Someone, somewhere was shrieking? The sound echoed within her ears as if she were under water, the siren's shrill song mere ilms from her ears. Her equilibrium disturbed her. She tried to rise, and imagined she did, but there was no up, no down, only the uneven rocking and jostling which upset her stomach. Was she... running?
Her eyes opened to slits. Darkness, like before, but something moved in the darkness. As if she were truly submerged beneath the Indigo Deep and some great serpent ghost moved just beyond reach. Then a form materialized in the deep sea darkness, a siren, calling softly to her.
Cambre? she thought. But the shrieking only intensified in response. The siren moved from the darkness, their faces almost touching. And upon viewing the siren's closed lips, realized the shrieks were coming from her own mouth.
"Gods, lass, keep 'er still! Keep 'er from bitin' the tube!" The Roegadyn chirurgeon growled in exasperation. His brow was creased in deep concentration as he carefully measured droplets of vanilla extract with the crushed leaves of belladonna. Caerkoel was all but straddling the flailing Miqo'te. Her fragile frame thrashed and screeched, her eyes locked upwards yet unseeing.
"What's wrong with her?!" Caerkoel yelled back. Her head and shoulders were slumped over with exhaustion. She had barely slept since Carteneau and dark circles were evident beneath her eyes. The chirurgeon gave her a look over his shoulder. He had slept even less, and the Miqo'te soldier was not his only charge. He sighed, replying, "She's feverish. If the lass don't die o' 'er wounds, she'll die o' infection. There's not much I can do for 'er out 'ere until we reach Ul'dah."
"We're days yet."
"This journey is doin' little to 'elp. Best I can do is keep 'er under. Pray that the Thanalan heat 'elps break the fever. Remember, keep 'er body covered. It's 'ot as the seven 'ells out 'ere but them burns are makin' 'er lose heat," the Roegadyn said as he forced the solution he'd concocted down Sounsyy's breathing tube via a device which aerosolized the liquid.
The Miqo'te continued thrashing in the moments that followed, but her actions became sluggish and lethargic, until finally her body relaxed and fell back under sedation. The chirurgeon sighed at the small victory before reattaching a small, bag-like contraption to the end of the tube and directing it at Caerkoel. He said, "Keep squeezin' it. Breathe when you take your breath."
"For how long?" Caerkoel asked as she took a hold of the bag and began squeezing it gently. She had watched one of the other chirurgeons do the same for the last day or so before his strength finally gave out and he was forced to retire.
"Until you're ready to let your friend pass," he said flatly, "The medicine... it keeps 'er from feelin', but it also keeps 'er from breathin' on 'er own. You stop, she dies. But if ya can't go no longer, I'll get someone to take over for ya. Til then Sultansworn, I must needs make me rounds."
"Merlgeyss," Caerkoel stammered after the chirurgeon, "Thank you... for all that you've done."
Merlgeyss Myrgantoumsyn said nothing as he left.
Nearly two suns had come and gone. Caerkoel held onto her strength as long as she could, but in the end was forced to relinquish hold of Sounsyy's breathing apparatus to another. The trek across the desert had been an arduous one. The hellfire rained down by the calamitous destruction of Dalamud had sorely damaged the landscape. Some passageways through the mountains were no longer passable, and many of the tunnels through Nanawa which led into central Thanalan were no more.
A sun was spent navigating safe passage through the altered terrain, but when the caravan finally set up for the night, the Jewel of the Desert could just be made out in the distance. Still it stood, defiant against the Calamity and for this Caerkoel breathed her thanks to Nald'thal. It was small consolation in the face of all that had been lost. The Eorzean Alliance had been broken and defeated. Still the Immortal Flames battled a host to secure their borders. How many were dead? How many still were going to die? As if in answer to Caerkoel's query, the chirurgeon Merlgeyss caught her glance as he exited a tent, a grim expression marring his face. Deep creases had formed on his skin and the shadows of fatigue were dark within their folds. Caerkoel approached the campfire to which he had retired for just a moment's respite before returning to his charges. He looked at her with head hung and shoulders heavy.
"Two more dead," he said, indicating the tent he had just vacated.
"Ul'dah is upon the horizon. No more than a sun's travel once we reach the Starway. Will the rest make it?"
"Impossible to say. What succor could be spent 'as been. We'd only be riskin' the 'ealers' lives to push 'em harder. Some are already my patients. My skills are limited by supplies. When those run out..."
"Do not dwell on that outcome. We're nearly home."
"Tis my duty to accept the eventuality. There are many wounded 'ere who won't last the night. Much less the last leg on the morrow. Your friend might be among those. So, if you don't mind my askin', how'd ya know 'er? Her bein' Maelstrom n' all."
Caerkoel let out a slow deep breath, unsure at first how to answer his question or if she should. But Merlgeyss had gone out of his way to save the soldier, he had earned at least an explanation. Caerkoel finally opened her mouth to speak but Merlgeyss held up his hand saying, "If it's not my business, it's fine."
Caerkoel shook her head at him, "Are you familiar with the Corpse Brigade?"
"What chirurgeon ain't?"
"Once the royal guard of the Mad King, they were no strangers to murder, kidnapping, and the like. Without a King to hold their chain, they served only themselves, turning their foul talents on Ul'dah's wealthy for recompense for their suffering. While nowadays many Ala Mhigans find their acts damnable, back then... their call to action enticed many a hot blooded youth down a darker path. That's how I met Sounsyy."
Merlgeyss offered only a gruff acknowledgement. "So ya set 'er on the right path did ya?"
"No, I sent her down one much darker," Caerkoel admitted, keeping her gaze on the campfire ahead when Merlgeyss cast a sidelong glance at her. She swallowed hard and continued, "We Sultansworn acted swiftly to put them down. Most escaped our raid, some killed, one injured and captured - this poor girl, who'd only seen fifteen summers. She was my only chance at dismantling the Corpse Brigade before more people would come to harm. But she knew nothing of use. I visited her after the Brass Blades were done interrogating her... the look she gave me... has haunted me for ten cycles since. Blinded by my ambition, I wronged her further. But when I saw her face on that battlefield, I knew Nald had given me another chance to right those wrongs. Which is why you cannot let her die."
Merlgeyss rose, staring ahead into the bleak surrounds. "I make no promise miss," he said, "Nald may 'ave offered ya another chance, but Thal 'as the last say."
He left then, in the direction of the medical tents. Merlgeyss had another sleepless night ahead of him. Caerkoel's gaze remained fixed on the distant Jewel, her heart heavy.
Sounsyy's eyes flickered but saw only darkness. Someone, somewhere was shrieking? The sound echoed within her ears as if she were under water, the siren's shrill song mere ilms from her ears. Her equilibrium disturbed her. She tried to rise, and imagined she did, but there was no up, no down, only the uneven rocking and jostling which upset her stomach. Was she... running?
Her eyes opened to slits. Darkness, like before, but something moved in the darkness. As if she were truly submerged beneath the Indigo Deep and some great serpent ghost moved just beyond reach. Then a form materialized in the deep sea darkness, a siren, calling softly to her.
Cambre? she thought. But the shrieking only intensified in response. The siren moved from the darkness, their faces almost touching. And upon viewing the siren's closed lips, realized the shrieks were coming from her own mouth.
"Gods, lass, keep 'er still! Keep 'er from bitin' the tube!" The Roegadyn chirurgeon growled in exasperation. His brow was creased in deep concentration as he carefully measured droplets of vanilla extract with the crushed leaves of belladonna. Caerkoel was all but straddling the flailing Miqo'te. Her fragile frame thrashed and screeched, her eyes locked upwards yet unseeing.
"What's wrong with her?!" Caerkoel yelled back. Her head and shoulders were slumped over with exhaustion. She had barely slept since Carteneau and dark circles were evident beneath her eyes. The chirurgeon gave her a look over his shoulder. He had slept even less, and the Miqo'te soldier was not his only charge. He sighed, replying, "She's feverish. If the lass don't die o' 'er wounds, she'll die o' infection. There's not much I can do for 'er out 'ere until we reach Ul'dah."
"We're days yet."
"This journey is doin' little to 'elp. Best I can do is keep 'er under. Pray that the Thanalan heat 'elps break the fever. Remember, keep 'er body covered. It's 'ot as the seven 'ells out 'ere but them burns are makin' 'er lose heat," the Roegadyn said as he forced the solution he'd concocted down Sounsyy's breathing tube via a device which aerosolized the liquid.
The Miqo'te continued thrashing in the moments that followed, but her actions became sluggish and lethargic, until finally her body relaxed and fell back under sedation. The chirurgeon sighed at the small victory before reattaching a small, bag-like contraption to the end of the tube and directing it at Caerkoel. He said, "Keep squeezin' it. Breathe when you take your breath."
"For how long?" Caerkoel asked as she took a hold of the bag and began squeezing it gently. She had watched one of the other chirurgeons do the same for the last day or so before his strength finally gave out and he was forced to retire.
"Until you're ready to let your friend pass," he said flatly, "The medicine... it keeps 'er from feelin', but it also keeps 'er from breathin' on 'er own. You stop, she dies. But if ya can't go no longer, I'll get someone to take over for ya. Til then Sultansworn, I must needs make me rounds."
"Merlgeyss," Caerkoel stammered after the chirurgeon, "Thank you... for all that you've done."
Merlgeyss Myrgantoumsyn said nothing as he left.
Nearly two suns had come and gone. Caerkoel held onto her strength as long as she could, but in the end was forced to relinquish hold of Sounsyy's breathing apparatus to another. The trek across the desert had been an arduous one. The hellfire rained down by the calamitous destruction of Dalamud had sorely damaged the landscape. Some passageways through the mountains were no longer passable, and many of the tunnels through Nanawa which led into central Thanalan were no more.
A sun was spent navigating safe passage through the altered terrain, but when the caravan finally set up for the night, the Jewel of the Desert could just be made out in the distance. Still it stood, defiant against the Calamity and for this Caerkoel breathed her thanks to Nald'thal. It was small consolation in the face of all that had been lost. The Eorzean Alliance had been broken and defeated. Still the Immortal Flames battled a host to secure their borders. How many were dead? How many still were going to die? As if in answer to Caerkoel's query, the chirurgeon Merlgeyss caught her glance as he exited a tent, a grim expression marring his face. Deep creases had formed on his skin and the shadows of fatigue were dark within their folds. Caerkoel approached the campfire to which he had retired for just a moment's respite before returning to his charges. He looked at her with head hung and shoulders heavy.
"Two more dead," he said, indicating the tent he had just vacated.
"Ul'dah is upon the horizon. No more than a sun's travel once we reach the Starway. Will the rest make it?"
"Impossible to say. What succor could be spent 'as been. We'd only be riskin' the 'ealers' lives to push 'em harder. Some are already my patients. My skills are limited by supplies. When those run out..."
"Do not dwell on that outcome. We're nearly home."
"Tis my duty to accept the eventuality. There are many wounded 'ere who won't last the night. Much less the last leg on the morrow. Your friend might be among those. So, if you don't mind my askin', how'd ya know 'er? Her bein' Maelstrom n' all."
Caerkoel let out a slow deep breath, unsure at first how to answer his question or if she should. But Merlgeyss had gone out of his way to save the soldier, he had earned at least an explanation. Caerkoel finally opened her mouth to speak but Merlgeyss held up his hand saying, "If it's not my business, it's fine."
Caerkoel shook her head at him, "Are you familiar with the Corpse Brigade?"
"What chirurgeon ain't?"
"Once the royal guard of the Mad King, they were no strangers to murder, kidnapping, and the like. Without a King to hold their chain, they served only themselves, turning their foul talents on Ul'dah's wealthy for recompense for their suffering. While nowadays many Ala Mhigans find their acts damnable, back then... their call to action enticed many a hot blooded youth down a darker path. That's how I met Sounsyy."
Merlgeyss offered only a gruff acknowledgement. "So ya set 'er on the right path did ya?"
"No, I sent her down one much darker," Caerkoel admitted, keeping her gaze on the campfire ahead when Merlgeyss cast a sidelong glance at her. She swallowed hard and continued, "We Sultansworn acted swiftly to put them down. Most escaped our raid, some killed, one injured and captured - this poor girl, who'd only seen fifteen summers. She was my only chance at dismantling the Corpse Brigade before more people would come to harm. But she knew nothing of use. I visited her after the Brass Blades were done interrogating her... the look she gave me... has haunted me for ten cycles since. Blinded by my ambition, I wronged her further. But when I saw her face on that battlefield, I knew Nald had given me another chance to right those wrongs. Which is why you cannot let her die."
Merlgeyss rose, staring ahead into the bleak surrounds. "I make no promise miss," he said, "Nald may 'ave offered ya another chance, but Thal 'as the last say."
He left then, in the direction of the medical tents. Merlgeyss had another sleepless night ahead of him. Caerkoel's gaze remained fixed on the distant Jewel, her heart heavy.