The Obsidian Arrow

The Obsidian Arrow: Chapter 22

Chapter 22:

[Searon’s POV]

            Searon stepped outside and felt the brisk cold brush across his scruffy face. It felt like he hadn’t shaved in weeks when it had only been a few days. He let a heavy sigh out and brushed back his thick brown hair away from his eyes. Elves scurried the streets in every direction cleaning up the disaster left behind from the battle. Some were gathering the fallen to provide ceremonies for them that night.

            He eagerly fought his way through the crowd towards the elven infirmary. Normally the tree was empty except for the time that Searon had spent in there. Elves were seldom in battles and never got sick so there wasn’t much use for it other than a beautifully crafted tree. It almost seemed the trees grew to accommodate the elves and it was an immaculate sight. When he stepped inside he had to dodge several elves cluttering the hallways. For the first time in a long time there were injured elves and their friends and family ushered to find them supplies to help them heal. Most carried either flowers or herbs to bring in or out of the rooms.

            Searon continued on past the chaos in the first few levels until he reached the urgent care rooms. There weren’t as many in urgent care as throughout the rest of the building. He recognized the hallway and rooms as he had been in one himself when he was injured. The door he stood in front of holding his breath was the same room he had recovered in. It was different this time with the situation reversed. He exhaled the breath he had been holding for several minutes before pushing the door open.

            Inside the room was bright with mostly white for walls and sheets. A lone rocking chair sat alongside the bed and he slid over to it to sit down. His grip loosened on the book he was holding in his hand and he held it in his lap. The cover was worn of black leather and some pages were torn, but it was the only book in his possession. It was the same book he read to his son before bed time on the nights he could be home. He opened it to chapter twelve where he had left off and began reading it softly enjoying the silence of the room. The book was called “Everlasting Journey” and a tale about a young boy who saved mankind from dragons from well over a century ago. It was a sad tale as the boy died at the end and so while most of it was journal entrees from the young man; the ending was completed by those who were with him on his quest.

            The sheets in the bed stirred next to him and he turned to see Anaela shifting slightly. A smile lit Searon’s face only for a moment before he continued reading. He had been there by her side for four days now reading to her with hopes that she would come out of her sleep. There wasn’t much he could offer for healing but at least he could try and comfort her. Several times a day elves would come in to give her herbs and medicine but nobody stayed with her. She had been there for Searon and taken care of him while he was ill and he knew it was the least he could do to be there for her.

            “Anaela?” He whispered.

            She shifted again and Searon folded the corner of a page before closing the book. He watched her intently for any sign of movement and noticed that her breathing was swifter than normal. Her head tossed frantically from side to side as if she was having a nightmare and he reached for her hand to clasp in his own. He felt as her hand clenched in his with more strength than he imagined her having almost breaking his bones. Suddenly her eyes opened and she trashed up screaming nearly pulling him off of the rocking chair.

            “Anaela, it’s okay… you’re okay. I’m here.”

            She turned to face him and her grip of his hand loosened until he was able to snatch it back to rub. Her eyes swelled up and tears began to fall uncontrollably. She dove off the bed and into his arms. He was surprised but embraced her and held her tight, not wanting to let go.