The Herbalist's Apprentice
by the Lady of the Mists
Chapter Six: Recovery
Sandry stayed with Eragon all through the night as healers worked their magic over him. She did what she could, applying the proper antidotes to him and speaking to him whenever he got agitated, until finally he was safe. It took half the night until he was safe and just lying asleep peacefully. Holding his hand, she laid her head onto her arm, watching him sleep. It didn't matter if she got sleep this night; she wasn't even tired anyway.
Still wearing her battle dress, Sandry had cuts and bruises as a memoir of the battle, but had flat out refused for the healers to tend them. She had enough ointments if she wanted to treat them, but they were better used for someone who actually needed them. Apart from a deep wound that was scarred on her left temple to her jaw, she bore no permanent damage from the battle. She'd been remarkably lucky.
Looking up as her brother entered, Sandry managed a weak smile towards him as he walked towards her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder as he squatted down next to her. "You should go and get some rest," he told her quietly. "Everybody's tired, Sandry, nobody would be upset with you if went and got some sleep."
Sandry shook her head. "I can't leave him," she said quietly, gesturing towards Eragon. "Besides, he's getting enough sleep for the both of us." She looked away from Peter's knowing look. "I'm fine, Peter."
"If you say so," Peter said dryly. "But you know, you probably should get some rest or at the very least, go get cleaned up." He gave her a lopsided grin. "If the Rider woke up now and saw you like this, you'd probably scare him half to death."
Sandry scowled at his teasing, but had to admit she probably looked a sight. "That's cruel, brother," she grumbled. Peter grinned, knowing that he had her, and patted her shoulder.
"Go on, sister," he said lightly, "I'll stay with him for awhile and I'll come and get you the second he wakes up." She hesitated. "Go," he said with a laugh. "I promise you, I'll come get you."
With a small smile, Sandry relented, standing up. Kissing her brother on the cheek, Sandry hugged him for a moment. "The second he wakes up?" she clarified and he nodded, looking amused. "All right, fine. I'll be back, Eragon," she told the sleeping Rider.
Heading out of the infirmary, Sandry was shocked at the amount of damage that the battle had done to the fortress. She hadn't realised then that the battle was destroying people's homes, their very livelihood. The people who passed her gave her a small nod of greeting before continuing on with their work on repairing the damage.
Walking to her chambers, Sandry retrieved the green gown that she'd worn when she came here before she headed to the bathing area. Stripping off the slimy, sticky battle dress, Sandry climbed into the pool, letting out a deep sigh of relief as she scrubbed off the aftermath of battle. With a small sigh, Sandry finished bathing and laid there for a moment, her light brown hair drifting around her in the water.
After a long moment, she climbed out of the bath and headed into the lighted room, drying herself off. When she was dry, she pulled the green garment over her head, tying it in the back as she finished. Pulling some of her into the back, she braided it with a piece of ribbon, letting the small braid fall in the middle while the rest of her hair hung free.
Picking up her battle dress, Sandry folded it delicately, returning it to her chambers, hanging it carefully in the closet with a small sigh. Sinking down onto the bed, she stared at the room around her, falling backwards onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling.
It had been a long past few days, Sandry mused. The past few days seemed so scrambled, as though they had happened to someone else. Just two days ago, she was just Angela's apprentice and an expert healer. Now, she was a member of the Varden, a healer on hand, and she had a brother. That was the most remarkable thing of all. If someone had told her two days ago that she had a brother who would come looking for her, she would've told them that they were crazy.
Sandry sighed as she sat up, intending to go back to the infirmary when she caught sight of someone in the mirror. With a gasp, she whirled around, shocked when she saw the boy standing behind her, a crossbow in his hand as he smirked at her.
He was taller than her, despite that he was at least two years younger than she was, probably no more than fourteen. He had dark, tamed hair that framed a cold, expressionless face that darkened as he looked at her. His eyes, too, were dark. Like an eternal winter had been cast into those eyes with no hope of spring returning.
"So, you're the reason why Peter was corrupted so irreversibly," he remarked. "So sorry, it's nothing personal." He laughed, a twisted look crossing his face when he did so. "Oh, who am I kidding? Of course it's personal. It's too bad, sister. We could've used you, had you not been allies with the Rider and turned Peter to your side." He fired the arrow at her and she instantly reacted.
"Brisingr!" Sandry yelled and a burst of flame spun from her, spinning through the boy as he stood. The moment that the spell hit, the boy vanished from sight. Not ran, but simply disappeared.
For a moment, Sandry sat there, confused, but then she realised what had happened. "Just a vision," she whispered. She had to learn to distinguish visions from reality; sometimes they came unbidden, pushing on the edges of their reality, to show those who could see what may be. "It was just a vision," she repeated more firmly. "But who was he?"
There was only one way to find out; she had to ask Peter. Only he would know who the mysterious boy was, because the boy had spoken of him. Not only that, but he had called her 'sister'. Did she have another brother, one that Peter knew, had grown up with? Her heart sank at the very thought of it; she and Peter had lost so many years without each other, growing up apart. Could they have the relationship that they could have had, if they'd grown up with each other? Somehow, she doubted it, but that didn't mean that they couldn't have a special relationship, that of siblings and friends.
But for the time being, she didn't need to worry about the mysterious boy. Her first priority at the moment was Eragon. With a small sigh, Sandry picked up her sword that lay on the bed, attaching it to her side as she left her chambers, returning to the infirmary.
Peter glanced up at her the moment that she returned to the room, a small smile crossing his lips as he saw her. "Now, that is much better," he remarked as he saw her. She shook her head, half-amused by him and half-exasperated. "He's the same." Standing up, Peter let Sandry take his place next to Eragon and she sat down. "I should probably go and help out, since I promised Ajihad that I would."
"You don't have to go," Sandry told him. She didn't want him to go, really, even though she knew he had responsibilities to the Varden now. So did she. They were both a part of the Varden. There was nothing that she could do, unless they needed a healer, but there was loads of work to do outside for Peter.
"I know that," Peter said lightly with a small smile at her. "If you need me, I'll be right back here in a second." They both shared a small smile at each other; for some odd, unknown reason, the both of them could sense the other. She could sense Peter's emotions and felt his pain as if it were her own. "I'll see you later."
Sandry sighed as she sat silently at Eragon's beside. His face was calm as he slept on, his blonde hair hanging into his face. She reached out and brushed it out of his eyes, staring down into his closed eyes. "When are you going to come back to me?" she whispered softly. "Eragon, when are you going to open your eyes?"
She sighed as she leaned back against the chair, her eyes glued to his face as she waited for a response. When none came, Sandry bit her lip, trying not to cry as she looked away towards the door, wishing that somebody was here to comfort her, to tell her that everything was all right. Without warning, Sandry felt someone touch her fingers.
Before she could even turn her head, she heard a soft moan coming from the bed. Her head snapped towards the young Rider lying upon it and saw his blue eyes opening slightly, weak though they were. "Sa—Sandry?" he mumbled, struggling to pull her into view.
"It's me," Sandry said, almost laughing with pure joy. She grasped his hand tightly, not wanting to hurt him, but unable to contain the jubilation that she was emitting inside. "Thank the gods, you're all right! I was so worried!"
"Don't worry about me," Eragon said with a small, weak smile. "What about you? Are you all right?"
"Nothing that won't heal," Sandry said indifferently, half-annoyed with him trying to focus on her instead of worrying about himself. "Eragon . . . are you all right? Seriously?" she added more firmly.
He made a small smile up at her. "I think so," he said softly. "Are Saphira and Arya all right? What happened?"
"I found you with Saphira after the battle was over," Sandry explained hastily. "You needed healing and I . . ." She didn't know how to proceed, so she finished lamely, "Anyway, Saphira's fine. She's been up in the dragonhold worrying about you ever since. Solenbum has been going up there and giving her the updates. She wanted to come herself, but the infirmary's too small for a dragon. As for Arya, she's fine."
"Thank the gods," Eragon said, relieved as he let out a slow breath. "That's the worst thing about battles; people getting hurt." Sandry nodded once as she looked into his eyes. His blue eyes were regaining strength as he laid back. But he was studying her carefully. "Sandry, when I was unconscious, after the battle was over . . ." he began.
At that same moment, Arya and a man that she didn't know appeared and instantly began talking to him. Sandry stood up, backing away so that they could talk to Eragon without interruption. But before she could move, Eragon's hand slipped into hers.
"Don't," he said softly. Sandry glanced back at him, startled, and saw the determined look on his face. "You belong here, Sandry. Come on, sit back down, all of us can talk."
Arya looked towards her curiously and smiled pleasantly. "You're the healer girl that saved that dwarf before the battle started," she said in realisation. Sandry turned red, but nodded. "We owe you our thanks. The healers told me that were it not for you, the dwarf would not have survived. You must be quite a healer."
"Thank you," Sandry said, managing a weak smile. "But it's all thanks to my teacher."
"And don't you forget it," Angela remarked as she entered the room. Sandry looked around at her teacher and grinned. "I'm just here to check on the patient. You're under orders not to move from this bed until you have my say-so, Eragon," she ordered him. "If I found out that you got out . . ." She left the threat hanging.
Eragon shook his head as Angela inspected his bandages and made sure that he was healing properly before she left. "Has she always been like that?" he wanted to know, glancing at Sandry.
"Yes," Arya and Sandry both said at the exact same time, causing both men to start laughing.
"Anyway," Eragon said once he'd recovered, "Sandry, this is Murtagh." He gestured towards the mysterious man, who took her hand and kissed it. Sandry was torn between embarrassment and exasperation. His dark eyes were focused on her and she caught a small tinge of his cheeks as she smiled towards him, but looked back towards Eragon. "So, what happened after I lost consciousness?"
As all three of them started relaying the events of the battle to the Rider, Sandry felt happier than she'd been in days. For the first time in her life, she had friends, family, and love, something that she'd waited her entire life for. For that moment, at least, things were complete.