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The next time he awoke it was light, and Lt. Ailill was in the room, speaking with the healer from before.
“...mostly just the effects of fatigue, now,” Ailill was saying. “All
we can do now is give him food and water when he wakes, and trust his
stubbornness will see him through.”
Garkhen moved slightly, and both healers turned to him.
“You're awake, Private,” Ailill stated. He turned to the other healer and nodded, and she hurried out.
Lt. Ailill turned back to Garkhen. “Do you feel like you can speak?”
“A little,” the half-dragon replied, his voice weak and scratchy.
Ailill nodded. “Good. You're healing quickly, given that you just
channeled enough magic through you to banish an incredibly powerful
demon and then had a few tons of stone collapse on you.”
He shook his head slightly. “To be honest, Private Garkhen, even with
that armor of yours I'm surprised you're alive. But I suppose when you
cross a dragon with a dwarf, I shouldn't be surprised you'd be so
stubborn about staying alive. And... I'm rather glad you are.”
Garkhen managed a small smile. “Thank you, sir,” he rasped.
The other healer returned with water and broth. Again Garkhen drank. He
felt somewhat better when he was done—enough that he could look around a
bit more. The room he was in was plain and unadorned, but clearly was
in a well-built home.
“My armor?” The thought suddenly occurred to him that he was not wearing it.
“It was surprisingly willing to come off,” Ailill answered, giving
Garkhen an odd look. “We packed it in a chest, which is now underneath
this bed, along with your other belongings.”
Garkhen nodded, relieved. He wished to see it... but he could feel he did not yet have the strength. “It is... whole?”
“It was badly damaged when we dug you out of the rubble,” the elf
replied, “But by the time we got it off you... I would not have known it
had been used.”
Garkhen's gasp of surprise informed him that he was still somewhat bruised. “I did not know...”
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