Call of War: Tale of A Traveling Swordsman by Becerra Juan

Author:Becerra, Juan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-10-27T00:00:00+00:00

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“Hjalmar.”

The name reached him as if from a distance. With effort, Hjalmar lifted his head, pain splitting through him as if he’d been struck by an axe. A piercing ray of sunlight cut through a grimy window, forcing him to raise his hand as a shield against the glare.

Someone was near him, shadowed against the light. Hjalmar felt cool fingers touching his forehead, methodically peeling away the linen bandages that encased his head. A sudden sharpness made him flinch, his breath catching.

For days now, he’d sensed an ongoing dance of figures around him—gentle hands changing dressings, murmured voices discussing his condition. Especially the deep claw marks on his arm and back. But who?

Gritting through the pain, he rasped, “Why does it feel like I’ve…?”

“Been run over by wild boars?” The voice was deep, tinged with both concern and humor.

Hjalmar grunted. “That’s one way to put it. Everything hurts.”

A scent of antiseptic herbs wafted in the room, signaling that healing measures were underway.

The figure leaned into Hjalmar’s field of vision—an older man with lines of experience etched into his face. “You should be resting, not talking. Going into that mine shaft was a grave mistake. The air was thick with dust and toxins. You’ve inhaled a good bit of it. As for the marks, they’ll scar, but you’ll live.”

Hjalmar tried to process the words. “And my head? It feels…shattered.”

The older man sighed. “A side effect from the blast. You were out cold. Your eardrum took a hit, but you’re healing. You’re alert, which means you’ll likely recover fully. Just need time and fluids. Push yourself too soon, and it’ll slow things down.”

Hjalmar blinked, taking in the man’s features. “The medicus? Am I in Haughster?”

The faint murmur of conversation brushed his ears. “You’re safe now. No imps or bandits here. The only things you have to brace yourself for are Gaius Valerius’s unending orders. But that kind of torment doesn’t inflict physical harm.”

Hjalmar struggled to focus. “Did we defeat the goblins? Where’s Anders? The children? My team?”

A firm hand pressed gently against his chest. “Easy, Hjalmar. Rest now. We’ll talk later.”

Heeding the advice, exhaustion pulled Hjalmar back into the depths of sleep. Days seemed to blur together, a tapestry of dreams and hazy consciousness, until a familiar voice broke through the fog.

“He’s been out for nearly a week, Medicus. Will he pull through?” Hjalmar detected genuine concern in the familiar voice.

“He’s on the mend, Commandant. The worst is past,” replied the medicus.

Hjalmar’s eyes fluttered open to lock onto the familiar figure of the commandant, whose fiery beard seemed to glow in the dim light.

Before the medicus could chime in, the commandant’s stern voice silenced him. “Medicus, step outside. I need a moment with Hjalmar.”

“I urge caution, Commandant. He’s still—”

“I said out,” the commandant cut him off, his tone brooking no argument.

Hesitating for a moment, the medicus finally nodded, retreating from the room. The commandant, Erik Ulfric, settled into the chair beside the bed, his gaze both analytical and tender. “How do you

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