That red pulse became the whole universe for him, replacing hope and the memory of Serdic. It was so omnipresent that when Dennis’ eyes told him that there was a glow which silhouetted the dark thickets, the information merged with pain and was lost until his feet tripped on the threshold.
Then he stumbled into the cabin he had fled a lifetime before.
Dennis would have gotten up and run further, but his body failed him at last. His hands and feet scrabbled briefly on the floor of smooth hardwood puncheons, but they could raise his torso only for a moment before he flopped down again.
He wasn’t crying; he had no tears left.
For minutes, Dennis lay on the floor with his breath sobbing in and out while his muscles recovered themselves enough to hurt individually.
The fireplace held a bed of glowing coals. Their light seemed brighter than it had earlier, when the cabinet opened and Dennis ran from Serdic the first time… but time lacked the reality it had when this terrible night began.
The cabinet still stood in the corner, open and empty. The cabin’s front door stirred vaguely in a breeze that made Dennis shiver.
The youth got up, moving like a man who’d lived with pain for decades. A cramp suddenly knotted the big muscles of his right thigh. The flesh contorted, taking away Dennis’ breath with the fresh agony and almost throwing him to the floor again.
Almost. With his eyes slitted, he hopped on his good leg until he caught the edge of the door and supported half his weight on it until the fiery throbbing subsided. He slammed the heavy door; barred it; and, as an afterthought, tweaked in the latchstring that still hung out through the hole above the lintel.
The feathery pelt was gone. He’d probably lost it in the jungle when he bolted out the door.
That didn’t matter. Dennis had slept with frogs in a pool of rainwater. The warm puncheons were a more attractive choice now than the bed that in the shadows across the room.
Dennis curled up in front of the fire, cradling his head on his crossed arms. He could feel the aches draining from him. His muscles relaxed, giving up the tautness which had doubled the pain of his injuries. He was logy with fatigue, drifting into a slumber as deep as the realm of the sea hag…
“What will you give me for your lodging, boy?” demanded the Wizard Serdic from outside the cabin.
Dennis roused. He felt as though his skin were covered with needles which pricked him every time he moved. His ears buzzed so loudly that for a moment he thought he must be dreaming, because he couldn’t hear any real sound over the roar of blood and exhaustion.
“What will you give me, boy?” the voice demanded.
Dennis stepped to the door. He didn’t feel his scrapes and bruises, but pulses of heat rose until they expanded away from the top of his head as he moved.
He lifted the bar and pulled the door open. The corpse stared at him with eyes lighted orange by reflected firelight.
Dennis had been frightened too badly and for too long to have any fear remaining.
“Come in, wizard,” he said, moving his arm in a welcoming gesture. He would have bowed if he’d been sure that he wouldn’t fall over if he tried.
Serdic stepped forward stiffly, not from pain but as if he were pieced together out of wood rather than flesh. The fire had tangled his long fingernails into a mass like knotted hair, giving his hands the appearance of deformed hoofs.
The hole in Serdic’s right shoulder—where one end of the spit had been inserted—was puckered and bloodless.
“You owe me for your lodging, boy,” said the corpse. “What is it that you will give me?”
Dennis stepped back and let the door swing closed behind Serdic. A greenish fungus traced patterns like tattoos on the right side of the corpse’s face.
Dennis smiled. “I’ll give you a story, wizard,” he said. The syllables drifted through his consciousness like bubbles glimmering on dark water for the moment before they burst.