Chapter Forty-seven
Sunlight hit her face. Groggily Nara sat up. Stretching, she yawned and dropped her hands to her side. It took her a moment to remember where she was, who she had slept with and what had happened. Calemir wasn’t in the room. Tucking black strands of hair behind her ears, she jumped from the bed and hurried to her room. The boy. She should find out his name. Anyway, when she got in her bedroom, she found the boy still sleeping. Nara assessed him, listened to his breathing. She gently placed her hand on his forehead and frowned. He was still burning up, his skin clammy. Withdrawing her hand, she strode to the window and pushed it open. Perhaps cool and fresh air would do. A bath too would help and change of sheets. He won’t get better from sleeping on sheets damp with sick sweat. Making up her mind, Nara quickly bathed and changed into proper clothes before hurrying downstairs and asked Izza if she could prepare broth soup. Once doing that, she quickly got to the stairs and back in her room. She rummaged through her closet and took a towel, clean undergarment pants and a tunic. The clothes were certainly big for the boy but would have to do. She put them on the table.
“Hey” Nara called softly. “Wake up.”
“Wake up” Nara repeated, shaking his covered shoulder gently. The boy let out a small moan, burrowing his head into the pillow with a clogged sniff. She rolled the bedcover down his front, exposing his clammy chest. He stirred and opened his eyes. His eyes were swollen and red from crying.
“You need to bath and eat,” she said with concern. stared vacantly, as the cruel reality greeted him. His lips trembled, and tears as fresh as a river fell. He had woken up in the middle of the from a nightmare. A bad dream that had happened and killed his father. He had struggled to go back to sleep, but eventually, he did after crying for what seemed to be an eternity. Here he was again, when he thought he had no more tears, he silently cried.
“I’m sorry about your father,” Nara said sadly. “May his soul find rest.”
Wúlf sniffed and roughly wiped his face before sitting up, causing the bedcover to slide down further and bunch on his waist. She glanced at his wound. Her brows furrowed. The skin around his wound was darkish grey, like a sort of infection. The boy looked down too and assessed his injury and looked back at her. “What’s wrong?”
Looking at the boy, Nara kept a neutral face. “We just need to clean your wound. Now please get up so you can bath.”
“You think you can do that?” she asked, keeping her tone light.
Wúlf nodded.
Her lips curled tightly. “Good, let’s do that then.”
Nara assisted the boy to the bathroom and relenting to let him clean himself when he insisted to the point he shouted at her. Seeing he wanted to be alone, she cautioned him to not stay long and be careful with his wound and not wet it. She refused to close the door. She wanted to keep an eye on him as she changed the bed linens.
“I’m not wearing that” Wúlf made a face as he looked at the clothes in her hands.
“They are the only options,” Nara said.
“I’ll wear my own clothes.” He argued.
“No, your clothes are dirty. Wear this” Nara pushed the clothes to him. Grumbling Wúlf took the white underpants and tunic.
“Excuse me, I’ll be back in a few” Nara said, before leaving the room. She was going to get Izza have a look at his wound and see if they could get rid of the infection. On the other hand, Wúlf pulled the underpants up, folding on his waist so they wouldn’t fall. The tunic was an oversized dress on his body. He rolled the sleeves up to his armpits then sat on the edge of the bed. A minute after, the door to the room opened, and Nara and Izza stepped in. Nara walked with the tray of soup and bread toward the table while Izza kept the healing tools on the chair beside the bed. Wúlf’s eyes remained fixed on the elf as she stood near him.
“Show her your wound.” Nara requested gently. Cautiously, he drew the hem up, exposing his wounded side.
“Is it serious?” Nara asked Izza when Izza’s eyes narrowed at the wound, a graveness entering her eyes. Izza shook her head and said in elvish. “I cannot say” then switched to Nyr. “I will try to clean it though.”
Nara nodded somberly. “He should eat first.” And brought the tray and sat it on the bed. She watched as the boy ate three bites of the loaf and few spoons of the soup before casting the food aside. “You need to eat more” Nara insisted.
He shook his head, “I can’t eat when she’s about to poke my wound” he glanced at the lady elf with fearful eyes.
Sighing, Nara returned the tray back to the table and then returned to the bed.
“You’ll barely feel a thing” she reassured him when he tensed at the sight of the small sharp thin scissors. “Trust me” she implored him with her eyes. They had mixed the soup with that herb again to make him drowsy and a little numb from pain.
Lying down, Wúlf dragged the hem of the tunic over his waist to his chest then turned and laid on his good side. He clenched his teeth hard when he felt cold fingers on his skin.
“I’m going to cut the threads and push the dark blood here,” Izza said, taking the sterilized scissor and carefully digging its sharp blade into the wound.
Nara watched as Izza reopened cut the threads and opened the wound. Nara grabbed a white cloth and held it close to the wound to stop the dark blood from spilling on the clothes and linens as Izza pressed both thumbs on each side of the wound to expel the infected blood. Wúlf breathed through his teeth as laid there quietly. He only felt a distant pain and more of drowsiness. He fell asleep before he got stitched up again.
****
Later in the afternoon, Nara had just finished washing and hanging her clothes and the boy’s trouser on the clothesline behind the house when she made her way back to her room to peek at him and see how he was doing. She found him still sleeping on his back, his mouth parted with little whizzing sound coming from his lips. Again, Nara felt his skin against her palm. She let out a sigh of relief, he was hot but wasn’t burning up. His skin had taken a little coolness she regarded as a good sign. She was retreating to the dining room when she stopped at the door and looked back at the boy. Something in her gut stilled her there, unrelenting. A terrible chill skittered down her spine as she strode back to the bed. Fingers trembling, she clutched the bedcover and ripped it completely from him. Her heart stopped beating for a whole minute as fear surfaced in her eyes. The infection that she had seen disappeared when they had expelled his blood was now covering his midriff in darkish grey vein like branches. Features hardening, Nara dashed downstairs.
“What is it?” Izza asked with a frown.
“Go and watch the boy, I’ll be back” She ordered and ran outside to the stables. Nara mounted a steed and speedily got out of there. Her heartbeat thundered widely in her ears as she galloped to the headquarters. Please help me find him she prayed as she halted inside. She leaped to the ground and fastened toward one of the first warriors her eyes saw. “Finn Horrindor,” she told the startled elf. “Where is he?” Nara asked in elvish. The elf shook his head, giving her look. Nara exhaled, frustrated and terrified for the boy. “Prince Calemir?” she asked. Perhaps her husband knew the whereabouts of his friend. The elf pointed to a door. Not even saying thank you as she was pressed with urgent matters of life and death, she ran toward where he had pointed. She didn’t bother to knock either, she barged inside. Four pairs of eyes gazed at her.
“What’s it?” Calemir asked. Nara ignored him, her eyes zeroing on the one with grey eyes. “Please, he is very sick. He needs your help” she begged Finn. Finn gave her a confused look. He had just gotten to the station and was reporting to Calemir of what was going on in the village. “Who is sick?”
“The boy, please just come and see him” she pleaded.
“His conditioned has worsened?” Calemir asked. Nara glanced at him, sadness etched on her face. “He appears to be infected. Izza cleaned his wound today, but I had just checked on him just moments ago and found the infection to have spread.” She swallowed and turned to Finn. “Can you see him please?”
“Sure” Finn nodded.
“Thank you” Nara muttered.
As quickly as she came, she returned to the house with the two elves. The trio skipped the stairs and went straight to her room. She froze on the spot, her mouth gaping. The boy was coughing blood. He was sitting on the bed, his skin ill grey, his eyes pale, his small shoulders shaking terribly as he coughed into the cloth in his hands. His fingers were red from blood as it was for the bed cover and tunic he wore. Izza turned to Finn and muttered hurriedly in elvish. “He just started to cough blood. See his ears, they were bleeding too. I worry for his life.”
On their way to the house, his leader had told him about the boy and the circumstances that surrounded him. Finn was surprised the boy was still alive. He knew of no one who had ever survived cursed spirits wounds. Finn had healed men before, fellow soldiers who got wounded in battle but he had never cured a person with inflicted wounds from cursed sprits or a human for that matter. With a grave expression, Finn sat on the bed, looking at the boy he spoke gently, “I’m going to put my hand on your shoulder. Do not fear, be calm.” Finn lifted one hand and rested it on the boy’s shaking shoulder. He felt the force in the kid’s body and began to mutter under his breath in elvish. Nara held her breath as the room fell silent except for the soft hum rising from Finn’s throat and the boy’s coughing.
Gently, Finn pushed the boy back into the mattress that he was lying completely with his head resting on the pillow. Finn placed both hands on the kid’s chest and closed his eyes. Goosebumps broke over his skin as the infection left the boy’s body and entered his fingers. Like black worms, the infection swam up his hands to his face and swirled in a vicious black shadow behind Finn’s closed eyelids before evaporating. He opened his eyes and noted the boy’s pinkening face. He got to his feet and straightened. “It is done.”
Nara rushed to the boy’s side. She lifted the tunic and assessed him. Relief and grief washed over her as she took in his recoloring skin with no trace of the infection. Nara almost chocked when she looked at his side where the wound had been and found no traces. Her eyes flitted to his young face. His eyes moved behind closed lids before opening slowly, unfocused.
Nara released a breath and glanced at Finn. “Thank you” she truly meant it. She had seen death, had taken lives too, but she had never feared to lose a life as the boy had made her feel. There was something unexplainable in him that reminded her so much of Ingrid. A vibrant life ahead that shouldn’t be extinguished too soon by death.
“I am tired” mumbled, his eyes closing again. He felt the human woman draw the covers over his body. “Then sleep, get some rest,” she said in that comforting, gentle voice of hers. Rest the word sang over him. He needed rest. His breathing became long. “My heart is tired” he mumbled again. He no longer felt sick, the poison that had been crawling in his veins was gone thanks to the elf man, but his chest felt heavy. His mind and spirit ready to surrender to peace. He was prepared to go. He opened his eyes one last time and found the human woman’s eyes and held them with his own. “Thank you for everything. You tried” he began, feeling sorry as the space between her brows wrinkled, picking up the sadness in his voice and bitter sweet curl of his mouth. “But I need to go” Wúlf sighed, closing his eyes once more… “My father waits” …and forever. The woman’s desperate pleas for him to not die faded into nothingness, not strong enough to convince his spirit. Maybe one day, they’d meet, his soul mused. Perhaps in the otherworld.