Chapter 9: The Healing Power of Dusthaven
The sun was shining heavily but that could not stop Kelvin because he had somewhere to get to on time. Kelvin limped forward, keeping his experiences behind him as he forged ahead to Dusthaven.
His skin itched him with dried sweat and beneath his sleeve the sigil pulsed faintly like an ember beneath his skin, Xerion had gone quiet but Kelvin could feel that he is still watching and waiting in silence.
The battle had left him broken and shattered. His ribs ached with every breath, and a sickly heat continued to spread from the wound on his thigh. The infection from the wound held at his strength but he did not stop.
Not when Dusthaven stood just few miles after the bridge, which he was standing on. The Dushaven is a pathway of rusted steel, a place of barter markets, and possibly a medicine, if the gods of this shattered world were willing.
The gates of Dusthaven were cobbled together from scavenged plating and Rift beast bones, a makeshift fortress built out of necessity rather than grandeur.
Twin towers stood roughly at both side, manned by professional soldiers whose eyes followed Kelvin’s approach like hawks.
One of them raised a rifle halfway, with one of his eyes closed as he looked at the blood-crusted figure and dragging himself across the sand.
"Stop right there," the guard barked at Kelvin. And he went ahead to tell him, "State your business."
Kelvin didn’t answer him immediately because was too busy struggling not to collapse.
When the guard noticed what was happening he shouted, "He is a scavenger and he is injured, maybe in need of trade." He lowered his rifle and said to Kelvin, "you are bleeding heavily. Raise your hands up."
Kelvin raised his hands slowly, dropping his spear into the sand with a soft clatter. The moment he raised his hands, the gate creaked open and a woman with a braided grey hair stepped forward.