I've had this trilogy in my head for a while now and have been banging it out for a while now. This part was partially inspired by We Loyal Traitors by jaqtkd- it's a fantastic story. Part 1 will be 3 chapters long; it just kind of blossomed that way. They will be long chapters, 6,000-7100 words or so. I apologize, but I didn't want to split it into more than 3 chapters. :) I hope you enjoy!


Part 1, Mother and Father

Balinor scanned the room over the rim of his tankard. Aside from a few sketchy-looking characters, most people there looked like what they actually were—common villagers. He'd learned to sit in a corner near the door, but never with his back to it. The position fit his relatively recent status as outlaw.

He never stayed more than a few days in any town or village. It was too easy to be recognized, even though he'd grown out his hair and beard. His life had always been somewhat transient, but this constant moving was wearing on him. Maybe Uther would regain his senses soon.

The tavern's door opened once again. A moderately well-groomed man stepped in, wearing the livery of Camelot—a scarlet tunic emblazoned with a gold dragon. The man closed the door and headed to the bar, probably to speak to the owner.

After a few hurried words with the man behind the bar, the man from Camelot turned around. He cleared his throat, and spoke up in a practiced voice: "People of Anged—I am looking for the man called Balinor. King Uther of Camelot wishes to speak with him on a matter of utmost importance."

After the messenger finished, he looked around at all the tavern patrons. The tavern patrons looked around at him and each other. No one moved. The messenger heaved a sigh and left the tavern without further comment.

Balinor finished his drink slowly, then stood up, tossed a few coins on the table and also exited the tavern. He knew the messenger from Camelot, and his escort, couldn't have gotten too far. That Pendragon red was visible a mile away. Stupid. He turned to his left and spotted three men in red a few hundred yards away. Easy.

He ran down the adjacent street, then down one parallel to the one the tavern fronted. Moving quickly, he glanced down each cross-street until he found the group in red. He ran to the cross-street ahead of them and down it until he reached the end. There he waited until they reached his field of vision. He called out, "Hey!"

The three men, walking their horses, stopped and looked his direction. "Were you talking to us?" the messenger asked.

"Yes. I heard you're looking for me."

"Balinor?"

"That's what they call me," he replied. He indicated for them to follow him down the street. "Come this way. I don't want any prying eyes." The three men followed him down the street, with their horses, until he stopped. He looked around for onlookers, then quickly held out both hands to the two guards and whispered, "Swefaþ."

The guards immediately dropped to the ground, while the messenger started backing away in terror. "Æstende," Balinor said, and the man stopped where he was. He discovered that he couldn't move any part of his body except his facial muscles.

"Now," said Balinor, "what does Uther want with me?"

"He wants to make peace with the dragons and the dragonlords. You're the only dragonlord we've managed to find."

"What does he want me to do?"

"I . . . I don't know. I think it may have something to do with the Great Dragon."

"What?"

"That's . . . That's all I know! I swear!"

"Fine. Drífe," Balinor muttered. The man stumbled backwards. "I'll go with you. Just . . . watch what you do." He looked at the guards on the ground and rolled his eyes. "Wæccaþ," he said. The two guards woke and glared up at him.

When everyone was upright, the messenger asked, "Do have belongings to gather before we leave?"

"Back at the inn."

The four men walked back the way they'd come, the three men from Camelot staying well behind the dragonlord. Balinor went inside while the others waited outside. When he emerged, he walked across the street to the stable and retrieved his horse.

After he'd attached his things to his saddle, he turned and looked at the other three men. "All right, let's get this over with."

All four men mounted their horses and nudged them forward beginning the one-day journey to Camelot. Though Balinor had no love for the magic-hating Uther, if he could help a dragon-brother, he'd do whatever it took.

xxxXxxx

The journey to Camelot was uneventful. The three men from Camelot kept to themselves, darting suspicious glares at Balinor now and then. They didn't speak to him any more than they had to. He was content to ride behind them, thinking about nothing in particular.

When they reached a certain hilltop, the three men from Camelot sighed in relief. As Balinor reached them, he saw the white stone walls of Camelot not too far off. He hadn't been here since magic was welcomed in the great city. Now the city felt dull, like the life had gone out of it. It had only taken one lost life to start the dullness; since then, many more had gone and left this pale imitation of Camelot.

They rode down the hill and into the lower town. People looked and acted normally, but if one examined closely, they could see haunted eyes and tight mouths. Signs of fear.

The four rode into the main square, where servants arrived to take the horses. When Balinor looked up, he saw the King descending the steps into the square. Uther stepped forward to greet him. "Ah, Balinor, I presume?"

"You presume correctly," Balinor replied. He studied the King. Uther seemed comfortably into his thirties, about a decade older than himself. Uther's brown hair was on its way to thinning, but in his blue eyes, Balinor could see several conflicting emotions—grief, anger and fear. But the King had tight control on his emotions. He gave Balinor a smile.

"Shall we go inside and dine? You must be ready for a meal by now."

"As you wish, Your Majesty." Balinor followed the King, who was flanked by a few knights, into the castle.

They walked down a few corridors and came to a formal dining room. The knights bowed and left as the King entered the room. There were two other men in the room, maybe a decade or so older than Uther. The King walked toward them and said, "Ah Gaius, Geoffrey. This is Balinor, the dragonlord who is going to help us. Balinor, this is my Court Physician, Gaius and my Court Librarian, Geoffrey."

Balinor shook their offered hands. "A pleasure."

"Come, let us sit down to dinner," Uther stated.

Everyone sat around the table and the King began some small talk. From this Balinor learned several small things about his fellow diners. Uther didn't spend much time with his infant son. Gaius appeared to support Uther's stance on magic, but in a more reserved manner. Geoffrey didn't get to socialize much since accepting his appointment. These were all interesting bits, but they didn't tell him what he really wanted to know.

When Uther was nearly finished, Balinor decided to push the issue. "Your Majesty. Thank you for your hospitality so far. But I need to know why you've asked me here."

"Ah, yes. That would only be polite." Uther motioned to the attending servants to take their plates. "I have a message to convey to the Great Dragon, and naturally I cannot summon him in order to do this."

"What is it you want to say?"

"I understand he is . . . upset at all the recent dragon . . . deaths. He blames me for those deaths. I wish to soothe him, to make peace with him, if you will. I want to assure him that I'm not responsible for the deaths and do all in my power to stop them, if I can."

"I see." Balinor was very skeptical. He had felt some of these deaths and lost contact with many of his fellow dragonlords. Was this why? Had Uther extended his persecution of magical beings to dragons and dragonlords even though their magic was quite different? Maybe so, but if he had, it wasn't like Uther would tell the truth about it.

"So, will you help me?" Uther asked. He appeared genuinely concerned with the dragons' plight.

"I don't understand. I have magic, and you still asked me here to help you? Won't you execute me when I'm done? What's in it for me?"

Uther looked a little sick at this. "No, I have no wish to execute you. Your magic is different; you and your kin keep to yourselves, not causing any trouble. You will be paid for your time then be free to go."

"All right. I don't want your money though. I do this for Kilgharrah." He paused a moment to think. "When do you want to do this?"

"Tomorrow morning is early enough. You must be tired from your journey, and I imagine you don't get to sleep in a bed that often." Balinor nodded. "Good. I've had a chamber prepared for you. Breakfast will be delivered to you, and I'll summon you when I'm ready."

"That's acceptable. If you don't mind, I'd like to retire immediately. I am rather tired."

"Of course." The King summoned a servant to convey Balinor to his chambers. He was bid good night and escorted to his room.

xxxXxxx

In the morning, Balinor was woken by a knock at the door. When he called out, "Enter," a servant appeared with a tray of food and walked to the table to set it down. It was filled with very generous portions.

"Is there anything else you need, My Lord?" the servant asked.

"I'm not anyone's 'Lord,'" Balinor grumbled. When the servant looked taken aback, he sighed and said, "No, thank you." The servant left the room.

He got out of bed and dressed quickly. He quickly devoured much of what was on the tray. A few minutes after he finished, another knock sounded at the door. He again called out, "Enter."

A young page appeared. "My Lord, the King requests your presence in the throne room."

Balinor stopped him before he could leave. "Would you take me there please? I don't know my way around."

"Of course," the page replied, and they set off for the throne room.

Once there, he saw the king conversing with a few of his knights and advisors. "Ah Balinor, here you are."

"Yes. Where are we to do this?"

"I've set up a safe place under the castle." He paused when he saw Balinor's skeptical face. "Don't worry—the dragon will be able to fly in, move around and fly out in complete comfort. I just don't wish to frighten any of my townspeople."

"Of course," Balinor replied drily.

"If you'll follow me?" Uther started walking toward the door, a handful of knights accompanying him.

Balinor followed the King as he walked to a staircase going down. They walked through the dungeons then to a door. Once opened, it led to a rougher set of stairs that were carved into the rock. They descended these and went through an open door that led onto a landing. It looked out into a massive cave system. Balinor could tell that Kilgharrah would have no trouble flying through this place.

"Here we are," Uther said once they stopped. "You see that outcropping there?" He pointed to a large rock directly in front of them. "The dragon—"

"Kilgharrah," Balinor interrupted.

"Kilgharrah, then, can perch there while we converse. Will that work?"

"It'll be fine."

"Well then, please summon him."

Balinor nodded and lifted his head to call in the dragon tongue, "Dragon Kilgharrah, I summon thee to this place, to converse with myself and another. Please, oh mighty dragon, grant us this favor." In his mind he heard Kilgharrah roar in response. He looked at the King, who appeared a little intimidated. "He should be here soon."

He glanced at the knights behind them. They had backed to the cave wall and looked fairly anxious. That was pretty common among those who'd never heard the dragon tongue spoken. He smiled; then he felt Kilgharrah's presence brush against his mind, questioning his location. He sent a reassuring thought back his way, confirming his underground location.

Within seconds, the men heard the sound of mighty wings beating the air, echoing around the cavern. Uther and his knights stepped backward as the Great Dragon flew into view and landed on the rock Uther had indicated. Their eyes widened in shock and awe, but they didn't move or say anything.

"Why have you summoned me here?" Kilgharrah asked in his deep, gravelly voice.

"Kilgharrah, King Uther wishes to speak with you. I've volunteered to be your intermediary. Will you speak with him?" Balinor asked.

"Uther?! That man has murdered many of our kin, Balinor!" Kilgharrah opened his mouth to spout fire at the King.

"Scildaþ!" Balinor yelled, and Kilgharrah's fire hit what appeared to be an invisible wall. Kilgharrah broke off his attack with a roar. "Kilgharrah, DO NOT attack the King," he ordered. Kilgharrah's roar broke off with a kind of choking sound. "Now, are you ready to listen?" Balinor took the dragon's silence as an assent. "All right. King Uther assures me he did not murder our kin, and has pledged his help in finding the true perpetrators."

"He's lying," Kilgharrah spat. "Have you not felt their deaths? Not only are many dragons gone, but dragonlords as well."

"I have not been as . . . connected as I should."

"The lying, hypocritical King has only told you what he wanted you to hear. We have been deceived!"

"Kilgharrah—" Balinor started, but he was cut off by an ominous sound, a clink of heavy metal on metal and an earsplitting roar of anger shook the cavern.

"I'm afraid he's right," a cold voice said behind him. Before Balinor could turn to look, hands restrained him—his mouth and arms. He was turned forcibly to look at Uther. "I have been murdering dragons and their dragonlords. All of you wield too much magical power to exist. Even now my knights are slaying the few remaining dragons, and within a few hours, every last dragonlord will be dead. This dragon will live as a reminder of my triumph over magic." Uther turned away and gave one last order to his knights before leaving the cavern, "Kill him."

Kilgharrah still roared and struggled against the restraint clamped around his leg. He breathed fire on it, but still it remained. Balinor could feel the magic Kilgharrah tried to cast at the offending metal, but it went nowhere. The magic didn't leave his body; something—probably the metal –restrained it. The dragon roared in even more frustration. "I'm sorry, my brother," Balinor thought to his kin, but Kilgharrah was too deep in his rage to respond.

Balinor struggled against the restraining hands. The knight who was not restraining him drew his sword, an apology in his eyes. He moved closer, sword at the ready. Camelot's knights may fight with honor, but Balinor wasn't bound by their code. He bit down hard on the hand over his mouth, and it was drawn immediately away with a cry of pain. With an apology in his eyes, Balinor raised his hands as far as he could and yelled out, "Forþ fleoge!"

Every knight in the cavern with him flew away from Balinor. Most hit the cave wall, but at least one went soaring over the edge of the precipice with a strangled cry.

The dragonlord wasted no time. He faced the door Uther had closed behind him and yelled, "Astrice!" It flew against the wall behind it and Balinor ran up the steps. When he reached the entryway, he found a couple of knights waiting for him. One slashed at his thigh, giving him a deep cut. He managed to dodge the other and shoved him into the one that had injured him.

Now limping, he ran up the stairs leading to the dungeons and stopped, realizing he had no idea which way to go. Fortunately a voice called out to him just then. "Balinor!"

He quickly turned and hobbled in the direction of the voice, around a corner to his right. There he found Gaius, the court physician. "We must get you out of here immediately!" he whispered. Then he looked down at Balinor's leg. "You're wounded! And it's deep. But we have no time to loiter." He reached into a pocket of his robe and pulled out a square of cloth. "It's not sterile, but it'll have to do." He carefully knelt down and wrapped the makeshift bandage around the wound. Then he stood and wrapped an arm around Balinor's shoulder to support him. "Ready?"

"Oh, I'm beyond ready," the dragonlord replied. With Gaius's help, he was able to hobble faster.

"I know of a secret way out, through the armory. It's not far." They hobbled a bit further, then Gaius said, "I have a niece. Hunith. She lives in a small village almost due east of Camelot. She has helped me hide friends in the past few months. She's also fairly good at herb lore, so she can heal your wound. The name of the village is Ealdor. It lies just over the border in Essetir. Travel east through the forest of Ascetir and skirt north of the ridge."

Just then they made it to what was definitely an armory. "Wait a moment," Balinor said, and grabbed a sword lying on a rack. "All right." They continued to a wall in the back.

Gaius moved aside an ornate shield to reveal a crawlspace leading to a tunnel. "Follow the tunnel to the end. There's a metal grate there that you can remove easily enough." He smiled, then continued. "I left a horse tethered to a tree outside. I've tied a satchel with provisions to the saddle. No medical supplies though, I'm afraid."

"Why are you helping me? Aren't you loyal to Uther?"

"Yes. Before the Purge I practiced magic. But to save my own life, I took an oath to never use it again. I turned my back on so many of my kin . . . but now I'm saving what few I can without raising suspicion. I hope this will help me forgive myself someday."

At that moment, they heard the cries of about a dozen men. Physically, the sound was faint. Mentally, it nearly knocked the two men over. "What was that?" Balinor asked.

Gaius looked horrified. "I was hoping to get you out before that happened," he said.

Balinor grabbed Gaius by the front of his robes. "Gaius, what was that?!"

Gaius's eyes teared up. "Uther gathered every last dragonlord he could find and held them in the dungeons. Once he had you, he'd planned a public execution for you all—in front of a firing squad."

"NO!" Balinor yelled, and attempted to get past Gaius.

"Please, you must go. You're the last dragonlord now. I couldn't save them, but I can save you. Please, go now."

Balinor wanted to scream, to yell at the sky until it fell. Tear Camelot apart one block at a time so that Uther would hurt as much as he did. In a shaky voice he said, "One day Uther will suffer as much as I have this day. And the guilt will eventually tear him apart."

Gaius nodded, then helped Balinor lift himself up into the passage. He watched Balinor crawl through and fall down safely on the other side. Balinor turned back to face him, and Gaius said, "May the Gods preserve your life."

"And yours, Gaius," Balinor said, and disappeared from view.

Gaius let the shield fall back into place and walked slowly back to his chambers to mourn in secret. Hopefully Hunith would be able to heal Balinor before he succumbed to infection.

Balinor continued to the end of the tunnel and found the metal grate. Locked, of course. "Tospringe," he whispered, and the grate not only unlocked but broke loose from the mortar. Oh well.

He saw the horse tethered to the tree and ran to it. After he checked to make sure everything was secure, he untied it and got on. As he nudged it into motion, he heard a yell from the parapet above him, "Hey! You there—stop!" He immediately kicked the horse into as close to a gallop as he could get on the hilly terrain. The cover of the forest was more than a hundred yards away.

While the horse took him away from the ramparts, he could still hear shouting behind him. Uther must have discovered he'd escaped, which meant more men were coming after him. He had to find some way to lose them in the forest.

He was almost there when he heard a whistle and felt something sharp pierce his left shoulder blade. Archers, great. There was no way he'd be able to remove the arrow while riding—he needed his good arm to hold the reins since his left was now useless.

After he made it to the woods, he guided the horse eastward as well as he could. There was no road or even trail for him to follow. Every motion jostled his wounds, which hurt like mad. The one on his leg had started to bleed through its makeshift bandage. He had to stop soon and do something about them or he could bleed out. He began looking for possible shelters.

Another hour or so later, after he'd heard all signs of pursuit cease, he found a tree growing partly on the top and partly down the side of a hill. The roots down the side made a sort of cave, which was further sheltered by other bushes. He dismounted, taking the satchel off the saddle. When he'd tethered the horse under the roots, he limped in himself.

He sat down heavily and opened the satchel. A water skin was on top; that was a relief. After he drank deeply, he ripped a strip off the bottom of his shirt. He reached back carefully with his good hand to feel the shoulder wound and arrow. It seemed like it would be okay to pull out instead of through. So he wrapped his hand around the arrow's shaft and pulled.

Sharp, tearing agony went through him and he nearly screamed. The arrow was barbed and had widened the existing wound on its way out. When he could breathe normally, he brought the arrow up to his eyes and examined the barbs. He quickly dropped the arrow and reached back to press the bit of shirt to the wound. It would take more than this to stop the bleeding, and his knowledge of healing spells was sketchy at best.

After thinking for a few minutes, he finally thought of a spell and hoped he had enough power to use it. "Wel cene hole," he whispered. He removed the cloth and felt around; the bleeding had stopped, but the wound was only thinly healed. Any sudden moves and it would tear open.

He turned his attention to the leg wound. After he ripped a bit more of his shirt off, he unwrapped the cut. It was bleeding again, welling up and spilling over his leg. He could try the same healing spell, but it probably wouldn't work as well. Maybe stop the bleeding. He repeated the spell and the bleeding stopped. A thin skin grew over it, but not all the way. He sighed and wet the bit of shirt he'd just torn and started cleaning the blood off. To bind that wound, he tore a bit from the back of his shirt. If this kept up, he'd have no shirt left. He wrapped the strip around the wound and tied it off.

That being done, he rinsed off his hands and turned back to the satchel, seeking food. He found dried strips of meat, bread, cheese, and a few apples. Enough to get him through two days or so. After he ate a bit of each, enough to satisfy, he pulled out a blanket from the satchel. He rolled himself up in it, and even though it was still early afternoon, went to sleep.

xxxXxxx

Balinor woke after dark, which was just as well. Anyone searching for him would be less likely to search at night. Navigating in the dark would be harder, but the moon was nearing full and he could always conjure a light if needed. He packed up his bag and led the horse out.

He looked around the bit of forest he was in, and found a willow tree. Using a knife he'd found in the bag, he cut off a bit of bark. From that bit, he ripped a piece off and popped it into his mouth. That should relieve a bit of the pain for a while. He got on his horse and nudged it into a walk.

The night wore on. The horse picked its way through the woods while Balinor checked the moon often to make sure he was still headed east. When the moon fell behind the trees, he called out, "Leóhtfæt," and sent the light to hover in front of the horse at its speed. Keeping the complex spell going was tiring, but dawn wasn't far off and he'd find another place to hole up and rest.

Not much later, he discovered a road going east. He stayed under cover of the forest and followed the road until dawn lit the sky. Balinor was feeling quite faint by then and fortunately found a small cave not too far from the road. After eating a few bites of food, he rolled up in his blanket and slept again.

When he woke next, the sun was midway in the sky. With any luck, he'd find Ealdor before dark. He undid the bandage around his thigh to check it—it had bled only a little more, but was starting to look a bit inflamed around the edges. Infection. He ate a bit of lunch then ripped off another bit of willow bark to chew. That wouldn't cure the infection but he didn't have time to search for honey.

He got back on his horse and again rode off opposite the sun's course. The willow bark helped for a few hours, but he could feel a fever building slowly. He leaned on the horse's neck and contemplated lashing himself into the saddle. Eventually he ruled it out—he didn't have any rope.

Night fell and still he pressed onward. The willow bark took the edge off the fever, but not for long. It raged and Balinor felt dizzy. He looked up from the horse's neck and thought he saw smoke and trees thinning in the distance, but that could just be a hallucination. He leaned over again and decided to close his eyes momentarily.

He didn't feel himself relax and slide off the horse. He landed on the ground heavily, but was too delirious to notice. The horse continued walking; he had sensed civilization ahead. He walked through the woods, which had thinned, and onto the main road of the tiny village known as Ealdor.

xxxXxxx

Hunith was on her way home from her friend Sarah's house. Sarah was married a year ago, and their first child would be born within the next few weeks. Hunith hummed tunelessly, but broke off when she saw a strange horse emerge from the woods. It stopped in the middle of the road and looked at her expectantly.

She slowly walked forward and reached out to pet (she took a quick peek) his nose. "Hello, boy," she said soothingly, "where did you come from?" Glancing at its back, she noticed the fine but worn saddle, with a satchel attached. "Well, you belong to someone; let's see who."

Keeping a hand on his nose, she moved back to unfasten the satchel. Inside she found bits of food, a dirty blanket, a water skin, and bloody bits of fabric. Whoever this horse belonged to was injured and missing. "Come on boy, let's find your rider."

She took the horse's reins and followed the disturbed bushes into the trees. It didn't take long to find the rider; he was sprawled on the forest floor, on his back. She let go of the reins and ran over to him, setting her lantern on the floor.

His bearded face was flushed and very warm to the touch—a raging fever. But what caused it? She scanned his body and found the bandage around his thigh. She rolled him onto his right shoulder and saw the unbandaged wound on his left shoulder. It looked like it had healed somewhat, but it was mostly opened now and showed clear signs of infection. She had to get him to her home and treat him right away. But first she needed help to get him there.

Gradually she rolled him to his back again, and the movement must have pained him. He half-opened his eyes, which were glazed, and focused on her. "Ealdor?" he whispered through dried lips.

She recovered from her shock long enough to say, "Yes, you're in Ealdor."

"Made it," he whispered. "Need to find . . . Hunith?"

This was getting kind of spooky. "I'm Hunith."

"Good. Help . . . please." He sighed then passed out. Time to get help.

She jumped up and tied the horse's reins to a tree. Then she dashed through the trees and back to Sarah's house. Sarah's husband, William answered the door. After she explained the situation to him, he ran with her back to the injured man.

"Whoa," William said, "he's in a bad way." He knelt down to get a grip on the injured man, and lifted him a bit before he had to put him back down. "He's too heavy to lift by myself, but maybe if you help we can drape him over the horse."

"All right," Hunith replied and moved to the injured man's feet.

"Okay, now, lift!" They lifted him simultaneously. As they walked closer to the horse, Hunith gradually shifted her hold on the man so she could help William lift his torso up and over the horse's back.

"Ugh," she said when they'd finally managed to get him on the horse. "Thanks William. Of course, we'll need to get him off too."

William groaned. "Great. Well, let's get it over with."

Hunith untied the horse and led it out of the woods while William kept a hand on the man to keep him in place. Luckily they made it to her small home without any incident. Getting him off the horse was a chore—they nearly dropped him twice, but gradually got him onto Hunith's bed. They stood to the side, panting to catch their breath. "Thanks again, William," Hunith said when she could manage it.

"Anytime," he replied. "Good luck with this one. Let us know if you need anything," he said as he left through the door, taking the horse with him. He'd volunteered to take care of it for the time being.

She sighed and wiped her forehead. Then she took off her headscarf, gathered her loose hair, and carefully rearranged the headscarf over it. She'd be working on this poor man for a while.

It would probably be best to work on the back first, she decided. She was especially grateful her parents had passed on their knowledge of herbs before they died two years ago. Her Uncle Gaius had also helped teach her when he visited from Camelot.

Carefully she rolled the injured man over to lay on his front. It was good he was unconscious, because this wouldn't be comfortable. She cut through his shirt with shears, then dipped a rag in boiled water she kept around. When the area around the wound was clean, she dabbed it with a witch hazel solution. Then she spread some comfrey-thyme salve over it and picked up her needle and thread to sew the wound shut. It wasn't long, but it was wide, like whatever had pierced the skin tore it more on its way out. She covered it with small piece of clean, folded cloth, and wound a long piece over it and around his chest a couple of times to secure it.

When she finished that, she rolled him back over to check the thigh wound. She used the shears again to cut off the old bandage and his pants leg above the wound so they wouldn't get in her way. She used another rag and a different bowl of water to clean this wound. It looked like a sword had cut into him edge on. It was deeper and more infected than the other wound. She used the witch hazel again, followed by the salve. This one would take a while to sew, so she got to work. The poor man would be laid up for a few weeks before he'd be able to walk again.

After she finished sewing, she folded a longer bit of cloth to put over the wound, and wound another long piece over and around that to keep it in place. The man looked a bit more relaxed, but when she felt his face it was still very hot.

She picked up another rag and bowl of water to clean his face. Once the dirt and sweat were gone, she could see that he was quite handsome. But she cast that thought aside and dipped a cloth in clean water and lay it across his forehead. Then she went to the fire to start another pot of water boiling. She moved to her table to find her aspen and willow tree bark. Once the water boiled, she put the aspen and willow bark into the pot to steep for a few minutes. Both ingredients would reduce the fever and any pain he felt.

While the tea brewed, she went back over to the injured man. She took off his boots and socks, and then the shirt, which had been ruined before she'd gotten to it. Then she picked up another cloth and began to clean his torso. There were a few more scars there and on his back than a simple villager would have. Whoever this man was, he'd had a hard life.

At that point, she went back to the pot and removed it from the fire to let the liquid inside cool. The tea would help whether cool or hot, and since he was unconscious, cool would be best. She put an extra blanket over the sleeping man and arranged a couple more on a woven mat on the floor. Then she found a bit of bread and cheese to eat for a late dinner.

After she finished eating, she got up to check the tea. It had cooled enough to drink, so she retrieved a ladle and a cup. She strained the tea with a piece of cloth over the cup then stirred in a spoonful of honey. She propped the man up with a couple pillows and tipped the liquid slowly into his mouth. When that was done, she took the cloth from his forehead, dipped it in water, wrung it, and put it back on his head. Exhausted, she put out the candles and went to bed.


A/N- I went to great pains to make sure the spells are proper grammar and the herbs used really can be used how I describe them. But I'm only human and I apologize if I messed anything up. ;)