Chapter 5 - A Further Digression

Roland fed the meager campfire before him. As the sun set on the horizon, it had grown dark in the surrounding forest, Maker knows how long they'd been unconscious. There was only a little light left, both figuratively and literally. 

Astrid was lying on the opposite end of the fire, her condition having improved somewhat, but she'd been left unconscious and with a worsening fever since their encounter. The battered knight feared that at best it was a concussion and at worst something internal, only worsened by the exertion of her mana. The young witch was all that remained of his party, and more importantly she was his friend; it was now his duty to protect her.
 
Isolde was gone. 
Sarah was gone. 
 
Roland's mind paced wildly as he fueled their campfire, Astara only knows what could've happened to fragile Sarah. Even worse, there was context for the horrible things that could be happening to Isolde. Neither he nor his remaining compatriot had the strength to rescue either of them at the moment. Perhaps there was no hope for even Astrid and himself, as it was only a matter of time before some band of rogues descended upon the two; poor Astrid.
 
Roland had discarded much of his battered armor, as all it did was weigh him down by this point. Thankfully for them, but perhaps unfortunately for Sarah, the young elf had dropped her supply rucksack when she was separated from them. First-aid essentials, standard rations, etc. Perhaps he alone could nurse Astrid back to health, and if she could regain some of her mana then perhaps there was hope; But they needed time, time that was quickly slipping between his finger.
 
"F-fire", Astrid whispered, her eyes barely flickering open. 
 
Roland leapt from his seat, quickly attending to the semiconscious teen. He took a moment to check her bandaged forehead with the backside of his hand and combed through her auburn hair. She was a scholarly girl, too sheepish for such gritty work as this; had he the foresight he would've turned her away from their cause when they first met. 
 
"Are you alright? I thought I was to be all alone," Roland smiled lightly as consciousness was seemingly a good sign. His own wounds ached sorely, but his health was the least of his concern at the moment.
 
"I'm alright Ro, m-my head just hurts a little". Astrid winced, trying to form a weak smile. Her eyes flickered with wilted courage; a small fire in such big brown eyes. 
 
"You ready to fling some spells my little pyro"? Roland was trying to keep the conversation light, to spark any semblance of hope in both himself and his younger companion. He helped her sit up, trying to make her as comfortable as possible given their situation; she had been through enough already. Roland returned to his equipment, strapping some fragments of his armor onto his torso and retrieving his longsword. 
 
"What happened to you"? Astrid asked inquisitively.
 
"Well, I was flung into you, we were both knocked out and-". 
 
"Something threw you"? She chuckled slightly, "It must have been really s-strong". Her humor is what had kept her sane, kept all of them sane. Roland had to be grounded, he realized he had to save the others. So much was riding on his shoulders; he had to carry the weight.
 
"Do you not remember anything from earlier? The cave troll? Any of it"? If she couldn’t remember-- Maker protect…
 
Astrid paused, "Not entirely, it's all so fuzzy". Her speech was interrupted by a series of alarming coughing fits. Could it be that things weren’t improving? Roland had no time for their situation to worsen, because if they did he might not be able to save her, and the knight couldn't bear to be alone… He tried to save face, appear brave, but it took everything in his being to keep from breaking down in front of her.
 
“Look, my little witch, I’m going to take care of you until you feel better, but until you do you need to sleep”. The young warrior laid her back down to rest; she’d been through enough today as it was. “I’m going to go fetch the others, they shouldn’t be too far now, OK”? He tried to maintain his composure as he pulled the bed roll over her diminutive body.
 
Astrid wearily closed her eyes. Much of what had happened was lost upon her, perhaps that was for the better; although at worst it may have signaled possible health complications. Roland made sure she felt comfortable, as best as she could be. All the responsibility now fell on Ro alone, to protect Astrid, to find the others, to save himself. Perhaps a lesser man would fold, but he was no lesse--
 
*THWACK*
 
Two times in one eventful day; how unlucky could one hero be? Dammit. Sometimes even the most gallant of knights fall short. 

----
 
Roland’s eyes slowly rolled opened, light barely filtering through them. If he were to be knocked out again perhaps he would also have a concussion of sorts. The young man's skull ached, had that monstrous troll come back for some final retribution? He was not prepared, if this were to be the last great battle of his life he would surely perish with these odds.
 
From what he could tell he was in a room-- had they been saved? No, this room was cold, unattended, devoid of life perhaps. There was something peculiar about it. 
 
The walls, had they been covered with-- slime? It was everywhere, coating the floor, the walls, the ceiling… what foul abomination could be responsible for this? Roland tried to move his arms but the binding that secured them was too tight. Even his legs barely nudged against their restraints; escape was seemingly impossible. His body had been fastened to the derelict cobblestone of the dungeon.
 
Astrid!
 
Astrid was restrained to the wall adjacent of him, thick strands of goo binding her to the polished stone. She appeared to be alright, but he could barely see a thing beyond moving forms, minuscule details were almost unrecognizable. Everything was so, dark. 

A peculiar sound caught the captive fighter's attention: sticky footsteps, sloshing in the slime below. As they grew closer, Roland tensed in anticipation. He would give no beast the satisfaction of hearing him scream, he held no false pretenses for his own demise. All he prayed was that his compatriots’ fate was quick and painless, especially the naive witch. Forgive me, all of you.
 
“Hi Roland”, a familiar voice hummed from the darkness of the cave.
 
It couldn’t be. Sarah?
 
The nude elf stepped forward, a large smile across her freckled face and a rodent in hand. The rat blankly stared at Roland, unflinching, as if it was examining him thoroughly; peering through his soul.
 
“Is that a r-rat?" the words fumbled from his mouth in a dumbfounded way, nothing was making a lick of sense! His friend was alive, a-and nude! Her wounds from the encounter with the troll had healed entirely. Not even a scar on her arm... it was an illusion, it had to be!
 
"Oh Roland, there's no need to worry anymore; we'll all be together soon". Her eyes shimmered in the darkness, orbs of violet.

