My Servant Is An Elf Knight From Another World

"What happened to your hand?"

Looking at it now, it's as if my fingers had racing stripes now plastered at their sides, showing, glowing lines of red, perfectly symmetrical too. In a grotesque sort of way, it actually looked somewhat appealing to look at… and Dad indeed was admiring that appeal in his own monotonous way. 

I waved my hand, showing it wasn't anything to be concerned about. "You teach a Matriarch how to swim, wear steel gloves, I guess," I said.

"Mmm," He turned away, grunting in comprehension. "They can cut through steel still, so wear double next time. Have your mother take a look at it when you get home." 

Reaching the barn was a brief, brisk journey. Ash and I parted ways somewhere along the way over, I figured if Harry was awake, then her presence would just be a glaring distraction, so I sent her off and she set off for home without much protest after a bow goodbye. 

"It's better you go alone," Dad said, standing a fair distance away from me already pulling one of the barn doors ajar. "And you don't need me right now."

So he says, so confident in his own assumption, that he turned and left me on my own without giving me a chance to say anything else.

Once inside, it was ever as dim and dull within these stuffy, musty walls. My eyes took a moment to kick in the night vision, and once I was sure I could see more than five paces ahead of me, I took my first step forward. 

It was a single step that made a faint sound, a single that barely made an echo, and yet, it was a single step that was heard. 

"Are… are you him… over there? Are you?" Franticness deep in the darkness, I could hear desperation, in wavering, quivering breaths. But most prominently, I could hear emotions, I could hear fear. "Are you the son? That man's son… the one that's going to save me?" 

Once I heard that I immediately understood Dad's insistence before. He was right, alright… Harry was awake, really awake. How? I didn't have time to speculate, I moved, fast as I could, at loss for words, but still wanting plenty to say anyway. 

"Harry? You're Harry, right?" I said, taking bigger steps forward, eager to see, to know… and then I saw, and then I knew. 

In the place of the passive, vacant, unnerving entity that I once knew, was a  cowering silhouette - a shell, a shadow of a man - sitting curled atop a blanket of hay, wrapped in a blanket of his own limbs, his hands, his legs, desperately clinging onto every inch of himself, refusing to let go.

There was life in his wide, terrified eyes, and the way he looked at me standing before him, a sense of faint recognition too. He was breathing hard, like every word an aching burden, from out his trembling, crinkled lips, "You're… Nick's friend. The cafe employee? It's you… it's you…" 

I went down on bent knees, leveling with his gaze, and shifting myself closer, just inches away. "Yeah, it's me. I'm that guy. You got a lot of questions, I'm sure, but - "

He sprung his arms, I only saw a weaving blur, before I felt his fingers dig into the sides of my shoulders, tightening, and his breathing grew more frantic. "I don't care! I don't care about answers! Just save me! Just get this fucking thing out of me! Please! I can feel it, it's there, it's trying, it's pulling me away… it's winning!" 

It's seriously a wonder he was still sane, speaking cohesively even… especially in the state that he was. The agony has aged him mentally, and it showed physically… his hauntingly pale complexion, his dark haggard expression, the narrow tears in his shirts, the grime and muck sticking to the soles of his feet… Harry barely even resembled that man I first met back in the cafe. 

"I-I don't… I don't have a lot of time…" He said, pulling his arms away and coiling them around his body once more. "That man… he said I'll go away again… anytime, any moment, any second… like with that detective from before. Nick, Hayley, my kids… where… how?"

"It's been taken care of," I immediately said, feeling his sense of urgency reflecting back in my voice. "That detective from before, she's filling in your place, feeding them excuses - they won't find out about you."

The news seemed to have alleviated some of his tension, but it was a meager, almost insignificant load compared to the colossal pile that still lingered over him. His expression tightened up, stained teeth and swollen gums being bared in a tight grit, I saw his hands fly to his face, and heard as a large lump constricted his voice.

"Why is this happening? Why to me? How is this possible?" He asked no one, his eyes staring nowhere. "I don't understand, I don't know anymore! Just make it stop, let it end, please!" 

"You'll make it," I said out loud above his shouts. "I… I won't let you die, I won't let it take you, I'll save you. You'll be fine. You'll get to see your kids again." 

"My kids, my kids, yes, I'll see them, I must see them… Hayley… Nick… I'm sorry," He kept repeating their names, and gradually, it seemed to return to him back his focus, and he let out another sigh, his expression losing its intensity. "I'm sorry, I'm wasting time. I shouldn't… I shouldn't waste time. I must tell you, I must talk to you."

His voice grew soft, a whisper… and I huddled even closer, right then, I drowned every other sound, my eyes, my ears, he had my undivided attention.

"You're trying to save me, trying to take this… this thing from out of my body, right?" Harry stared at me, and without waiting for an answer, continued on again. "Don't reassure me, don't comfort me, I don't want to hear that. Just tell me that you'll try, that you'll do everything it takes, just tell me that, just say it… mean it." 

I didn't question him, I complied, every syllable as earnest, as sincere as the next, "I'll try, whatever it takes, I promise I'll - "

"No promises!" He cut me off, shaking his head with fervor. "I know the risks, I know what's gonna happen - the detective told me everything, so whatever this is… I know you can never guarantee something like that, I know… so don't… don't promise… never promise…" 

The way he said those words, I could hear something more behind it. But like before, I just complied. "Alright, I'll… I'll just try."

"Good, thank you, thank you for trying, thank you for trying to save me, for giving me a fighting chance," He breathed out his nose, and I could hear him wavering again. "But it might not be enough, will it? As much as you try, you might not be able to do it… you'll fail… I'll… I'll die…"

"No, no, don't think like that," I shook my head. "There's still hope, there's still - "

"Someone has to think like that!" He snapped, baring forward the heavy strain in his gaze "Someone has to. I don't care if you think otherwise, I don't care what you think you can do, if, in the end, it all just boils down to nothing anyway… and then… what then? After hoping, after trying, what can you do then?" 

His exasperation, his panic, they were fading, in its place, I saw focus, I saw resolve, his breathing steady. 

"It's like dying, you know?" He said to me, his voice low and heavy. "Every time, when I'm not myself… I… I die… there's just nothing, I become nothing. And that thing… it's there, isn't it? It's alive, in my body, using it, moving it… being… me." 

Then, from the quiet, I heard it, I saw it - anger. 

"Fuck… that…" He spat, a flicker in his brow. "I won't let it take me, I won't let it use me. I don't know what it wants from me, but it's not having it. I won't be seen like that, I won't let my children see me like that! No! If I have to die, I will not be a dead man walking… do you understand what I'm saying?" 

I did. Long before he even got to that point, I did. From the deep loathing in his eyes, the look on his face… I heard his resolve long, long ago.

"If you die again, if you don't come back… if I can't bring you back… you want me to make sure that you really stay dead," I muttered.

"Whatever it takes," He grimly repeated. "So whatever happens afterward, in the end, you'll still be saving me either way." 

Impulsively, I wanted to tell him otherwise. To hope, to believe, to see things as how I did. But looking at him, I lose my voice, that urge just dwindles… and even if I did manage to, it's as he said, it'll all just boil down to the same thing anyway - I can't guarantee anything at all. In his own words, in my own…

We can only hope.

"I… I hear you…" I said to him, slowly. "Whatever happens, I'll save you."

For once, for the first time, Harry gave me a weak smile… and I've seen that smile so many times before on him, so vacant, unnerving, and very, very infuriating… but now, but his… Harry had the kind, gentle smile of a kind, gentle man.

"Thank you," He muttered. "I don't know you much, but I can tell you've got a good heart, a good soul. I'm glad Nick's managed to snag a friend like you, he's lucky… I'm lucky…"

"Good to hear," I said, giving a smile back. "Once we get you back home, be sure to go tell him that, alright?"

Harry gave a weak attempt at a chuckle, before dropping his gaze, his smile parting a faint, feeble whisper. "No promises…"