A civil war rages in Talestor. A boy from a forest chases after his friend, leaving the safety of the trees and thrusting himself into a world he can barely comprehend, happening upon a weary sword whose only wish is for peace. A group of slaves are...
Don't panic, Celestar told himself. Panicking is bad for everybody.
Kaia and Foss (which he thought was a rather strange name) came back with their requisitions. Thanking them, he tossed the bark into the pot of water and set it over the fire to brew. The pine bark that grew near the lake was good for fevers.
And what a fever Vraide had! His forehead was hot against Celestar's hand and he was making pained noises with every bit of breath he could spare.
Celestar held an open vial of ice weed under Vraide's nostrils, hoping it would cool his head enough for him to hang on a little longer until the tonic was ready.
More ice weed, a scrap of a lemon that had a particular kind of mold growing on it, and an assorted bunch of herbs that would strengthen the body's natural defenses went into the pine-bark stew. It was bubbling along merrily now, as if unaware of the man in dire straits a few feet away.
The ice weed made the tonic pleasantly cool. Celestar poured some into a smaller kettle and added a thickening agent. As soon as it was ready, he slathered the cooling ointment onto Vraide's forehead, temples, neck and collarbones, and wherever else the fire of the fever burned under his hand. Vraide whimpered at the cold, and his friend beside him gripped his hand tighter.
"Hey," Celestar addressed him, "What is your name?"
"Yute," he replied. He had a soft voice, soft enough that Celestar almost didn't hear him.
Passing Yute the ointment, he said, "Work this onto his scalp and rub it into the back of his neck. Feel his forehead. If it gets hot again, slather more of this on, and make sure to get some on his temples, too."
Yute nodded and did as he was told, sliding his fingers into Vraide's tangled hair.
Celestar dunked a phial into the remaining liquid tonic, and when it was full, he screwed a cap onto it. The cap was specifically designed for administering the contents of the phial to someone lacking the presence of mind to be able to swallow a normal amount of liquid; it would let the tonic drip onto Vraide's tongue in small, manageable amounts. Air would enter the phial and fill the space the liquid vacated through a small hole in the bottom of the phial itself.
The healer slid the cap past Vraide's lips and let the open end rest on his tongue, far back enough that his instinct would be to swallow but not so far back as to cause any discomfort. Slowly, the liquid drained out of the phial, and none of it ran out of the corners of Vraide's mouth. That was good. That meant he was getting it down.
The night wore on. In the corner on a pile of furs not far from the dancing fire, the other escapees - Kaia, the two huddled under Celestar's cloak, and Foss - were snuggled together, gripping each other's hands like Yute gripped Vraide's. The weariness was gone from their eyes, and worry tightened their features. One of them, the one under the cloak that had a shirt, was crying silently. Kaia and the other one under the cloak were gently trying to soothe him, tears glimmering unshed in their own eyes. Foss repeatedly clenched his jaw. They were all afraid for their friend. Yute's face was solid stone, not a single bit of emotion discernible from him. His body was tense, however, betraying his distress.
Vraide was sweating now. A thin layer of it was evident on his arms, and his entire body was flushed. To everyone but Celestar, he looked worse off than before, but the healer's experienced eye could tell that this was good, and his eyes were clearer now than they had been. He hadn't been able to sweat before, and that was bad. He needed to be able to flush the sickness from himself.
The tonic in the phial was gone. Celestar removed it and set it aside. More tonic wouldn't help him; now that he was sweating, the principal danger was dehydration.
"Kaia, I need you to get some more water," said Celestar, passing her a large skin. She went immediately and returned quickly.
Through the remaining hours of moonlight and into the wee hours of the morning, Celestar gave Vraide as much water as he could handle. The rate of perspiration climbed almost steadily, and Vraide began to make weak noises of discomfort, eyelashes fluttering as he sipped at the water. Finally, after the others had fallen asleep and a suggestion of the pale blue glow of the sun began in a corner of the sky, Vraide's fever broke for good, and he entered into a deep, restful sleep. The danger was past.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Celestar suddenly realized that he was exhausted. They'd ran through the night, and while eventually even Yute had let go of Vraide's hand and gotten some rest, Celestar had stayed awake and high-strung the entire time.
"Healing almost sucks," he said to himself. He looked at his sword, which Kaia had laid down on his pallet in the corner. It twinkled at him, and Celestar was too tired to ascertain what that meant.
Still, someone needed to watch Vraide and make sure he didn't die in his sleep or something like that, and Celestar couldn't very well wake one of the others. They needed their rest.
In the fire-pit, the flames had burned down to embers, still giving off a good deal of heat. Celestar added some more wood onto the pile and prepared for a very long day.
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Author's Note: Welcome back to Aer'denna, everybody. I hope you guys breathed a sigh of relief after this chapter for poor Vraide. If not, let me know what I'm doing wrong. If you did, please, drop a comment or a vote to feed a starving author! Cheers, m'bros. *fedora tip*
