The five seconds after Billy had hucked the bug balls into the air had been filled with a kind of relieved silence as Matt sucked in and then released a relieved breath. He felt like the whole world did the same, and for much the same reason.

He had survived. Again. He had stared death in the face and come out almost unscathed. And he had done it with his son by his side, and with allies nearby, and with a weapon in his hand.

He didn't even feel the shakes this time. Part of him wondered if that meant he was getting used to it. Part of him wondered if that was a good thing.

The bulk of him, however, focused on the here and now, and the fact that there were still things that required his attention right this second.

"Luc!" he called for his son even as he started moving towards the still form of the elf girl. "Get over here, quick!"

"Coming Dad!" Luc slid head-first over Harry's head, and the green-haired mastodon used his trunk like an impromptu slide to guide the boy safely to the ground. The small part of Matt's mind that always seemed detached from the whole at times like these marveled at just how good the pachyderm was getting at anticipating and compensating for his son's moves.

"Billy," Matt called up into the canopy as he moved. "Where did those bug-things come from?"

"I am unsure of their point of origin, Consul," the tree said in his leaf-rustle voice. "They appeared from the south-east when first I took note of their presence."

Not the direction the girls had gone, then. Good. Matt felt a bit of tension between his shoulders ease away at that. "Are there any more of them?"

"None that I can see or sense, Consul Matthew," Billy said confidently. "And if any others dare show themselves, they shall meet with a similar fate."

Used as potholders to toss away a nuclear statue. Certainly not the way Matt would want to go.

He made it to the crumpled form of the elf and dropped to one knee beside her.

"Hey," he said gently, reaching out to touch her shoulder. Her back was to him, and he couldn't see her face clearly. "Hey, you alright there?"

No response. Lucas arrived and dropped to his knees beside Matt just as Matt reached out again and tried to gently roll the girl over onto her back. It felt like he was shifting a paper bag full of sticks held together with dental floss. The girl barely weighed anything, and her skin was stretched tight over her frame like she hadn't eaten in days.

Her eyes were closed, her flesh was sallow, and her breaths came ragged and uneven. There were abrasions and cuts on the skin he could see, and the front of her shirt, where it had been pressed against the stone sentinel as it carried her, was sticky and clung to her skin. When Matt touched the shirt, his fingers came away bloody.

"Oh jeez," Luc said, eyes wide. "Dad, she's hurt bad isn't she."

"Yeah she is," Matt nodded. "Hit her with as much juice as you can."

"Right." Luc stretched his hands out over the girl without actually touching her and closed his eyes, calling up the power of his coins as Matt leaned closer. The elf–and with those ears that was the only thing he could call her, unless he went for 'Vulcan' and Olivia would probably tell him this was the completely wrong genre for that one–looked small and thin where she lay on the jungle soil. Her hair was short and spikey, cut in what would have been a 'pixie' cut if hed' been back in Long Beach. She was blonde, but there were highlights of green and blue in amongst the gold that Matt wasn't altogether certain were dyes. Her eyes were a bit larger and more angular than a human's would have been, her cheeks sharper, her face slightly more angular.

Dear Lord it's like Tolkien meets UNICEF.

Beside him, Luc's hands started to glow, and he placed them lightly against the girl's forehead, the only piece of skin showing that wasn't raw or bleeding.

And nothing happened.

Both Albrights blinked. Luc glanced up at Matt, eyes wide, then he bent over the girl and tried again. Hands glowed, placed…

Nothing. No burst of healing energy, no strange voice announcing the power used, nothing. The light around Luc's hands merely flickered and dispersed with zero effect.

"Dad? It's not letting me heal her!" Luc's voice was tinged with panic all of a sudden. "Why won't it–"

There was a polite-sounding hiss from behind them, and Matt didn't even have to turn to know what he'd see there. But he did turn, and sure enough, there was a large golden serpent with a blue-feathered fringe around its head, its front half erect like a king cobra, and a scroll held delicately between fanged jaws.

"You know," Matt said conversationally, "wouldn't it be a lot easier for you guys if you just assigned one of you to each of us like with Olivia and Hoolio? Then you could just hand us the messages whenever, instead of having to show up each time."

The snake blinked at him and cocked its head to the side, its eyes lidding as though in consideration.

And then Matt learned what it looked like when a snake shrugged. The serpent straightened back up and offered the scroll again.

"Right." Matt took it and glanced at it. "It's for you, Luc," he said, handing it over.

"How do you know?" Luc asked, blinking as he took the scroll.

"No clue," Matt said with his own shrug.

Luc blinked, then added his own shrug to the mix and opened the scroll. His eyes got big, and then they narrowed in anger.

"It says she's an acolyte of Conveyance, and the Arts of Consolidation cannot be used to grant benefit or boon to mortal enemies. Dad, she's a hurt girl in the middle of a stupid jungle, how can she be a mortal enemy?"

Conveyance and Consolidation. The names that Tori had given to two of the trio of systems apparently at work in the world. Systems which, apparently, were at complete and thorough odds with each other.

Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

"Go grab the first aid kit," Matt said instead of answering his son's question. "Bring the whole thing. And then go back and hook the sled up to Harry and bring it back over here. Quickly, Luc."

"Right!" His son was up and off like a shot, with Harry in close pursuit.

"Hey Toraline," he said to the sword, now back to her original size and sheathed at his waist again. "The system thinks she's an enemy. Is that going to put her in danger if she stays here? Will Billy be forced to try and kill her, or will you go off your nut and do something to try and get her or anything? Truth, please," he added, his voice hardening.

The sword was silent for a long moment before the reply finally came.

"I do not believe so, Consul," Toraline said slowly. "I do not feel any compulsions that way, and she has already been within range of Billy for quite some time and he has not been forced to raise limb or leaf against her. I believe the inability of Consul Lucas to heal her is due more to ingrained limitations within the system itself than to any actual surface-level enmity or abiding hatred."

"You're sure?" Matt asked quietly. Normally he would have just accepted the sword at her word, but… Well. He'd just seen what happened when an ally tried to follow their word when it went in opposition to something from the system.

He remembered the moment of horror when Billy confessed his inability to strike at the Sentinels. The sheer despair and shame in the tree's leafy voice had been heartbreaking in the moment even as the stone men had charged at him.

"As sure as I can be, given the circumstances." Toraline's voice was steady. "There have been times in the past where emissaries from different systems have parlayed or even resided with one another, and to the best of my knowledge there have not been any homicidal urges or actings-out of the kind you describe."

"Good," Matt nodded. He'd had to ask. "Next question, that whole 'your blade changed sizes' thing… Can you do that on your own as well? Or is that something that only happened because of the Art I used?"

"I… Am unsure. Let me attempt it myself"

The sword vibrated against Matt's hip, and then with a quiet whispering sound the blade shrank noticeably as he watched.

"It appears I can control the size and shape of the blade, within limitations. It appears that the length of my original blade is the limit of my size, barring external forces obviously. But just from testing a few parameters and observing, it appears I can shrink or alter the shape to an impressive degree."

"Perfect. Give me something with a single sharp edge, about the size of a knife please."

Toraline buzzed again, and when he drew her he was holding what looked something like a westernized version of a Japanese tanto blade.

Perfect.

He used the blade to cut the elf's shirt away from her body. Without Luc's magic, he was going to have to clean and dress the wounds, and that meant getting them exposed while doing as little extra damage as possible.

The rough cloth cut easily under Toraline's blade, and Matt had to clench his teeth to keep from swearing as the extent of the girl's injuries came into view as the shirt peeled away from her body.

Lord, it looks like she's been starved and then beaten with sticks wrapped in 20-grit sandpaper.

There were no deep cuts or wounds that he saw. No broken bones, nothing that was in itself life-threatening. But almost every inch of what had once been pale flesh was either blue and black with deep bruising, or scrubbed red and raw, with blood leaking through the abraided flesh. He could see her ribs clearly under her skin, could see the skin stretched taught around muscle and bone…

Dear Lord. Matt had to turn away and breathe deep, just for an instant, before he forced his head to turn back and complete the work.

Luc arrived with the first aid kit just as Matt finished peeling the last of the girl's shirt away. The garment was an ugly mess, slick with blood and pus from the girl's wounds. Luc kept his eyes averted, allowing the girl her modesty as best he could as he approached and put the big white kit down next to Matt.

"Now the sled, right?" he asked, trying to keep his eyes away from the now-topless elf.

"Right. Put one of the sheets down on it. We'll use it as a travois to get her back to the clearing."

"'Cause we don't want to move her any more than we have to, right?"

"Right. Get moving."

"Got it!" Luc took off like a shot.

Matt turned back to the task at hand.

Her legs were in the same condition. Matt had to cut the rest of her garments away, wishing he could preserve her modesty but unable to under the circumstances. More bruises. More abrasions. More blood.

The girl couldn't have been much taller than Lucas, but she looked like she weighed a quarter of what his son did. Her breathing was shallow and ragged, her chest barely rising with each inhale.

The next several minutes were tense and unpleasant as Matt opened up the big kit and used its contents to start cleaning the girl's wounds. Purified water washed away pus, blood, and grit from the abrasions. He had to work in sections, like he was patching old damaged drywall. First her shoulders were washed. Then antibiotic ointment spread liberally over her wounds. Then clean gauze pads and bandages were wrapped around her. Then he sat her up, gently as he could, and moved on and did the same to her chest and upper back, working on both at once, then wrapping bandages all the way around. Then her midsection and lower back.

He paused long enough to break the seal on the emergency blanket in the kit, spread it out behind her, and lower her gently down onto it to prevent any of the dirt from getting in the bandages. Then he cleaned and bandaged her pelvis, her legs, her feet.

He was weeping by the time he was done. But he forced himself to finish.

When he finally looked up, Luc was standing next to him, his own eyes wide and shining with unshed tears. Harry was beside him, the makeshift sled from the Dilligaf's hull ready and waiting for its passenger.

"Help me lift her," he said, and was surprised by the gravel in his voice. He had to clear his throat twice before the lump went away.

Luc and Harry both took one side of the blanket under the elf, Matt took the other. When they lifted, it felt like they were lifting a bag of leaves.

"Why's she so light Dad?" Luc asked as they settled her onto the makeshift sled. "It it 'cause she's an elf?"

"Maybe," Matt said, making sure that nothing had gotten worse in the move. Some of the bandages were already starting to redden from the blood soaking into them, but it didn't look like anything had gotten worse. "But she's also really malnourished, it looks like. She probably needs to gain like twenty pounds of fat and another ten of muscle just to get to 'skinny'."

The walk back to Billy's main trunks was quiet. Matt stayed next to the sled, and Luc kept looking at its occupant, an unreadable expression on his face.

When they got back to Billy, Matt and Luc lifted the elf out of the sled and onto one of the nest beds Billy lowered for her. Then, after a couple seconds deliberation, Matt hooked up an IV to the elf as well. It was just a simple saline drip, to replace fluids, and not the plasma IV that he had used for Allie back after the gator-cats had gotten her. He just honestly wasn't sure if the elf's biology was close enough to humans that the plasma would affect her the same way. And he didn't want to make things worse. True, the medical supplies had aquired a magic of their own on the trip over from Earth, but he wasn't about to just start doing things and hoping it all worked out. That was a great way to make a bad situation worse.

Still, looking at the crumpled form in the nest bed, he would have been lying if he said he didn't desperately want to do more for her.

The radio on his belt crackled to life, startling him. It was Allie, calling in finally.

"Hey hon," he said, feeling something in his chest unclench at the sound of her voice. "How are things in your neck of the woods?"

"More interesting than we expected, dear," came Allie's wry response. "Long story short, we are all okay, the Keeper is defeated, and we are returning with the spoils of our hunt. We also have someone with us you will want to meet. How was your day?"

Matt glanced around, from the neatly stacked boards to the corpse of the sentinel to the elf that looked more like a mummy in the nest bed.

"Oh, you know," he said airily into the radio. "Same ol', same ol'."

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.