Free Corben's Thirst: The Thirst Within Part 1.5 by Johi Jenkins Page B

macabre dance. A dry chuckle escaped me, and then I winced because it hurt as hell. But I was delirious, and found it comical that Thierry’s obsession with hunting and swordplay had saved my life. Or at least prolonged it for short while.
    After another minute he reached me, and I felt his arms cradling me gently. I looked up at him and found an alarmed expression on his face. I tried to thank him but he shushed me.
    “Save your strength, brother,” he said softly.
    What strength? I was dying. And I had to tell him. “But I… I need you to know… I am so sorry that I hurt you.” My voice was barely above a whisper, but he heard me. I was still focused on his face, and watched as his eyes moistened.
    “I forgive you.”
    I could feel my life draining out of me. It should have been terrifying, but I was suddenly at peace.
    “Thank you. I needed to say… before I….”
    “No, do not speak of it. I have to bring you inside, then I will send for the medic.”
    The medic! Only then did I remember Charlotte. “No—bring me to Charlotte. She is sleeping inside. Upstairs.”
    “Yes. I will call for your wife. But also for the medic—”
    “No medic. She will heal me.”
    “Corben, you need more help than she can possibly give you—”
    “Thierry,” I cut him off, with effort. “She can heal me. She is… special. Please. I need her.”
    I heard him sigh. “I will bring you to her. Hold on.”
    He picked me up and carried me back to the house with some strain. Every step of the way hurt as much as the pitchfork. Every shift, even the smallest pull of gravity felt like I wouldn’t be able to survive it. But somehow he made it to the front door.
    And then we heard a scream. I lifted my head with effort as Thierry turned around towards the voice. It was a woman’s wail, coming from the gate, about a hundred feet away. She was cradling a body; one of the men that Thierry had killed.
    “Petyr! No… my children!”
    She was about my late mother’s age, but she was fit . She stood in a flash and was suddenly running towards us, almost flying, her face contorted with fury. Before Thierry could even react she had reached us; she rounded on Thierry and pushed him, pushed on me, while wailing desperately.
    “Madam, what in the….”
    But she didn’t give him a chance to say anything.
    “Lay him down. Give him to me.”
    “My brother? You will not touch him. Look what your people did to him!”
    “Give him to me!” she repeated.
    “Sod off!” Thierry tried to ignore her, turning around to get us inside the house and away from the crazy woman. But he was encumbered with my weight, and she took advantage of that.
    She reached for his belt as he turned and grabbed his sword.
    “Stop—” Thierry tried to say, but before he could get another word out she whirled the weapon in the air, two-handed, and with a smack I saw as it buried itself in Thierry’s neck above me. I felt his hot blood on my face before I heard his cry. And one second later we were both falling. I was almost numb from the pain but I could still feel the fall. And then I felt the sharp sword piercing my chest. This time it barely hurt.
    Then everything went black.

9.             Sentence
     
    It felt like hours, if not days, had gone by when I next came to. I was groggy and confused, and it took a minute for the memories of that bloody afternoon to come back to me. Before they did, though, during that minute, as I lay on my bed I thought only of Charlotte. I was more than just thinking—my entire being was full of her. She was in my thoughts, my vision, everything. She was inside me. She was in me .
    I didn’t question what was happening. I only reacted to what was in my head as I drifted pleasantly in a half-conscious stage, where I knew I was awake but I was still in a dreamlike trance, my wife in every cell of my body.
    And then I remembered.
    Thierry .
    I jumped up, determined to find out what had happened to him—and I