The next thing Kesst knew was pain.
It was pain unlike anything he’d ever known, wrenching and wailing, wrecking every other thought in its wake. And Kesst could only seem to choke with it, writhe with it, feel it tear him apart, until —
“Fuck,” breathed a low voice, a familiar voice, the healer’s voice. “Hang on, Ash-Kai. Just —”
And suddenly, somehow, the pain was gone. And instead, Kesst’s streaming-wet eyes were blinking up at the healer’s scarred face, hovering close over him, with clear concern in his expressive dark eyes.
“Better?” the healer murmured, his voice quite possibly the most beautiful sound Kesst had ever heard — and he somehow nodded back, holding those eyes. And the healer was nodding too, his breath exhaling, his expression visibly relieved.
“Good,” he said, and suddenly Kesst could feel a gentle hand slipping under his head, tilting it up, while something solid brushed against his lips. “Now drink for me, all right?”
Oh. It was a waterskin, the healer had even brought himwater, and Kesst obediently drank, swallowing the cool liquid in careful gulps. Feeling the healer’s impossible magic in his belly as he drank, making sure it stayed calm and steady. Helping him. Saving him. Like he’d promised.
Kesst’s thoughts were still swimming, scattering, as the waterskin drew away again, as that hand carefully set down his head. Onto something soft, the healer had put somethingsoftbeneath his head — and suddenly, blinking up at that already-familiar face, Kesst felt the most overwhelming, irrational urge to burst into tears. This was the most kindness anyone had shown him in so many moons, so manyyears— and it was surely the gods’ own judgement that it was this healer, this stuffy, stick-up-the-rump healer, and…
“Should’ve tossed me,” he heard his slurred voice say, his wet eyes still fixed to the healer’s face. “Or at least let me suffer, just now. Sit back and laugh for a while, maybe.”
The healer’s worried eyes blinked, once — but then he shook his head, his lips twitching into a wry little smile. “I’m not about to let you suffer,” he said firmly. “Let alone laugh at you.”
Good gods, this healer, and Kesst felt his mouth convulsing, his eyes blinking even harder. “Pity me, then,” his thick voice said. “That’s even worse, I think.”
The healer grimaced, and then — to Kesst’s dulled distant astonishment — he nodded. “Right,” he said, quiet. “I should have realized that, the other day. Sorry.”
And wait. Why did he think he should have realized that, why was he apologizing to Kesst, when Kesst had been the one so unquestionably in the wrong? The one who’d mocked him to Skald and Kaugir, and helped throw a huge red target onto his back?
Kesst couldn’t even seem to speak, suddenly, what with the heaviness and the guilt and exhaustion, the mess crowding his swirling skull. And the healer’s hand had come to hover over his face, his brow creased with concern, his head shaking.
“Back to sleep for you, Ash-Kai,” he murmured. “I’ll keep a closer eye on your pain from now on, all right?”
Kesst should have protested, needed to protest, to say something, anything — but he was indeed already slipping away again, into dimming dizzying distance, into rising spinning dreams.
And while he often endured dark dreams, these were even worse than usual. Dreams of Ofnir’s leering face, of Skald, of Kaugir. Dreams of his own weeping mother, his blank-eyed father, his laughing, pale-faced blood-brother. Of Grimarr frantically reaching for him, falling beneath Kaugir’s huge axe, twitching and gasping in a pool of blood…
And of the healer. The healer carrying him, sliding that strong hand under his head, pouring water down his throat. The healer writhing beneath Skald’s onslaught, his stubborn pride forever crushed beneath Skald’s casual, careless cruelty. The healer barking back at Skald, risking himself, risking everything…
“No, I’m not waking him up,” the fool snapped, reckless, hopeless. “He almostdiedtwo days ago, and he’s still in critical condition. Now, if you want to discuss further, can we please take this out to —”
Skald’s sudden bark felt like a handful of claws in Kesst’s gut, like a looming dropping death-knell. “Youdarerefuse your captain’s Left Hand, bewitcher?” his furious voice hissed, and rumbling beneath it were other voices too, all Skald’s favourite Skai and Ash-Kai followers, and then the distinctive scrape of a sword. “I said, wake him!”
“And I said, no,” the healer’s voice countered, even more stubborn than before. “You could kill him!”
But no, no, it would be the healer dying now, it would be him sprawled and convulsing in the pool of blood — but suddenly there were more voices spilling into Kesst’s ringing ears, more chaos, pained-sounding shouts and groans,Come at once, Efterar, Olarr was attacked whilst scouting, shall he…
And when Kesst’s hazy, gritty-feeling eyes next opened, the healer was still there. Still alive. His warm hand once again curling around the base of Kesst’s skull, lifting his head, carefully pouring more cool water down his throat.
“Still alive,” Kesst croaked at him, bewildered, once he’d finished swallowing, licking his dry lips. “Still here.”
And he’d meant the healer, he wasn’t supposed to be alive, Skald was culling him,killinghim. But the healer’s worried eyes had softened, his head nodding, his fingers slightly twitching against Kesst’s head. “Still healing,” he said, quiet. “But you’re doing well. Better every day.”
Kesst tried to shake his head, moving it pathetically against the healer’s hand. “S’posed to be dead,” he managed. “Culled.”
And was that anger in the healer’s eyes, in the magic Kesst could belatedly taste, swirling all through his head, his chest. “No,” came his flat reply, impossibly sure of itself. “That’s ridiculous. No one is culling me. Or you.”
Oh. And staring up at his stubborn eyes, Kesst couldn’t seem to find a way to argue. And he even felt himself relaxing again, almost as if he were safe again, as if…
“Should’ve tossed me,” he said, and suddenly it felt crucially important that the healer understand this, realize this, take it all back. “Deserved it.”
But the healer’s eyes had softened again, his head shaking. “I’m healing you,” he said. “I promised, remember?”
