Page 40 of Tusks & Saddles

Chapter Thirteen

Welborn

T he moment Miss Eaves fell, Welborn had felt something desperate in him snap.

Whether it was his fear for her safety or an intense desire to protect her, clarity on the matter was out of reach.

But the moment she had fallen, Welborn was back in that unknown forest. He was staring up at the night sky, with only the light of Eluthka and Chandris to illuminate the hair on his mother’s head beside his own.

Not again, he thought, resolutely. Not. Again!

Welborn tore the holy symbol from his neck and raised it to the sky.

“All Seer! I could really use your help right about now!”

A prayer, a plea—the young cleric could only hold onto his faith in the moment. The divine energy within his hand was warm, a sign that the All Seer was there. But whether the deity would grant Welborn the magic he craved in the moment depended on if they could hear him now.

Please, All Seer! Please hear my prayer !

The desire, the wish, an intention—whatever it was that bonded Welborn to the god burst from his hand.

The same divine fire that had manifested in his hand crackled and popped above his head.

The heat was intense, but Welborn had felt a fire like this before, and knew he just needed to maintain his connection so a miracle could happen.

A burst of wind surged from his hand and that heat suddenly sparked as tiny motes of fiery light winked into existence around him. Welborn wasn’t sure what it was, but his faith in the All Seer kept his mind open to their will. The motes grew brighter, until Welborn realized what he was looking at.

Tiny, humanoid fey creatures were buzzing around him. Wings like humming birds, but made of fire, with glowing antennas—Welborn winced, eyes squinting as their light hurt to stare at for more than a moment. Still, he recognized their features all the same for what they were.

Fire pixies—specifically fire pixies from the plane of fire.

The tiny creatures left a trail of smoke in their wake as they all darted off toward the tumbleweeds.

As if they knew Welborn’s intent, the tiny pixies dove toward the tumbleweed monsters, bypassing the large roots and barbarous thistles.

Laughter—so small, Welborn would have mistaken them for bells—rang out in the air as before his very eyes, the plant creatures began to shriek.

A spark became a flame, a flame became a fire, and soon the tumbleweeds were all screaming as they rolled away.

The fire pixies did not take the retreat to heart, darting in and out of the tumbleweeds and burning as they went.

Welborn kept his eyes on the rolling monsters, holding his hand aloft as he tried to keep the connection to the All Seer alive.

Channeling the amount of divine magic he was already pushing his endurance, but Welborn refused to give up. Not when Miss Eaves needed him .

The swarm rewarded his faith, diving like the dolphins he’d seen off the Chroma Coast into the plant creatures interior.

A loud, shrill cry, and suddenly they were dropping off one by one.

Welborn didn’t lower his arm until the very last tumbleweed came to a stop, burning away the roots, thistles, and yellow gore away.

Miss Eaves!

As quickly as his arm had dropped, Welborn felt the connection to the All Seer become a narrow bit of string once more.

Gone was the doorway and with it, the fire pixies winked out of existence, spiriting away to their home in the fire realm.

Welborn would thank his god later, but his intention was to close the distance between himself and the fallen woman.

Welborn landed on his knees, hard. The pain would be of consequence later, as he hurriedly helped Miss Eaves to sit up.

She was slow, sluggish, and blasted it all, Welborn couldn’t see what she looked like!

He couldn’t tell from looking at her if she was okay or not.

His fear was setting him on edge when he caught sight of the knot in her skirts.

A large thorn had pierced her upper thigh and blood was soaking the material.

“Miss Eaves!”

“Poison,” she huffed. “It’s poison. Gotta get this out.”

“Okay—I—okay,” Welborn stumbled, hand reaching for the barb. “Do you—”

“Pull it out, for Ordia’s sake!” Miss Eaves snapped.

She didn’t have to tell him twice as the cleric took a steady hand to the thorn and yanked with all his might. The slide out was fast, but the noise Miss Eaves made was one of pain, despite her bravo .

“Gotta stop the spread,” Miss Eaves managed between clenched teeth. “Before…before more of those bastards show up and it gets too dark.”

He hadn’t noticed, but during the battle the sun had nearly disappeared beneath the horizon. Welborn tried to keep his mind on the task at hand, but his nerves shot up at the sight of Sandy nosing at Miss Eaves horse. Half of their traveling troupe was on the verge of—

“I—” Welborn’s free hand reached for his satchel. “I have something for that!”

The chunk of quartz he kept on hand for healing was right where he had left it. Welborn freed the gemstone from his satchel and stretched an arm out toward Miss Eaves injury—

She jerked back.

Welborn froze, lifting his gaze to stare at where he thought hers were in a panic. The implication of what she may have thought—what she thought his intentions were—

“It’s not like that!” Welborn exclaimed, voice pitching high in a way it hadn’t seen his nineteenth year. “I’m not—I would never—”

“Welborn!” she snapped. “ Stop apologizing and —”

Her voice had changed. Miss Eaves had the kind of voice that sent shivers down Welborn’s spine, but this…

it sounded otherworldly. As if the woman had grown several tongues and spoke with every one of them.

Welborn was so stunned, he hadn’t realized he’d been shocked into silence until she spoke again.

“Help me,” Miss Eaves said with a wince. “Please.”

It was Welborn’s training that pushed his nerves aside.

Whatever affection—however much he denied it—Welborn had for the woman wasn’t as important as saving her life.

Miss Eaves had steadied her frame with the aid of her hands, pressing them back into the dirt.

Her weapon lay within reach, which was a bit of relief.

If Miss Eaves thought he was crossing some kind of line between them, Welborn wouldn’t begrudge her if she chose to shoot him.

Hell, both his father and brother would have knocked his head from his shoulders if he ever tried anything against a lady’s wishes.

Welborn carefully pushed Miss Eaves’ skirts aside.

There were so many layers, he hadn’t realized that the bottom-most skirt had a cut down the side.

Or rather, that it had been designed that way.

Professional healer or not, Welborn was still a man and he would be lying if he said he was a little bit distracted as he pushed the final layer aside and—

Oh, All Seer!

It was worse than Miss Eaves had let on.

Where the barb had been was broken skin, an angry wound that looked almost like an infection.

The entry point on her thigh was oozing that same yellow sludge the tumbleweeds had.

Discolored wounds were never a good sign.

With haste, Welborn brought the gemstone to the entrance of the wound, pressing the sharp tip into it—

“ Dauntless Verity! ”

Welborn’s ear perked up at the goddess’ name.

The Dauntless Verity was the name for the being who guarded over the domain of justice, harmony, and fairness.

A ancient white dragon that the old souls of Ordia used to seek counsel with in times of strife.

She was worshiped by nobles, lawmen, and those who were seeking justice—something Welborn could ask about later as he tapped into the quartz’s latent power.

All Seer, please help direct this toxin into the crystal, Welborn prayed. Please help Miss Eaves.

The divinity within Welborn’s hand shimmered, light pooling like a star shooting through the night sky.

It collected within the gemstone, glowing brightly like fireflies.

From within the wound, Welborn could see the poison drawn toward the light.

Moths to a flame, the discoloration of Miss Eave’s wound began to lose its sickly color.

Diseased yellow began to shift to a healthy shade.

Unlike other clerics, he had been gifted with a deity that was generous enough with their knowledge.

He knew that crystals—specifically quartz—were ideal for healing when used alongside divine magic.

Miss Eaves was tense beneath Welborn’s hands, but if she could endure the slow process of the purification, he was sure she’d recover with little issue.

Don’t forget about yourself, Welby!

Boone’s voice—a voice Welborn could barely remember—echoed loudly in his mind.

Healing—even something as simple as purification of disease or poisons, took a bit out of most clerics and paladins.

Welborn could already feel the exhaustion settling in his shoulders.

The day had already been taxing enough with all the new stimuli to engage with—all the new sights and smells.

Not to mention the ache in his bones from riding a horse.

I’ll be fine, Welborn thought to his brother’s voice inside his head that was really his own brain. Stop worrying about me!

It was ridiculous, but as the adrenaline began to subside and the crystal went from clear to a brilliant lemon, Welborn finally breathed with ease.

Miss Eaves—Welborn still couldn’t see her, but the way her fists had relaxed behind her was a good sign.

If he had lessened her pain even just a little bit, Welborn would thank the All Seer tenfold before bed that night.

When the divinity ebbed and the quartz grew still, Welborn gently pulled it from Miss Eave’s injury.

The poison was now safely trapped within the quartz and subsequently neutralized.

He wouldn’t be able to use it again, but it had been worth the cost to use it.

Miss Eaves wouldn’t suffer the effects of the toxins and Welborn was certain if he could get five minutes to catch his breath, he would be able to heal the injury on Miss Eaves lilac skin—

“Lilac?” he murmured in wonder.

Miss Eaves skin—her thigh that Welborn had just now noticed the soft, plushness—it was lilac.

“Shut it,” Miss Eaves murmured.

If Welborn didn’t know better, he’d think she sounded bashful.

The thought would have given him the advantage if he wasn’t so amazed at the lilac thigh within reach of his scarred hand.

A color that Welborn had only really seen in the waters of the Chroma Coast and the flowers of the same namesake.

It wasn’t a color that Welborn would give any thought, too, as he wore none of it himself and it had no association with any deity that he could think of in the—

“I—” Welborn cleared his throat. “If you give me a bit, I can heal that with—”

Miss Eaves shook her head, “Save your magic, Welborn. I can take care of this the old fashioned way if you can check up on the horses? ”

He didn’t like the idea of Miss Eaves tending to her injury, but Welborn knew she was right.

Miss Eaves was always right. Shuffling to his feet, Welborn kept Miss Eaves in the corner of his vision as he approached the horses.

She had reached for her own pack, which hopefully meant she was reaching for the tonic and bandages—

She’s the most prepared person in all of Ordia, of course she has a healer’s kit, Welborn thought.

Sandy was a bit wary, but she relaxed as Welborn ran his hands over her sides. Other than a small nick to her hind leg, she appeared fine. Miss Eaves horse, on the other hand…

Welborn pulled his hat down, placing it over his heart.

“I’m so sorry.”