Not even two days after the Alghoul attack and Iorveth knew he was in trouble when he walked under the blazing summer sun... and shivered. He wrapped himself tightly in his ratty green coat, entirely unable to feel even the slightest bit of warmth from the fiery ball in the sky that was supposed to be strongest around this time of the year.
Bloede hell, this is not good! Despite his best efforts, the blasted wounds had become infected. He poured scalding hot water full of herbal essences over the wounds and while they seemed to improve, his fever did not. Nor did the incessant itching that was spreading through his body. He'd started drinking large doses of antibacterial elixirs on an hourly basis and it did seem to help somewhat, but he could tell it wasn't enough. The bloede bacteria found on ghouls was potent as fuck! And it had found it's way to his blood, turning his own essence against him like a poison.
He needed help. The elf didn't have anything to bind his wounds with that wasn't at least a little bit grimy and sleeping exposed to all the elements sure as hell wasn't helping.
He needed clean bandages, a sterile bath full of herbal extracts in which he could soak his wounds in and that special damned mold the sorcerers cultivated.
In short, he needed a bloede herbalist at the very least, and at worst he had to go see the Priestesses of Melitele at Ellander, though he'd truly prefer not to.
Iorveth had little patience even for his own people's religion, let alone any dh'oine religion. He had heard good things of the priestesses however, and had in fact found himself under the care of pretty if incredibly silent young priestess shortly after the battle of Brenna. What was her name again... he wondered even as he tore a handful of herbs out of the ground and examined them carefully Eoli?... Iolas maybe? He shook himself, he couldn't remember and it didn't matter anyway, she was probably long dead by now. Cut down by her own insane kind, or the plague.
Iorveth winced as he bent down to rip up another thatch of greenery from the forest floor. The infection was making his joints ache even worse than usual, and he had the horrible feeling something was crawling on his flesh, even though he knew there wasn't. Iorveth rolled bits and pieces of various herbs he'd collected into a ball the size of an eye, carefully squeezed it a few times, then packed it into the side of his mouth.
The bittersweet taste of the herbal juices filled his mouth as he suckled upon the ball, and the elf drew his features into a tight grimace, but the pain he was experiencing was already beginning to subside, and soon enough his fever would break... if only for a very brief period of time.
He checked on the scratched on his arm and winced when the reddened angry flesh and the slightly blackened veins came into view. He really didn't want to go to the dh'oine city, and even less did he desire to submit himself to the care of their religious nutcases. No matter the fine work they were known for... but he doubted he had much of a choice in the matter.
Blood poisoning was no joke, and he was more or less certain he had it... he'd be more certain if he could gather the courage to examine his leg more closely. With another grimace, Iorveth spat the ball of now mushy herbs into his hand, reached down without looking, pulled up his trouser leg and began rubbing the multicolored mush into the wound on his leg. Ignoring the fierce itch, intense heat and dull throbbing he felt down there.
He quickly downed a fresh potion, his third in the past 2 hours, hoping against all odds that the intense concentration of the antioxidant's rich and antibacterial essences in his system would be enough to force the infection to submit to his immune system... but he knew that was a forlorn hope at best.
Iorveth really needed a proper healer, with a strong knowledge of alchemy and possibly some knowledge in witchcraft.
He was close to Ellander by now. If he squinted he could make out the blurred lines of the wall in the far distance, but he still hadn't quite decided to go the temple. Yet he knew it was his best option at this point... Still, he could remember a small village nearby with a noteworthy healer... he couldn't remember her name either, but he did know that she was close, and that she had served his people in the past.
She had disappeared some time before the uprising in Vizima, reappeared in another village a considerable distance away just in time to help yet more of his people, as well as the White Wolf himself in defending against the Flaming Rose fanatics... and then last he'd heard she'd reappeared in a village just a few miles off from Ellander, in the swamps... just had to figure out where.
His leg he could barely feel anymore, save for a maddening itch and a dull throb around the bite mark. His arm on the other hand... Yes, he could feel that one very well, too well for his liking. With every movement of his arm it felt like the gashes would tear time and time again and it was agony.
Add the dizziness and nausea he felt to it and you got one very sick elf. Iorveth knew he had to get help, if he didn't, he probably wouldn't survive the next morning.
With an uneasy groan he climbed up onto Tirth's back, and urged her forth. the sensible animal tried to even out it's steps so it wouldn't shake her rider too much.
Despite the mares efforts he grunted in pain, his head spinning with the faster movements. With shaking hands the elf tried to reach for his waterskin, the cool spring water surely helping to clear his senses.
Fumbling a little helplessly he heaved heavy gulps of air and when he finally managed to loosen the strips the waterskin fell out of his trembling hands and on the dusty ground, it's contents spilling and oozing away into the bone-dry ground. Cursing under his breath he looked up, cursing once again for this had been a bad idea. Everything seemed overly bright and blurred and it oddly enough it made his stomach churn together with a fierce lance of pain stabbing right through his temple.
Lowering his gaze immediately he closed his eyes and sat limp in his saddle, the reigns sagged and useless, but he trusted Tirth to find the way.
... About two hours earlier, at the gates of Ellander ...
"Abby, Abb- Hey! Would you wait a second please? I mean, are you sure this is a good idea? The Flaming Rose Knights could be still around. I don't want us- you to get in trouble!"
The small quirky redhead, known as the medic Shani, ran after also red-haired companion who was striding forth with billowing skirts. Turning around with a strained expression on her pretty face she glared right down at the somewhat more diminutive Shani, her eyes practically sparking. "Shhht! Have your wits left you completely? Shut up you stupid girl!" Abigail hissed and risked a quick glance at the guards who seemed to be occupied with staring at her backside and Shani's naked legs rather than paying any mind to their conversation.
The witch breathed a sigh of relief and took the other woman's hand rather roughly, more or less pulling her with her. "Ouch! Let go you hag. I was just being concerned and you know very well that I can be right, it's just been a few hours since they combed the city over." Ripping herself free Shani crossed her arms over her petite chest, a stormy look on her pretty features. "If we just wait in the temple another day or so, then you could be out and about all you want." Abigail relaxed visibly and took the girls hands in hers. "I know... and you are right. But there were some things in my house which I must acquire, things that can't wait. Given they are still intact, they can help us save more than a few of the lives waiting for us back at the temple, and you know some of them sure as hell can't wait another day. If you don't feel safe I'll go there alone."
Shani... just sighed in defeat, she knew her comrade was right. The patients at the temple were truly in a bad way, and though it would be best if they waited till the knights were gone, some of the patients really would perish before long, if something wasn't done for them... and she knew the witch had her special ways which could make the difference. "Fine, let's do this. You're right, and besides I can't rightly I'd let you go down there alone. I just rescued you a week ago after all and spent some of my bandages on you already. It would be a shame if you got cut down now after all that effort."
The witch grinned and together the two women made their way down the road, looking like just a couple of women walking about and enjoying the golden sun's rays.
Walking it by foot it took them a good two hours to finally reach the village which lay in the shadow of a pretty open bosk... or at least it had, though said bosk was nearly burned down by now and everyone was lucky that the flames haven't sprung over to the great forest nearby. Shani rubbed her arms uneasily and looked about carefully, as if expecting someone to jump out from behind any corner.
"Look out for anyone approaching, I won't be long!" Abigail whispered in a rush.
Both women were shaken by the destruction and death around them, but it couldn't be helped. It was an age of madness & disdain, and they did what they could. Even if it's not nearly enough. Shani thought regretfully.
Abigail rushed over to the ruins of her hut and began carefully digging about in the ash and the rubble, desperately hoping to find something. Shani meanwhile positioned herself on the main road that once lead right through the village, looking out to both sides with keen eyes. At first she didn't really trusted her eyes, thought it a trick of the sun and the heated wafting in the distance but after a couple more minutes she was sure that there was a lonesome rider approaching.
She couldn't make out much yet, but could say for sure that the man was alone. "Abby, there's a rider coming! I can't tell who they are, but they're coming from the north-east." The witch looked up from her work and wiped her hands on the apron over her skirts. "Can't be man of the Flaming Rose then... Keep your eyes open, could be a traveler, or it could be crazed deserter, you never know with people these days."
Shani nodded, though she wished that she could argue in the stranger's favor, but too much had happened the past 4 years, for anything to much shock her anymore, and she did fear that she could be getting rather a bit cynical. She shielded her eyes with her hand to get a better look on the stranger who was approaching them at a rather speedy pace.
It soon became obvious that the man, she was sure now it was man. Broad shouldered and quite tall, either disabled, old or very sick.
He swayed dangerously in his saddle, his head hanging down as if asleep. Shani frowned softly, her heart telling her that this stranger needed her help. And then she was sure he needed it, close enough by now that she could make him out as an elf. His skin shone with sweat, more than it should and he seemed sickly pale. And not to mention his dangerous swaying of course.
"All clear, just an elf... and he seems inured. Looks to have fever from what I can see, and a bad one. We have to help him Abby ." Her heart keen on helping the elf, it was in her blood and her great passion. Abigail just raised an unsure eyebrow and glanced at him herself to be sure he'd pose no threat.
Convinced of that fact she sighed and set back to work, a little faster now. She had a strange feeling all of a sudden, and a rather familiar one at that.
Iorveth swayed on his mare, his gaze unfocused and blurry at the edges. He felt so hot all of a sudden, the linen shirt under his armor drenched with cold sweat before the intense heat was replaced by a feeling as if he was dropped into a winter lake. With his teeth rattling he tilted his head a little... Must be close now... He could hear the crackle of bonfires, smell the meat the villagers prepared for supper, now that the day's work was done. The elf smiled almost drunkenly, his mind a haze of sluggish, unconnected thoughts. Only Tirth's bickering made him look up, the mare nervously tearing on the reigns that he held loosely between fingers that no longer possessed much of any strength. The sight needed about five minutes to really make an impact on the sick elves mind, his body convulsing finally. Iorveth couldn't tell why but he leaned over the right side of his horse and retched violently, so hard that it made his stomach clench painfully. The village was destroyed, burned to ground and he could make out the twisted bodies of some villagers, their flesh still hot and steaming... Filling the air with it's stench.
It was then that he spotted the two red-haired women close to a burned down hut, one searching the other observing, her eyes set on him though he couldn't make out her expression, it was difficult to focus.
Though, the other he recognized as the healer his people told him about and his mind eased a little. In fact he was grateful for the fact that he ran into them here even though the village was utterly destroyed. Luck seemed with him, for once.
Coming to a halt just a few meters away from the two women he could see the short-haired lass running over to him and he knew he had seen her before.. ages ago it felt.
It was hard to tell through his hazy vision, but she did look to be a pretty one indeed, at first he took her for Aen Seidhe, but the closer she came the more he could see of her and also her round auricles. No kinswoman then, but still a welcome sight nonetheless.
Suddenly though she turned around with a terrified expression and he couldn't tell why but she shouted a name "Abigail! Abigail run!" The elf did not comprehend what was going on until he saw the mob of nearly a dozen peasants, all armed with their tools and running towards the woman.. Abigail.
"Witch! It was your fault they came for our village!" "Whore!" "Demoness!" "Seductress!" They all screamed in a mix of hateful voices. And that's when Iorveth understood. They give her the fault that their village was destroyed.. He thought in understanding just as his eyes fell on a discarded banner, baring the signia of the Flaming Rose. He huffed and looked up at the raging mob gloomily. I'm probably going to have to do something about this aren't I? he thought tiredly, and he could feel the medallion under his shirt buzz as if in agreement. And Iorveth sighed.
Shani grabbed up the nearest thing that constituted a weapon, a pitch fork ironically enough. And wielded it at the villagers, trying her best to keep them back.
Abigail much to her consternation didn't run, but instead leapt to her side, teeth bared in a snarl as she gripped a book, and a handful of odd colored vials and shook them threateningly. "Back off you dung shovelling pissants!"
The Villagers actually seemed more scared of the vials, than of Shani's pitch fork and did indeed back off, if only a couple feet.
The leader, a bit braver than the rest stepped forward "Twas your doing witch!" he screamed, "they came, they came an they burned all our houses down. What they did to poor Vehmer... It was your doing!"
Abigail for her part looked completely uncowed. "Are you sure it was me, and not the fact that 'poor Vehmer' was running a running a fisstech operation out his own home, in congruence with half of your fucked up little village!?" She demanded, her tone pitiless and full of scorn. "Ooh or maybe it was the fact that not only did the mayor enjoy fucking his daughter, but also had a thing for girls who weren't even of age to have their monthly bleeding yet!"
The villager's eyes burned with hatred. "LIES!"
The other villagers didn't seem too sure, till the de facto leader whirlled on them and gestured them forward. "C'mon people!" he roared, "The witch brought misfortune to our home, she made the Flaming Rose burn our houses to the ground. She can't curse all of us, let's get her!"
"You so sure of that!" Abigail demanded, dropping her book and taking up a handful of vials in both hands, looking quite ready to hurl the lot of them at the crowd.
Whether she could have cursed them all or not became a moot point, as the Elf Shani had seen earlier leapt forward in between them and the villagers, and a bundle of something clutched in the other.
One villager panicked and instinctively lunged forward, swinging a hoe at the newcomer, which the elf smacked to the side contemptiously and lashed out with a quick jab to the man's throat that left him wheezing on the ground.
"That's quite enough now!" he snarled, brandishing his blade.
Gazing at their prospective savior, Shani couldn't help but feel as if she knew him from somewhere. But that was neither here nor there, as the leader pressed forward, intent on giving the elf his thoughts on the matter no doubt.
Iorveth for his part cursed as he saw the villager stepping forward. He had been hoping against all odds that the villagers would take one look at a blade wielding scoia'tael and flee for their lives.
But instead it was looking like he was going to have to talk his way at least partway through this... definitely not his first choice.
Mustering his strength, Iorveth did his best to stand tall and be as imposing as possible.
The leader of the group did not look particularly impressed, "Get out of the way elf or we'll cut you down with the demon whore!" He snarled. "Ha! Elves' a jus' as bad as 'em! Nay! Worse!" Another one screamed, shaking his pitchfork. "Turn around and leave the woman be, peasants!" Iorveth gathered all the strength he could muster to make his voice sound firm, though in truth he felt about ready to pass out. "it was the flaming rose fanatics that did this to you, same fanatics that nearly burned Vizima down two years ago, even going so far as to defy and threaten the king!"
The villagers seemed rather resistent to logic. "They would not have if it weren't for this bitch having nested in our midst! And apparently she's got ye under'er spell!"
The loudest of the screamers lunged forward with his pitchfork aimed at Iorveth chest, a scream leaving his thin lips. The elf thanked his muscle memory and reflexes
when he twisted away and cut the tool in half with a clean, nonchalant arc of his sword.
Said blade's tip was now directed against the peasants neck, the razor sharp blade shaving off a few hairs of his beard. Gulping violently he dropped his destroyed weapon and backed off slowly, then hasty when he got out of the elf's range.
"Plague take you all" He roared, and decided that now was a very good time to use 'that' and he threw the bundle in his off hand to the ground at the group's feet. The resulting explosion was more smoke and hot air than anything else, but it was a enough and the the lot of them took off screaming and coughing towards the woods as quickly as possible, looking nothing so much as like a flock of spooked chickens.
Iorveth didn't watch them go, eh had no interest in the fear of swine like them.
Iorveth turned to face the two women, and saw the shorter one who he'd thought looked familiar still wielding her own pitch fork and looking cautiously up at him. Smart lass. He thought, girl after my own heart. "Are you both okay?" He asked, as kindly as he could manage. They both nodded, "Good... and are they all gone, no chance of them returning.
The one he'd identified as Abigail glanced towards where the villagers had gone and nodded, that they were indeed gone.
Iorveth smiled blearily. "Good." and with that he promptly passed out.
Shani gasped, and rushed to his side and turning him over carefully. She probed the elf's flesh with her fingers and quickly drew back with a hiss. "He's boiling hot Abigail, we have to take him back to the temple.
Abigail nodded, "Of course, just gimme a moment." she quickly began sorting through the vials she'd retrieved.
Shani has carefully removed the bandage from Iorveth's leg and her breath hitched when she took in the terrible wound. "By Melitele... it's a monster bite of some sort, a few days old...and probably from a Necrophage. He has a blood infection" Abigail winced sympathetically, "ooh, not good, surprised he's even alive." she knelt down next to the elf to look him over more carefully, she noted the outline of a familiar looking medallion beneath his shirt, though she had no idea why the Elf of all people would have it. She suddenly squinted at his scarred rugged features, "You know we have a notorious Scoia'Tael leader laying unconscious before us, right?" Abigail stated and pointed at his headscarf and the scar.
Recognition seemed to sparkle in Shani's eyes and she looked up at her friend and then down again. "You mean... Really? No.. Iorveth?" She asked faintly, while taking out a fresh piece of linen from her satchel to bind the wound in.
"Im so afraid yes. We have to be careful when we take him with us. Technically he's safe in the temple, but there might be still people after his head."
Shani frowned but shook her head, "Doesn't matter Abby, he saved us and he's in need, we're going to help him." Abigail nodded, "Figured you'd say as much. Here, lemme sprinkle some of this on there before you bind it up again." Abigail came forward with a suspicious yellow vial, and Shani frowned at it. "Isn't that one of the things you were threatening to curse the folk with?" she inquired cautiously.
Abigail snorted, "Damned peasants wouldn't recognize an antiseptic if i stabbed them with it." She knelt over the elf, wincing at the sight of his wound. "Hold him steady, he's not gonna like this."
Indeed he did not. The moment she began to pour the elixir over the bite wound, he groaned and jerked under them, and his wound began to fizz & bubble. After a moment he settled down, whimpering pitiously.
"Okay, hard part's done with, he should be somewhat numb now which makes the next step a little easier." Abigail's blue-green gaze met Shani's. "We have to drain his leg a bit at least, get some of that pus and other nastiness out, you ready."
Shani nodded. "I've seen plenty of bad wounds Abigail, I'm good."
They went to work cutting his leg open, and slowly draining the infected flesh. It wasn't easy. The Elf did indeed appear to be somewhat numbed by the elixir from earlier, but eventually it got to a point where even through the numbing liquid he had to scream from the overwhelming pain.
It took a while, but finally they were satisfied with the work, and proceeded to wash their hands with what water, and chemicals they had brought. They cleaned his wound up as best they could, and wrapped it up.
Shani sighed, now came the really difficult part. "Okay, his wound's taken care of but the infection's still there in his blood, we have to take him to the temple, he needs at least a week's worth of our best antibiotics, and good bathing."
Abigail nodded, knowing better than to try to argue her friend down on the issue. Once Shani made up her mind about something... it was generally best to just go along with it. "Very well, I'll grab the horse."
The horse was a mangy creature indeed. Short and stout like a dwarf with much in the way of scarring particularly about her head. One ear was split in half down the middle, and another that was little more than a ragged twitching nub, and a large portion of its flank appeared to have been seared bare by spellfire. The animal gazed at her with a good degree of intelligence however, and she came along easily. Together the two women managed to throw the unconscious Aen Seidhe over the back of his horse. "Shani, you should get up as well and bring him to the city swiftly. Every minute counts." The medic seemed torn for a moment before she nodded, not without bestowing an insistent gaze upon the witch who just nodded and waved her off.
On the way back to town, Shani gnawed nervously on her lip and hoped the guards would let her pass without a hassle. Usually they would, she was a medic after all and a good one at that and she had earned their respect & gratitude. But now she was with an elf, and a notorious one at that. The woman had no idea what she would do or say if they recognized the man. He would be executed, made an example of or just left to die. Highly likely seeing the condition he was in.
Shani didn't know the elf very well and what she'd heard made her less than fond of him. Far from it actually for given the slaughter she'd heard he'd inflicted, from some quite reputable sources. But even so, she couldn't leave a wounded man to die, particularly not when he'd just saved her own life, without causing any unnecessary harm himself.
She'd seen the bandolier of grenades he'd carried, and knew he could have picked any number of quite lethal ones, rather than just a smoke grenade. Which lead her to think that... perhaps he wasn't quite as bad as some would lead her to believe. They call Geralt the Butcher of Blaviken after all.
In a small act of desperation she ripped the headscarf from his head and stuffed it into her satchel, hoping it would make him less suspicious since the bandana was a prominent recognition feature, even colored red on the official posters.
As she neared the gates her heart began to pound wildly against her ribcage and she swallowed a few times to get rid of the lump in her throat. She made doubly sure that Iorveth's head was turned to the side so his eye wasn't visible, and mussed his hair up a bit, wishing it was longer like other elves' so it could cover more of his features.
The guard on duty saw her and relaxed somewhat, though he immediately noticed and took an interest in the elf over her lap.
"Eh, what'cha got there lass? 'Tis an elf? Ha, lad looks rather dead t'me, ya can drop him here." The guard said with a sneer and eyed the unconcious elf with disdain.
"No, he is not. I found him on the road and I'm taking him to the temple." Shani said matter of factly, pleasantly surprised at how firm her voice sounded.
The guard just grummled something under his breath but coulnd't say anything against it really, and making the medicus angry wasn't an option. What if she would stop selling him her excellent piles-salve? He couldn't risk that, and thus he stood aside.
Shani breathed a sigh of relief and rode into the city towards the well visible temple. Actually it was frowned upon to ride in a city like this, accidents happened so easily after all but this was a special case and the people made space for her. Not always without a curse, but they did. Reaching the temple was a relief, she felt anxious about the condition of her new patient. Being slung over horseback like that wasn't exactly beneficial to his health and Shani couldn't wait to set to work.
Two priestesses helped her to carefully pull him off of his horse and set him down carefully on a wooden barrow with which the feverish elf was carried away into the central nave of the temple structure where are the sick commoners were brought. Only people with status would get their own small or bigger room in the aisles. Not a system everyone agreed with, certainly not Shani, but the war was putting a strain on supplies, the coffers were low, and occasionally a happy nobleman would donate a signifigant amount just so he wouldn't have to bare being sat next to the common folk.
Shani soon followed inside and prepared herself while Iorveth's cot was being set up. She gathered her tools and her bag with potions, tinctures and everything else she needed and washed her hands with special care.
Balancing her heavy bag she stumbled into the chock-full hall and sighed. So many that needed care, but not enough hands nor supplies to provide it.
Searching for the elf in the crowd she soon found him quite at the end of the hall, his cot hidden behind a linen drapery. His heavy coat had been removed, all had been actually save for his trousers
The elf looked horrific, his skin was sickly pale and shone with cold sweat, yet his skin was burning hot. She coudln't keep her hands on him for any longer than a couple minutes and knew she'd be spending a long time at his side to look after the fever. Calling out for a close by priestess she waved the woman closer. "I need your help. Can you please prepare of bowl of lukewarm water, mixed with cider vinegar, and lavender oil, and maybe bring me cotton braces?"
With a nod the priestess took off and left Shani to her own devices. Carefully the medic removed the old bandage around Iorveth arm and then the fresher one around his leg and it was clear that the bite in his calf was the worse of the two evils.
She searched a little in her bag and pulled out a magnifier that was to be worn like a monocle. Putting it on she leaned close to the bitewound and very carefully pried it open with two sterile metal prods to see if something was caught inside.
Her suspicion was confirmed when she made out a tooth of whatever bit him was stuck in the wound. Happy to make progress she prepared the injury for the small operation, her notable skill making it a rather swift surgical intervention. It was definitely a Necrophage tooth and she had just the right tinctures and potions at hand to aid his body in fighting the vehement bacteria.
Shani washed out both wounds with a special decoction and then spread a thick layer of a brownish paste on them that would draw out the infection before wrapping clean bandanges around both lesions.
In his state the intake of water was crucial, so she let a clean sponge soak up in the bucket with rather fresh well water and wrung it out carefully over his slightly parted lips, making sure most of it got inside instead of uselessly trickling into his messy hair. Wiping his sticky brow down as well. "Máthair chríonna?..." She looked up to find him looking up through one bloodshot, heavily lidded eye. Aware of the feverish visions he was surely caught in she ignored it. When she heard footsteps approaching she was relieved to finally see the priestess returning with the things she needed.
The bowl and the bandages were placed on the ground, together with a rag for his forehead.
Nodding her thanks Shani dipped the cotton bandages into the lukewarm brew until they were soaked before wringing them out just a little and wrapping them around the elf's calves, carefully sparing out the injured section. Dry ones were loosely wrapped around it as well and then she tucked Iorveth in, settling down on the chair next to his head. It should help with his fever but she had to redo it every thirty minutes until it would subside eventually. She really hoped it would.
Iorveth was caught between reality and his feverish visions until he couldn't tell them apart anymore. There were so many noises, voices yelling from all sides before muting into a collective humm that made no sense, but sounded terribly busy. It stopped abruptly and he could see the pockmarked faces, bodies twisting in agony, befallen with the plague or the evidences of war.
Brenna.. the sick bay... of course. Iorveth could make out his brothers and sisters, littered with horrible scorch marks, gashes, their white bones peeking from the gore of torn flesh. It made him feel faint and sick, he could feel his hot body yet he shivered, an odd coldness spreading inside of him. Then, nothing. Nothing but blackness and silence.
It felt like eternities of floating in nothingness, he felt the velvet darkness caressing him, soothing with its void of pain and thoughts.
Then it was ripped open and the blurred light felt like an intrusion and Iorveth would have liked to fight it off, but he couldn't. He was weak and in no position to fight.
"Wake up, Veth. No rest for the wicked, me baeg bleidd." His forehead was caressed by a cool touch and it felt like a blessing. "Máthair chríonna?..." (Wise mother/Grandma) He murmured, entirely unsure about what he saw. His grandmother died years ago, long long years ago.
Rather than his mother who had died as she gave birth to him it had been his nana raising the stubborn elfling and teaching him the ways of their people. Iorveth had always been someone to state his opinions, very vocal if he had to. As a mere babe he was no different and if something didn't sit well with him he would scream until his face was red, giving his seanmháthair a shock every time as she feared he would choke because he would not ever stop breath it seemed.
"Who else, amadán (idiot) . Someone has to tell you after all when you choose a path that is not rightful me granson (my grandson) ." Her voice was soft as ever, but helt that steely undertone she always used when she scolded him and Iorveth flinched on the inside.
"I can't remember doing anything that could have displeased you.." He answered, his voice nothing but a barely audible breath.
"Really not? And what about the villages you burned down? Taking countless of innocent lives, lives of peasants who just wanted nothing more than peace. The same thing you want for our people, Veth." She sounded so horribly disappointed that he could barely take it. Her anger would have been easier to bear. "But.." "No but. You may have fought for the right thing once, but that is long ago. You have taken on the hatred around you, have let it into your heart and fester there. Let it cloud your judgement. You despise the dh'oine for their acts of thoughtless violence... Yet you have allowed yourself the same questionable 'pleasures'. And that is what you call justice? The rightful thing? War is neccessary I do know that, but I have not taught you to become something lesser than what you are. You can not condemn the humans when you are no better than they are. I can barely recognize you, and it is not for the scar upon your face Iorveth."
In all those years he hadn't found it in himself to feel guilty for the things he had done. He had been so caught up in the vicious circle of bitter hate and resentment. Had justified his actions with petty excuses, he sees it now. It made him angry, furious almost before a crushing wave of sorrow seemed to suffocate him.
Shani was concerned, her patient had twisted and turned for about five hours now and the fever barely subsided. She could tell he was still caught up in his dreams, his constant mumbling attesting to that but there was no more she could do for him than changing the wrappings and keeping his forehead cool. Every now and then she would wipe down his chest and arms with the the semi-cool water but never left him exposed for long.
Eventually she has also wrapped cool cloths around his wrists as suggested by Abigail who has returned by now. The two women were taking turns in watching over their notorious patient so both would get the chance to eat a bite, drink something and eventually see to other poor souls who needed it.
It wasn't until the evening that the elf finally seemed to calm down, his fever slowly starting to ebb off. Only a little but enough to give Shani hope that he would indeed make it out alive. She was just done with changing the bandages around his wounds and applying new paste when she heard a tiny, almost silent sob. Concerned she sat down on her chair and brushed Iorveth raven locks from his face, surprised when it seemed to mirror the agony he felt in his heart. agony she had not the slightest clue of how to sooth.
"The Iorveth I raised would not have allowed his friend to violate a helpless woman who was barely of age. He would not have stood by and give his silent consent to such a horrible deed." His grandmother's voice ghosted through his head and Iorveth hold his breath, remembering the night she had talked about.
It had been about 25 years ago, he and his commando had just raided another village, all peasants dead much to the elf's contentment when his friend Llaolín heard a silent rustle behind them.
Iorveth immediately drew his bow, an arrow on the bowstring and ready to fire as soon as the sneaky pursuer would show themself.
Llaolín stepped closer and stabbed the rubble from which the noice came from several times with his sword until his efforts elicted a high pitched squeak and a young woman dashed out from under the remains of a house, her eyes were with fear and horror, the beautiful face and long blonde hair smeared with dirt and soot.
She seemed rooted to the spot, trembling all over and Iorveth felt no compassion. Nor did his companion apparently. "Look at her, pretty for a human." The young woman's eyes darted nervously between them for she could not understand Elder Speech.
Iorveth just shrugged dismissively and waved it off, leaving his friend to his own devices. He knew where it would end but he couldn't care less. She was just a filthy dh'oine bitch.
That those were the same words humans thought the other way round was lost on him back then. The memory together with his newfound realization shocked him. Utterly and to his very bones. He could barely breathe, the guilt and shame constricting his throat tightly.
"But you can change, my dear boy. I know you have the strength in you. Remember what I have taught you, Vethy."
He couldn't help but sob then, his fevered visions making place for a deep slumber as he turned his face into the soft hand against his cheek, staining it with the hot tears that streaked his hot cheeks.
Shani was genuinely surprised to find the tough Scioa'tael leader sobbing his heart out and crying in his sleep, mumbling a constant 'I'm sorry, forgive me. Squass'me I did not mean to..'.
She couldn't help but feel a little sorry for him, she had not expected Iorveth to ever feel sorry for anything, not after all she had heard and seen. Not after the pain he had brought innocent people.
The elf had destroyed lives, ripped families apart and killed without mercy...But here was, his wet cheek against her hand.
Carefully she stroked the sweaty and slightly dirty raven tresses and the elf seemed to calm under her touch, his brow furrowed with sorrow still. For the first time she found herself thinking about why he had become the monster he was, about what made him hunt humans with such vehemence.
And the answers were easy of course once you thought about them... Shani understood that it was a vicious circle and it was said, and often agreed upon that if you wanted to survive you had to be tougher and crueler than your enemy. It was a sobering cognition at best and she felt her heart gradually warming for the slumbering elf.
She was almost dozing off not much later, slightly slumped to the side and her head sagging again and again before she pulled it up again.
Though she was instantly awake when Iorveth shifted next to her and rolled on his side, his strong arms wound around her waist tightly and pulled her down a little more and there was nought she could do against it.
Yet she tried to carefully twist out of the awkward embrace that brought a faint flush to her freckled cheeks but was stopped instantly when his head settled against her soft bosom, a content sigh leaving his lips. Shani felt her cheeks heating even more with the embarrassment she felt, since this was what she considered a lovers embrace and she definitely did not agree with his head against her breasts. But he was a dead weight on her and even a slight shove against his cheek could not make him budge, quite the contary actually.
The sleeping elf only mumbled a weak "Seanmháthair..." and held her tighter. Shani just subdued to the situation and patted the elf's head awkwardly but could not stop the small smile that spread on her cherry lips.
Authors Note
The Grinning Psychopath: Ahh and there you have it folks. Chapter 3, uploaded at last after a grand waiting period of about... ohh i dunno 48 hours maybe? lol! ahh you fuckers are so spoiled, eh enjoy it while it lasts. Hope you liked the chapter, please review, we love dem reviews. Your thoughts and encouragements are as nectar infused with amphetamines to us *grin*
AlexanderRavana: Ha, now who would have thought? The fierce Iorveth weeping in his sleep and finding comfort against the bosom of a woman. ... Don't we all? Haha it's just too much fun to torment the poor poooor lad a little, he deserved it for sure. Also a bit of baby Iorveth.. Because who could say no to baby Veth?