Page 49
Fieran’s tone stayed cheerfully nonchalant, as if he were discussing the mystery meat the mess served for supper rather than nearly dying.
Merrik kept his own tone light as he pulled up his pant leg, drawing attention to what remained of his left foot, both the three remaining toes and his ankle laced with pink scars. “I was conveniently unconscious for this.”
Fieran glanced down, then froze, his eyes widening. He swallowed. “Merrik, I didn’t realize…”
Merrik forced his own shrug to remain nonchalant. “I am fine. I am fortunate the elven healers were able to save it. Your aunt Queen Rheva personally helped with the reconstruction.”
“Her magic is strong.” Fieran nodded before motioning at himself. “Brina finished the reconstruction of my bones in Aldon.”
Princess Brina was Fieran’s cousin and the daughter of King Weylind and Queen Rheva. She’d inherited her mother’s strong healing magic.
But it said a great deal about how badly Fieran had been hurt if he’d needed additional healing by Brina while he’d been recovering in Aldon. Fieran’s recovery might have been shorter than Merrik’s, but it hadn’t been easy. Nor had his body been left free of scars.
They’d both been hurt and scarred in that crash. But here they both were, back with the squadron and piecing themselves back together.
With the creak of the hinges, Mak strode into the shower building, his green coveralls and short-cropped hair smeared with grease. Even his thick, brown beard was clumped with the gunk.
Fieran’s eyebrows shot up. “What happened to you?”
“A new shipment of grease arrived, but one of the barrels was damaged in the Mongavarian attack.” Mak grimaced. He held his kit and a bag that likely held clean clothes well away from his body. “Of course it was one of the top barrels in the stack. All of the barrels were coated in grease, and it was a trick getting them wrestled into the store room.”
“That sounds…messy.” Fieran shifted closer to the sink, as if he wanted to put more distance between himself and Mak.
Merrik wheeled himself closer to the sinks. Messy was an understatement.
Still, he cleared his throat and extended his left foot. He didn’t want to delay Mak’s shower, but his boot and stocking were currently off, making this question less of a production than it would be otherwise. “Mak? Do you have a moment?”
Mak paused where he had been edging toward the nearest shower. “Yeah. What do you need?”
“Would you be able to make a set of toes for this foot? Maybe something with springs and a piece that extends under what is left of my foot?” Merrik moved his foot to give Mak a good look at the missing toes. “I think something like that would help stabilize this foot so my ankle does not roll so much. The thick sole of the army boot helps, but not enough.”
Yes, he could have asked the Warrior Foundation for prosthetic toes before he’d left Estyra. But he’d been so focused on learning to walk on the prosthetic for his right leg that it hadn’t occurred to him that prosthetic toes for his left foot could be helpful.
And, yes, he could probably make them himself with his own plant magic. But Mak’s plant magic—inherited from his elf father—was crafted like the dwarven magic he’d inherited from his dwarf mother. That made his magic uniquely suited for the precise and intricate work needed for something like this.
Mak nodded, his mouth pressing flat for a moment as he regarded Merrik’s foot. “Yeah, I could craft something like that. Would you want a strap to hold it in place?”
“I do not think so. My stocking and boot should hold it in place, and any kind of strap could chafe inside my boot.” Merrik was growing used to the leather straps that held his prosthetic on his right leg, but he didn’t think something similar would work for his left foot.
“Perhaps…” Fieran’s voice trailed off in an uncharacteristic uncertain note. When Merrik glanced at him, Fieran shrugged. “Maybe a strap made out of silk would work. We wear silk scarves while flying because silk doesn’t chafe.”
“That might work.” Merrik nodded, turning the thought over. “Maybe even a silk lining, if needed. I would still want some contact with the wood so I could mold it comfortably against my foot. But once it was molded, that would be less necessary.”
“I can make several versions for you to test out. Perhaps a strap that is easily removable.” Mak’s smile turned lopsided. “I’ll get started tonight. After I’m clean.”
“Linshi.” Merrik gave him a go on wave. He’d kept Mak long enough.
While Mak claimed one of the showers, Merrik wheeled himself to the sink basin next to Fieran. Since the sink had been designed for someone standing, it was uncomfortably high for Merrik sitting down. But at least the wall mount left plenty of room for wheeling himself beneath it.
Fieran turned away from the mirror, grabbed his fatigue shirt, and pulled it over his head, leaving his damp red hair sticking up at all angles. He reached for his kit and his comb, pausing to grin at Merrik. “It’s good to have you back.”
Merrik dug his brush out of his kit and ran it through his long elven hair. “It is good to be back.”
Part 2
War
Chapter
