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Chapter 141: Fever Dreams
The storm outside battered the rotting door of the shepherd's hut. Rainwater dripped through the decaying thatched roof in a steady, monotonous rhythm.Basra tossed violently on the bed of bracken. His breath came in shallow, ragged gasps that rattled deep inside his inflamed chest."Quiet down, boy," Levi muttered. He dipped the graying rag back into a small iron pot of boiling water.The mercenary wrung out the cloth with calloused, steady hands. He moved with the grim efficiency of a man who had patched up dying soldiers on a hundred muddy battlefields.Basra’s eyes flew open, wide and unfocused. He gripped Levi’s wrist with surprising strength, his fingernails digging into the older man’s leather bracer."The ridge," Basra whispered, his voice cracking from thirst. "The snow... it’s filling up my boots. We have to keep moving.""There is no snow here, Basra," Levi said softly, gently prying the younger man’s fingers loose. "You’re off in the lowlands now. Lie still."Basra didn't
Chapter 141: Fever Dreams
The autumn rain beat against the warped timbers of the abandoned shepherd’s hut like a drumroll of lead shot. Inside the crumbling stone walls, the air smelled of damp sheep wool, rotting straw, and mounting panic.Basra lay shivering on a bed of dry bracken in the corner. His skin burned with a fierce, unnatural heat, yet he could not stop his teeth from chattering.Levi knelt beside him, a damp rag clutched in his weathered hand. The mercenary’s face was etched with deep lines of worry and exhaustion."Drink this, Basra," Levi ordered. He held a cracked clay mug filled with foul-tasting herbal water to the younger man’s lips.Basra weakly batted the mug away, groaning in protest. The bitter taste made his stomach violently churn."It will bring the fever down," Levi insisted, his voice dropping into a harsh rasp. "Stop fighting me and swallow the damn draft."Basra forced his heavy eyelids open. The shadowy interior of the hut spun wildly around him like a wheel."It’s too cold," Ba
Chapter 140: The False Trail
The wind swept across the barren plains with freezing hostility. Gray clouds hung low, threatening another heavy deluge at any second.Levi pulled his mount to an abrupt halt near the base of a jagged slate outcrop. He raised a gloved hand to signal Basra, his face grim and focused."Listen," Levi whispered, his voice barely cutting through the whistling gale.Basra reined in his bay mare, wincing as the sudden movement jarred his bruised ribs. He strained his ears, pushing past the ringing in his head from the persistent fever.From far behind them, carried on the damp air, came a faint, rhythmic pounding. It was the distinct sound of galloping hooves splashing through the muddy lowland tracks."They're closing the distance," Basra said, his hand dropping automatically toward the hilt of his belt knife. "How many?""Too many to fight in the open," Levi replied without hesitation. He turned his horse sharply toward a shallow, rock-strewn creek that intersected their path.The water of
Chapter 139: The Rider Behind
The autumn rain turned the dirt tracks into a thick, clinging soup. Every hoofbeat was a wet, heavy squelch that echoed across the desolate plains.Basra slumped low in his creaking leather saddle, trying to shield his face from the stinging sleet. His injured arm throbbed beneath the damp wool of his tunic, keeping time with the horse's tired gait."Keep your head down," Levi called out over the howling wind. The older mercenary rode a few paces ahead, his eyes constantly scanning the horizon.Basra forced himself to straighten his back, though his spine felt like dry twigs. He reached down to pat the neck of his sway-backed bay, murmuring a quiet encouragement.The horses were slow, but they were steady. They picked their way through the puddles with a stubborn grace that matched their riders.The landscape around them was flat and devoid of cover. Low rolling hills stretched out for miles, interrupted only by sparse groves of naked thorn trees.It was the kind of terrain where an a
Chapter 137: Deciphering the Ink
The heavy wooden door of the ruined mill groaned on rusted iron hinges. Martha pulled them inside with a surprising strength for her age.She slammed the door shut and slid a thick oak beam into place. The interior was pitch black save for a single tallow candle guttering on a scarred wooden table."You smell like a tanner's latrine," Martha said without turning around. She walked briskly toward a small hearth where a kettle was already steaming.Basra leaned against the rough stone wall of the mill. His wet clothes clung heavily to his shivering frame, sending fresh shivers down his spine."The garrison was right behind us," Basra managed to say through chattering teeth. He reached inside his ruined tunic and pulled out the wrapped package.Levi dropped the water-damaged leather ledger onto the scarred wooden table with a wet thud. The dark binding was warped from the river water and caked in foul-smelling river mud."Is it intact?" Martha asked, her sharp eyes narrowing as she appro
Chapter 138: Horses and Heavy Rain
The wind howled through the skeletal rafters of the abandoned mill. Outside, the gray morning sky finally surrendered to a heavy, unrelenting autumn downpour.Martha tossed a pair of thick, dry wool blankets over their shivering shoulders. Her weathered face was a map of old scars and deep wrinkles earned from decades of underground work."You'll catch your death sitting there like drowned rats," Martha muttered. She walked over to a dark corner near the back of the mill.The sound of heavy hooves scraping against flagstones echoed through the room. Martha emerged a moment later holding the lead ropes of two wretched-looking horses."These are the best mounts I can spare," Martha said, handing the ropes to Levi. "They're sway-backed and stubborn, but they won't quit on the road."Levi inspected the beasts with the eye of a seasoned cavalryman. He ran a calloused hand down the neck of the nearest bay mare, checking its teeth and wind."They'll do," Levi grunted. "Better than walking on
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