Hero Of Broken History Chapter 44 - 44

Ten Miles to Salvation

Every step was agony. Every breath a negotiation with broken ribs. Every heartbeat a reminder that the human body had limits, even one that had died before.

Avian stumbled, caught himself on a tree, and forced his legs to keep moving. Beside him, Thane wasn't doing much better — shadow-burned, mana-depleted, held upright by will alone. The Covenant Seal hung from Avian's belt, its weight nothing and everything at once.

"How," Thane gasped, "much further?"

Avian tried to rember the map. Tried to think through the fog of exhaustion. "Eight miles? Maybe nine."

"Fuck."

It was the first ti he'd heard Thane curse properly. Seed appropriate.

They'd been walking for two hours since leaving the stream. Two hours of torture disguised as travel. Two miles covered when healthy people would have managed six. Avian's regeneration was working, but it was like trying to bail out a sinking ship with a teaspoon. Every bit of energy went to keeping vital organs functional, keeping him conscious, keeping Lux alive.

The spirit wolf hadn't manifested since the laboratory. He could feel her in the ring, dormant but demanding. Even unconscious, she pulled at his reserves. A trickle of mana here, a whisper of power there. Just enough to keep her essence stable. The burn he'd put her through — pulling all her mana in one desperate burst — had left her as depleted as they were.

Sorry, girl. Nothing left to give.

"Wait," Thane said suddenly, grabbing Avian's arm. "Listen."

Avian stopped, though his body imdiately began listing to one side. It took effort to focus, to hear past his own labored breathing.

Voices. Multiple. Coming their way along what might charitably be called a path.

"rchants?" Thane whispered.

"Or bandits." Avian's hand moved to Fargrim's hilt. The blade humd weakly — even it was exhausted. "Either way, we're in no shape—"

The voices grew clearer. Definitely rchants, complaining about road conditions and profit margins. Normal people having normal problems.

"Hide?" Thane suggested.

"Can't. Too tired." Avian made a decision. "We talk. Maybe they have horses."

"We look like we murdered a village."

True. Their clothes were more blood than fabric. Their faces gaunt with exhaustion. They probably slled like death ward over.

"Then we'll be very polite murderers."

The rchant caravan rounded the bend and stopped dead. Four wagons, eight guards, various traders and drivers. All staring at two blood-soaked young n who swayed like drunks but held themselves like warriors.

"Bandits!" one guard shouted, reaching for his sword.

"Not bandits," Avian said, trying to project calm despite looking like he'd crawled out of a grave. "Travelers. Bad day."

The lead rchant — a portly man with the kind of mustache that suggested too much money and too little sense — peered at them from behind his guards.

"Travelers don't usually travel in... is that blood? All of that?"

"Most of it." Thane managed what might have been a reassuring smile. It wasn't. "We're from House Veritas. Returning from family business."

"Veritas?" The rchant's eyes sharpened. Noble nas ant money. "You have proof?"

Thane fumbled for his house seal, nearly dropping it twice before managing to display the family crest. The rchant relaxed marginally.

"What happened to you?"

"Long story," Avian said. "We need to reach Thornbrook. We can pay for transport."

"Thornbrook's still eight miles," one of the guards said. "You boys look like you couldn't make eight steps."

He wasn't wrong. Avian could feel his knees trying to buckle. Beside him, Thane was gripping his arm less for support and more to stay vertical.

"How much?" the rchant asked, because rchants always asked that first.

"Five gold," Thane offered. "For a ride."

"Each."

"Done."

Too easy. They were being fleeced, but Avian couldn't bring himself to care. The thought of not walking eight more miles was worth any price.

The rchant gestured to his guards. "Help them up. Gently — I don't want blood on my silk shipnts."

Being lifted into a wagon hurt in new and creative ways. But then they were sitting on actual benches, the wagon's motion doing the work their legs couldn't.

"You really from House Veritas?" one guard asked, studying them with professional interest.

"Really really," Avian confird, eyes already trying to close.

"What did that to you? Monsters? Bandits? Demon?"

"Worse," Thane muttered. "Family business."

The guard laughed, thinking it a joke. If only he knew.

The miles passed in a haze. Avian dozed fitfully, jerking awake each ti the wagon hit a bump. His regeneration worked steadily, knitting flesh and bone with glacial patience. Every so often, he pushed another trickle of mana toward Lux. She needed it more than his body did.

"That's a spirit ring," the rchant noted, his voice carrying back from the lead wagon. "Lightning elent, if I'm not mistaken."

Avian didn't answer. Confirming spirit companions led to questions about power levels, which led to questions about why soone powerful looked half-dead.

"Don't see many of those these days," the rchant continued, fishing for information. "Expensive. Rare. The kind of thing that attracts attention."

"Good thing we're too tired to be robbed," Thane said, ending that line of inquiry.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

The sun was sinking toward the horizon when Thornbrook's walls ca into view. Proper walls, thirty feet high, spelled against assault. The kind of fortification frontier towns needed when the frontier pushed back.

"Gate's closing soon," the lead guard called back. "We'll need to hurry."

The wagons picked up speed, wheels clattering on the packed dirt road. Other travelers hurried alongside them — farrs returning from fields, late rchants, anyone who didn't fancy spending the night outside.

They joined the queue at the gate. Town guards checked papers, collected tolls, asked routine questions. Routine until they reached the wagon carrying two blood-soaked nobles.

"Hold." The guard captain, a woman with scars that suggested she'd earned her position, approached their wagon. Her hand rested on her sword hilt. "State your business."

"Returning ho," Thane managed. "House Veritas. We have papers."

"You have blood. Lots of it." Her eyes were hard, professional. "Whose?"

"Ours, mostly." Avian tried to sit straighter, failed. "So... other things. Monsters. It's been a long journey."

"From where?"

Thane and Avian exchanged glances. The truth would sound insane.

"The Sunken City of Malethar," Thane said anyway. "Family trial."

The captain's expression shifted from suspicion to sothing like awe. "Malethar? You went into Malethar and ca out?"

"Barely."

"No wonder you look like death." She gestured to her guards. "Let them through. And—" She hesitated, then made a decision. "House Veritas saved my uncle's life once. Old debt." She turned to a younger guard. "Run ahead to the Broken Shield. Tell Martha she's got noble guests coming who need discrete assistance. Go!"

The guard sprinted off. The captain waved their wagon through.

"That was... helpful," Thane murmured as they rolled into Thornbrook proper.

"Old debts," the rchant said, overhearing. "Your house has more of them than you probably know. Not all nobles rember the common folk, but so do. Seems yours are the rembering kind."

The town was larger than Avian expected — maybe three thousand souls, proper shops, even a small temple district. The kind of place that thrived on trade between the frontier and civilization.

The rchant's wagons rolled through the gates into Thornbrook proper. The town was larger than Avian expected — maybe three thousand souls, proper shops, even a small temple district. The kind of place that thrived on trade between the frontier and civilization.

"The Broken Shield," the rchant said, stopping before a modest inn. "Martha's expecting you now. That guard captain — she doesn't help just anyone."

They climbed down from the wagon, every movent reminding them why walking was overrated.

"The favor," the rchant reminded them. "Don't forget. House Veritas owing a debt — that's worth more than gold."

"We won't forget," Thane promised.

"Good. Try not to die before I can collect." But his expression had softened. "Whatever you faced in that cursed city, you survived it. That's worth sothing."

The inn's common room went quiet when they entered. Two young n, covered in blood and road dust, one carrying a demon blade, the other wrapped in shadows that moved wrong. They probably looked like everyone's nightmare of what knocked on doors at night.

"You're the Veritas boys," Martha said, erging from behind the bar. No question, just statent. "Greta's girl said you needed discrete help. Sit before you fall."

She was already issuing orders. "Tomas, fetch Healer Branwen. Sara, hot water to room three. Darren, clear the private dining room. And soone get these boys ale — they look ready to keel over."

"We can't pay much—" Thane started.

"Did I ask for paynt? Your house saved my sister's farm from raiders ten years back. Your father personally led the charge. We rember." She looked them over with a practiced eye. "Bath first, then healer, then food. You argue, I'll have Tomas hold you down while I mother you properly. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," they said in unison.

The bath was torture and heaven combined. Hot water stung every cut, every scrape, every place where skin had decided to stop being skin. But it also washed away days of accumulated horror. Blood, sweat, corruption, fear — all of it swirling down the drain in rusty streams.

Avian sat in the wooden tub until his fingers pruned, carefully channeling what little mana he'd recovered to Lux. The ring pulsed weakly in response. She was stable but far from well.

Just a little more, girl. Hold on.

A knock interrupted his ditation. "Healer's here," Martha called. "And decent clothes, since yours are more hole than fabric."

Healer Branwen turned out to be a no-nonsense woman in her fifties who took one look at Avian and started cursing creatively.

"What did you do, boy? Fight a at grinder and lose?"

"Sothing like that."

She worked with professional efficiency, cleaning wounds that hadn't closed properly, setting bones that had healed wrong, tutting at the state of his body.

"You've got regeneration," she noted. "Good quality too. But you've pushed it too hard. Like asking a stream to be a river."

"Had no choice."

"There's always a choice. Usually between bad and worse." She wrapped his ribs with practiced hands. "These are cracked, not broken. Small rcy. This shoulder was dislocated — it's set now but weak. These cuts..." She shook her head. "What made these? No beast I know."

"Corrupted things. In Malethar."

Her hands stilled. "You actually went into that cursed place?"

"Had to."

"And ca out. That's... that's not supposed to be possible."

"We had help." Avian thought of the fusion-thing's sacrifice. Of Craine falling into darkness. "Paid for it, too."

She finished her work in thoughtful silence. When done, Avian felt marginally human. Still exhausted, still drained, but no longer actively dying.

"Your friend's in worse shape," she said, packing her supplies. "Shadow-burn and mana depletion. I've done what I can, but he needs rest. Days of it."

"We don't have days. We need to be ho by tomorrow night."

"Then you'll likely kill him. Or yourself. Or both." She fixed him with a stern look. "I've seen too many young warriors push past their limits and pay for it. Don't be another cautionary tale."

"We don't have a choice. Family trial. There's a deadline."

Her expression softened slightly. "Ah. The noble gas. Well then, best I can do is give you stimulants for the morning. They'll keep you moving, but you'll pay for it later."

"We'll take them."

"Of course you will." She left a small pouch on the table. "One each, with food. No more. Your hearts are young but not invincible."

After she left, Avian dressed in the provided clothes — simple traveler's garb, but clean and whole. Moving was easier now, though everything still hurt. He made his way to the private dining room where Thane waited.

His brother looked marginally better. Color had returned to his face, and he no longer swayed while sitting. But the shadow-burn was visible in how carefully he moved, how his shadow lay too flat and still.

"Food's coming," Thane said. "Real food. Martha threatened to feed us herself if we didn't eat everything."

"Good. I could eat a horse."

"Don't. We need those for tomorrow."

They sat in companionable silence until the food arrived. Stew thick with at and vegetables. Fresh bread still warm from the oven. Cheese, fruit, watered wine. Simple fare that tasted like ambrosia.

Avian ate chanically at first, then with increasing enthusiasm as his body rembered what food was for. Across from him, Thane did the sa. They didn't speak — too busy eating, too tired for conversation.

"Horses," Thane said eventually, counting their remaining funds. "Martha says the stable master's honest, but we'll need supplies too. Food, water, basic gear."

"The favor network's already working," Avian noted. "That guard captain, Martha, probably others. They're helping because of old debts to Father."

"Strange to think of Father helping common folk."

"He's practical. Save a farr, they rember. Save a rchant, they spread the word. Build enough good will..." Avian shrugged. "It's just another form of power."

"Cynical view."

"Realistic. But it works in our favor now."

A knock interrupted. Martha entered with a younger man who had the lean build of a horseman.

"My nephew," she explained. "Runs the stables. Heard you need mounts for tomorrow."

"We do," Thane confird. "Good ones. We have to cover nearly a hundred miles by tomorrow night."

The nephew whistled. "That's hard riding. You'll need stamina breeds, not speed. I've got two that might work — not pretty, but they'll run all day if you treat them right."

"How much?"

"Normally? Fifteen gold each." He saw their faces fall. "But Aunt Martha explained the situation. Ten gold for both, plus basic tack. And I'll throw in travel supplies — seems you lost yours."

"That's... very generous."

"It's practical. Dead nobles can't repay favors. Live ones rember who helped them."

They shook on it, another debt added to their growing tally.

"We should sleep," Thane said. "Dawn cos early."

"Yeah."

They made their way upstairs, each step a reminder of how far they'd pushed their bodies. The room was simple but clean — two beds, a washstand, a window overlooking the stable yard.

"Avian?"

"Mm?"

"What you did back there. Burning through Lux's essence to save us. That was..." Thane paused. "That was heroic."

"That was desperate."

"Sa thing, sotis."

Avian lay on his bed, feeling exhaustion pull at him like undertow. "Thane?"

"Yeah?"

"What you did, dragging to safety when you could barely stand. That was heroic too."

"That was just being a brother."

"Sa thing, always."

Sleep ca quickly after that. Deep, dreamless, restorative. Their bodies worked through the night, regeneration and rest combining to undo days of damage.

But even in sleep, Avian's hand found Lux's ring. Even unconscious, he trickled mana to his spirit companion.

Hold on, girl. Almost ho.

Tomorrow would bring its own challenges. But tonight, two brothers slept in safety, bound by truth and trials survived.

It was enough.

For now.