Chapitre 40: Relief
Though the beast was frozen in place, what was horrifying was that it was still very much alive, though that wouldn't be true for long.
It was trapped in a prison of its own making, unable to breathe or move or see, as if it was dragged down to the bottom of the ocean in chains.
It could only stand still and feel its life slip away with an excruciating slowness that made it wish for death.
Since Morne had stabbed it in the eye, the toxin had traveled directly to the Saxunt Lizard's brain, joining forces with the toxin injected during its escape from the wall to wreak havoc on its most important organ.
The toxin didn't kill the brain. Saxunt Lizards ate their food live. Instead, the pebbles shut off its locomotion center, turning its body limp.
It slumped to the floor, unable to resist the weight of its own body any longer.
It was at this point that a Saxunt Lizard would feast, eating their catch before it died from suffocation, but there was no predator to feed on the lizard.
One by one, the organs that hadn't been shredded by stone began to shut off due to lack of oxygen, instilling a newfound sense of panic and fear in the Saxunt Lizard as it realized that its death would be even slower and more horrible than it had expected.
It wanted to roar, to scream out, to run, anything other than sit here and wait for its inevitable end, but its mouth had been clamped shut when it hit the ground. Even if it could move its jaw, it had no air with which to scream.
When the last embers of its life were snuffed out thirty minutes later, its last emotion was relief.
.......
Morne hadn't stuck around to watch the Saxunt Lizard die. Shortly after the creature had been immobilized, he had been dragged into a cluttered room filled with crates and boxes by the short man and handed to a cranky-looking old man for medical attention.
He sat down on an elevated bed bare-chested as that old man examined his injuries with a scowl.
"Saxunt Lizard toxin," grumbled the old man. "What the hell did you put him through, Fendbern?"
The short man, Fendbern, adopted a scowl as well, and suddenly he greatly resembled the old man. Father and son, perhaps, though their heights were drastically different. The old man was almost as tall as Morne.
"*I* didn't put him through anything," replied Fendbern. "One of Inprek's goons told the fight organizer to make the battle close, and you know how much that sod hates being told how to do his job."
"Well, you're lucky you pulled him in when you did," the old man retorted. "A minute more and he would've been too far gone."
The old man rifled around in one of the many crates and pulled out a jar of clear liquid. He twisted the cap off and dipped two fingers in before turning to Morne.
"This'll sting."
He pressed the first finger into the gash on Morne's chest, using his other hand to pull away the flaps of flesh and really get in there.
Morne grimaced and clenched his left fist, his right hand too stiff to move. It felt like the old man had shoved liquid fire into him, and the finger fishing around in his open wound certainly didn't help.
"Stay still," said the old man calmly. "It works better if you do."
As the finger worked its way around, Morne felt it touch several small, hard objects and press them into the surrounding flesh before these objects broke apart into dozens of tiny pieces and clung to the old man's finger.
The old man extracted his finger, now covered in grey dust, and extended the second one before repeating the process with Morne's right arm.
Morne's clenched fist tightened to the point his nails drew blood, but the old man didn't seem to care about his plight. He fished around like he was at the lake, making sure to get every stone that he could.
Some were too deep to reach, so the old man poured some of that clear liquid into the wounds and injected more of it into Morne's bloodstream with a needle.
Morne let out a low groan and doubled over as the burning liquid traveled through his veins. The only thing that kept him from screaming was that he had been through worse twice before.
His Chimh Well being expanded and his Trade with the Coltha were far worse than this, it was like comparing losing a finger to being lit on fire.
That didn't change the fact that it hurt, however, and Morne had to force his left hand to relax before he screwed up his hand even more. He gritted his teeth to the point they ached as he waited for the pain to subside, taking a deep breath in when it finally did.
He felt sore all over, as if he had just finished a rigorous workout, but at least when he tried to move his right hand, it listened to his commands, even if it was numb.
He let the breath out slowly, the action hurting a lot less than before, and straightened to see the old man eyeing him.
"He won't be able to fight again today," the old man declared. "His body needs time to patch its muscles and joints up. He should be good to fight again tomorrow evening."
Fendbern nodded. "Not a problem. No point in making him fight if it won't be entertaining."
He crossed his arms and looked at Morne. "One more victory and you're out of my hair," he told him. "Or you die. Either way, I won't have to deal with you much longer. Follow me."
Morne shoved off the bed, wincing at the aching in his limbs, and followed Fendbern back to his cell.
"Ladies and gentlemen, it's time!" Inprek said, his voice traveling throughout the arena and its stands. "The final battle of this season's Tongue Tussles! It's Mage versus Mage, Power versus Necromancy!
"Which of our contestants will earn their freedom tonight, and which one will be forgotten? Which one will prevail, and which one will fall?
"We'll find out now! Begin!"
Cadeaux
-- Cadeau
reçu État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone