Ironwood

Shards

Everything hurt. Jacob's left arm and shoulder were tightly bound, but ached constantly, and any motion set his teeth grinding. His back felt like it had no skin left at all, despite everything Francis had done. He had been lucky.

Beside him, Athena lay on her own bed, nursing her own wounds. There she valiantly fought her discomfort and intense boredom. "You know," Jacob offered, "We could ask if there is something for us to read."

Athena gave him a withering look, only slightly marred by her inability to properly turn anything other than her neck to face him. "Did anyone ever tell you that you're an idiot? What kind of rich snot asks for a book to read when he can't even sit up? I still can't believe you sucked me into this. We should both be dead."

A grin crept its way onto Jacob's unwilling face. He had had long enough to examine the wooden beams above him, and the daubed and woven saplings that thatched it. Now he turned his own head towards his friend, ignoring the sharp tug that sent shivers of pain down the muscles of his back. "We're not, though. And it wasn't my idea for you to dash out into the middle of a duel to block Innoken's attack. I'm amazed you were quick enough to do it."

Athena shrugged awkwardly, momentarily turning her own eyes back to the ceiling before returning them to Jacob. "I was on my feet as soon as you fell, and he was kind of just standing there gloating. But yes, I ran over to save your life. You're not welcome, by the way, you ungrateful sod."

Jacob managed to stifle a chuckle. His back surely didn't need one of those. "Well, thank you, anyway. I am grateful, of course, just surprised. I thought you were dead, for sure. Instead, you're just pissed that you missed the rest of the fight."

Athena's short laugh turned quickly into a pained grunt. "Maybe. Don't try to cheer me up, though: it hurts. What did happen? Francis though I should hear it from you. He looked pretty damned shocked, himself, and I don't think he's easy to rattle."

At that moment, there was a light knock on the door, and then Francis was in the doorway. It was odd, seeing the former monk dressed in a spotless cream-colored robe with a dark sash, hair and beard neatly trimmed. Jacob expected he would always envision the man in the sturdy brown hemp of a traveling monk. "Normally, I am not. Your adventures have been quite the exception. Pardon me for overhearing, for I have just come to check on you both. How do you feel?"

Jacob forced a grin, but remained prone, head swiveled slightly toward the door. "Everything hurts, but not as bad as I expected. I thought I would wake to find my left arm laying on the floor, if at all."

"Happily, I'm better off than that," Athena added. "I feel like I've been kicked in the gut with God's boot, especially when I laugh. But I expected worse, far worse."

Francis nodded. "Good. I got to you quickly enough, then. You body had not fully accepted the reality of your injury yet, and something in you trusted me to resolve it. Athena, your body was happy to be shown how to heal itself. I wouldn't be surprised if you end up more healthy than ever.

Jacob, your shoulder knows much better how to be be properly attached than shattered, burnt, and rent. Given how well your body took to the extra speed St. Thomas gave you, you may well end up with some extraordinary healing, as well. You took a lot of physical damage, but I expect you may be up and around in days. I might say it would shock everyone for you to be on your feet so soon, but at this point, I think the crowd might believe anything of you. You should hear the stories they are telling in the market about the fight. I thought nothing could be more ridiculous than the truth."

"What are they saying?" Athena asked. "Actually, forget that for now - you never answered my earlier question. What in Lazarus's name happened on that field?"