Timestamp: 68th of Summer 518
As he climbed out of bed Kynier groaned loudly. It was a groan of exhaust as well as pain. The wound in his side was healing well and quickly. But it had been severe and deep. During the night the white clothed bandage had been stained from the healing fluids his body protruded during his sleep. Ebon had instructed him on what to do to help it heal more quickly. After three days it was more than three fourths of the way through its recovery. Kynier looked over at the rest of the bed. Kelski had already gotten up for the day and was probably downstairs in her workshop. She had several orders to attend to, and probably needed the distraction.
Kynier stood up from the bed and walked over to his large chest. The cold iron short sword that had been his longest known companion rested on top. Tilting over, rather than bending to agitate his side, Kynier took hold of the weapon. The words he spoke were long drawn and twisted his tongue in unusual ways in order to speak them. Tukant was an interesting language, but difficult to really get an understanding of. Kynier only knew a few phrases and hoped that Aer’wyn would be willing to teach him more. Standing there, in the master suite, he used one of the phrases he knew to activate the magic of his blade. “I’ll Die Tomorrow.”
The blue tinted metal radiated a pure white light. The magic that had alluded his attention for nearly fourteen years poured out and through his body. His will directed that energy to the stab wound in his side. Once it was there he felt a bitter cold sensation at the edges of the healing tissue. So cold that it burned and Kynier winced despite the fact that he knew it was coming. Magic accelerated the body’s natural healing process and bridged the severed fragments of tissue. After several chimes the djed from the weapon subsided as the healing power for the day had been spent.
Setting the blade back down, Kynier worked on unwrapping the bandage from his torso. It had soaked through and smelled rank. When the last of it had been removed Kynier examined his side. It had nearly filled back out to the surface with fresh tissue. The urge to touch it as part of his examination was one he forced himself to not indulge. Until his body produced more fluids to protect the fresh tissue he was prone to infection. Kynier unlocked the chest and took out a vial of Belltor. It was nearly empty and the last one that he had. He uncorked the vail and laid back down on the bed, wound side up. Kynier dripped a few drops onto the fresh tissue and hissed loudly. Belltor burned something fierce. But it would help prevent infection as well as reduce the scaring. He put the Belltor away and took out more bandage wraps to cover the wound. Between him and Kelski, they were running out of medical supplies. His healing sword and Ebon’s gnosis could only do so much. Perhaps tomorrow he would go to the market and purchase some more.
Wrapping cloth tightly around his own torso was challenging. The way he had to pass off the cloth from one hand to the next in while trying to pull it taught. After four layers he tied it off then got dressed. Today he would not check with Doler for any work. The crazed wizard would just have to manage without him for now. Kynier roamed into the common area and started cooking himself some breakfast. He took a cooking pot, a fork, a plate, and a spatula then pocketed three eggs that the chickens had laid. All of these he took outside to the fire pit. Setting it all down on the couch, Kynier carefully picked up a few logs to set in the fire pit. The summer morning was still a little cool, and the gentle endless roar of the ocean was soothing.
While life at the Midnight Gem seemed to have taken a distraught turn, Kynier still would not trade it for anything else.
Once the wood had been set Kynier took a step back and knelt down on one knee. Closing his eyes he listened to the waves crash on the distant shore and the gulls cry out in the air. Using it to aid his meditation he was able to reach into his soul for the pool of djed. Will reached into the collection of power and took out a trace of it to bring to his hand. Holding it out with the palm facing the fire pit, gaseous res sprung forth from his skin. It hovered in the air for a moment as Kynier imagined it becoming engulfed in flames. Ignite. It erupted in a blaze of red and orange. Using the trace amount of res left unburning yet still malleable at the core of the fireball, Kynier guided it across the surface of the wooden pile.
After that, Kynier took a seat on the couch and set the cooking pot between his legs. With an egg in hand he tapped the shell hard against the rim of the pot. When a sizable crack in the shells surface had formed, Kynier set a thumb on either side and pried it open for the yolk to fall into the pot. He discarded the shell into the magic flames to be consumed before repeating the process with the other two eggs. Once all three were broken and in the pot he stared inside. There were small fragments of shells in the yolk still. Fishing them out with a finger and thumb were more difficult that he expected. Pinching them together would sometimes drive the shell piece out of his grasp. But once they were all removed, Kynier stationed the pot over the fire to rest on the wire rack that assisted in keeping once from burning their hands on the fire pit.
Still feeling tired he wanted to sit down and rest more. But instead he grabbed the spatula and stood next to the fire and stirred the eggs around.
Word Count: 1,037
Boxcode credit goes to Gossamer!
