He didn't have a chance to see Toril again until they had stopped for the night in a large grove of trees. After caring for his horse, Tristan immediately made his way to the wagon and climbed in beside Dagonet, who, with the Roman's wife, was sitting beside Lucan, tending to his broken arm and high fever now that the wagon had stopped moving. Arthur had been in earlier that afternoon to reset Guinevere's dislocated fingers, and now the Woad woman was sleeping lightly. Beyond her was Toril, her face even whiter and her eyes shut. She was now wearing a pair of breeches and a tunic that Tristan had found in the bottom of his pack and had tossed to Dagonet earlier that day as he rode past he wagon during a scouting run.
Dagonet made way for him and Tristan moved to where Toril was, his back bent under the low ceiling of the wagon. He knelt beside her, gently placing a hand on her forehead and surprising himself with his gentleness. His eyebrow jumped slightly as he felt her skin burn under his fingertips. Her eyes flickered open and she swallowed. Her voice was hoarse.
"The infection is spreading." Tristan nodded.
"Your wounds need to be cauterized." Toril nodded as well, taking a deep breath and wincing.
"Outside. Where I can see the sky." Tristan turned and met Dagonet's gaze. The other man nodded, tucking a blanket around Lucan and then sliding out of the wagon, taking another blanket with him to spread on the ground near the fire. With as much care as he could manage, Tristan gathered Toril in his arms and made his way outside as well, walking swiftly towards the fire where the other knights were gathered and setting her gently on the blanket. When he sat back, her gaze met his.
"This is all that ails me...when the wounds are cauterized, I will heal swiftly, even by morning. It has been so before." Tristan's expression didn't change.
"Even without having food for a week?" Toril's lips twitched.
"Even without food for a month. I will be almost full strength by morning, I promise you. All I need is to be free of infection, and then to sleep without interruption." Tristan nodded shortly, his jaw clenching at the thought of her being so ill treated. He switched his gaze to the dancing flames for a moment to collect his thoughts, and when he looked back, Toril's gaze had softened.
"You cannot change what has been. You can only try to control what is." Tristan's eyebrows flicked slightly, wondering how it was that she could read him so well when even his fellow knights didn't have a clue. His thoughts were interrupted when Dagonet crouched beside him with two daggers, bandages, salve, and a strip of leather in his hands. He handed the leather to Toril, who stoically placed it in her mouth, bit down slightly, and then adjusted it for a better feel. Tristan mentally shook his head at her apparent carelessness, and then met the gaze of the other men sitting around the fire. Arthur, Lancelot, Bors, and Gawain met it squarely, but Galahad swallowed and stood, leaving the warmth of the fire to stand by his horse, away from Toril and what was about to happen.
Tristan looked back at Dagonet, who offered one of the daggers to him, hilt first. He looked down at Toril, trying to decide whether he should help Dagonet cauterize. What he saw in Toril's eyes nearly stopped his heart before causing it to break in half for her. Fear.
So he adjusted his position to sit with crossed legs beyond Toril's shoulder as Arthur took the other dagger from Dagonet's outstretched hand. Toril reached over her head to grab Tristan's hands in a surprisingly strong grip, and then nodded to Dagonet who lifted the tunic up as Tristan had done earlier that day. A collective intake of breath arose from the men watching as the extent of her torture was revealed, and Gawain's gaze flew to the trees as if trying to decide whether or not to join Galahad. Arthur and Dagonet silently heated the blades of the daggers in the fire until they were red hot, then Dagonet gently place his hand on Toril's arm.
"Ready?" Her eyes flew open to connect with Tristan's gaze, and then she nodded once again to Dagonet, who nodded in turn to Arthur. The two men took a deep breath almost in unison, and pressed the glowing daggers to Toril's skin.
Toril's eyes never wavered from Tristan's for a second, and he watched as she endured the searing pain without a sound, without any sign that it hurt other than her pale eyes widening, her knee flexing slightly, and her grip on his hands growing painfully tight. The sound of flesh sizzling filled the air, along with smell of burning skin and the sickly sweet scent of infection being driven out. When Dagonet and Arthur's daggers left her skin to go back into the fire, Toril's breath left her in one jagged gasp and her eyes slid shut for a moment, her chest heaving as she worked at getting herself under control. Dagonet's hand landed on her arm again as he waited for the knife to heat.
"Toril?" Her eyes opened and swung towards him, shining with unshed tears. The big man swallowed hard.
"Twice more and we will be finished." Toril nodded weakly, smiling almost imperceptively around the leather piece in her mouth. Her gaze swung back up to Tristan as Dagonet and Arthur adjusted their positions between her and the fire, reaching again for the daggers.
Once again Toril made no sound as the hot metal burned into her skin, although her eyes clenched shut and a single tear squeezed out from under her lashes. Tristan's shoulders and back grew tense as he watched Arthur and Dagonet deftly press the knives into her skin only as long as was necessary before moving to another wound. Even with the two of them cauterizing at the same time, only leaving the metal in the wound long enough to purify and seal it before moving to the next lash, it looked like Dagonet's estimate was correct; it would take one more run before all the cuts were sealed. Once the knives were once more in the fire, Toril began to breathe again and her eyes slid open, automatically fixing on Tristan's gaze.
Tristan shook his head slightly at her, smiling faintly, and she smiled back, shakily squeezing his hands. He licked his lips and swallowed, seeing that the blades were almost ready again and bent so that his cheek was pressed to hers. His left hand stayed with hers, although he shifted it slightly to link their fingers, and his right hand slipped under her head, cushioning it from the hard ground. Toril's right hand reached up to gently grasp the back of his neck, her fingers weaving into his shaggy hair. She took a deep breath and held it, nodding to Dagonet.
When the two men were finally finished and Dagonet was gently rubbing salve onto the cauterized wounds, Toril released the last breath she had held with a single low sob, releasing her cramped hold on Tristan's neck at the same time. Tristan raised his head so that he could look into her eyes brimming with tears and he shook his head in amazement. Toril shook her head right back at him, turning her face with a soft whimper so that her smooth cheek rested in the palm of his hand. When Dagonet had finished binding her ribs and stomach with clean bandages, she took a deep breath and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, removing what was left of the leather strap from her mouth at the same time. Arthur chuckled softly to see that she had bitten it into three pieces, and she smile ruefully while tossing it into the fire.
"One does what one must." Her gaze softened as she looked at the Roman commander and the gentle giant who were gathering up the left-over bandages.
"Thank you, Arthur...Dag." Arthur nodded gently to her, moving over to the trees where the other men had one by one escaped during the last several minutes. Dagonet smiled fondly at Toril and reached to caress her cheek before standing silently and making his way back towards the wagon and Lucan. Toril looked up to where Tristan was still kneeling over her and met his solemn gaze, glad that for a moment they were alone at the fire.
"Thank you. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been there." Tristan just shrugged off the words and gathered her gently in his arms again, taking her back over to the wagon.
"You need to sleep now," he said gruffly. "You promised me full strength in the morning." Toril smiled faintly, her light gaze enigmatic as she looked at him. For a long moment neither could look away. Finally Tristan stepped back.
"Sleep well, Toril." Without another word, he disappeared into the surrounding woods. Toril sighed quietly, and then snuggled deeper into the pile of furs Tristan had laid her on. Sleep was not long in coming.