Balinor's Son

Uther And Balinor

Balinor stumbled into the small chamber, unbalanced by the weight of the bloodied man draped over his shoulder. His shin jutted into a chair that scraped across the textured stone.

"Who's there!" a girl's voice shrieked from inside. "Broeht!" Light instantly filled the room illuminating the girl huddled in bed and the two young men near collapsing. "Balinor?! What-"

"Nimue, I- I don't know who else to turn to."

The girl slid out of bed and into boots that neatly sat next to her bed table. She made her way over to the bloodied limp form Balinor supported with his arms. 

"Uther?! Balinor, what happened?" She held Uther's head up between her hands. 

"I told him I'd have his back. I said I would be there... but we were ambushed. One of Treatus' men targeted him. He knows he's a threat to his authority. Treatus knows the people are putting their trust in him. He's Camelot's only hope and now because of my inadequacy he's going to die!"

"Where was he hit?"

"Right near the heart. I fear he's already dead."

Nimue felt around his neck. "He still has a pulse. There is still hope yet."

"His wound is beyond you or me. It would take a high priestess or priest but I doubt we'd be able to to get their help."

"We don't have too," Nimue said rather quietly. "There's a ritual I've scene them perform. It can save a man from the brink of death."

"Brilliant! Do you know how to do it?"

Nimue bit her lip. "I can try. I certainly remember the incantations." She slid under Uther's other arm. "We have to get him to the alter."

They silently made their way through the halls of the magnificent castle. It was a place inhabited by the high priests, priestesses, and their selected pupils, known as the Isle of the Blessed.

"Try to be quieter," Nimue hissed. "If they catch us..." she didn't need to finish. Neither wanted to be in the way of the wrath of a high priest or priestess. 

They reached the courtyard that housed the ornate alter. 

"Set him down here." 

Uther was set on the ground with a large thud. Balinor again felt around Uther's neck. "Nimue!"

"What?"

"He's lost his pulse!" They shared a horrified look. Nimue stumbled over to the alter.

"Gypung," she whispered. Balinor heard the stone slide open and a golden cup emerge from its depths. Nimue grasped the shimmering object. 

"Nimue!"

"I know, I know!" She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, holding the cup out in front of her. "Scúr níwcumen anginn stéor cerdic sáwol!" Rain thundered down from the sky in sheets as she continued to chant, filling the cup to the brim with chilly water. 

"He's not breathing!"

As the rain cleared, Nimue rushed over to the wounded man. She held the goblet in front of her. She hesitated.

"What? Nimue, do it!"

"I- I-" she stammered. I've only ever seen them use this on a person on the brink of death. I don't know if..."

Balinor's face paled. He felt his neck and around his face, trying to find any trace of a breath or pulse. "It's... it's only been a few minutes... not even that long. He's not dead, no! He he's not!"