Chapter 34 #2
I don’t have the tonics I brought from my mother’s supplies, but I do have the small stove in the one satchel I brought, so as much to keep myself busy and awake as anything else, I set some water to boil on the travel stove.
Thankfully, it’s not long before Gret returns with the list of herbs and plants I requested, not to mention some stale rolls and a single log of wood.
I put the log in the metal bin that acts as a makeshift fireplace, although I don’t light it straight away. While Kyor’s on Elska, he’s warm. We’ll save it for later, when we truly need it.
After forcing down a bite of the rock-hard roll, I claw through the supplies, select the paparvy seeds, and brew the strongest pain-relief potion I know while we wait for the healer.
Half an hour rolls by, at which point Elska lets out a low, rumbling growl.
‘I know what I said,’ I reply as if we’re having an actual conversation. ‘But things can take longer here. We’ll give him a few more minutes.’
As calm as I’m pretending to be, when the thirty minutes shift to forty-five, and then to an hour, I’m about to go and drag Lofty out by his pubescent nose. But before I can, a polite knock sounds on the door.
‘Yes. Come in,’ I say, my voice breathy from the combination of fear and relief.
The door creaks open and an older man with a large bag slung over his shoulder hobbles in. He’s dressed in a rich green robe that’s all Galreck, though the patches on the elbows and seams are all slums.
‘I’m the healer,’ he says unnecessarily. He sniffs the air. ‘Robbard’s tincture?’ he asks, impressed.
I nod.
‘Excellent. Excellent. He’ll need it.’ Slowly and carefully, he pulls at the fabric I used to pack the wound, never fully removing it, just peering inside. Throughout the inspection, he only winces once – when he turns Kyor over – and I hope that’s a good sign.
‘You packed this?’ he asks.
I nod.
‘You did a good job. Nasty wound this. Spear?’
I nod again. ‘Can you heal it?’ I snap. ‘Will he be all right?’ I know he needs the details, but I need him to fix Kyor, not waste time talking to me.
Gently, he prods at the wound. ‘I’m not the strongest healer,’ he admits.
‘I can stop any internal bleeding and seal the wound, but I can’t heal it completely.
He’ll need to rest the shoulder for a few weeks and even then it might never be what it was.
The muscle …’ He tuts slightly. ‘You wish me to proceed?’
I stare at Kyor. It’s his dominant arm – his fighting arm – that’s injured, and the fact that it might not recover completely would be more than a slight blow to Kyor. ‘Is there another here who can heal him more completely, who also comes with discretion?’
The healer smiles regretfully. ‘No. I’m it, and he doesn’t have much time either.’
I swallow. He’s right – I know he is. We don’t have time to drag Kyor into the centre of Galreck and find another healer, not now. ‘Then do what you can. Please.’
He presses his lips together and turns to Kyor as if he’s about to finally start doing the fucking task I brought him here for, but instead, he pauses and looks at the wolf. ‘Is she going to be a problem?’
Impatience bites at me and I work to keep my tongue civil. ‘No. She wants her bonded healed. Like I do. Please, do what you have to do.’
‘Fine.’ Still his attention remains on Elska. ‘It’ll hurt, but it is necessary.’
‘Do it,’ I press. ‘Now. He’s already waited too long.’
‘Very well.’ He points to the sole log I have. ‘Light that, will you?’
I had hoped to save it for later, but I suppose it will do me no good if the healer freezes while he works.
I light the log, and finally the healer turns his attention back to the man I lo—to Kyor.
‘I’ll do my best,’ he tells me. ‘Now, we need to get him onto the bed.’
I watch as he unpacks the wound, the copper tang of blood filling the air and blood weeping down Kyor’s side, before realising I can’t see this.
I can’t watch Kyor bleeding in front of me. Not anymore. Not when I don’t have to.
As the healer works away, I slump to the floor and sit next to Elska. The hard, cold ground almost immediately numbs me, but I don’t have it in me to move or care.
‘He’s going to be all right,’ I say softly to her, and she lays her huge head on my lap. I don’t stroke her – I’ve made that mistake before – but I welcome her warmth and comfort all the same.
Credit to him, the healer works tirelessly, and while I can’t see the magic he’s pulling on, I can see the effects on his body as he pushes himself to his limits. Sweat beads on his forehead and weaves down his temples, and before long the back of his cloak is soaked through and stuck to his skin.
Once or twice I force myself to my feet, searching for signs of the spidery green mottling that Kyor feared might infect him, but there’s nothing there.
Nails and teeth cause infections. Not blood.
At least we’ve learned a lesson, even if the knowledge came to us in the worst possible way.
It’s another long hour before the healer steps away from Kyor.
‘I’ve done all I can.’ The old man is visibly exhausted, and while he may be a healer, I sense that cuts, scrapes, and bruises are normally his wheelhouse.
This, working on so much muscle and flesh, skin and tendons …
that’s another thing entirely. I just hope the repair means Kyor can fight again.
Then again, maybe I should just be grateful he’s alive.
‘Thank you, healer…?’ I trail off, inviting his name.
He smiles. ‘Best not to exchange names, for both of us. Good day to you. I hope he recovers well. Some of my finest work, that.’ He bows to Elska and excuses himself before carefully sliding what passes for a door open and closing it again as he leaves.
Now that Kyor is safe and we’re alone again, the fatigue hits me, heavier than ever before.
I had barely recovered from the incident with the Sannthrall myself, to the point that I don’t know how I even managed to fight the Rottings at all.
As I consider the last twenty-four hours, my eyes fall on my mother’s ring.
Is it the reason I am still able to stand, or is it the reason Kyor has ended up like this in the first place?
I doubt I’ll ever know the answer, but either way, the battles and riding all through the night and day have me bone tired in a way I haven’t been since the Retterheld.
The Retterheld.
It feels like it’s already in my distant past. Like the stripping and our exile. Even though it was less than a moon ago, being a Rettling is another chapter in my life that no longer fits with who and where I am now.
The Gods and I both know, many things can change in a moon.
Kyor is stretched out in the middle of the hard bed, with Elska at his feet.
As I move to join him, she shifts position to face the door, and a low growl rumbles from her throat as she pointedly bares her teeth and flexes her claws towards the entrance.
Without words, she promises that nothing is getting past her tonight.
When it comes to things changing, it’s hard to deny the switch in my relationship with the wolf. Not so long ago, I was terrified of her, convinced she would rip me limb from limb. Now I’m obscenely grateful for her presence protecting us, here in the heart of a viper’s den.
With Elska settled once again, I climb onto the meagre pallet bed and fill the small space that Kyor’s body doesn’t take up. It’s not a lot of room, and I’ve no choice but to cuddle up to him. Not least because it helps ward off the biting cold.
Any heat from the stray log is long gone, but as I carefully lay my head against Kyor’s uninjured shoulder, I know the cold is not the only reason I am snuggled close.
Pressed against him as I am, I can feel the reassuring thud of his heart. It’s still there.
He’s still here.