I woke with what was certainly a compound fracture in my right leg. Fortunately, it felt like the breaks were clean and close, as I was not bleeding externally. Didn't keep it from hurting like a son of a bitch, though. I pulled one of my knives, the Pattern blade, and it gave off an eerie glow. All about me, the air was dark and reddish-hued, giving visibility of maybe 5 yards all around me. Rocks and sand made up the ground, with the occasional twisted tree nearby.
After fashioning a splint and makeshift crutch, I threw some stones to try to get my bearings, and headed off in the direction that did not report a collision with rock. I wasn't walking along for long when Brand appeared again, although this time not looking as he had, and yet the more curious, insubstantial. It was a toss up as to him being a ghost or a figment of my imagination.
I didn't know how to feel about sparring with my guide. Part of me was yelling to condemn him for his crimes, part said it wasn't worth it, and part said that this was probably the trauma of my wound. So I went back and forth between withholding info, surprising him with the details of my visit, and playing along. He seemed saddened for his crimes, and damned if I didn't feel just a touch bad for him before I fell into sleep after a long, long day.
The voice whispering my name woke me; I caught the demon in my hands, taking a wound to my side before I could restrain it. As it could not understand my questions, I killed it. Brand was no longer around; but another figure appeared, of my aunt Deirdre. I thanked her, but she wasn't much talkative, and again the futility of all this bore down on me; so I bid her farewell. God only knows how much further I have to travel.
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