Northbound Pilgrimage II

Chapter LXXXVIII - Desperate Times

"Her pulse is still weak. I don't know what else to do."

Aeyrin sighed as she once again let her hand slide back from Karliah's throat.

When Bishop noticed Karliah's limp body in the snow, both of them quickly made their way across the river, using convenient stepping stones, and to the other bank. Despite the exhaustion, once more they sprang into action and pushed themselves to find out what happened to her.

She was lying in the snow with her eyes closed and a gash across her throat. She looked dead.

But she wasn't.

There was not nearly enough blood on the snow for her to have bled out and she still had a pulse, although a very weak one. Aeyrin didn't hesitate to use her remaining energy to heal the gash and, upon further inspection, they noticed that her leather armor was soaked around her stomach as well. They uncovered her skin enough to see the wound and Aeyrin promptly got to work on that as well. It wasn't perfect. She needed a break, but she at least closed the wound a little. Karliah should have been safe. She should have been fine. She didn't lose too much blood and her wounds weren't even gushing as much as they should have been. Why was her heartbeat so weak?

Their next guess was the cold, even though she didn't look frostbitten. But they were certainly both freezing as well, still soaked to the bone and covered in snow. They all needed to hide away somewhere to recuperate and try to help Karliah some more.

Luckily the hideout of the Altmer thieves was close and the place was perfect.

Bishop took Karliah in his arms with palpable effort, but they had to hold on just a little longer. Just a bit more effort and they would finally be safe and able to rest.

The hideout was fortunately still empty and they could finally set up somewhere properly. They carefully stripped the unconscious Karliah of her armor, soaked by the snow and blood, and they put her in a bed nearest to the fireplace so that she could thaw out under the thick fur blankets. Aeyrin had been monitoring her life signs periodically, but not much had changed the entire time.

"You've done all you could, ladyship. She'll recover," Bishop gave her a small smile. Karliah's wounds had been completely healed by now, she was just still... unresponsive. "We've both gotten out of worse states, right?"

Aeyrin nodded at him absentmindedly. That was true. Bishop had been much worse off after the ambush in the safehouse and he had recovered fully. She herself had definitely got out of worse too, like after the vampire bites near Solitude or after Thorn.

Karliah didn't bleed out nearly as much. Although... that was strange. Her neck wound should have been lethal. How come there was so little blood? There wasn't even any trail of it behind her so she couldn't have bled out someplace else.

But there was nothing more that Aeyrin could do for her now. So, after another dejected sigh, she moved over towards Bishop by the fireplace.

He had been inspecting the contents of his pack right then. They've already both gotten out of their armors and washed them and had them drying by the fireplace along with their clothes. Bishop only grabbed the trousers that he usually wore for sleeping – those were the first thing he dragged from his pack and dried by the flames while he was taking a bath – and Aeyrin did the same with his old shirt that now belonged to her. The rest of their clothes were all drying in the bathing chambers, but there were still their remaining belongings to go through. Their packs were soaked through and through.

She grabbed her pack as well and began to inspect the damage.

Potions and equipment were all fine, of course, just wet. She was much more anxious about her books and letters. And she was right to be. She quickly began to open a few of her letters from Master Therien, careful not to tear them in the process, but most of them were beyond recovery. The ink was smudged everywhere and the paper was like a drenched washcloth. There was no saving her old Mentor's words.