Ileus: The Dark Prince

Chapter 424 - I Won’t Let You

The healer fell, the wet, muddy soil racing to his face. The impact was hard and his nose started bleeding. From the corner of his eye, he saw the horse neighing out of fear. The animal ran away in the night, disappearing behind the tall grass in the darkness of the night. Panic seized his chest and the first thing he did was to check the vials of blood in his pocket. They were intact.

He managed to get to his feet, his clothes soiled in the wet mud, his feet planted in a puddle and his face covered with so much mud that it was hard to breathe. He removed the mud from his eyes and his nose and scanned the area. How the hell did his horse trip? It should have slipped and not tripped. He looked for the telltale signs of a snare but there were none. "Damn it!" he cursed. He really didn't have the time to think more about it. The horse was gone and so all he could do was run, So, he ran at his full speed, but a sharp pain in his ribs slowed him. He was sure that one or two of his ribs had fractured.. He grunted with pain but still ran. However, he couldn't make it far. A woman's silhouette appeared right in front of him. Her naked sword glinted even in the darkness of the night.

"Giera!" the healer shouted. "What the hell are you doing?"

Giera didn't reply. She lunged at him with her sword.

"Are you mad?" the healer ducked, wincing in pain. "Why do you want to kill me?" He rolled away from her.

Giera swung back and attacked him. He held her wrist and kicked her in the stomach. The woman cried in pain and stumbled backwards. The healer didn't wait for her. He turned to run back towards the fortress. There was no time to think as to why Giera was trying to kill him. All he had in his mind was that he had to give the blood for the prince in time. The prince was not going to live if the blood wasn't administered to him. He remembered the face of his mate, Iona. Tears streamed down her eyes and had etched a line down her cheeks. Her lips had swollen for no one was able to console her.

He huffed as he ran, but his internal injury gave way. He stopped and bent down and supported his hands on his knees. He felt as if all the air from his lungs was being squeezed out. He wheezed and then sucked in air sharply. But as he sucked it in, he felt a sharp pain in his ribs. He had to reach the fortress somehow. The healer started running again, forgetting his injury, praying to the gods to give him that extra power. He would die happily if the vials reached the prince. Perhaps his prayers didn't reach the gods. He felt a sharp jab in his chest and then saw the steel of a sword jutting out in the front. He swung to see who did that only to find Giera standing there with a smile on her face, with eyes that stared into his.

"The sword is poison tipped," she said softly, as she pushed him down.

He fell on the ground and the hilt of the sword sank deeper in his flesh. His eyes started closing, his hands went to the vials in his pocket. But he realized that Giera was already sitting by his side, digging her hands in his pockets. She took the vials out and smashed them on the ground, as the healer looked at her helplessly. It took no more than five minutes for him to die.

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"Iona," Anastasia called her. She was standing beside her, holding her shoulders. The girl had cried her heart out and now dry sobs wracked through her body. Agony came in crashing waves. At first, they were so strong that they swept her away. And then the wave receded for a few minutes, but then they hit her randomly, replacing the feeling of normalcy with greater agony. "You have to be bold, Iona," Anastasia said in a low, soft voice.

Iona's hands were on Role's feet. She didn't know that seeing him in this condition would be so soul twisting. "Has the healer come?" she asked, her lips quivering, her body trembling. Rolfe's skin was becoming colder and colder and all she could do was to watch it. His eyes were closed and he was beneath thick furs. There were bandages across his chest. The room smelled of yarrow and honey and garlic.

"Not as yet," informed Anastasia.

"Where is Ileus?" she asked, wanting to talk to her brother, to someone in her family. She missed her mother a lot. Anastasia had curled her wings around her and it was comforting, but she needed the warmth of her mother.

"He has gone to find Kaizan. He is missing…"

Every victory came with a price. Last time she faded into the darkness and Anastasia ended up losing her memory. What about now? She felt like retching. She pushed the bile down. "Come back Rolfe… You said you wanted me to be with you… forever…"

Anastasia stroked her hair, feeling utterly helpless. She had gone through the same emptiness and she hated it. She remembered how Zlu followed Carrick even to his death when they were in Virgine Falls. The memory caused a wave of shudder to pass through her body. She shoved the memory out of her mind and looked at Rolfe. There was nothing she could do.

A heavy knock on the door pounded. "Come in!" Anastasia said. The door opened and a demon messenger came in. "Where is the healer?" asked Anastasia, feeling extremely agitated at the healer's delay. He should have been here.

The messenger looked at her with worry etched on his face.

"What is it?" she asked sharply. "Where is the healer?"

The messenger's jaw became tight. He lowered his head and in a low, gloomy voice said, "The healer was killed when he was returning."

Silence. A long silence followed.

Then a tremor surged through Iona. It rippled right to her heart and twisted her soul. Her eyes locked at the demon whose head was hung low. Air lodged in her throat as she watched him with shock, without blinking. Her body became slack and she could hear her heart shattering. "No," she whispered. "No, he can't die."

Anastasia felt nothing but dread rising inside her. She exhaled heavily. "Send someone now and this time send at least five faes with them!" she ordered and the messenger rushed to carry her orders. She wanted to move Rolfe to the palace but was scared that his life was at risk over there. She wanted to keep him safe until he was announced as the king of Galahar. Her attention turned to Iona. "Don't worry, we will do the best!"

"No," she said in a hoarse voice as fresh tears rolled out of her eyes. Her stomach dropped to the floor as she pulled her collar down. The marks were still there and hadn't disappeared. She pulled her collar up. She closed her eyes and images of Rolfe succumbing to his injuries flashed. "No. No." She gripped Rolfe's feet as her heart lurched. "You can't leave me. I won't let you." Saying that she took her dagger out.