Healer of Sakkara

Chapter 19 - Flight

Remembering as much as he could from his view above the trees, Galen pointed them in what he hoped was the right direction, and they set off, single-file with Iksthanis in the lead.

The gigantic man plowed through the dense boughs as if through grass, heedless of scratches and cuts. Behind him, Behn helped clear away what obstacles remained. Zenír came next, one hand looped through a strap on Behn's pack, and Galen guided him from behind. Sevhalim followed Galen, with Triss, Rea, and Obi bringing up the rear.

From above, the land had appeared to fall away at a gentle slope towards the edge of the pines; below it looked much different.

There were more small ravines to cross—not deep, but steep and slippery. After sliding down one side, they scrambled to scale the other, and what cost them dearly in effort and time often brought them only a stone's throw closer to their goal. Meanwhile, the woods echoed with eerie calls—high wailing howls and low clicking growls, and the flashes of white grew nearer and more frequent.

The barrowlings were closing in.

Already weary with fear and lack of sleep, everyone fell at least once, and everyone helped their comrades as best they could. Zenír needed the most assistance, being unable to see the hand and foot-holds the others reached for so easily.

Near the top of another narrow gully, he took hold of a protruding root which proved too thin, and broke in his hand. He fell, knocking Galen and Sevhalim down with him.

They landed in a heap at the bottom, but the drop was only about twice a man's height, and they were unharmed. Galen and Sev picked themselves up quickly, but Zenír remained where he was.

"Zen? Are you hurt?" Sev asked, bending over him where he sat.

Zenír shook his head. "I am not injured."

"Then get up. I know you are tired. We all are. But we must—"

"I'm slowing you down, Sev," Zenír said quietly. "You need to get the p'yrha to safety. I—"

"Oh, no you don't!" Iksthanis slid back down to the bottom, grabbed Zenír's arm and hauled him to his feet. "Don't you dare. You've paid enough, Zen. Don't make me pay, too."

Galen didn't know what they spoke of, but there seemed to be some private understanding between the pair. Zenír's face twisted with a mix of pain and grief, but he shook his head.

"I'm not after redemption, 'Thanis," he said softly, his gaze fixed somewhere over the other man's shoulder. "I'm being realistic."

"You want realistic? Okay."

Before the smaller man knew what was happening, Iksthanis had him on his back, arms looped around his neck and legs locked around his waist.

"Hold on," he said, and in a few quick movements, scaled the wall of the ravine again. "How's that for realistic?" he huffed, setting Zenír on his feet again. "You need help, you ask for it, Zen. None of this 'leave me behind' shit. Understand?"

Zenír nodded, eyes angled at the ground, and Iksthanis gave a snort of approval before turning and blazing on through the brush. The rest scaled the wall easily enough, and Behn took Zenír's hand and looped it through the straps of his pack once more.

"Come on," he said gently. "Let's go."

As Galen reached the top of the ravine's edge and witnessed this, he smiled. Behn was a good friend to all, he reflected, and they were lucky to have him at their sides. Meanwhile, it seemed there might be something stronger than friendship between Iksthanis and Zenír.