Steel
Night twinkled its stars above us.
Theron was still bleeding heavily, but his pain seemed to have lessened. Or perhaps he was just growing too exhausted to show it. He leaned on me, his weight increasing as we trekked on. I could feel the weight of his body against my shoulder, his breathing ragged and labored. With each step, I felt his strength waning as he struggled to keep his pace even, though he didn't say so. I knew the only way he'd stop walking was if Hel took him from this earth, and I also knew he was too proud to admit he was growing weaker. The wound wouldn't kill him, but it would need proper care soon or it could become infected. I couldn't heal him myself, and there was no one else around who could help us.
We needed Kozun.
I'd wondered many times why I couldn't heal.
I had always healed at a much faster rate than usual, but ever since I'd Ascended, I'd wondered why I couldn't heal beast's wounds the same way I could heal mortal ones. To help someone dying at my feet, I was completely helpless. Unable to do anything except watch as they perished. To be completely truthful, it was something that had always confused me, because what was the point of all this power if I couldn't use it to help someone else?
What was the point of being all-powerful if I couldn't use my power to save a being's life?
I couldn't understand.
It wasn't for a lack of trying, nor was it for a masochistic need of pain. And not for myself either — as it was, my Ascension had given me the useful ability to withstand all mortal wounds without being affected by them, and any non-human related wound healed at a rate much faster than possible by non-deity standards —, but mostly because of the ones around me who, in the chase for the quest they'd vowed their lives to alongside me, were wounded sometimes mortally without me being able to help them in any way.
Unlike me, they were vulnerable to it all.
I was entirely comfortable with scars, wounds, and blood. At this point, the scars had become as much a part of me as my own skin — reminders etched deep and stark against my once unmarred flesh. Each was a story, a memory, a moment when I should have faltered but, somehow, remained standing. Yet, amid the countless battles and narrow escapes, an undeniable truth haunted me.
Every time I was wounded, eventually I healed.
Others didn't.
And I was powerless to help them.
We were both silent as we trudged through the snow-covered forest. The only sounds were our labored breaths and the rustling of our clothes against the frozen ground. Half-hidden behind the scudding clouds, the moon cast an eerie glow on the snow extending all around us.
Its silvery light seemed to mock my impotence.
A deity rendered useless in the face of human frailty.
I wanted to laugh at the irony.
Hadn't that always been my problem?
Lost in thought, I almost didn't notice when Theron stumbled and nearly fell, his arm slipping across my shoulders. Within two seconds, though, my reflexes kicked in and I caught him by the shoulder before he hit the ground.
"Sorry," he muttered weakly as he straightened up again.
"It's alright."
The walk seemed endless, but eventually, we reached a clearing on a small hill. Ahead, the outline of a small settlement began to materialize through the trees, its torches flickering like hopeful beacons against the darkness.
We were close.
I adjusted his weight over my shoulders and quickened our pace.
Theron cut the silence. "So… if I pass out, will you carry me?" He repeated his earlier question.
A wave of laughter bubbled out of me unexpectedly. "I'd really rather not."
He inhaled sharply. "You're just scared because you're not manly enough to carry me."
I chuckled at his attempt at humor despite the circumstances. "Is that a challenge?"
"In my current state, it might very well be," he replied with a weak smirk. "I'm terribly close to reaching the point where I'll actually need to be carried."
I rolled my eyes but couldn't help grinning at his playful tone.
The lighthearted banter was a temporary balm to the harsh reality that Theron's condition was deteriorating faster than I had hoped. As we moved closer to the village, I tightened my grip around him, fearing that at any moment his legs might give out completely.
The small homes huddled together like a cluster of old friends in the village, the flickering lights warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the cold, weary quietness of the forest we had just traveled through. We were close enough that our enhanced hearing captured the faint noises of life coming from within the small houses. Smoke rose from chimneys and the smell of roasted meat wafted towards us, making my stomach growl in hunger.
"Are we seriously going to go back to Iselvheim?"
I kept my gaze locked on the village below us. "Why wouldn't we?"
"They're growing bolder."
I wasn't sure I understood where he was going with this, but I knew the point he was trying to make all too well.
I said nothing.
"They're growing more dangerous, too," Theron continued, not waiting for my response, as he knew I hardly had one to give him except my agreement. "They've been gathering here in the north, for some reason we're not aware of. If we leave, now, when we return, they might have decimated several nearby villages."
That wasn't entirely true.
I knew why the beasts' numbers were higher here in the north, but sharing that knowledge wouldn't do anyone any good, as it would probably attract people to venture inside the Daínnlands to kill beasts when the truth is not even I would dare to wander in there again without good reason.
I nodded. "That's true."
"So, are we really going back?"
"You assume we have a choice?" I shot back, voice more clipped than I intended. "We're wanted back. Even if we don't go back now, we'll have to go back for the Sigrblót. Evren wants us to be there." I exhaled with enough force to shake a tree branch that was in the way of my face, making it snap out of the way. "I don't think it's a good idea and I have tried my best to dissuade him, but he's irreducible."
Theron sighed, the sound deep and weary. "The King may be stubborn, but he's no fool. He must have his reasons."
"Perhaps," I conceded, though doubt gnawed at me like a persistent chill. "But it doesn't make the decision any wiser. He asked all the royal families of the Fourteen Kingdoms to come to Iselvheim. Can you imagine how many blades will ache to be aimed at his throat?"
Theron's response was a grunt. "The Fourteen Kingdoms all gathered in one room," he mused in a low voice. "The fourteen ingredients for a bloodbath and the perfect recipe for mass regicide."
I swallowed. "Exactly."
"Do you think us being there will deter anyone?"
"It'll probably make a few rethink their target, or at least force them into being patient enough to wait for the right opportunity, but it won't stop anyone decided to take matters into their own hands if drunk on good ale and free to sharpen their weapons," I answered truthfully. "If there was ever a time when gathering the Fourteen Kingdoms was a terrible idea, this was it."
The Fourteen Kingdoms have held hostilities against each other for as long as I can remember.
Ever since I was a child, I have heard how the fourteen monarchs are out for each other's blood. As far as I'm aware, there had never been peace among the kingdoms. Some have tried to achieve a tenuous alliance through marriages and mercantile trades, but every time a new king sits on a throne, doubts arise about whether he will submit to his ancestor's treaties or burn them to ashes before declaring war upon their neighbors.
Most of them choose the latter.
While Arszden had maintained itself as impartial as possible to the conflicts among the other kingdoms, it hasn't passed unscathed by them altogether, particularly since I became Arszden's Slayer and took a part in actively fighting beasts. Most kingdoms didn't take the news of my existence — and those who came after me — kindly, thinking it an affront to them since my protection was not being shared with them. While rumors had spread, none had been idiotic enough to rise against Arszden, because the whispers of my reputation had also traveled fast, but the pieces of the chess board that all monarchies grew upon started to move in an attempt to topple Arszden from the pedestal of its sanctuary.
None of them knew the beasts couldn't care less about their kingdoms.
What the Fourteen Kingdoms saw was power. And strife. And greed.
Children of Clay and their foolishness.
Now that the beasts were growing in number by the day and attacks by the most intelligent races were becoming more frequent, the kingdoms were stretched taut on their restraint and patience. Everyone wanted the beasts to be killed, so the problem would be taken care of, and the Melig were the best way to achieve both.
Of course, none of that stopped them from begging for help when the beast's kill count became too high.
Like any sensible ruler, Evren had never fallen silent at the pleas for help from Arszden's neighbors, but with the brewing war coming closer and the beasts growing bolder and more public with their carnage, it was hard to attend such requests.
Therefore, the twenty winters I'd been away from Iselvheim had been busy, killing beasts all over the kingdom.
However, I'd also been to Skessau and Kular multiple times in the past winters, tracking beasts that'd strayed too far off south from our lands and were starting to raise havoc on our borders, being mostly attracted by the mountain passes at the south where they could corner the outer villages and garrisons stationed at the strait passes through the Sandarhaug Mountains. As a result, both our army and the other kingdoms' had taken great losses before word reached me of the latest attacks and I could get there.
Still, I'd been responsible for the survival of many lives there.
As well as the creation of a lot of stories.
Ultimately, more than creating animosity with their mere existence, the beasts made sure that the borders of the Fourteen Kingdoms stayed mostly as they were traced back when Midgard was occupied, for fear that trying to dethrone dying kings or withering bloodlines would end up with the usurping of land that was infested by beasts with no means to fight them.
But this gathering of the Fourteen Kingdoms promised a new dawn where everything could change.
And where blood would most certainly be drawn.
"Is there anyone you're particularly worried about?"
"I'm sure there are a few who would love to see Evren fall," I replied, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "But to be honest, they all worry me."
Theron's eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. "That seems… extreme, doesn't it?"
"Is it?" I shrugged away his question. "What sense does it make to single out one enemy when thirteen others are lining up to stab you in the back? Each of these rulers has their own dreams of conquest and their own lust for power. The only thing they agree on is where they want to aim their eyes at in order to get it, and they all seem to think, one way or another, that it sits in Arszden."
"Which, in part, is thanks to you."
I wasn't particularly honored for being the main reason for that common belief.
To be honest, I was thoroughly ashamed.
I ran my free hand over my face, pushing a few strands that'd fallen on my eyes away. "That, and the fact that we are the only kingdom that doesn't lose a battalion of men every time a beast strays into inhabited land."
Theron remained quiet, his gaze far off directed to the twinkling stars above. A chill breeze was beginning to rustle through the leaves, whispering gloomy omens of the morrow, making the air seem muffled and heavy. "The King has to be aware of this," he finally said. "He's inviting them all into his home. He must have something planned. He must have a reason."
"I hope so," I sighed, staring at the night sky. "For all our sakes."
"Do you believe there was ever peace between the fourteen royal houses?"
"Honestly?" I shrugged. "No." I tilted my head, drawing in a breath. "But even the scribes don't know for sure. The books say that in the beginning, when the realm was created, the land belonged to no one but the wild, but as the land broke apart and the continents were born, it was given the name of Midgard, and with time, wealthy families established their sovereignty over parcels of lands all throughout." I gave a halfhearted shrug, the innocent indifference coming easy to me even though I knew the creation of Midgard we both knew nowadays had been planned with the utmost care, leaving nothing to chance. "There aren't many maps from before the Fourteen Kingdoms. The ones that do exist depict Garduria, the Kainsk Islands, Arszden, and Eldoria as the oldest ones," I said, nodding at the realization that these words were safely the one piece of unveiled truth I'd said in the last three hundred winters.
"So, the Fourteen have basically always been at each other's throats."
I shrugged. "That's the assumed basic foundation of the history of relations between the Fourteen Kingdoms."
Theron hummed in agreement, his eyes still on the stars. "And do you think there will ever be a possibility for peace?"
There could be, but if there was one thing Children of Clay were better at than war, it was surviving. Humans were innately survivalists at heart and fear has always been one of their most potent driving forces.
"I think once the fear of what they don't understand and can't control can be dealt with, maybe the kingdoms will be able to ascertain some semblance of peace among them. More than greed or ambition, I think it's fear that makes these rivalries worse, because everyone wants to survive the beasts and nobody wants to ask for help." I sighed deeply, looking down at my hands as if they held the answers. "And while Arszden has remained neutral and avoided most conflicts up until now, with the growing number of beasts and our unique position in being able to fight them… it draws attention."
"And not the good kind," Theron muttered.
"No, not the good kind."
Theron's gaze returned to me, his eyes serious in the moonlight. "And what about you? Where do you see your place in this mess?"
"As the Slayer?" I asked, already knowing what his answer would be.
"Yes. But also as you, I suppose."
I looked away from Theron, my eyes scanning the endless expanse of the star-studded sky. "Fighting," I replied simply. My mind wandered back to the early days of my time as a Slayer to Arszden, when the mere mention of my name and title would send our neighboring peoples into a chaotic scramble. "My place is fighting, giving my life to protect Arszden. It's all I've ever done and it's what I will do for as long as I breathe."
Which will be a very long time, I added to myself.
"But you're not just a beast slayer, Steel, are you?" Theron insisted. "Your words hold power with the King, and I'm sure it would have the same effect with other rulers."
I couldn't help but scoff at his optimism. "Thinking I have any sway over Evren's decisions is wishful thinking at best," I mocked lightly, yet feeling the weight of his words sinking into my heart. "But thinking other kingdoms would listen to me with any similar measure as Evren does is even more far-fetched."
Theron was silent for a long moment, and I sensed that he was trying to understand exactly what I was saying. Finally, he sighed and nodded slowly. "I suppose there's truth in that."
I hummed my agreement. "The best thing we can hope for is that none of them are stupid enough to attack us while they're in Arszden." My voice sounded grim even to my own ears because the truth is I didn't believe the Fourteen Kingdoms would all share a room and not try to kill each other.
"And if they do?" Theron's voice held an edge.
"Then, we'll fight," I replied without hesitation.
Silence fell between us then, our conversation ending on a sobering note, the heavy anticipation of the oncoming gathering leaving a sour taste in my mouth. The Fourteen Kingdoms had been restless enough when they only had each other to worry about. Now that they would be presented with the unique opportunity to be all standing in the same room, closer than they'd ever been before, and with the chance to do as they pleased, tensions would be even higher.
They would be at each other's throats.
Just as they had always been.
In the silence that followed, Theron's gaze shifted back to the stars. There was a strange look in his eyes, a quiet determination that I could not quite place, made stranger by the fatigue wearing him down. "Just when we thought things couldn't get any worse, they somehow do," he muttered through clenched teeth, his frustration clear in every syllable.
I merely nodded in response, not trusting myself to speak.
It wasn't that I doubted Arszden's ability to survive whatever storm awaited us on the horizon, but this…
This seemed different somehow.
More dangerous.
As I turned my gaze toward the night sky, I felt a cold shiver run down my spine. The stars twinkled innocently above us, their soft light painting a deceptive picture of tranquility and peace. But beneath their serene facade, something was stirring — an ancient force gaining momentum with each passing moment.
A storm was brewing on the horizon, and it would not be long before it was upon us.
The question wasn't if blood would be shed during the gathering of the Fourteen Kingdoms, but rather how much of it and whose. As I stared at those distant torches up in the night sky, I couldn't help but wonder if they, too, knew what was coming.
"Then, maybe we're going about this all wrong," Theron suddenly said, breaking the silence. His eyes were still locked onto the night sky, but there was a new intensity in his voice.
I turned to face him, my curiosity piqued. "What do you mean?"
"Maybe we should be using the gathering as an opportunity for peace rather than fighting," he suggested. "An attempt at uniting all the kingdoms against the only actual threat common to them all. The beasts."
I couldn't help but chuckle at his naivety. "Theron, these aren't just any rulers. They are men steeped in power and privilege who have known nothing but the intoxication that comes from dominance and control. They regard each other with masked hostility."
"But we've seen what these beasts can do," he argued earnestly. "And I refuse to believe that anyone would risk their kingdom for war for the mere sake of war."
I studied Theron for a long moment, appreciating his optimism even if I found it misplaced. "Theron, kingdoms might crumble and fall, yet pride continues to persist to the very end," I responded with a sigh. "They would never bow down enough to allow for peace, even if for the sake of vanquishing the beasts."
He shook his head stubbornly, the moonlight catching in his determined eyes. "There has to be some way."
Perhaps there was.
But historical precedent wasn't on our side and pessimism was a safer bet than blind hope.
Suddenly, a caw caught my attention, and the quick succession of wings flapping called to me from our left.
Took you long enough, Thora chastised, voice gentle despite the harsh words. I can smell his blood from here, which means that wound has to be bad.
It's not good.
But he'll live.
I knew it wasn't a question, yet I couldn't help but rush to reassure her, guiding Theron gently in the direction I could hear Thora flying in from. He will.
Are you hurt?
No, I answered quietly, feeling her agitation. She could probably feel the wound on my chest, but she didn't call me out on my lie right away, probably taking the time to assess the damage herself before believing me. I'm fine.
As we neared the outskirts of the village, the scent of woodsmoke reached us, mingling with the crisp winter air. Most of the houses were dark and still, their occupants lost to dreams or nightmares. Only a few windows spilled golden light onto the frosted ground. Yet, from somewhere within the labyrinth of wooden homes came the soft hum of life — a distant murmur of conversation, the low moan of a cow, the sharp whine of a horse.
Despite the hour, it seemed Hargard was not yet ready for sleep.
We were not greeted by a single soul as we moved as lightly and quickly as we could through the silent streets. Theron's breaths came shallow and strained, but he seemed more awake now and some color had returned to his cheeks.
Ahya saw me coming and directed the others to the nearest inn, Thora informed me just as her silhouette in the sky was visible in the darkness. They're waiting for you there with provisions for the boy.
I gave her a quick look, shaking my head subtly. The boy?
Should I call him something else? Her voice rose a note stubbornly.
He has a name, Thora, as you know quite well, and even though he can't hear your thoughts, he deserves to be called by it.
As do I, and I've never seen you act like this when he doesn't use it.
I snorted. You are insufferable.
And you are predictable, she shot back, not missing a beat.
Theron interrupted our exchange. "Is that Thora?" Theron said out of the blue, eyes narrowed on Thora's form soaring in our direction in a beautiful dive as he nodded his head at her silhouette against the moonlight.
"Yes, she came back to tell us the others are at the inn waiting for us," I affirmed.
"Oh. Good," he grunted.
The pain in his voice had me anxiously eyeing him again. "We need to get you to Kozun," I murmured, readjusting my hold on him as I quickened our pace.
We made our way towards the inn, guided by its warm and inviting light and Thora's soft wing beats.
The Hargard Inn was a two-story wooden building — the largest structure in the village —, with smoke billowing from two chimneys. The upper story housed a few rooms for travelers while the ground floor was primarily dedicated to a tavern. It was this part of the inn that Thora guided us towards, the golden illumination from within casting dancing shadows on the frosted ground outside. Outside, a few horses were tethered to the railing, their heads low as they leaned into their feedbags. A weather-worn sign creaked above the door depicting a loaf of bread encased in a pair of welcoming arms — an image that never failed to make me smile no matter how tired or downcast I felt.
Theron stumbled once as we approached, caught off guard by a patch of black ice.
I caught him by the shoulders, grunting as he fell heavily against me. I could feel the gasping breath he drew at our sudden contact, and I quickly steadied him, widening my hold as soon as he regained his balance.
It's incredible how unaffected you look at having to deal with their human weakness.
I ignored Thora's jab at a matter she was all too eager to perpetually discuss with me despite all the many times I'd shut her down like she somehow expected that my answer would, one day, eventually change. "Just watch your step," I told Theron softly, guiding him towards the door of the inn. "We're almost there."
"Sure," he whispered hoarsely, his cheeks flushing faintly in the dim light.
As we neared the entrance, the front door swung open and Ahya appeared. Her face was etched with worry but seeing us seemed to soothe her somewhat. Her hair was tied into a ponytail at the back of her head, dropping down her back in long, graceful, dark locks, and somehow, that seemed to disguise her sharpness somewhat, making her resemble more a woman and less a hunter. "Quickly," she urged, stepping aside for us to enter.
The room inside was spacious and comfortable, filled with soft candlelight and warmth from a heated hearth. The atmosphere was warm and welcoming, a stark contrast to the icy chill outside. The low murmur of conversation grew louder as we entered, intermingling with the crackling of logs burning in a large fireplace.
At our arrival, they ceased their conversation and looked at us expectantly.
"Home sweet home," I mumbled as I let the door swing closed behind us.
Heat washed over us, carrying the rich aroma of roasted meats and baked bread.
Ahya rushed to the group, speaking in a low voice to the woman with rosy cheeks and a dirty apron thrown over her dress. The innkeeper, I assumed. Even from afar, she smelled faintly of apricots and honey, mixed with freshly baked bread and a sweet scent of mead. She nodded a couple of times, her eyes straying a few times doubtfully to our bloodied clothes, and even though lines pulled at the corner of her lips and her eyes twinkled with fear, she nodded her acceptance to Ahya, opening her palm to receive the coins she offered.
Clearly, she mistrusted any men who came into her inn drenched in blood.
Smart woman.
Theron sighed and sagged against me. "Should've known," he murmured. "Two Melig barely manage to stumble their way into a warm home after barely escaping with our lives protecting these humans from vicious beasts and instead of a feast laid out in our honor, we get suspicious glares and the need for bribes."
He wasn't wrong.
I tightened my grip around his shoulders.
Ahya wheeled around and made her way to us, face serene. However, as she brushed past us, her brows raised as she scrunched her nose and bowed her head conspiratorially to whisper in our direction. "She did not like the fact that you are both covered in blood."
Well, at this point, we were both covered in Theron's blood.
Mine would never be considered blood by human standards.
"Do they ever?" I commented, following her as she cut across the tavern and started up the stairs to the second floor.
Theron scoffed. "No. They never do," he said with a heavy sigh as he faced the stairs and realized he'd have to climb them.
"I don't need the eyesight to know what she thought," Ahya grumbled under her breath, giving me a pointed stare over her shoulder, probably in a warning I didn't need. "We better make ourselves scarce before sunrise, otherwise I think she might be tempted to call the Royal Guard on us. Just to be sure we're not bandit murderers on the run."
Theron snorted. "They'd hang her for calling them this far north when they realized we were the reason for the trip."
I raised my brows. "Not with me here. They wouldn't dare."
"We all know they hate to come this far north," Ahya said, climbing up the wooden stairs with incredible agility, which was a rather rude contrast to Theron's heavy steps creaking up every step. "And while they wouldn't kill her, we all know they would probably take it out on her when they realized that she'd sent for them because of us," her eyes shifted over her shoulder at me for a single second, warning me that while my orders were strict and mostly followed, they weren't obeyed to the letter — which I knew all too well. I knew my army well enough after three hundred winters of training and spearheading it, and I knew how those men worked. "But they'd still come and, to our chagrin, they'd then press to escort us back to Iselvheim."
They undoubtedly would.
Thora snorted in amusement in my mind. Wouldn't you just love that, Steel?
We reached the top step and paused outside a heavy wooden door, marked with a brass number eight. Ahya produced a worn key from her pocket and unlocked the door, swinging it open to reveal a room with two narrow beds covered in patched quilts, a potbelly stove sitting quietly in one corner, a weathered old armchair in the other, and a small washstand beneath a circular mirror on the far wall.
Going back to Iselvheim is the last thing I want to do right now, but I will have to do it, at some point.
Theron collapsed on the bed, too exhausted to even attempt to sit down properly — downright just slumped to the mattress. He was exhausted and grimacing from the pain that must have been pulsing through him like daggers of ice, now relaxing a few inches as his body stopped straining the wound.
Seconds after, Thora flew in from the open window, landing delicately on the heavy wooden crossbeam overhead and tucking her wings to her sides. Her bright, blue eyes glinted in the soft candlelight, watching us with a mix of fond annoyance and trepidation. Dealing with the gathering of the Clay Kingdoms is not going to be as bad as dealing with Evren.
I gave her a hard stare. Neither will be easy.
She rustled, cooing softly at me from the heights. We'll see about that.
"You look like Hel has taken you already," Ahya stated bluntly, moving toward Theron and kneeling beside him, her hands moving swiftly to lift his tunic over the wound on his abdomen.
Theron managed a weak smirk. "Glad to see you, too, Ahya."
Ignoring his sarcasm, Ahya continued her examination, her normally sharp eyes softened with concern. She patted his shoulder gently and turned to me. "I'll get Kozun. He's in the next room with Jasiel."
I nodded.
Thora flew from the crossbeam and landed next to Theron on the bed. Her sharp talons left tiny imprints on the quilt as she perched beside him, screeching softly as she nuzzled against his arm with her beak. Her eyes were a shade darker and she kept ruffling her wings as if protectively uneasy.
For someone who generally calls all humans lesser beings, you look awfully concerned for Theron, I poked in a joyous tone. Who, by the way, we both know won't die from his wounds.
I'm not worried about him, she protested, but her voice lacked its typical edge.
I gave her a side glare, the corner of my mouth turning into a smirk. You could have fooled me.
You're easily fooled.
I shed my cloak from my shoulders, taking off the thigh, shoulder, and waist belts that held the scabbards to my multiple weapons. By everyone, except you, Thora.
She cawed, ruffling her feathers before flying up into the crossbeam again almost as if to contradict me. The next time you get hurt on a hunt, I will let you bleed out.
I smiled, giving her an amused stare. I highly doubt that.
Ignoring my comment, Thora settled into her perch on the beam, tucking her head beneath her wing. Her feathers puffed up, creating a barrier against the lingering chill in the room. In the soft glow of the hearth, her dark feathers shimmered in hues of blue and black.
The door to our room creaked open, and the hulking figure of Kozun filled the frame. His stern features were etched with lines of worry as he took in the sight of Theron lying on the bed. He was a gruff man — always had been since we first met him —, but beneath that hardened exterior was a man who cared about his companions more than he let on.
"Ahya told me," he said by way of greeting, his voice rumbling like distant thunder.
I nodded. "Do you need anything I can help with?"
He shook his head once as he moved towards the younger boy. His broad hands were nimble as he gently pushed Theron's clothes back just as Ahya had. Once he'd peeled them back, revealing the ugly wound beneath, he let out a low curse under his breath. "This is bad," he muttered, looking up at me with a frown.
"I know," I replied quietly, running a hand through my hair.
"We need sleep," Theron interjected weakly from his place on the bed. "Can't this wait until morning?" He muttered, his voice muffled.
"I'm afraid not," Kozun replied briskly, already pulling the stained shirt over Theron's head to reveal his torso. "Are you hurt, Steel?"
Aside from the claw wounds, I was fine, and those would heal without much problem.
I shook my head. "Nothing I won't heal overnight."
He nodded, returning his attention to Theron and not losing any time to get to work.
He didn't ask for permission. He knew he didn't need to. We'd been together far too long and we'd patched each other up far too many times for such formalities.
Ignoring Theron's half-hearted protests, Kozun cleaned the wound with practiced ease, then applied the healing poultice that only he knew the exact recipe of, applied stitches in the bigger claw wounds, and bandaged the wound with clean cloth all around Theron's torso. With each touch, each carefully applied bandage, I could see the pain in Theron's eyes start to dull as the herbs started to work reducing swelling, discomfort, and increasing tissue regeneration.
As Kozun worked, I moved to stoke the fire in the potbelly stove. The room was cold, and we needed warmth if we were going to stay the night. Silently, I added logs to the fire and watched as sparks danced upwards with each addition.
"Just rest now," Kozun was telling Theron as I turned back around.
He nodded and closed his eyes, exhaustion quickly claiming him as soon as he gave in. The lines of pain on his face eased somewhat in sleep.
I sighed quietly and stepped back from the warmth of the fire to join Kozun at Theron's side, studying his profile in the dim light. "Do you think the wound will slow him down for long?"
Kozun glanced at me, his charcoal eyes reflecting the firelight. "It depends," he said, tucking the last bit of bandage neatly into place. His gaze lingered on Theron before finally turning to meet mine. "If nothing festers, and it heals cleanly, I'd say a week or so. But you know Theron, he has the stubbornness of a mule."
I grunted in agreement, running a hand over my face, exhausted but too wired to sleep.
"We should all rest, too," Kozun said, interrupting my train of thought. He rose from his squat position, packing away his medical supplies into his bag. He looked almost as tired as I felt but his concern wouldn't allow him to sleep until he was certain Theron would be alright.
He was probably right.
The fatigue felt like chains around my legs, and my mind was heavy from the day's events, my thoughts running through what'd happened in the cave and what the Mörk had said to me before I vanished him.
But sleep didn't come easy to me even under normal circumstances.
Tonight, it seemed like an even more elusive foe.
The room filled with silence — a rare commodity for us — save for the occasional crackle from the stove and Thora's soft hooting from her perch above us.
Outside, night fell over the small inn as it nestled in the wild northern landscape. We could hear an owl's distant hoot and leaves rustling in the wind.
A cold chill ran through me.
Kozun sighed wearily and squeezed my shoulder. "Try to get some sleep, even if it's only for an hour or so," he said. The weight of his hand on my shoulder was both a comfort and a reminder of the approaching future. "I'll take the chair. You take the bed."
I nodded at him, my resolve solidifying.
The wooden floor creaked beneath Kozun's boots as he moved away from me. I heard him shuffle about by the fire, probably making sure it wouldn't die out in the middle of the night. The warmth it provided was not just for comfort. It was also necessary to keep Theron's body temperature steady as he healed. Once I was certain that Kozun had settled down in the back of the room to the left of the beds, I moved to the second bed and slumped against the mattress.
My eyes refused to close, constantly drawn to Theron's quiet form lying on the makeshift bed beside me.
Silent minutes turned into hours as I stared at the soft rise and fall of Theron's chest in sync with his quiet, measured breaths. The sight was strangely reassuring amidst a storm of uncertainty that clouded our path ahead.
And without my permission, it swaddled me into sleep.
***