Sweetfires

Wrote this about a year ago, and would've forgotten about it if I wasn't looking through my discs. Needs a bit of work, and its not finished but I figured I'd put it up somewhere or I'll forget it again.

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Jarone and the man on the rock


Jarone found the crucified man four days ride out of Burville. He looked like hell, and smelled like death, which was why Jarone was perfectly content with just riding by. He�d seen the body from miles away hanging on a stone face that led into a ravine, and as loath as he was to even passing the grotesque sight, Jarone couldn�t let a small thing like personal displeasure distract him from his hunt. The closest distance between two points was a straight line, and it ran right beside the naked corpse. It would cost time for him to divert around the gorge, and time was all the currency Jarone had. He didn�t even think that he could afford to loose the time that it would take him to cut the body from the cliff face. That is, he didn�t think so until the corpse lifted his head.

Jarone pulled his gelding to a stop, and stared at those empty pain-filled eyes with rapt horror until the head dropped back limply against its chest. Jarone finally found that he had all the time in the world to save a man�s life.

Kicking his ride into a canter, he reached the poor soul in seconds. The gelding�s eyes rolled at the smell of carrion, and his approach drove a couple of ravens into the air. Jarone swore softly. �You poor bastard,� he snarled. �Nailed to a rock face! The seven hells have no mercy for the dogs that did this.� He might as well have been talking to a doorknob for all the response the dying man gave. Jarone unhooked his water canteen and gently lifting the man�s head, dribbled a few drops on his lips. He was unconscious, but an automatic response gave Jarone heart. He dribbled a few more drops before dismounting. He took the saw tied to his saddle roll. �Easy there, fellow. This is going to take a while, but I�ll get you free, don�t you fret.� He started with the nail but soon realised that it was nigh impossible to saw through iron. He had to pull the stake out. A he got the chisel from his tool bag, and found a large rock. It took a while, but the long iron nail soon came out encrusted with rock, blood and bone. The body sagged, and Jarone swore. He fetched his horse, and manoeuvred him under the nailed man, perching him on the saddle. �That should take the weight off your arms,� he murmured. It was a futile gesture. Jarone knew that despite what he did, even if the man lived, he�d be a cripple the rest of his life.

Now for the arms. Jarone carefully mounted his horse so he could reach the nails. The crucifiers must have been on horseback when they did this. �Those dogs were real determined to nail you to a damn stone,� he muttered as he knocked out a nail. �I just wished they�d found a tree to hang you in. You�d be dead, but you�d be in a whole lot less in pain, that�s for sure.� One nail came loose, and than the last.

It was nearing sundown, now, and it would be cold. With the limp body cradled in his arms, he nudged his horse down into the rest of stony gorge. �You must be one heck of a survivor there, buddy,� he muttered. �And you can tell me all �bout what happened back there when you get better. For now we�ll just have to keep you through the night.�

Jarone had been through this way many a time before, and knew where there would be an adequate shelter for the night. He nudged his horse to make a sudden right into one of the winding paths off the main road, and onto another side path that wound up the cliff face. It was little more than an old goat path, but his horse was unusually agile with never a foot placed wrongly. The path levelled off after a while unto a ledge, and Jarone dismounted with his patient cradled close. The man was tall, but disturbingly light for his size. He shifted the body to his left shoulder to keep a hand free. Leaving the horse to graze on the scraggly scrub, Jarone moved further down the path, which became increasingly narrow. He stopped when the ledge was a bare foot�s width, and a thorny bush bared his way. Jarone knelt carefully. It was hard enough to struggle pass the thorns by himself yet alone with a burden. Then he stiffened, and saw that he needn�t worry as someone had taken the time to tease a tunnel at the back of the bush. Very carefully, he shifted his burden back to his arms, and edged into the narrow fissure hidden by the bush. It was a tight squeeze for a while, being narrow at the top and wider at the bottom, but the entrance widened into a sizable cave.

It was, as far as Jarone could tell in the near dark, quite empty of anything living. It smelt, however, as if someone had burned a fire not too long ago. Gently setting his burden on the rock floor, Jarone dug out a box of matches from his jacket before shrugging it off and covering his crippled patient. He knelt next to him, and struck a match. It was empty of anything living, all right, but not empty of belongings. A bedroll lay to Jarone�s far left, a pack next to it, and in the fire pit that Jarone himself had built lay dried branches and twigs ready for a new fire. His match went out, but Jarone knew this cave even in the dark. He inched to the fire pit and lit the kindling. He then fetched the limp body of his patient and placed it onto the pallet. �Now just you stay there, old boy. I won�t be gone for long.� It never occurred to Jarone that it was absurd of him to talk to a non-responding person.

It was twilight outside the cave, and Jarone hurried as fast as it was safely possible to his horse. He unburdened his beast of the saddle, and bridle. The gelding, long used to being temporally set loose, turned and nimbly walked down the path. Jarone wasn�t concerned. His horse would come when called. It worried Jarone, though, that his saddle and gear seemed heavier than the man he rescued. It was dark now, and he picked his way with extra care.

In the cave, Jarone noticed that the man hadn�t moved an inch. �I�m back,� he said anyway. �Now let�s get some water boiling so we can clean those wounds of yours.� There was a reason, apart from its concealed nature, that Jarone found this cave to be an ideal hide-away. There was a depression at the back of the cave where rainwater would flow down a thin crack and fill a small pool. Jarone filled his small kettle with the water now, as well as his pot, and brought both to the fire to be boiled. He dribbled a few more drops into his patient�s mouth while he waited, and then he dripped a few more, each time the tip of pink tongue could be seen responding to moisture on the cracked lips. �I�m sorry,� Jarone told the man. �I can�t give you more any faster. The Precious One only knows how long you�ve been without.�

The water came to a boil in the kettle. The pot being larger took longer. Jarone took out the healing kit from one of his saddlebags. There was a packet of dried herbs in there. Jarone wasn�t too sure of the details, but he�d been told that when made into a poultice and smoothed over wounds, it would staunch bleeding and prevent festering. Jarone hoped that what little he had was enough, because from the looks of things the wounded man needed a whole bush to keep him from going ill. Well, iller than he already was. He emptied the packet into the kettle, and took it off the fire to soak a little. The other pot had begun to boil, and setting a little aside in a bowl, he used a clean rag to dip and wash the injured man.

It was a mindless task, and as he worked he talked to his patient.

�Y�know, I betcha these are your things �ere. Judging from them crow-pecks and that gadawful sunburn, I�d say you�d been hanging up there for no less than two days, about as long as that ash that�s in the pit. Three, perhaps since you seem like a strong one, but by the Precious One�s tooth, if I find that you�ve been alive for longer on that stone, I�ll forget about those ragged mother ravagers that stole my cattle and run down them dog buggerers that did this to you.� Jarone�s hand was gentle as he washed first the dirt around the stranger�s wounds, then about the rest of his body. He made no effort to avoid the peeling skin. It was one more hurt among others and would certainly heal better compared to the rest of the man�s wounds. Jarone frowned. �I see they did you one over before nailing you. I reckon you�ve got broken ribs but them�s be the least of your worrries. I can�t imagine what sort of damage you�d taken on that rock.�

Jarone regularly rinsed the rag into the pot, using his knife to whisk it about the hot water and to pull it out. He gingerly wrung the rag. �Now lets see what you look like under all that blood and dirt.� Jarone�s gentle ministering uncovered a handsome though pain-etched face. There were bruises, to be sure, and the bad sunburn took away some, but this was a very handsome man, indeed. Jarone felt his mouth go dry and a hard knot from in his stomach. He stopped himself, by pure will, from glancing at his patient�s unmentionables. Well, yes, he�d seen them. He couldn�t help not seeing them with the poor sod being naked and all. Strangely enough, they seemed to be the only part that wasn�t targeted by violence. �Easy there, lad,� he said, this time more to himself than to the unconscious man beside him. �Easy, Jarone. First we get him upright, then we�ll see if he likes men. And I didn�t rescue you just for that.� Jarone found himself adding that last sentence for his patient�s sake. He flushed suddenly, as if realising he�d been speaking to the equivalent of a vegetable.

�Enough of that,� he muttered gruffly. �Lets get the rest of you clean.� Jarone gently dabbed at the man�s neck, moving up to his ears. Brushing aside dirt-clogged hair, he stopped still. �By the Precious One�� he said wonderingly. Jarone traced a finger along the pointed tip of his patient�s ear. �You�re not a man, are you?�


Later, when he�d gotten the rest of the�man, yes, he�d call it a man for now, when he�d gotten the rest of the man clean, poulticed and bandaged, Jarone sat back against his saddle, his own bedroll set out and ready for sleep under him, and nibbled a hard biscuit for his supper. His patient had biscuit too, but broken up and soaked into a soggy mess in that water he�d set aside. Every now and then he�d spoon a bit into the unconscious man�s mouth. There was no sense letting him die now, weird looking ears or no. A quick examination revealed traceries of old scars, some rather vicious looking, on his body. This discovery made Jarone feel much better about his patient. Whatever he was, he was certainly mortal. What made Jarone uneasy, however, were the tattoos. There were two, one of a wolf�s head on his back, underneath his head. That was quite normal, though the wolf had red fur. The other was on his right arm, a vine in silvery ink. Widely travelled though Jarone was, he�d never seen such a tattoo. It practically shined in the firelight like real silver. What made Jarone glad, though, was that his patient didn�t make an encore of reviving like he did when still nailed to the rock. He wasn�t quite ready to handle a conscious patient just yet.

Jarone felt himself nodding off, and with a start he suddenly realised he�d still had his hat and gun belt on. Somewhat flushed in the face, he hurried to remedy this, smiling ruefully as he imagined what his mother would say. �Well, my friend,� he said softly to the bandaged man across the fire. �It�s certainly been an eventful day. We�ll see what the morning brings us, eh?� He banked the fire, and pulled his blanket over himself, and slept.


Morning came, and the first thing Jarone did was to build up the fire, and set more water to boil. Then he checked on his patient. The man was still unconscious, but his colour was a little better. Jarone rubbed his stubbled cheek, and stared at his patient�s smooth face. �Well, you look old enough to grow a beard, yet I don�t see the makings of one. You�re a strange fellow, you are.�

He made himself a cup of tea, and oat porridge for the both of them. Jarone wolfed his down before feeding the unconscious man a spoon at a time. He interspersed his feeding with his own morning absolutions.

Jarone stood for a while, looking at the unconscious man. �You, sir, are in need of a doctor. There ain�t no way that I get you right without one. But see, there lies the problem. I can�t get you to one in your condition. So I figure that I�ll hole up here for the time being.� He buckled his gun-belt on. �I�ve only got �nough food to last me five days, so�s I�ll be gone for a bit, y� hear? I�ll be back, and I�ll have us some cooneys for supper.� He pocketed a sling and a length of wire from his saddlebags, and popped his hat on. �I�ll pop in by midday, anyways. I figure you�ll like another feeding then, �eh?� With one last look at the prone body by the fire, Jarone slipped out of the cave.

The day passed quickly. He visited his horse first, and was pleased that the gelding had found some edibles to graze on. Then he looked for stones, smooth pebbles, really. By midday it was too hot to anything else, but had already caught a couple of stringy hares. He went back to the cave.

His patient hadn�t changed much, but then Jarone didn�t expect him to regain consciousness so soon. �Hey there, feller, I�m back like I said.� Jarone set the hares to one side. �Now how�s bout some more porridge? I don�t think you�re up for anything stronger.� There was some left over from breakfast, and stirred in some hot water he boiled for his tea to make it runnier. He drank his tea and fed his patient. Jarone had two hard biscuits for his lunch and took a siesta.

Supper, when he woke, was stew for himself, and more porridge for the unconscious man. �Sorry, old boy. But I think you�ll be having stuff that�ll go easy on your stomach for the next few days. You can have stew when you wake up, how�s �bout that?�

The unconscious man made no response, but Jarone didn�t expect one. He had another early night after giving his patient some water to drink.

The next day was much the same as the last, and Jarone expected the day after to be unchanged as the last, so he was rather surprised when he came back from his morning scavenge to find a pair of dark green eyes looking dully at him.

�W-w-wa�,� gasped the man with some difficulty. �Waaa...taarrrr��

Jarone shook out of his initial shock. �Water? Is that what you want, buddy?� He dropped his catch, rabbits this time, and reached for his canteen. He gently lifted his patient�s head. �Easy there, feller. Just a bit at a time.� The man drank greedily from the held up canteen. Jarone pulled it back after he�d swallowed a few mouthfuls. �That�s enough for now,� he said gently. �We�ll let you deal with that for now, then I�ll give you some more, okay?�

Those tired green eyes slowly rolled up to look at Jarone. �Hoo�?� Every word seemed to be an effort. �I�m Jarone, Jarone Allerbyrn. I found you nailed to a rock face, but you�re safe now.�

�Safe�� whispered the man. His eyes drooped.

�Yeah,� assured Jarone, gently letting the head to the makeshift pillow. �You�re safe.� The stranger had already dropped off to sleep.

Want more! This is good stuff and I yearn to know what happens next.

Likewise! Next installment pleeeeease?!

More? More? You can't handle more!

Mwahahahhahahah!!!!

*coughs*

Will write more when if I'm through with this essay before Thursday. Believe me, the bunnies for this thing have awakened and are hopping about like mad things on spring legs. I *think* this may be a bit steam punk. Steam punk or spell slinger. Both are good. *nods*

(and oh yeah, I forgot to thank you guys for commenting. Sweets is silly like that)

Hey. I add my voice to the encores.

I enjoyed this. *trying to give some intelligent feedback* I like the mix of genres; Western is fun and underutilised. Steampunk (steamfant?) is lovely. I also think the details work well: the description of his actions, the injuries and so on.

And I really wanna see how our sympathetic, practical hero is gonna cope with old Wolfy when he's up and about again. *g*

Mutt, did you just ruin the ending for me?

I dunno the ending. Well, we don't know for certain that the guy will ever be up and about again... and it would definitely be a surprising twist if he wasn't... but I guessed he would be.

Oh, if you meant my saying "wolfie", I just meant the tattoo Sweets described. Reddish wolf, wasn't it? I don't think the guy is Smoin. x)

Red wolf it was indeed! *grins*

But that's right, Julia's not met Carnil yet.

And thanks Mutt!

Mark's currently got a one-on-one with me using the Iron Kingdom rules, so I've got ideas.

*pines for Smoin*

Carnil nearly trod on my precious Izzy and lovely Micah, I'll have you know! Mind you, he was fleeing from Amber at the time so it's entirely forgiven.

I hadn't realised that's who it was. But I'm sure it won't ruin the next installement(s). *eagerly awaits*

Hee! Old Wolfy is always fleeing, for one reason or another.

Well, I'm joining the choir. We definitely need more installments. The story can't end just yet, now can it? (Besides, steampunk = best.)

Sttteeeeaeampuuunk. Heck, it made Wild Wild West bearable, and that's not easy to do.

And oops... sorry if I inadvertantly guessed something correctly? I didn't mean to. ;D

I'll finish the rest of my assignments in two weeks time, but for now, to whet your teeth on:

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The man drifted in and out of consciousness over the next couple of days. Jarone would feed and water him as much as possible. He talked as much as possible, in that same conversational tone he kept up while the fellow was unconscious. His patient on the other hand didn�ft speak other than that first time. Those dark green eyes, though, communicated better than Jarone would have liked. They were dull with pain, and every small movement brought a wince to the corners of his eyes. Jarone only tended the man�fs wounds when he was asleep. By night�fs fall, Jarone was tired enough that he put himself to bed without any supper.

Dawn broke, and Jarone awoke to his name being called in a soft croak. �gJ�fro�fn Alyburn. J�fro�fn Alyburn. I�crequire�chelp.�h

Jarone blinked awake, and turned his head. He froze for a moment as his brain adjust to the bedroll across the fire being empty, and that someone was calling for his help. He woke completely at a gasp of pain, and sat up. He looked around in the dim light of the cave, and spotted his patient on the floor, halfway between the fire pit and the cave entrance.

�gOh, hey. Hey! I�fm comin�f!�h Jarone rushed over and tried to be gentle as he gathered his patient�fs too-light body in his arms.

�gNo,�h said the wounded man. �gOut. I need out.�h Jarone saw his face scrunch with frustration.

�gYou want a bush?�h Jarone asked, trying to understand.

The man frowned up at him. �gYes. I need out.�h

�gYou�fre not well, you know. I can get a bowl�c�h

�gNo! Must�cout.�h

Jarone sighed. �gOkay then. Don�ft say I didn�ft warn you.�h He brought his patient to the entrance of the cave and supported him as he did his business. The wounded man sagged against him when he was finished. He panted heavily near Jarone�fs ear, and was nearly asleep when Jarone tucked him back under his blanket. Jarone sighed and went to get his leather bucket.

A bit later, when Jarone had scrubbed and shaved, he contemplated the bush that guarded the cave�fs entrance. It kept away the critters but it was a damn nuisance to crawl through. It�fd be harder for his crippled friend. He nodded decisively, and took his hatchet to the prickly shrub.

His patient woke around midday wanting another piss. Jarone helped him, naturally, and put the waiting bucket of water to good use again. The wounded man was fed and watered, and just as he was dropping off to sleep, he spoke.

�gJ�fro�fn Alyburn,�h he croaked, placing a hand on Jarone�fs chest. The hand moved to his own chest.
�gCarncarca,�h he said, the paused. �gCarnil.�h

�gHowdy, Karn-ka-ka,�h said Jarone, trying to pronounce the foreign name. �gEr...Carnil. That's what you want to be called?�h Jarone hopped so. It was a heck lot easier to pronounce.

His patient nodded weakly. �gCarnil,�h he murmured sleepily. Jarone watched as Carnil fell asleep, and nodded.

�gYou stay right there, Carnil. I�fll get you on your feet in no time flat. And that�fs a promise.�h

*glares at the above post*

Damn Word to Discus formatting. Mods are welcome to delete the last post. Anyway, to whet your teeth until I finish with class...:

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The man drifted in and out of consciousness over the next couple of days. Jarone would feed and water him as much as possible. He talked as much as possible, in that same conversational tone he kept up while the fellow was unconscious. His patient on the other hand didn�t speak other than that first time. Those dark green eyes, though, communicated better than Jarone would have liked. They were dull with pain, and every small movement brought a wince to the corners of his eyes. Jarone only tended the man�s wounds when he was asleep. By night�s fall, Jarone was tired enough that he put himself to bed without any supper.

Dawn broke, and Jarone awoke to his name being called in a soft croak. �J�ro�n Alyburn. J�ro�n Alyburn. I�Eequire�Eelp.�E

Jarone blinked awake, and turned his head. He froze for a moment as his brain adjust to the bedroll across the fire being empty, and that someone was calling for his help. He woke completely at a gasp of pain, and sat up. He looked around in the dim light of the cave, and spotted his patient on the floor, halfway between the fire pit and the cave entrance.

�Oh, hey. Hey! I�m comin�E�EJarone rushed over and tried to be gentle as he gathered his patient�s too-light body in his arms.

�No,�Esaid the wounded man. �Out. I need out.�EJarone saw his face scrunch with frustration.

�You want a bush?�EJarone asked, trying to understand.

The man frowned up at him. �Yes. I need out.�E
�You�re not well, you know. I can get a bowl�E

�No! Must�Eut.�E

Jarone sighed. �Okay then. Don�t say I didn�t warn you.�EHe brought his patient to the entrance of the cave and supported him as he did his business. The wounded man sagged against him when he was finished. He panted heavily near Jarone�s ear, and was nearly asleep when Jarone tucked him back under his blanket. Jarone sighed and went to get his leather bucket.
A bit later, when Jarone had scrubbed and shaved, he contemplated the bush that guarded the cave�s entrance. It kept away the critters but it was a damn nuisance to crawl through. It�d be harder for his crippled friend. He nodded decisively, and took his hatchet to the prickly shrub.
His patient woke around midday wanting another piss. Jarone helped him, naturally, and put the waiting bucket of water to good use again. The wounded man was fed and watered, and just as he was dropping off to sleep, he spoke.

�J�ro�n Alyburn,�Ehe croaked, placing a hand on Jarone�s chest. The hand moved to his own chest. �Carncarca,�Ehe said, the paused. �Carnil.�E
�Howdy, Karn-ka-ka,�Esaid Jarone, trying to pronounce the foreign name. �Er�Earnil. Carnil. That's what you want to be called?" Jarone hopped so. It was a heck lot easier to pronounce.
His patient nodded weakly. �Carnil,�Ehe murmured sleepily. Jarone watched as Carnil fell asleep, and nodded.

�You stay right there, Carnil. I�ll get you on your feet in no time flat. And that�s a promise.�E

*sighs* Gah. I don't even know why its doing that. *sticks her tongue out at the last two posts*