Bloodlines of the Ancient Pantheons

Chapter 384: CCCLXXXIV. Where Is He?!

"So why were the warehouses we ransacked full? And above all, why did the wolves react to the sound of the bell? Think about it, it happened soon after, as if they were the army guarding the village. They could have intervened earlier, after hearing the screams of the citizens during our assault... but no, they waited for the sound of that fucking bell and came out of their lair, as if they were ants!" Karl exclaimed, who retraced all the stages of the battle, thought back to all those who had lost their lives.

"Perhaps the villagers were in charge of collecting food for the beast-men and in return, the wolves allowed them to live here, under their protection. Krypstorm is very inhospitable due to its climate, so this place sheltered from the wind and blizzards is a great place to live. Farmers and traders, as long as they could provide food for the ravenous wolves, could inhabit these stone houses" Dag replied, laying out his theory.

"Yes, that makes sense" Freydis answered, who had already thought about this hypothesis, believing it to be the most logical. 

The conversation continued only for a few more minutes, after which Dag decided to rest, trying to regain his strength to resume fighting as soon as possible.

After ordering his sister Gridd to guard the two buildings overnight, Dag fell asleep, trying not to think of the excruciating pain he felt in almost every part of his body.

He awoke several times during the night, coughing and moving continuously, while his wounds continued to burn and heal, under the action of the dark liquid, which had not stopped even for a moment working for its creator.

...

"Aaaaaaargh!" 

The next morning, a harrowing scream sent Dag out of bed.

All sore, he sat on the stone slab on which he had spent all night and looked around, noticing that he was alone in the room.

The screams continued and seemed to come right from his same building.

Moving one of his legs with a hand, which had not yet started working normally again, Dag got out of bed and walked to the door, dragging himself on one leg.

Risking several times to fall, he leaned on the door, pushing it with the weight of his body and opening it.

In the main room of the building, dozens of soldiers were seated on the ground, and when they saw their Warchief limping out of his room, they immediately stood up, lining up.

"What's going on?! What are these screams?! They sound like Sander's voice! Where is he?!" Dag shouted towards his subordinates, waving and holding on to the wall, not yet being in a position to move independently.

"Captain! What are you doing standing up?! Master Egill said you need to rest again, otherwise your wounds..." 

"Pff... my wounds are already better... Sander where is he and what's happening to him?" 

"He's in that room... Today at dawn he regained consciousness and Master Egill ran to his rescue. He immediately noticed that his leg had become a horrible color, almost black, and he was forced to amputate it" Reidar said, explaining to Dag the reason for the screams and pointing to the only other door in that closed building.

"Fuck... I had a feeling that something was going to go wrong, his injuries were too severe!" he muttered, continuing to limp toward the door, leaning against the wall and his soldiers, who, seeing him in those conditions, helped him get closer to his target.

Reidar, knowing that fighting his captain's stubbornness would be futile, opened the door, allowing him to enter and trying not to show everything to the other soldiers, who knew only summarily what state one of their Masters was in. 

Barefoot and with bandages still attached to his wounds, Dag entered the room and leaned against the wall, noting that all his companions were there, turned to the other side, bent down.

Everyone turned to him, looking at him with a surprise air.

"Sander! How is he?!" Dag asked, without even saying goodbye, as his sister approached him, resting her arm on his shoulder, helping him to stand.

As soon as Gridd moved, Dag noticed a large bloodstain on the stone floor.

Egill's robe was also completely bloodied, as was Kjell and Karl's hands, standing next to him.

Walking slowly forward, he discovered that in front of them, there was him, Sander, lying on the ground on a kind of carpet, made from some furs piled on each other.

His eyes were closed and his body was strewn with wounds.

Without armor, it was possible to see the deep cuts that the ravenous wolves had procured on his chest and hips.

On the right side, his rib cage was broken and two ribs were fractured and still leaking from the flesh.

However, the worst part was the leg, which lay on the ground, in the pool of blood, detached from the rest of the body.

"Fuck! Is he dead?!" Dag asked again, panicking, hoping until the last moment that Sander would be saved.

Egill did not answer, merely wrapping the cut area with bandages, which as soon as they touched the knee drenched in blood, leaking out as from a fountain. 

Kjell stood up, resting his colleague's head on the furs and walked toward Dag.

He paused a few inches from him and looked him in the eye: his gaze had never been so sad, full of despair and anger.

His eyes seemed to be deeper than usual, red and with purple contours, typical of a person who cried and screamed throughout the night.

Dag turned his gaze back, pointing his purple eye at the chain-warrior, which because of his stubbornness had put everyone in danger, risking to kill all the soldiers of the troops and to nip the mission in the bud.

Kjell's hands were completely soaked in blood, which drop after drop, mapped the floor under his feet.

His nostrils began to widen and shrink and his mouth vibrated strangely, while his lips bent inside.