I Will Be the Greatest Knight

Irene immediately turned to Henry, who had settled onto the ground, his back leaning against the smaller of the two wyrms. His eyes were squeezed shut as he held onto the arrow that stuck out of his side.

"I guess we’ve just amassed a bit more wealth," he joked weakly, referring to the two magical orbs that were left somewhere in the snowmelt.

Irene rushed to him and grasped his face with her hands.

"Please, Henry, you’re injured," she uttered desperately. "It’s because of me. I—"

"Not right now," he insisted. "We have more important things to attend to—"

However, at the icicles being placed on his face, his eyes snapped open, and he caught sight of her hands. One of her gloves was shredded; the other was missing completely.

"Your hands!" he shouted. "We must get you back inside and warm."

Despite the groaning that resulted in his trying to stand up, the knight got to his feet, and he dragged his wife in the direction of their temporary home after pulling off his gloves and putting them over her hands. They were roomy compared to hers, but as Irene’s hands warmed up, she could feel stinging in her fingertips. It worried her.

She wrenched herself out of his grasp once her hands were in his gloves. If he was well enough to stand up and move around, she was well enough to get the orbs. They would not return to Chemois both in poor health and empty-handed.

The two stubborn knights both retrieved the orbs next to the wyrm carcasses. There was nothing more for them in that area. The snowmelt was already freezing, and it would be impossible to even get out of the depression in the snow that reached the grass and dirt below if they waited too long.

Occasionally, Irene’s eyes went up to the sky again. She dreaded the thought of Sylaron not making it because she heard Henry’s pleading. It was likely that the moment he realized she wasn’t in the cabin, Sylaron had taken notice of her master’s state.

More than that, it was beyond her that she could hear Sylaron even when she was under the effects of the wyrm’s magic. Not much of the situation made sense, actually. She was simply happy that they had survived—even if the two of them were in tatters at that point.

On the path back to the cabin, Irene and Henry were both relieved to see their loyal horses huddled towards the rocky wall that led to the cabin. Both animals were at least standing.

Henry recalled the last time he saw the horses.

"Sammy was injured," Henry explained as the two of them got closer, the horses meeting them halfway. "It looks like a bite mark, but he’s fine. Good enough to carry you. I read that wyrms were supposed to have venom, but it seems more like one of them grazed him while he was running."

Irene nodded, wordlessly. She had to take it quietly that everything leading up to this point was her fault. Despite their defeat of the wyrms, she wasn’t pleased with all of her missteps along the way.

Henry offered a knee for his wife to hoist herself onto the horse that lacked a saddle and stirrups. She hesitated, considering his injury, but at his expression, she did what he insisted. Once she was situated, he was tall enough to get onto his own horse and didn’t even seem to flinch at the arrow still embedded in his side.

By the time they made it back to the small cabin, Irene was more and more surprised at just how far she had gotten away from the cabin on foot. It was no wonder her hands were in such poor shape. The more they seemed to thaw, the worse they felt, but she wasn’t going to voice her pain since the man riding at her side was ignoring the injury she had given him.

The moment she was close enough to the cabin, she dismounted Sammy and rushed into the cabin so that she could get first aid for the horse. At least salve and a bandage so his wound wouldn’t just be out in the open. Liquid froze fast out there, and blood was liquid.

As she rushed between the house and her horse and then began to apply the bandages clumsily, her hands were trembling. It felt like she had lost a bit of control over them.

"You need to go inside," Henry urged as he returned from lighting the fire inside. "I can take care of Sammy. Attend to your hands before you lose your most important tools."

Irene’s eyebrows lowered, and she glanced downward, noticing that he had broken the arrow in his side in half. It was likely because the barbed edge would make it impossible to pull out on his own.

"I’ll be fine," he insisted, seeing where her eyes had gone. "Take care of yourself first. Then you can take care of me."

Knowing he was right, she didn’t argue. She had been around her father when he lost his hand and how much it had badly impacted him for a long time. She saw his frustration and, since then, found her hands precious. At least until then, when the very hands she protected were the ones that injured her husband.

When she made it back into the cabin, she crouched in front of the fire after removing the gloves she had borrowed. The flame was small since it had only just been lit, but it was far warmer than what she had endured for the past who-knows-how-many hours.

It was a little bit horrifying seeing that her outer layer of skin in some places had turned white while more severe parts were starting to blister. She squeezed her eyes shut as she thought of how Henry came in the nick of time to save her.

It was always a mystery to her what the wyrm’s intentions were in subduing her with magic. She didn’t really want to find out, though.

There was little time for more thinking because Henry soon stumbled into the cabin.

"You need to help me get this arrow out," he insisted.

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