Chapter 47: Singing in Blackness

Dregan? Dregan? Vivi’s mental question got no response. “He’s not answering!”

“Sh!” Zentarou had stopped dead, listening, ears twitching. “Listen!” All three fell silent, then softly, ever so softly, they heard a noise. It faded in and out of their hearing, but it was noise.

“Could it be Dregan?” asked Orko. Vivi knelt at the edge and peered over.

“I see something, below us.” The other two knelt and looked, trying to see through the dark.

“Yeah, it’s something,” confirmed Zentarou. “Long and... shady.”

“It’s a Path!” They followed it around with their eyes, and saw that it connected to their current Path. Then Zentarou saw something, and ran a bit on ahead.

“Look there!” He pointed. A shadow - or something - was on the Path. Zentarou conjured up a light orb, and gently - but carefully - tossed it. And they held their breaths.

The orb floated through the black air, and landed with a gentle bounce on the Pathway below. It rolled along, until it bumped into the form below.

The body of a person.

The Bretheren gave a triumphant shout and began to run. With the light illuminating their ally, and the path clear, it took them only a minute or two to reach Dregan.

The elf lay on his left side, with his right leg extended a bit. His right shoulder was distorted badly, and his eyes were closed. But he wasn’t asleep, for his lips were moving. The sound they heard had been Dregan singing a gentle melody to himself.

“Dregan!” Vivi cried, as the mages surrounded him. He didn’t open his eyes, but he did stop singing.

“Vivi,” he whispered softly, sounding weak and small, a complete switch from his harsh words and cool demeanor before. He sounded more like their Dregan. Zentarou knelt and looked at Dregan’s shoulder.

“I think it’s dislocated,” was the grim pronouncement. Dregan nodded in agreement.

“Right leg,” he added. “Damn, it hurts.”

“We’ll splint the leg, and - “ Zentarou took a deep breath. “ - Dregan, we’ll have to relocate your shoulder.”

“How?” asked Vivi, Dregan gulped painfully.

“By pulling it straight until it pops back into the pocket,” he answered. “Zentarou, can you cast any strength enhancing spells? I don’t think I can focus.”

“Yes, but I’ve never done this before, relocating a joint.”

“I’ve seen it done,” assured the elf. “Kest... showed me how. Vivi, drop your reflect, and then, when he’s done casting, I’ll need you two to grab my arm and pull it straight to the side. Zentarou, you’re heavier, so I’ll need you to hold me still.”

“O - okay.” Vivi sounded nervous. Dregan tried to smile, though there were tears of pain in his eyes, and then Zentarou was casting. When he was done, they eased Dregan’s arm out straight. After a moment’s silence, Zentarou wrapped his arms around Dregan, and nodded. Vivi and Orko got a grip on the elf’s arm.

“Oh three,” Zentarou said. “One - two - “Before Dregan could tense, as they’d privately agreed, they pulled. Dregan yelled in agony, as they strained to relocate his shoulder, then grabbed hold of Zentarou, biting his lip fiercely. At last, with an audible pop! it returned to a proper position. They collapsed, panting, and Dregan was weeping softly. “Okay, Dregan,” Zentarou said, “hold still. I’m going to help you slid the backpack off, so you can lay flat on your back.” Carefully they eased it down his uninjured arm, then slid if off his injured one. Zentarou handed is to Vivi. “Cadderly’s poultice might help ease the swelling at least.”

“Okay.” He rummaged out the jar while Zentarou checked Dregan’s lower leg, where it was obviously swollen.

“No blood,” Orko observed.

“Probably internal,” Zentarou commented. He sighed. “The only thing I know to do it splint it.”

“do... it...” Dregan was nearly unconscious, the pain from relocating his shoulder almost enough to send his mind into blackness. Vivi had found the jar by now, and was carefully working the shoulder of the elf’s purple robe-like tunic off. His shoulder was swollen and red, but Vivi hoped the poultice might help. He smeared it on, then looked when he heard Zentarou casting. The cat was making several slender wooden boards, then took his robe’s cord belt, severed about an inch off with his sword, and lengthened it with another spell to about a yard. Orko helped him hold the boards still, and tie them in place with the cord.

“There, done.” the cat announced. Dregan was panting, in obvious pain. “Can you get up if we help?”

“I’ll - try - “ They attempted to help him stand, but he cried out in pain and fell back. “Can’t!”

“Okay.” They quickly eased him back down. Zentarou looked around. “We’ll just have to wait here. Dregan, do you still have Natar’s emerald?” The elf nodded slowly, and Zentarou pulled it out. “Natar? Natar, can you hear me?” Nothing.

“Why isn’t it working?” asked Orko.

“We’re on Natar’s home plane,” reasoned the prince. “We’ve never tried to use it here.” Vivi, meanwhile, had noticed a dark patch on Dregan’s hair, near the back. Carefully he moved the matted hair aside while the others were talking, and smeared the poultice on it. Dregan winced for a moment, then gave the Black Mage a thankful smile as some of the pain left his eyed. Then the elf tipped his head to the left, away from the wound on his head, and let his eyes close.

“Dregan - “

“I’m not sleeping, Zentarou. Just resting.” Vivi showed then the others the wound he’d found, and the dark poultice showed up well.

“Okay, Dregan. Just stay awake. We’ll watch for Natar.” Dregan had already slipped into the meditative trace they’d found him in, singing that little song in a language they didn’t know.