#cataldo

Nicco knew his horse could handle it. Cataldo was made for this weather, and the two of them had braved worse together. If anything, the severe heat wave would give them a competitive edge. 

Each year, the Red Lantern Inn hosted the race as one of the checkpoints as well as the first aid headquarters. The famous location had been run by Nicco’s family for generations. The rustic wood paneled operation was self-sustaining, being this far out in the shrubsteppe wilderness. Despite the remote location, travelers came from all over for the experience. Not only was it a place to see riders coming and going, it boasted famously delectable dishes, had quaint lodging, and a haunting bottomless spring in the cellar with healing properties.

The spring had always been open to the public, until five years ago. Nicco had boarded up the cellar and magically sealed the door with no explanation. Since then the inn had lost a good chunk of business, making the High Plains Horse Derby a crucial opportunity to catch up on profits. 

The starting line was twenty miles east of the Red Lantern. Where the tall ponderosa pines on the edge of the nearest mountain range offered the last shelter any of the riders would see for days. From this spot the high desert stretched out below, rolling hills stretching out until they became flat plains far beyond.

Nicco trotted Cataldo in the nearby clearing, a race veterinarian standing by to assess the beast’s gait. A horn rang out. Ten minutes till start. The half elf secured his long black hair into a ponytail and checked his pack one last time. Water was a concern, but he knew this land well, probably better than any of the other racers. Several springs along the way should be his saving grace, so he skimped on water. His gaze drifted up to the other riders heading for the starting line, heavy water skins bouncing with every stride. Nicco would make do with just two. He knew this land, it had always cared for him, and he for it. It was a risk, but calculated. 

Riders stood abreast at the line drawn in the dirt at their feet. The fresh scent of pine needles crunching under hoof perfumed the air along with the excitement and adrenaline of three dozen horses and three dozen riders. Nico patted Cataldo’s already sweating neck, a confident smirk gracing his face as he made eye contact with the rider next to him, who was ogling at Nicco’s lack of waterskins. 

The chatter grew more quiet as the three minute flag holder ran across the field.

The race marshall began the count down.

“TEN, NINE, EIGHT…”

Nicco ground the balls of his feet into the stirrups, heels down.

“...SEVEN, SIX, FIVE…”

He choked up on the reins and flexed his elbows.

“...FOUR, THREE…”

He shook a stray hair out of his face.

“TWO”

Breathe in.

“ONE”

Breathe out.

BANG. The starting gun went and so did thirty six horses. In an instant, Nicco positioned himself up in the saddle, taking his rear off the leather. As everyone around him whipped and kicked, he simply gave Cataldo the space to do what he did best. 

Run.

-

“He’s here!” Arturo leaned out the window as he watched the telltale dust cloud of a group of riders nearing. They were just dark shapes, peeking in and out of view as they traversed the low hills and short sage bushes. Elleh put down the dish she was cleaning and ran to the door. The two of them jogged to the checkpoint station to cheer for their boss. As they neared they saw his waterskins were shriveled, completely empty, his face was flushed red. 

“Nicco are you okay?” Elleh was immediately concerned. 

“Quite fine, Elleh.” He dismounted as the race volunteer signed him in. He leaned closer to her and Arturo “First spring was dry, but it was the smaller of the three.” He said in a hoarse whisper, his lips were severely cracked already. “The next one will have water."

Arturo hummed doubtfully “We have extra water bladders, Ni–”

“NO.” Nicco cut him off. “If you help me I’ll be disqualified, remember? I’ll just refill here, and the next spring is 10 miles away.” He stormed off, leading Cataldo to a cooling off station. Arturo cast Elleh a worried glance, she shrugged and went back inside. When Nicco was cranky AND set on an idea, there would be no convincing him otherwise. 

-

The next spring was dry. 

Nicco tried digging into the cracked earth but it was no use, the deep-rooted plants bordering the basin had already begun to whither and drop their seeds. He bit his thumbnail as he decided what to do next, he looked over at Cataldo. The horse was absolutely drenched in sweat, and they still had a long way to go. He weighed his remaining water in his hands. Surely the next spring, the largest one will have water. With a decisive nod he lowered his hand and mounted again. 

The heat had become even more unbearable as the day wore on. It made Nicco feel like he were fermenting from the inside, sticky sweat clinging to every inch of his skin, nausea creeping up with every stride of his mount.

-

Seven miles further, with 25 more to go. Nicco left the marked trail once more, to find his secret spring. He followed a small gravel line to a low spot behind a hill, anxiously leaning forward to see what awaited. 

A basin of dust. 

Panic immediately rose in the half-elf’s throat. He most certainly was not going to make it to the finish line, that much he could decide right then and there. He had gambled and lost, but what was worse is that Cataldo was an equal in these consequences. He dismounted, wringing his hands and looking at his steed. Taldo probably looked better off than he did. Being a thin-blooded desert horse, he could withstand the lack of water if Nicco was careful. 

He had already given all of his water to the horse on the way here, with a pinch of salt for electrolytes, but Nicco hadn’t had anything to drink but one sip on his way to the second spring. He scratched at his beard nervously one last time, still looking around at the ground as if water would spontaneously erupt out of the earth. There was only one thing to do, head back as efficiently as possible. The rider undid his top wrap. He would share his sun protection with his horse to hopefully save on sweating. Upon remounting, he tucked one end of the fabric into the browband of the bridle, between Taldo’s freckled ears. Then he took the rest of the fabric and tucked it into his belt, creating something of an umbrella for the nag’s neck. It wasn’t much, but it was the best he could do. 

Nicco chirped and squeezed his legs ever so slightly, sending Cataldo into a trot, the most energy efficient way home. Immediately, he could feel the heat of the early afternoon sun begin to prickle his exposed chest, shoulders, and back.

-

A cowbell rang on the west corner of the inn, the cooling station volunteer had been instructed to ring it upon anyone returning to the checkpoint, alerting the staff and medics to prepare for something to potentially be wrong. 

Elleh and Arturo, in the middle of serving food, hurried to the windows along with most of the guests. The cowbell hardly ever went off, but this was the third time they had heard it today, two other riders had scratched out of caution for the heat just an hour ago.

“Can you see the rider?” short-statured Elleh couldn’t see past the crowd, and began to make for the door.

Arturo squinted and craned his neck, “It’s Nicco.” He looked back at her with wide worried eyes. Elleh burst out the door.

Elleh was concerned by Nicco’s sun-baked face before, now she was horrified. Nicco swayed on the saddle as he came in, eyes half-lidded and red, red like the rest of his blistering skin. His black hair was plastered to his forehead, neck, and shoulders with sweat. He swayed harder as he slowed Cataldo to a walk, leaning forward and gripping the front of the saddle, his wrap top that had been protecting the horse’s neck fluttered to the ground. The tiny gnome rushed toward the pair “NICCO!” Arturo was right behind her. The station medic was already on the way as well, and the three of them helped Nicco down. 

“All dry.” Nicco huffed as Arturo supported him, the half-elf’s hand still gripping the saddle. His skin looked an awful lot like the rotisseried pheasants they served in the winter time, blistered and charred deep red.

“Damn it Nicco…” Arturo began to pull him away. 

“No… Can’t leave… Dissqualiff’d” Nicco slurred as he gripped the saddle harder. 

“Boss, your race is over.” Arturo said gently. “We have to go inside, now.” The burly man could feel heat radiating off Nicco’s body like a cast iron pan. He reached out and broke Nicco’s grasp on the saddle. He muttered and protested the whole way to the aid tent as Elleh hurried the horse to the shaded stables.

The race medics had already been prepared for dehydration, heatstroke, and sunburn as the number one concern of the day, but did not expect to see a case this bad. Nicco had been sick, twice, in the short walk to the tent, in between incoherent complainings. Arturo was basically dragging him by the time they got him to a cot, and deposited his lanky figure onto the frame like a dead fish. 

-

Nicco’s blank mind didn’t even try to figure out where he was when his eyes squinted open at the gently rustling canvas ceiling of the tent. He had been drugged by an angry customer once, and that was the first thing his mind went to as he felt like his whole body was made of fog. Like how he imagined performing “misty step” would feel, if he knew any magic. He heard a gentle scratching sound above his head, he tried looking up to see, the cold rag on his neck sliding off. A tiny arm caught it before it tumbled off the cot, and placed it back in its place. Elleh’s rosy-cheeked face came in to view, tight with worry, she set her sketchbook on the stool she’d been sitting on and kneeled next to her boss. Her friend. His eyes started to close again.

“Nicco.” She whispered, she would shake his shoulder, but it was the worst burnt part of him and covered in a strange mint green salve. Instead she reached for his hand and squeezed it. “Nicco.” She said a bit louder. 

His eyes opened a little wider now. Some of the fog had lifted and he could comprehend more of the space now. The little gnome was grabbing his hand, it felt nice. He squeezed it back weakly. He took stock of his surroundings, he was on a hammock-like cot, with naught covering him but his underpants and a few cold wet rags draped over him strategically. Several potions and a canteen sat on an empty stool by his feet. 

“It’s bad Nicco.” Elleh frowned. She was never this serious, something was very wrong. “You almost died.” She barely choked out the words while her eyes went glassy. Nicco was still confused, why was she so upset? He hadn’t seen her cry since the first day he’d met her. Elleh was supposed to be the uplifting one. 

“Cataldo…” Were Nicco’s only muttered words in response. 

A flash of frustration heated Elleh’s sorrowful expression. “Your horse is fine Nicco, you gave him all of your water!” She shook her head, then got serious again. 

She hesitated. “Nicco… you have to unlock the cellar. The medics… they said you could have permanent internal damage.” 

His eyes shot up at her with that all too familiar stubborn look. He shook his head as much as he could before he was too dizzy after two shakes. 

“Whatever… whatever it is, Nicco. Whatever it is you won’t talk about. It isn’t worth this. Please, you’re not thinking clearly. Just tell me how to open it. You could die.” She was begging now, having pulled his hand to her chest and squeezing it even tighter. “Just this one time, then we can lo–” She stopped talking when his dark eyes locked with hers, his cracked lips parted to speak. Nicco rolled over and was sick on the ground at the bard’s feet. Elleh released his hand to grab a nearby bucket, patting her boss on the back as the only secrets he let out were what he had for breakfast that morning. 

-

Nicco fought the severe burns and inflammation for days after, the main medic stayed long overdue her contract to tend to him. Arturo offered to call in someone else so she could get home, but she declined, she had to see the job through. A cleric happened to be passing through the second day and treated the innkeeper to the best of his abilities. Nicco fully woke up the next day, to his caring employees again begging him to open the cellar so he could use the healing waters. He simply shook his head, voice too hoarse to respond. 

Once the boss was semi-ambulatory, the medic left, and he sulked around the inn like a lost ghost. Elleh and Arturo constantly fussed over him to stop moving around. He insisted at least to sit in the kitchen to oversee things, but never lasted long. It was only when he was snoring like a bugbear in his seat that Arturo would force him to go to bed. Nicco was unusually quiet for weeks after, clearly hiding his pain from his doting employees, who were also his closest friends. He laid in bed and tears ran down his blistered cheeks once he was alone. They cared so much for him, care he in no way deserved. He could feel his body not working like it should, the horrifyingly abstract wrongness of it. The magical healing of the cellar pool could help immensely… NO. He buried the idea as quickly as it sprouted. No one could go down there ever again. He wasn’t even sure if he could remember how to break the magical seal anyway. He would take his suffering as long as he could, would he die for his secret? Undecided. He drifted off to sleep. 

--

Author's Note:

I've been so excited to share this! I was struggling to come up with an actual story for these characters until I started writing for this prompt. The second part will show up later for whumptober :)