Secret of the Spiritkeeper by Matt Forbeck

Author:Matt Forbeck [Forbeck, Matt]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-7869-3143-9
Publisher: Wizards of the Coast Publishing
Published: 2004-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

All three of the kids raced to the warrior’s side. “Is he dead?” Driskoll asked.

Kellach felt the man’s throat and knelt down to listen for his breath. “Not yet,” he said, “but he’s not far off.”

At Kellach’s direction, he and Driskoll rolled the warrior over onto his back. Moyra scrambled off to fetch the man’s lantern.

Having had much experience at helping Torin in and out of his armor, Kellach and Driskoll set to work loosing the warrior from his chainmail. If the scars on his body were to tell the tale, he was a veteran of many campaigns. The kids were determined that he would not die after saving them.

“Fetch his pack,” Kellach said to Moyra. Without a word, she obeyed.

While Kellach rummaged about in the man’s belongings, Driskoll tended to the wounds. They were mostly superficial—a scratch here, a cut there—but there were a lot of them. Driskoll needed some clean cloth to bind them up. When he glanced behind, he saw Kellach toss a spare shirt out of the warrior’s pack. Driskoll grabbed it and started tearing it into strips.

Before Driskoll could even ask for it, Kellach tapped him on the shoulder with the man’s waterskin. Driskoll nodded his thanks and took the skin. He used the water to drench two of the strips, and then Moyra and he went to work cleaning the wounds. As they worked on some of the cuts, the man squirmed in pain, but he never cried out once.

“Aha!” Kellach said. Driskoll looked up to see him pluck a handful of vials from the man’s pack. They were each made of steel and sealed with a wax-covered cork.

Kellach held the vials up to the lantern light and read the symbols scratched on their surfaces. On the third vial, he stopped and said, “Yes!” He looked through the rest quickly and let all but the third fall to the ground. Then he pulled out his knife, broke the seal on the vial, and uncorked it.

“Open his mouth,” Kellach said. Driskoll put his hand under the man’s neck and angled his chin up while Moyra pulled open his jaw. Kellach reached over and poured every last drop of the fluid from the vial into the man’s mouth.

The stuff smelled horrible, and some it came out of the vial in clumps that nearly choked the warrior as he swallowed them down. “What is this gunk?” Driskoll asked.

Kellach smiled at his brother, then looked down at the warrior. “It’s a healing potion, one made by a priest.”

As the three kids watched, the wounds on the warrior’s skin began to knit together on their own, healing before their eyes. Moyra gasped at the sight, and the warrior groaned. His eyes fluttered and then opened.

At first, the warrior seemed mystified to see the three friends. “Children,” he said. “I must still be dreaming.” Then he sat up and looked around to see where he was. As his eyes tried to pierce the darkness, the situation dawned on him.

The warrior reached out and plucked the empty vial from Kellach’s hand.

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