Chapter 49, Northman

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LAYLA

Two moons and three tens since the Mark of the Other One blossomed.


Layla jolted awake. She did not recall falling asleep, nor did she remember where she was at first. But her blurred sight recognised the familiar décor of the healers' house.

She heard voices from the front hall. They sounded like her mother and Sethian.

"You know Cynric and I can't always be here to look after the stranger. We are not teaching her in the ways of power, neither of us has the ability to unbind her flow. What she's learning is actual medicine. It's more physical. Trust me, Alina, it's a good idea to let her learn now that we have a willing subject."

"I still don't see..." Layla's mother began, but Sethian was having none of Alina's attitude.

"One day Cynric will be gone from the village and maybe me too. It will be good if there is someone who knows a little more than the regular folk medicine. It's practical knowledge. It will benefit the village. And don't worry about the stranger. He won't be waking up anytime soon."

"Well, if you think so. It's not like she's doing anything useful right now. But can I go get her home now?" Her mother would not back down easily, Layla knew.

"She's tired. She's asleep. She isn't going anywhere. You can come in the morning." Sethian assured Alina.

Layla sighed in relief. That would postpone the inevitable nagging she would get from mum about where Leyla went and why. She heard the outside door close and made herself more comfortable in the large chair she was in. Someone had put a blanket on her.

She looked around the dim room, towards the motionless form of the stranger laying on a mattress next to the warm wall. She could hear the faint and uneven breathing of the stranger, and her sleepy mind drifted back to what had happened during the healing.

"Stop gawking at the damned armour and help me out here, Seth!" Cynric had roared.

His demeanour had changed in such a drastic way that Layla was almost too afraid to say anything.

"But... It's Iordurian." The mage had mumbled.

"And it's rent to pieces, now shut up and help. Layla grab those small knives from the shelf behind you." The healer urged them both.

Layla had expected more blood and open wounds under the clothes, but that did not seem to be the case. There were several bone-like objects lodged in his back.

"He's seared his wounds shut. Not smart. There are older wounds in addition to these fresh ones. Severe infection, there's rotten blood inside of him." Cynric rattled off.

"Or it may have saved him from bleeding out." Sethian interjected.

"I doubt that would have killed him. That bloodseal looks..."

"You've never seen one, have you? Yeah. This is one nasty bloodied mage. Never seen something like that myself. Not the kind of bloodseal I am used to." Sethian's eyes seemed to glint as she said that.

"I know how it's supposed to work." Cynric said after a short while.

Occasionally Cynric would tell Layla to hand him something or hold a reopened wound closed so he could sew it shut again. His tone had changed, and every command was an impatient bark.

The healer would stick small needles around those stitches and older scars and have Sethian channel power into them. But for a little while no one made any remarks about their patient.

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