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His arranged date had failed to show, citing a work emergency. He suspected she’d arrived at the restaurant, seen him and backed out. He lifted his face to the darkened heavens, enjoying the sprinkling of autumn rain, reminding him he was still alive. Unlike his mates, blown to pieces in that desert-dry country. Until the pervasive drift of wet fingers reached duller scar tissue. Some bleak days, he thought his mates were the lucky ones, to have experienced a quick death rather than the protracted withering of body and mind. Enough malingering. He pulled his collar up, focussed his eyes on the end of the street, the first leg as it were, and continued. Such was his concentration in setting one foot in front of the other, he didn’t notice the buzzing to his right. ‘Sir?’ That voice again. This time louder. The girl from the bar, hunched on a moped, shadowing him on the road. He stopped. ‘What are you doing out here?’ The buzzing stopped. She rested a foot down. ‘Would you like a. .. and a small smile played about the edges of his face. His rusted sword rested on his belly. I sniffed the air ... the smell of magic was emanating from his blade.I was about to move in closer and look at the strange sword when movement from the second form distracted me.A low-pitched groan hissed from under the rough blanket. That was Jon's voice. There was no mistaking the pain in that sound. I rushed to him.His forehead was beaded with sweat.With fumbling hands, I put my palm over his forehead. He had a fever like none I had ever felt.He cracked one eye open and gave me an unfocused stare."Jon!" I whispered. "What's wrong with you? Are you sick?"The butler's teeth were clattering together as he convulsed beneath his coverings. I tore the bedding from his body with strength I didn't know I had. Underneath, Jon lay in a tattered shirt. Burn marks glistened on his shoulder ... broken only by red, angry wounds that oozed with green and white puss."Wound..." he managed to stutter..
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