Chapter Text

Part One

The Brømkhaldic Territories, Early Winter in the Year 1271

Declan

I woke up in the middle of the night to screaming.

I jumped up at once, my first instinct being to check Mícheil’s wound. He’d since been moved to the bed with me, after his last round of healing left him calmer than I’d seen him since that horrible spell took root. But it was not him, thank the gods. He was fast asleep with Branwyn curled up against his uninjured side.

But it wasn’t a dream, either. I heard another scream, jolting out of bed and pulling on a tunic to rush towards the sound.

“Hold him down!” Jorund’s voice cut through the bellows of pain. It was rough and commanding, and I saw a large saw in his hands.

My brows rose as I recognized Colonel Ewan Druiminn holding another man’s legs down. This was my first time seeing him since before I was taken. An olive-skinned man beside him was holding down one of the injured man’s arms.

“Master Thorvardsson?” I approached, cautious. “What’s going…” I trailed off, for I then saw exactly who they were working on.

Tobias Druiminn.

All at once, I was fueled with a rage so volatile that I wanted to strangle this man and rid him of this world for good.

Colonel Druiminn snapped me out of it with a look of surprise. “Lieutenant Sutharlan.”

Jorund sighed. “Good. We need another set of hands. I cannot cut with him thrashing like this.”

I stared at Tobias as he writhed, taking it all in. There were grievous burns on his right arm from the elbow down. It made my insides turn, but I maintained a glare.

“No,” I muttered.

Jorund scoffed. “No? Need I remind you that I do not have to help you?”

“I want to show him the same level of mercy that he showed my daughter.” My glare was only on Tobias. “He destroyed everything around her to go after one man and left her to die. What he’d done should have killed her.”

Colonel Druiminn grimaced. “…Kindrick?”

I gave a brisk nod.

He relented, focusing on Tobias’ legs. “We can’t force him, Jorund.”

“You can’t. But I can.” Jorund gestured towards Tobias’ body. “Look here, soldier. You do not have to play nice with him, but if you are sleeping in my bed, then you will heed by my rules. A healer shows the same amount of care and patience towards anyone that needs them. And you, sir, are an acting healer. Now, get over here, pour these spirits onto his arm, and hold his head so he does not snap his neck with all this thrashing.”

I clenched my jaw. “Fine.” I came closer, standing at Tobias’ head.

His face was sickly pale, and he was drenched in sweat. His bare torso was littered with scars. I doused the burnt arm as instructed, ignoring his screams when I held down the sides of his head.

“She nearly froze to death,” I hissed at him, staring him down. “She is barely three. Did you know that?”

His eyes were bleary, but he stared back at me. “I-I’m sorry—”

“That’s not good enough, Druiminn,” I snapped. “Was it you that caused the blast?”

He couldn’t nod from how tight my grip was, but I sensed that he tried to.

“That was my home!”

“I-I didn’t—”

“Don’t lie to me!” I held his head down a little firmer. “You meant to cause harm, you shit!”

Tobias choked on a scream, and I turned my head, seeing that Jorund was using the saw. It was a terrible sound.

When he saw that I was staring, he jerked his head back down to the table. “Keep talking to him, soldier. It is distracting him.”

“Very well.” I shifted my focus once more. “What were you doing all this for, hm? Was it to bolster your skills? Well, congratulations! Everyone I ever knew from that town is dead. And you had people from Kressie there, as well. And Arthur. He saved my child. You know that, right? He kept her alive. He is twice the man you will ever be.”

“I-I know,” he stammered, sweat dripping from his brow.

“You’re lucky that Mícheil wasn’t caught in that blast, otherwise you’d be dead right now.”

“Wait.” He gasped, thrashing a bit with a pained cry. “He’s alive?”

“For now. And for your sake, I hope he’s still breathing when I go back to check on him.”

The man I didn’t have a name for yet helped Tobias take heavy swigs of ale. He couldn’t stop crying, even while drinking. A small part of me reveled in that. But another was grateful he was here. Another despicable man, like me, wrestled himself out from under His Majesty’s thumb. We could offer something to each other that no one else could: solidarity.

“Listen to me, Druiminn.” I clutched his face until he’d look at me. “Neither of us are being forgiven for what we’ve done. Do you understand me?” I let him nod when he attempted to. “Now, many people all throughout Sunderland will see you as a threat, no matter how hard you try to do the right thing. Accept it. All of us that turned our backs on the Inquisition must accept the same thing.

“I turned seventy people into husks, Druiminn. They are suffering just as I did, and I let it happen. But you also worked for the Inquisition’s best interests, whether you meant to or not. You levelled an entire village. That guilt will follow you for the rest of your miserable existence, just like mine will do the same to me. So, what you’re not going to do once your arm’s cut off is act like you are better than me. Got it?”

“G-got it. Fuck!” Tears rolled down his cheeks. “I-I got it, Lieutenant. I understand!”

“Good. Now, we can be equals.”

“More spirits!”

Jorund’s call grabbed my attention. I covered my mouth, seeing that the job was done. The amputation was at the elbow. Remembering my bearings, I doused the arm again, ignoring his weak sobs and winces.

“Well.” I pursed my lips, letting go of his head. “I feel much better. Don’t you?”

There was a pained laugh in the back of his throat as he nodded. When Jorund began suturing, he struggled once more, so I held down the right bicep, pressing it firmly down on the table.

“How bad is it?” Tobias stammered, refusing to look.

I winced. “Pretty bad, Druiminn. How the fuck did that even happen?”

“I destroyed his book.”

My brows rose. “You did?” I glanced over. “You don’t mean…”

“Aye.” His throat was dry from all his screaming. “All those horrible spells are gone. No one can ever do harm with it again.”

“What of Morwenna?” I asked after a pause. “Was she at the riot?”

“Aye.” He swallowed down more ale, once it was offered to him. “She’s dead.”

Of all the things he’d done the other day, that had to be the one worth thanking him for. Instead, I pushed more hair away from his sweaty brow. “One less evil person the world,” I said, straightening up. “I must go check on Mícheil. He still needs constant supervision.”

“What happened to him?” His consciousness was slipping.

“Sinéad Robasan tried doing him in. The Knife of Rot.” I watched his already pale face turn gray. “You know that spell, then.”

“Aye. I’m sorry, Declan…”

I glanced back at him one last time. “If you help me find a cure for him, then perhaps we can both forgive you.”

I cast a small light to help me get back to the bedroom in the dark, pulling off my tunic once more. Before I could lie back down, I stiffened when hearing a deep groan.

“Fuck…” When I brought the light closer to Mícheil’s face, he was slowly opening his eyes. When he tried to shift, he hissed sharply and clutched his wounded side.

“Don’t touch it,” I gasped, hurrying to steady his hand. “It’s alright. You’re alright…”

“Where am I?” He looked around. “Declan?”

“Stay still,” I whispered, pressing a kiss to his brow. “Thank the gods…” This was the most coherent he had been in the last several days. I set a hand on his chest, right atop his heart. “We’re in Olnahd. There’s a Northman healer that’s willing to help us travel north.” I reached for the waterskin at my bedside. “Drink this.”

I helped him slowly once more, careful not to make him choke.

“S-side’s on fire, Declan,” he stammered. “Thought I was dead for sure.”

I tried to hold my tongue. “We’re not out of the woods yet. Far from it, love.” I gave his brow another kiss. “But you’re in good hands. You hear me?”

“I hear you,” he whispered. “Sorry I’ve been such dead weight.”

“Nonsense.” I stroked his hair, helping him settle back.

“What happened to me, Declan?” He was struggling to stay awake. “Everything hurts. I…” He grimaced. “I can feel my own pulse. It’s hard to breathe, to think…”

“I will explain everything to you in due time.” I pulled the blankets over him, careful of where Branwyn was sleeping. “What you need to know now is that the wound Sinéad inflicted… it’s serious, Dunaidh. Grave. But I’m doing what I can.”

I saw his face fall as I said it, that weak little smile gone. “How long?”

“What?”

“H-how long, before I…”

“Shh…” I shook my head, giving him a gentle kiss. “You’re not going to die. I’m doing what I can for you, love. I promise.”

His eyes dropped as he nodded. “Very well.”

“Everything will be all right,” I assured him once more, settling in bed beside him. “I love you, Mícheil.”

“Love you.” He yawned, wincing a bit again. I made sure he didn’t clutch his wound this time.

It was good, then, that he fell asleep first, for I didn’t want him to see me cry.