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Conan hacked at the stubborn, thick branches that kept getting in their way. Elric was on his tail, but Conan had to keep glancing back as Elric kept stumbling, and even fell down to his knee at one point. His sword arm was bleeding profusely, and the back of his head was badly wounded from a strike a battle ax. The Stygian bandits had the luck of stealing their gold, but not their weapons or lives, so Conan was looking forward to paying them back for their attempt at making a quick pay.
*
The barbarian and the sorcerer had just disembarked from a lovely little merchant craft that had been generous enough to take them across the Blue sea. Conan had insisted on paying the red-headed sailor, since Elric had no sense of temperance when it came to their finances, which he had to learn the hard way. The sailor threw an unsure glance at Elric, then bad Conan farewell as the craft rested at the port to sell their goods. It took almost all of his share, but he could just as easily earn it all back, either through loot, trade or gambling with some poor merry men drunk on ale in the nearest tavern. And if not money, he could just take some good arms and call it a day.
They passed through a rowdy looking town near the harbor. Elric was already used to eyes piercing his whole body with contempt, but he did not expect a whole group of men to so openly block their way and demand all the goods they had on them. Conan was much more experienced with dealing with pests like these, and was even content with just bandying with words, but Elric was not evidently. He approached the leader of the batch. He was a gruff, horse nosed bald middle aged man, with a silver ringlet on his head and a silver girdle upon his tanned torso. He had foam forming around his mouth, which seemed to alarm Conan slightly.
"We are not looking for trouble, but we are willing to give it unless you let us pass." Elric said, in his best diplomatic voice. The leader apparently thought this was all too ridiculous, as he began bellowing with laughter. Elric remained unperturbed with this reaction, even as the Stygian hit him on the shoulder for support from the severity of his laughing fit.
"Look at the little vampire pansy trying to tell us what to do. What say you, lads? Do we let them pass?" the bandits behind them all drew their weapons forth. The leader grinned a smile which showed his crooked, yellow teeth. "That's what I thought. You'll see what it means to mess with Vook and his pack!" he swung his battle ax at the albino, but Elric felt something grab his tunic and pull him back, the ax only catching him by the edge of his clothing.
"We just can't catch a break in these times..." Conan thought out loud, as he held his sword in his hand, looming about the bandits like a panther disturbed during his feast. Elric, likewise, poised himself like a wolf in waiting.
Vook spat on the ground, and charged at the two. Conan swiftly dodged them with the natural agility he was gifted with, and struck the boar with the pommel of his hilt, making the man stumble forward.
Elric had the fortune to strike one of the other stocky barbarians that charged after their leader with his hellblade, but the sword's assistance proved minimal in that battle. Elric's had issues like this before. Stormbringer had a taste it preferred, and this batch of the day proved to be disgusting for the sword, and thus it refused to serve its purpose beyond a regular double-handed sword. Elric swore under his breath as he was forced to fight like a normal human, which in his poor health proved a rather demanding and exhausting task. The vitality expired as quickly as it was gifted, and within minutes, the sword felt unbearably heavy in his two spindly arms. A stygian pig swung his arms, as fat as a tree trunk, and Elric used the remaining strength to jump clear of the ax that swung towards him in a white flash. As he rolled on the muddy ground in search for his black blade, Vook, unseen, struck him once on the pale head with the flat surface of the ax, and slashed him twice on his back. The stygian then struck Elric's sword arm with force enough to momentarily sober Elric up with pain. He yelped out, feeling something dripping from his arm. Crimson stained the ground. The mail underneath his tunic was probably the only reason he was still breathing.
"Now it's time you die, you demon scum." Vook raised his ax above his head, the sunlight making the metal glimmer, stained with the Melnbonean's blood. His eyes were bulging with blood-thirsty madness, and his mouth was leaking spit.
Elric only kept his eyes open for a split second, being close to throwing up from the pain in his entire body, enough to see the Cimmerian rushing towards him in heavy steps, hacking one of the pigs' head off in a clean cut before Elric was out cold.
*
He woke up to a pressure on his torso and his arms dangling freely underneath him. The ground was moving at speed. He felt something wrapped around his waist, holding him in place. He realized he was being carried. The only indicator of by whom was the bronze skin, supple back and simple piece of loincloth held together by a golden girdle that also held the scabbards of an aquilonian sword and a hyrkanian short blade.
"Wild-mane?" Elric called out groggily. He felt movements of neck muscles against his body.
"Good. You're awake. They aren't far behind us. I had to make a quick call. Either you, or them." Conan spoke shortly, as he kept zooming through trees, river streams and small avian predators that gnawed at them with their talons and beaks. Elric had no idea for how long he was out cold, for he saw no signs of civilization around. They were traversing a jungle.
"Let me down, I can walk." Elric said, feeling for his sword. It was strapped at his hip, back in its scabbard. He was surprised the Cimmerian had the thought to even take it with him as he grabbed the albino and legged it.
"You're still weak." the Cimmerian said as he suddenly got off the main road, took Elric off his shoulder and pushed him into a thicket.
"What is it?" Elric asked, dizzy from the manhandling, but Conan pressed a palm onto his mouth. Elric was about to tear it off, when he heard heavy boots tread along the road. He saw the remaining bandits storm past their hiding stop, some of them still bleeding and others foaming at the mouth. Most of them seemed disorientated, but their fury and desire to kill seemed to override their common sense. They rambled about wanting to 'kill the damn brute' and tear the heart out of that demon freak'. Elric almost pitied them. Human mind was so fragile, yet so powerful at the same time. And yet, he felt his royal, ancient blood burn with desire to have vengeance for the way he was treated. He hated his blood, yet it nonetheless made him just as susceptible to basic animalistic impulses to satisfy it.
"We should search for a place to rest." Conan said as he stood up and walked further into the trees. Elric slowly rose behind him. His back felt like it was on fire. He even felt the undershirt beneath the mail stick to his skin unpleasantly and hurt as it moved when he stood up. His sword arm was not faring better. Elric saw dried blood trailing all the way down to his fingernails.
"I can fight. Let us pursue them before they regain their senses." Elric reached for his blade with his sword arm, giving his best to ignore the discomfort. Conan sighed, and grabbed the albino's other arm and began dragging him along. Elric protested and tired to pull himself free, but when the Cimmerian threatened to knock him out cold again, Elric relented and was content to follow him freely.
*
"Finally, some water" Conan remarked as he hacked one final vine, and made his way out of the trees. A pond was located in the center of a rather small clearance. The water was clear, and he noticed several small fish swimming in it. He glanced up, noticing ripe yellow and red fruits hanging from the high branches. Perfect little place hidden from eyes for a respite. Elric had emerged from the thicket when Conan had lain his weapons down. His eyes were glassy, and his stance was unbalanced. He had returned his blade into its scabbard, his hands growing too tired to carry it. Conan walked up to him, and much to Elric's surprise, picked him up by the armpit and crotch and threw him straight into the water.
Elric flailed about, hitting the surface. The water wasn't deep, it reached about his waist. He shook a fist at the Cimmerian, who had sat himself by the edge of the water.
"What in the seven hells is your problem, you brutish ape?!" he roared out, his wet hair sticking to his face.
"The water is drinkable, take some. You're dehydrated." Conan said flatly, taking his blades and dipping it into the water to cleanse them. "And take your clothes off. You need a bath."
Elric eyed him in silence for a long second. "Likewise." he added, before taking off his tunic, mail and breeches (with as little use of his right arm as possible, which proved a difficult task). His undershirt was stuck to his skin, and as he painfully peeled it off, he noticed small specs of blood and scabs come off with it. He didn't dare inspect his back, but in the now slightly murky water, he saw two lines across his back; from the shoulder-blade to the small of his back. It hurt as he moved. He winced as bent down to drink from what little clean spots remained in the pond. The cold water at least soothed the injuries.
He saw the water ripple around him, and heard light splashes. When he raised his head, he saw the Cimmerian, naked as a marble statue, wading towards him, a piece of cloth and a jar in his hands. Elric stiffened for a second, reason having left him. The barbarian was indeed a remarkable man, in appearance and skill equally. He understood why so many damsels desired him, whether they were empresses, slaves or of the wild.
"What?" he asked, demurely. He felt what little of his blood remained rush straight to his face and ears, which he was told could be indeed very visible. He sometimes resented how the Cimmerian's presence made him feel like a maiden.
"You need help." The Cimmerian simply said. He motioned for the Melnibonean to sit in the shallow, water up to his shoulders, as the Cimmerian used a piece of ripped cloth to clean the wounds on his back. Elric winced as it made contact with his skin.
"You're lucky they're dumb enough not to rub mercury onto their weapons." Conan remarked, washing the bloodied cloth in the water. "It'll scar. But you should be fine in a while." he said, applying one of Elric's remedies onto the wounds. Elric remained pensive throughout the treatment. He never asked the Cimmerian for any help, and yet, there they were, alone, unprompted, him sitting in water like a helpless toothless wolf while this panther of a man tended to his wounds. He should have just abandoned him to the angry pack, or killed them anyway and not bother with him now.
"I don't need your help." he muttered, angrily. It felt humiliating. To be treated this way. He knew he used to be an emperor, and that his subjects were expected to fuss about him and serve him, but he felt useless because of it. He knew how they felt about him, and he in turn learned over years to suffer in silence, and lick his wounds alone. It was much less stressful that way. No one would have to put up with him that way but himself. And he was already used to his own worst daily.
"Sure, whatever your highness says." The Cimmerian ignored him. He'd just finished wrapping bandages around the sorcerer's back, which were already crimson flecked. After he was done with Elric's sword arm, he left the albino's side and went for the depth to wash himself. He swan dove straight into the water, completely submerging himself, coming up with his black mane shining. He rinsed it until it was no longer matted and the mud had left it. The water was now completely mudded from their usage of it.
Conan turned back to a dumb-struck Elric, whose gaze was glued to his endowed physique. He wondered if the albino was ever envious of it. Of how his health was always at peak, being able to sleep in the snow in just his britches, instead of always feeling so cold and sensitive to the sun.
"You're staring." Conan remarked. As if that wasn't obvious. Elric swiftly tore his gaze away. Conan chuckled.
"I didn't say it was a bad thing." he squeezed the water out of his hair, letting the little sun that peeked through the thick treetops warm it.
Elric rose out of the water and walked back to his clothes wordlessly. Conan remained submerged a while longer, watching the Melnibonean run through what little remained of their supplies. At least they hadn't taken Elric's herbs and medicines, which he very much needed right now due to Stormbringer's incomplience.
While Elric took his drugs, Conan had climbed up a tree, and with a spearhead he kept in a boot, he cut a few ripe fruits loose and descended with his prizes. He handed one to Elric, who accepted it without gratitude. Conan munched on the sweet fruit, its juices replenishing the hunger and thirst he felt for a while. Elric only took small, polite bites. Conan huffed at that.
"You don't have to hold yourself back around me." he told the albino, who threw him a quizzical look.
"You don't have to be so stuck up all the time. You're allowed to be... human, if that makes sense." Conan wiped his mouth clean. Elric looked at his own hands.
So pale.
So thin.
So weak.
"I don't have that privilege." he said. "You've seen it yourself. Most of the sorcerers have sold a part of themselves for power. You cannot get that kind of power unless you give something in return. For us, it was our freedom, our morality."
"You're not like your people, Elric. That's definitively a fact. And do not take it the bad way. You shouldn't feel ashamed for being an outsider. I'm one, and I'm proud of that."
Elric glanced away "But you're an outsider in a good way. You're one because you follow your own voice, your own principles. You don't fall prey to the shackles of society" he balled his fists "I have none. I'm a mouthpiece for a dead lineage, I'm a weapon of fate who needs others to do her work, and I'm left without reward." his eyes grew distant, and his fury turned inward.
Conan still wasn't done. "I don't know a whole lot about your situation, and I'm not sure I'd like to find myself in one, but I do know that if I spent all my life brooding about a past long since gone, and lamenting about a dreadful future that is yet to come, I'd lived no life at all. I'd just be sacrificing all my present for something that I physically cannot touch. I suggest you start doing the same, too. If your life is a never-ending storm, don't wait until the lightning strikes you, dance in the rain for a while. Welcome death on your own terms."
Elric looked back at him. His eyes were narrow in contemplation "You say things like that so simply."
"Because they are that simple, Elric. Life needn't be more complicated that we make it. And that's the truth."
"That's your truth." Elric leaned his boney face on his palms. "I'm a pawn for something I'm not meant to understand. I'll die, and there'll be no one to remember me, or the things I've done."
"There's no way I'm sitting here listening to all of that again." Conan rolled his eyes. "If you're sad, fine, lament. But you're going to get up again and live to see another day. If not for your own sake, for the sake of someone dear to you."
"Like who? None remain."
"Fine. For my sake."
Elric paused at that. "What?"
"You heard me. Think about me when you think you should give up. Because I'd just call you a fool. Life moves on, even after we are dead and gone. What matters is what we do while we live. If what you're supposed to do is benefiting all of those who are yet to come, then your life is not doomed. You're doing something great, even if you don't see it while you're still here."
Elric kept looking at the Cimmerian. The way he spoke, even if not of noble blood, was still more honest and to the point than any of the scholars he encountered both in his studies and his dream quests. How his blue eyes smouldered with passion and their own hidden wisdom behind them.
"And moreover, if you act all selfish and get yourself killed prematurely, you'll be leaving all those who care about you and love you all alone."
"If I die, they'll be spared my sword-" Elric began, but Conan grabbed his shoulders.
"No! Listen to me! They are aware of the risks they take. As am I. Because they are not weak people."
"But my sword-" Elric protested. He's heard this all too many times, and the sword still kept taking all of those he loved away from him.
"Don't sell yourself weak, either, pale-skin! Be your own master for at least just a while!" Conan persisted.
Elric was already overwhelmed by the barbarian's words, but before either could react, a rustle in the bushes got both of their attentions.
"This conversation is not over." Conan said, as he picked up his sword and short blade.
"I know." Elric said in an annoyed tone, as he pulled the black blade out of its scabbard, and steeled himself for whatever was approaching them.