Chapter 55 - Severe Concussion

In complete darkness, Sig stood over Locke and Cookie’s unconscious bodies and carefully checked for signs of injury, having caught the scent of blood on them both. He cautiously sniffed over Cookie’s body only to notice the wet thick trickle of blood seeping from the Kithe’s head, the brown hair streaked with a thick mass of blood that mixed in with the cloth hood, but he had no way of knowing how severe it was. There was little he could do, but the swelling was pronounced, and it was obvious that she had suffered a traumatic injury from smashing headfirst into the stone floor that she had collapsed in an attempt to thwart the trap room.

Sig opened his pack and found the medical kit, using the loose cloth to bandage her head before checking over Locke any wounds. However, the other soldier was quick to recover and was roused by Sig’s attempt to see if he had suffered a concussion as well.

“Sig?” Locke struggled to sit upright, “It is dark.”

“Yeah. Cookie suffered an injury and is beside us. The others are safe, but we are stuck back in the statue room.” He replied as he dug through his pack looking for his firestarter and a torch.

A few moments later, he lit the torch, and the room filled with light. Gone was the grayish vision given by Cake, but instead real depth of color and warmth filled the room once more. It was bright at first, their eyes needing to adjust. Sig passed Locke the torch as he examined Cookie’s wound closer.

“She’s hurt pretty bad. Must have fallen headfirst into the rock. She’s soaking wet but moving her would be dangerous.” Sig explained and took back the torch after he was done.

“Do you think we could dry her off at least?” Locke had already begun pulling off his clothing and wringing the water from his small clothes, a puddle forming at his feet as most of the moisture was forced out in his powerful grip.

“It is too risky; we will need her to wake up before making such a rash decision.” Sig began to remove his leather armor to wring out the water from his own clothing, “I am concerned about that head wound; Violetta may be able to do something about it if they can reach us.”

“Why not go into the water and just meet them on the other side?” Locke asked as he took the torch again from Sig.

“Cake wanted us to stay here, but splitting up sounds like a foolish plan to me. Then again, I am just a soldier and not some genius who told our little titan to activate their floor crushing magic and drop us all into a pit.” Sig wrenched the water from his clothes.

The two men started to laugh as they looked down on Cookie. For one brief moment they shared a hug and whispered to one another their relief that the other was okay. The situation was bad, but neither were in danger, and none had died in the trap. They donned their damp clothes and sat by Cookie, forced to wait for her to awaken. The packs had been secured enough to prevent water from flowing in, but the lucky break had simply been that Cake was able to teleport them to safety in the first place.

Cookie awoke a half hour later, groggy and confused, the Kithe did not seem herself at all and tried to move too quickly, stumbling forward and vomiting. Panting and trembling, Cookie struggled to get the words out, “Cake… where is Cake?”

“She’s on the other side. Safe. With the others.” Sig did his best to reassure her.

“I am soaking wet.” She groaned as she threw her robe off on the ground and cast off her shift, “How long have I been like this. My body is so cold.”

“You have a severe head wound.” Locke weakly said.

“The cold air and the water could kill me.” She motioned for the torch, “The floor shifted, and I could not hold it together. I managed to destroy the mechanism that was going to seal us in, but in doing so I had little choice but to fracture the floor to drain the water out.”

The two men avoided staring at the older Kithe’s nakedness, her body was a patchwork of horrendous scars that spoke of torture and ritualized burning and even a brand on her left hip. Sig knew that Kithe were not exactly treated well, but he couldn’t believe that a priestess had undergone and survived the Question with her sanity still intact.

“Not a peep out of either of you about my body.” Cookie snickered, “When in the room with a beautiful woman, it is appropriate to take a glance and apologize instead of awkwardly stare at your own feet.”

“I am sorry.” Locke did not turn his head, “I saw only a glimpse.”

Sig grunted in agreement and forced himself to take another look out of respect, but it made him question the old lady’s mental state. Instead of seeing her pear-shaped front, which was torn up with horrific scars, he saw her backside which was nothing less than a map of agony. From her neck to the flap of distended and twisted skin over her buttocks was a sheet of scar tissue that had been tattooed with runes and markers in a precise hand that contained the tenets of her faith. It was as if the flesh off her back had been removed. Had the old, tattooed tenets been removed at some point for her heresy? It wouldn't surprise him, but whether it was done to preserve or destroy the written tenets seemed equally likely.

“What is that?” He couldn’t help himself, he just had to ask.

“Ah, my contribution to the holy tome.” Cookie seemed proud, “I wear it on my skin so that the knowledge cannot be taken from the faithful.”

Insanity. Least she did not have a truly terrible concussion if she could speak so clearly of it, but still the Kithe was more off putting than usual. She had said that she intentionally broke the floor to defeat the trap, but he was not sure what she had meant.

“When you broke the floor, you saved us?” Sig asked.

“There was a mechanism to seal the hallway, but I stopped it before it could seal us in. The water would have continued to fill the room until it had drowned us. It was a kill room. Cake realized it fast enough that I could do something, but I had no idea the floor was that fragile. It was like an elevator, fixing the room on this side raised the column up, not lowered it. The whole room was going to drop regardless, but if it did, we would have drowned for sure.” She handed her robe and smallclothes to Sig to wring the water out of it, which he did quickly, “By breaking the floor, we plunged down, but it seems that we defeated dwarven ingenuity with brute force.

As she put her clothes back on, she looked at the statues, “If we reposition them, then the alternate path will open again.”

“No.” Sig said, “Cake said not to touch them. They must know what they are doing.”

“One step ahead,” Cookie sat down on the ground and let out a sigh, “Guess nothing we can do now but wait. They must have found the service rooms after all. There must be no dwarves left alive, as the bodies of the others were not removed. It should be relatively safe to explore the outpost.”

Sig couldn’t help but agree, “Now that we are in, do you think we are through the last of the traps?”

“Just the ones meant to deal with invaders, but the common area traps will still exist for defeating thieves and intruders all the same. The main difference with those is they are meant to jail and not kill, but if no one will free you, they are just as deadly. A slow death from dehydration, I wonder if we will see any hapless victims who made it in only to be caged and die like a dog.”

“So, we are not going to be any safer then?” Locke asked.

“Much safer, provided I do not die from the swelling of my brain. I need Violetta or even that Gobbo to heal me before it is too late. I have at least a few hours, but I don’t think I will be myself for much longer. Hehe. I hope there is a good reason Cake did not teleport us back and forth.” Cookie grinned, “She must already be getting to her limit, and we’ve barely begun.”

Sig and Locke exchanged worried looks, each wondering if they should rush to inform Cake of the situation, but Cookie simply made one last demand.

“Stay.” Cookie laughed, “We cannot exhaust her this early. Trust her as I do, she’ll come to us before long.”