“Jo,” he called, voice raw. “I’m here.”
He didn’t wait for an answer.
Cedric was on the other side of the landing, kneeling where he had fallen. His legs were folded under him, his weight settled back, half sitting on the stone. His shoulders sagged. His head hung forward.
The hammer on the stone beside him. His fist wrapped around the shaft.
Harry crossed the distance and dropped to his knees in front of him.
Cedric’s face had gone chalk white. His eyes were closed. He was breathing, shallow and uneven. Pink foam clung to the corners of his mouth and spread across his lips.
Harry’s stomach turned.
He reached out and rested a hand on Cedric’s shoulder. Careful. Almost afraid to press too hard.
“Cedric?”
Cedric’s eyes opened.
They didn’t move at first. Only the pupils shifted, sliding sideways until they found Harry. A slow smile touched his mouth. Blood coated his teeth.
“Sir Harold,” he said, voice rough and thin. “I knew you would come.”
“I’m here.” Harry looked him over quickly, searching for something he could fix. Something he could mend. “Let’s get you lying down.”
Cedric coughed. It rose up from deep in his chest. More blood bubbled at his lips.
“Jojo and Stan?”
“They’re alive.”
Cedric gave the smallest nod.
“I’m sorry, Sir Harold.”
Harry flinched. “Sorry for what? You saved them.”
“I failed.” Cedric swallowed and coughed again, jaw tightening against the pain. “I swore to serve… a year and a day.”
Harry squeezed his shoulder. “There’s still plenty of time. We didn’t say which year.”
Cedric’s mouth twitched. The sound that came out was half chuckle, half cough. Blood ran fresh over his lips.
“Which year?”
Harry forced his mouth to shape a smile. “Right. You recover and we’ll start counting.”
Movement flickered at the edge of Harry’s vision.
He glanced over.
Jo was coming toward them. Slow. Bent over her right side, one arm clamped tight against her ribs.
She reached them and lowered herself carefully to her knees on Cedric’s other side. Harry saw it clearly, a long tear in the leather over her right ribs. She held a bundle of linen tight against it. The fabric was heavy and wet with blood. The scent of the blood hit him. For a brief flash his vision dimmed, went red. It passed and he shook his head. Focused on Jo’s face.
“Help me lay him down,” Harry said. He started to rise.
Cedric’s head shifted a fraction. Barely a shake.
“Wait.” A small cough. He drew a thin breath. “Can’t move… legs.”
Harry’s jaw locked.
God damn it, System. Why?
Jo slid her free hand forward and rested it gently on Cedric’s thigh.
“Sir Cedric of Whitehall,” she said, voice on the edge of breaking. “I’m here. What do you need.”
Pain tightened Cedric’s face. His jaw clenched until the tremor passed.
“My hammer,” he whispered.
Jo looked down.
The shaft was still locked in his right hand.
A tear slipped down her cheek. “You have your weapon.”
Cedric grunted softly.
“Your people…” He drew a thin breath, eyes unfocused for a moment. “Rulers of more fishes than men…”
A faint grin touched his mouth. Blood ran down his chin. He coughed again, weaker this time.
“Take me home.”
His chest hitched.
Jo had to lean forward to hear as Cedric’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Sing my song. Tell father… of Justicar.”
Jo took a long breath. For a moment all pain left her face.
“I will, Sir Cedric,” she said, strong and clear. “I swear it.”
Cedric gave the smallest nod. His eyes closed. Another cough shook him, shallow and spent.
Harry grabbed him by both shoulders.
“Cedric!”
He watched with his Blood Sense. Cedric’s thread was still there. Thin. Fading. It trembled once.
Slowed.
Stopped moving and began to shrink.
Harry stared at it, willing it to flare, to catch, to thicken again.
It dwindled to a fine line and vanished.
Harry looked up at Jo.
He shook his head once. Tears streamed down both his cheeks.
Cedric let out one last, rattling breath.
His body tipped forward.
Harry caught him.
With Jo’s help, her face twisted in pain, working with only her left arm, they eased him back onto the stone. Harry stretched out his legs carefully, straightening them.
For a moment there was nothing.
Then a cut branch dropped onto the stone beside them.
Another.
Sharpened stakes.
Cedric’s backpack thudded down. His bedroll. Blankets. A spear clattered against the rock.
One by one, his possessions appeared around them.
Everything he had carried. Everything he had kept.
Laid out in a quiet circle around his body.
Harry slumped back onto the stone beside Cedric’s body. He laid a hand on Cedric’s chest and sat there, unmoving. Staring.
Jo pushed herself to her feet and moved away. She walked slowly to the mountain wall, still hunched over her right side. She slid down until she was sitting against the stone. Drew her legs up. Wrapped her left arm around them. Laid her head on her knees.
After a moment her body began to shudder.
:: System: I apologize for intruding. Stan may need your assistance.
Harry lifted his head and looked around.
To his right, Stan lay crumpled against the mountain. One leg bent at the knee in an impossible angle.
With a groan Harry forced himself up and ran to him.
He knelt beside Stan and checked his thread. Steady. A little weaker than normal. Still strong.
Harry glanced at his meters.
H: 65 | V: 26 | TM: 76%
“Dammit.”
He leaned over Stan and worked quickly. Checked his pulse. Pried open one eye to see the pupil.
He ran his hands over Stan’s head. A small lump on one side. Nothing felt broken. Down his neck. Across his collarbones and ribs. The rest of his body except the bad leg. No obvious deformity. No wet warmth. No lumps or tears..
He let out a slow breath.
“I’m sorry I can’t use Mesmerize,” he said quietly. “This is going to hurt.”
He eased Stan onto his back, straightening him carefully.
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Last, he moved to the leg.
He laid his fingers against the knee. It was hot. Already swelling.
He pressed gently. Under the swelling it felt soft. Loose. Wrong.
Slowly, carefully, he straightened it.
Stan woke with a sharp gasp and grabbed for his knee.
“Stan.”
Harry leaned closer. “Stan.”
Stan’s face tightened. He turned his head toward the sound. A crooked smile pulled at his mouth through the pain.
“Boss,” he breathed. “You’re alive.”
“Are you hurt anywhere else?”
Stan rolled his shoulders carefully. Twisted his neck. Shifted his back. Raised one hand to feel the bump on his head. “Everywhere… but nothin’ bad, I think.”
Harry let himself drop back against the mountain. Stretched his legs out in front of him.
“I’m sorry. I don’t have any…” He stopped, reached into inventory, and pulled out a medium flask. He pulled the cork and held it out. “Whiskey?”
Stan reached for it, fingers brushing the metal, but paused. “Best wait. May be more o’ them golems about.”
Harry’s brows lifted. He scanned the shelf quickly. Broken and shattered stone. Nothing moving.
“What happened to the one missing a leg?”
Stan’s grin returned, faint but proud. “Jo and I pushed it over the side.” He gave a small shrug. “That’s when the other one caught us.”
At Jo’s name, Stan looked past Harry.
His gaze found her against the wall.
Then it shifted.
He sucked in a sharp breath. “Cedric?”
Harry shook his head once. “I’m sorry.”
Stan braced his hands against the ground like he meant to stand. His face went white and he dropped back down, clutching his knee.
“Dammit…” He shifted until his back rested against the mountain beside Harry. Using both hands, he dragged his injured leg straighter. “Was him that kilt the rest… he saved us.”
Harry nodded. Eyes burning as the tears came again.
Harry put the cork back in the whiskey flask and set it down between them.
“I’m going to check on Jo.”
Stan only grunted and let his head rest against the mountain.
Harry pushed himself to his feet and walked toward her.
The shuddering had stopped. She sat still against the rock, legs drawn in, head lowered.
He knelt beside her. “Jo?”
She lifted her head.
Her eyes were red. Her face streaked with blood and dust.
“You’re hurt,” he said quietly. “Let me take a look.”
She nodded. Lowered her legs. Shifted to one side and lifted her right arm only a few inches.
The blood-soaked linen clung to her ribs.
“What happened?”
“One caught me with a swing.” Her voice was flat. “I heard something crack. I think the cut was the edge of its arm.”
Harry nodded and reached for the cloth. “This might hurt a little.”
He peeled it back slowly, working it loose where it had dried and stuck.
Jo flinched from the pain and shot Harry a glare. "A little?"
A jagged tear ran along her side. No bone visible. The skin was split deep enough to show yellow fat beneath. The wound still bled, slow and steady. Dark blood oozed along the edges and trickled down her ribs.
The smell hit Harry again. Harder this time.
His vision washed red.
A growl rose from deep in his chest. His fangs slid down, starting to lengthen.
:: System: [Willpower Check] successful.
Harry dragged in a deep, shaking breath.
The red faded and his fangs retracted.
When his vision cleared, Jo was staring at him.
Fear was plain on her face.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “It’s… it’s hard.”
She gave a small nod. Her eyes flicked past him, toward Cedric’s body.
She didn’t speak.
Harry ignored her glance. He forced his focus back to her side.
He studied the wound. Pressed his fingers gently along the edges. Along her ribs.
She flinched and sucked in a sharp breath.
“Broken ribs for sure. I don’t think there’s any lung or artery damage.” He pulled his first aid supplies from inventory. “You did good to keep pressure on it.”
He handed her fresh linen. "Here. Keep this on it." He took the blood-soaked cloth and tossed it aside. He filled the large pot with water and placed it over the gas burner. Added a fistful of salt.
While it came to a boil, with System’s help he prepared a poultice from the herbs in his kit, crushing and mixing until it formed a thick paste.
While the water cooled they sat together in silence. Harry watched dust swirl in the wind rising over the cliff’s edge.
When everything was ready, he had her use wardrobe to remove her armor and lie flat on the stone.
He worked slowly. Carefully.
He flushed the wound with the salted water, pouring steadily until the diluted blood ran clear and he was certain no stone or grit remained. He cleaned the edges with a splash of whiskey and began stitching, leaving space between each suture for drainage.
Jo took it in silence. Her jaw tightened. A low grunt escaped her only when the needle pushed through skin.
When he finished, he spread the poultice over the closed wound and laid clean bandages across it. Finally he wrapped cloth around her torso to hold everything in place, firm but not tight, careful not to press too hard against the broken ribs.
Jo equipped her armor and sat up to ease herself back against the mountain.
“Alright,” Harry said. “We need a splint for Stan’s leg. Are you alright?”
She shook her head and gave him a crooked smile. “No. Not even a little. But go ahead.”
Harry pushed himself up again.
He walked to Cedric and stood a moment just looking down.
Finally he let out a shuddering breath and stepped to the pile of sharpened stakes Cedric had always used when they made camp. He stooped, picked up two, and carried them back to Stan.
Stan had fallen asleep.
Harry crouched beside him. “Stan.”
With a grunt, Stan’s eyes cracked open.
“Could you make me an axe. Maybe a carving knife.”
Stan nodded and went through the motions, lips moving as he muttered under his breath. A short handled axe formed in his hands. He passed it over. He repeated the process and produced a wood chisel and hammer.
Harry set the tools and one of the stakes aside. He turned the other stake over in his hands, studying it. Unsure how to start.
Stan held out his hands. “Give ’em here. You want a splint for me leg, yeah?”
Harry nodded. “Yeah. Two of them. As long as you can and flat on one side.”
“No worries, boss. I got it.”
Harry handed the stakes and tools over and stood.
He turned.
His eyes found Cedric’s body.
He looked away.
He walked to the edge of the cliff and sat down. His feet dangled over the drop. He leaned back on his hands and stared up at the sky.
Harry had no idea how much time had passed before he heard it.
A dull thump. A drag. Another thump.
Blood Sense brushed the thread behind him. Stan.
His hearing picked up the scrape of a foot dragging on stone. A spear used as a crutch.
Stan stopped a few paces back.
He stood there.
Harry didn’t turn. Didn’t speak.
After a minute the thumping started again. Slower this time.
Harry turned just enough to watch Stan pause beside Cedric’s body. Head bowed.
He moved on and Harry turned back to watch the sky.
A grunt. The scrape of wood. Cloth against stone.
Stan lowered himself beside Jo.
Silence stretched before Stan spoke.
“A street thug. That’s all I ever was.”
“Stan?”
“Was all I was ever gonna be.”
Neither of them said anything.
The wind came up over the cliff and died again.
“Then that bastard Zinkle threw me away like trash. A joke. Nothing but a meal for the boss.” He drew in a breath. “Instead of killing me, he untied me.”
He went quiet again.
Long enough that Harry thought he was done.
Stan’s voice carried over the stone.
“But right from the first, Toby treated me the same as anyone. Even with my arm and hand busted, you strapped on a shield an’ expected me to do my part.”
Harry heard Jo let out a short chuckle. “Hey, it worked. A few times me or Toby might have gotten bit if you didn’t step in.”
“I thought you were crazy. Who expects trash to step up and do their share?”
“You weren’t…”
“But you did. All of ya. Even Cedric.”
His voice shifted. Not louder. Just different. Surprise edging into it.
“And then the dungeon was going to give interfaces. I knew it weren’t for me. A interface ain’t meant for the likes o’ me. But I was wrong. No one said it. I watched. No one said anythin’. I’d get one too.”
“You earned it.”
“And now we have ’em. I have Olly. But you know what?”
Silence settled again.
Harry could picture Jo shaking her head.
“I’m still me. Same as Zinkle threw away. And ya know what? Maybe I never were trash. Zinkle was wrong.”
Harry pushed himself upright and looked back over his shoulder.
They sat close together.
Jo had turned toward Stan. Watching him.
Stan stared straight ahead. His leg splinted, bound with rope, and stretched out in front of him. A spear resting against his shoulder.
“Cedric called me brother. And him a noble. He put ’is hand on my shoulder and said brother.”
Jo leaned into him and bumped his shoulder.
“All of ya act like I matter. What I think. What I say.”
Stan shook his head.
“I don’t know how. How do ya act if you matter? But I want to. Cedric’s gone. He saved us. Saved me. I have to matter now.”
After that he fell quiet.
Harry turned back toward the sky.
A few minutes passed.
“Dammit, Stan… so, you’re saying we need to stop wallowing in pity and get off our asses.”
“You need to talk to Harry. He’ll listen to you.”
“Yeah…”
Harry sensed them moving behind him. Shifting stone. Low voices.
They spent a long time near Cedric.
He stopped listening.
After a while Jo approached and lowered herself beside him.
“Nice view.”
Harry let out a breath. “Yeah.”
“You heard?”
He nodded and turned his head toward her. “Yeah.”
“Ready to keep moving?”
“No.”
He stood anyway.
When he turned back toward the platform he froze.
Cedric was gone.
The body. The gear. The circle of stakes and blankets.
Empty stone.
“What?”
Jo put a hand on his arm. “I have him. When we get out I’ll take him home.”
Harry rubbed a hand over his face. “I’m sorry, Jo.”
She shrugged and pointed up the path toward the building at the far end. “Let’s get that far at least. Check it out and make camp.”
“I dropped the dagger.” He jerked a thumb toward the cliff. “Should I go find it?”
Jo stepped to the edge and looked down. “Do you think you could?”
“Not really. Identify has a pretty short range. It could be anywhere.”
“Let’s keep going.”
They moved back toward Stan.
Harry paused at the spot where Cedric had died.
After a moment he stepped forward.
They grouped up and headed for the path. Harry in front, Cedric’s hammer held in both hands. He’d borrowed it from Jo and would give it back when they got out.
Jo and Stan followed behind, walking side by side. Jo better but still favoring her right side.
As soon as Harry left the platform and stepped onto the narrow trail, a notification appeared.
:: System: You have completed level four of The Chamber of Attrition and advanced one level.
:: Class: Vampire Level 3 (4,001/9,000)
***
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