Narrow stone walls tugged at Balamor’s robes as he dragged the limp body of Awkid Anvorbeard through the passage. Darkness consumed it’s confines, the sounds of hush footsteps and breathing were alone. Balamor reached for the wall to feel for a widening in the tunnel, his fingers brushed over a large series of circle holes and he froze in his tracks. His calves were burning as he slowly crouched to check the floor, but there was nothing. He proceeded slowly dragging Awkid down the narrow interior. The adrenaline began to fade just as he could feel an opening in the wall his left. With the rest of his strength he pulled the dwarf through passage and collapsed. His lungs were churning with cold air when he sat up and reached his hands in front of him. The cold darkness left Balamor without sight as he searched Awkids body. Minutes passed before he could find the dwarfs boots. He reached beneath the laces of one of them and quickly removed the flint and steel that was tucked away. Tearing a swath of cloth from his robes he hurriedly wrapped it around the blade of his dagger.
Several strikes against the firesteel and the cloth ignited. A small flame illuminated the room in warm scarlet and revealed the sharp contours of the walls. Blood rushed from the deep wound in Awkid’s stomach as he laid on the jagged stone floor. Balamor quickly put the flint and steel in his bag and cupped his small hands over the wound. He pressed against it but the bleeding was too heavy. Blood seeped through the cracks between his fingers and stained his hands in red. Awkid's breaths became wheasy and scarce; time was running short as Balamor scrambled to save the life of his cursed friend. The dwarf’s right arm laid under sloppy wraps trailing in a streak of mud. Pale yellow bones were still connected from his shoulder to his fingers, laying on the floor motionless.
Balamor looked through his leather pack frantically, under a mess of spare veggies and papers he found his runes. Three stones whose surfaces were inscribed with an otherworldly language, there was only one of them Balamor needed, Raji. The flames nearly devoured the cloth around his dagger by the time he held the stone disk in his palm. His nerves sent his hands into an uncontrollable shiver, sweat gathered upon his bushy brow line. Slowly he placed one of his hands over Awkid’s wound and let out a long breath.
The cavernous room flashed in yellow light before settling into a tender glow within the bounds of the ancient symbol. Cracks slowly stretched from within the deep grooves as the rune shook with some wild force raging to escape. Starting from the tips of his fingers Balmor felt his body begin to tighten. A mystical zephyr waved against his robes and the curly locks of his hair. His steel blue eyes began to roll back to bloodshot white as Awkid's wounds sealed shut. Cuts and bruises diminished to normal flesh and the blood pouring from his gut ceased. Balamor’s short frame fell back against the cave wall and slumped with exhaustion.