Chapter 561
Throughout the journey, everyone was on edge. Lawrence's high fever persisted. The military physician, carrying a portable stove and medicine packs, administered fever-reducing and decontaminating potions to little effect. Sebastian's pills proved somewhat more effective than the physician's decoctions.
Lawrence occasionally regained consciousness, each time asking, "Is this our territory?" Upon receiving confirmation, he would force a weak smile before lapsing back into unconsciousness. The military physician explained that the persistent high fever could impair brain function, resulting in memory loss.
Eventually, Rafael had Dylan lead his horse alongside the carriage and joined Lawrence inside. Even when semi-conscious, Rafael gently held Lawrence's hand and spoke to him, describing the beauty of the Southern Frontier, updating him on his family's situation, and reassuring him that his wife was en route. Each time Rafael spoke, Lawrence's breathing grew more even; his eyes would flicker open, his gaze less vacant. He was clinging to life, fighting with all his strength.
About twenty miles from Westglade's inn, they were forced to halt. Lawrence's breaths grew faint, his exhalations exceeding his inhalations. The military physician, having exhausted all options, looked at Rafael with a desperate expression. "I can do nothing more. All our medicines are gone, and I've performed acupuncture twice today—I can't do it again."
The Septimus Tetra reconnaissance team stood in sorrow, their faces etched with grief. They dared not lift the carriage curtain; the sight of Lawrence's thin, injured form pained them deeply.
Rafael glanced at Everett for advice. Everett sighed. "This is our last resort. If you use your inner force to protect his heart, we must reach Westglade's relay station within an hour. Otherwise, Lawrence will be beyond saving, especially if Sebastian isn't there."
Rafael, eyes filled with sorrow, nodded. "I understand. Even reaching the relay station with Sebastian present offers no guarantee if we don't try to prolong Lawrence's life now. We'll also have to significantly increase our speed to cover twenty miles in an hour. Can he endure that? The risk is extremely high."
Silence fell. The road, even if smoother, was challenging. The Southern Frontier, scarred by war, presented potholed, uneven paths. The carriage itself was precarious, threatening to overturn at any moment. Increasing speed posed even greater dangers. An overturned carriage would almost certainly prove fatal for Lawrence. Riding him on a horse was impossible; they would likely be thrown off immediately.
Everett suggested, "Let two men lie down in the carriage, covered with soft cushions. Lawrence will lie on top. They will use their inner force to absorb the jolts. Make him as comfortable as possible."
Everyone volunteered. Jacob, noticing their injuries and fatigue, called Dylan over. "We'll do it," Jacob said, silencing further debate. "No need to argue. Dylan and I have superior Lightfoot skills, ensuring his safety." No one objected; Jacob and Dylan were renowned for their Lightfoot skills.
Rafael, cross-legged, slowly channeled his inner force into Lawrence's body, as gently as a silk thread. He focused on Lawrence's heart, enhancing its function. The energy spread through Lawrence's limbs and body, a delicate thread holding his broken form together.
Once the energy was transferred, Rafael said, "It's a gamble. We must reach the relay station within an hour, but even then, Sebastian might not arrive in time."
Felix sighed sadly, "That's true. He's coming with Lawrence's wife; it might take longer."
Rafael shook his head. "No, they should have traveled separately. Carissa would have made the necessary arrangements."