[Durelin]

It was a struggle for them to try and move the Dwarf, Khamir with only one hand and Adnan with only one that was very usable. They more often all but dragged him than carried him, and though they winced each time the dropped him down to the ground, they knew that it was no good to leave him on the battlefield, even for the time being. They did not fully understand what kind of injuries he might have, and so they were rushing him toward someone that hopefully would. From time to time Khamir would have Adnan stop and they'd check Vrór’s pulse and listen to his breathing for a moment, and after each time the number of minutes between each check would grow smaller.

Khamir thought his breathing was shallow, and that worried him deeply. His heart felt torn to pieces, as he looked from the Dwarf to the boy and then thought of Shae and Hadith and... He had never cared for so many people in his life, and never so deeply even for any one. It made him feel so helpless, so without control. He did not even know where Shae was. He had not seen her for hours. He had not seen Hadith since the beginning of the battle. Adnan had disappeared on him in a matter of moments, and when he found the young man again, he was covered in blood and missing his two middle fingers. And now Vrór, who he had barely known of for more than a day, lay unconscious before him.

“Khamir?” the voice sounded rougher than he remembered it, but it still certainly belonged to Adnan. It was the first time the boy had spoken in some time, and it startled the one-armed man so that he almost dropped the hold his left hand had on Dwarf’s wrists. His shoulder ached, and the slight disruption was enough to cause the arms to slowly slide out of his grip, no matter how he tried to hold them up.

“Drop him!” he said in a strained voice. Adnan obeyed, and they rest Vrór on the ground together. Sliding the chainmail from his left shoulder with a groan, Khamir asked, “What is it, Adnan?” a little more sharply than he meant to. The boy did not seem affected, though. It was strange. Likely he would have at least faltered at such a tone just a day earlier, perhaps even simply an hour ago.

“What are we doing? If we’re worried about the slavers getting to the women and children, what is the point of bringing the Dwarf to where they are?”

Khamir knew he had a good point, but he felt anger rise in him, and the ache of his body clouded his mind. His senses were not around to protect him from himself, and he snapped at the boy. “Do you value his life so little? Do you not have any idea what he has done for us?”

Adnan snapped back at him immediately. He had changed. “No, I don’t have any idea. And you think you do? He just showed up last night!”

“I do know that he had much more to sacrifice than any of us have ever had,” the older man spat, and both of them grew silent.

Khamir growled from frustration directed at practically everything around him. “What are we doing?” is a better question to ask now, he thought bitterly. But he did not know the answer, regardless of when or how it was asked. He did not know what to do. He had always been the one with ideas, people had looked to him to follow him…and he had hated that they did. When he lost that, he hated that it was gone.

Now he was completely lost.

“We just have to get there. For Vrór, and for the others. They’ll need all the help they can get.”

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

Nasim was cradling a younger man named Zaki in his arms when Khamir and Adnan found him. Gamal, a man who appeared older than Khamir stood beside him. Blood covered his shirt, but he appeared fine. Nasim had received a gash on his leg, but he paid it no mind as he looked down into the lifeless face of Zaki. His tears mingled with the blood on the dead man’s forehead. They had found freedom together, but they had not seen a new beginning together.

They pulled Nasim away from his friend, and the going was easier with the help of two more men to carry Vrór. No one spoke as they moved, but each of their minds were filled with the same fears. As they carried the Dwarf as a precious cargo toward the rocks, they carried a comrade, not a stranger from a strange land, and repeatedly glanced at his still form with bated breath.