Ra-khir would have loved to stay. A home-cooked meal sounded wonderful, and the company of a handsome woman more so. "I'd like that, ma'am; but I've gotten behind on my mission already. I will return to see your new cottage." He emphasized the phrase to remind the village men of their promise. "And I'll have a warm stew, then, if you'll prepare it."
"I will," Tiega promised.
Ra-khir hauled himself into the saddle.
"Sir Ra-khir?"
Ra-khir reined his steed to face Tiega directly. "Yes, ma'am?"
"I wondered if you might take Darby with you."
"Ma'am?"
"As an apprentice, I mean. A squire."
Ra-khir hesitated. He had never considered himself an advanced enough knight to train an apprentice, though his rank and service time were sufficient. If Saviar had followed through on his interest, Ra-khir would have given him to someone else, worried about his objectivity and his relationship. He glanced at Darby.
The boy stood with hands clenched with desire, his eyes nearly blazing. Only then, Ra-khir noticed they were the same fiery blue as his mother's.
"Becoming a Knight of Erythane takes many years of grueling work. It's hard, it's often tediously boring, and it requires a dedication to morality, to the Order, and to the kings that transcends logic, life, and family. Only the best are chosen, and most of them don't finish the training."
Darby pursed his lips, nodding.
"If you fail, you've essentially wasted that many years of your life you could have spent learning a useful trade." Ra-khir saw no reason to mention that the time would not be wholly lost, as most of the dropouts had enough weapons training to become soldiers in the kings' employ. "Darby, would you like some time to think about it?"
Darby turned Ra-khir a look of seriousness so grave it transcended death. "I've thought about it all my life. I want to be a knight, sir. I'll do whatever it takes."
"It's a lifelong commitment."
"More's the better."
"To accompany me, you'll need a horse."
Darby motioned toward his haul. "I'll buy one."
Ra-khir had not bargained on a companion, yet the idea did not bother him. He gave Tiega a hard look. "My mission is dangerous."
Though he had addressed the mother, Darby answered for her. "I know how to fight, Sir Ra-khir. And I know how to dodge." He added with a conspiratorial smile, "If circumstances allow it, and there's no dishonor in it, I can also hide pretty good."
"Pretty well," Ra-khir corrected. Another feature of the knights was impeccable speech and diction, most of the time.
"I can hide pretty well," Darby dutifully fixed.
"And his training will have to take place in Erythane and Bearn, which means that even if he survives the mission, you may never see him again."
"Oh, I'll see him again, sir." Tiega met Ra-khir's gaze without a hint of fear. "I'll move. I'd be gone from here already if I had the money for travel." She smiled broadly. "And, now I do. By the time you come back through here, I intend to have all of this junk sold and have purchased more horses. If Darby has performed satisfactorily, we'll all accompany you back to Erythane." She added carefully, "Assuming you'd allow us to go with you, sir. Otherwise, Keva and I'll get there on our own."
Still partway behind her mother, Keva nodded forcefully.
The new cottage seemed moot now, but Ra-khir did not allow the village men off the hook. They should have assisted Tiega and her family from the moment she lost her husband. "What man in his right mind wouldn't agree to ride with two beautiful women?"
Keva giggled, and Tiega grinned. "Flatterer! And I thought Knights of Erythane weren't allowed to lie."
"We're not." Ra-khir wheeled Silver Warrior and let the significance of the comment hang. "I meant every word I said." He made a broad gesture at Darby. "Come on, apprentice knight. We've a horse to buy."
Darby charged to Ra-khir's side, and the two men headed toward the center of Keatoville.
Subikahn studied his sleeping brother in the light of the blazing fire. Snuggled near it, beneath every article of clothing not shredded for the bandage or on Subikahn, he finally stopped shivering. Still, he moved restlessly, moaning frequently and occasionally crying out in his sleep.
With a sigh of painful resignation, Subikahn brushed away enough of the coverings to reveal the bandaged leg. Saviar twitched and muttered but did not awaken. His skin felt dry and remarkably hot. The lack of sweat told Subikahn his brother's temperature was still climbing, and his agitation probably stemmed from the wild sort of dreams and nightmares that only fever can induce. What have I done?
Terror seized Subikahn. He had lost his parents, his lover, and he had no idea where his younger brother had gone. He could not, would not, lose his beloved twin as well. The very thought threatened to plunge him into madness. Hold on, Savi. Hold on. Tears distorted the image of his suffering brother. It all seemed utter, impossible insanity, the whole scenario, itself, a torturous fever-dream. My mood started the argument. I demanded the fight. I plunged that sword into his thigh, and I ripped it free, filthy from the ground. Nearly paralyzed with guilt, Subikahn realized one thing more. If not for my selfish desire for solitude, we would be nearer a town. I could get him a healer, some herbs, some help.
Subikahn's gaze returned to the bandages. Blaming himself would not ease his brother's misery nor help him treat the wound. He had to remove them, to gaze upon it, and to use the few tools in his arsenal to attempt to heal it. Still he hesitated, fearing what he saw might rob him of the last vestiges of hope. I'm a warrior. I'm a Renshai. Steeling himself, Subikahn gently unwound the bandages.
Swollen red streaks appeared first, at the outer edges of the uncovered area. Subikahn sucked air through his teeth and forced himself to continue. Another few loops dropped to the ground, revealing more inflammation, puffier and angry in its scarlet hue. Then, the last hunk of cloth came undone amid a wash of blood-streaked pus. Subikahn gasped sharply and glanced at his brother, only to find Saviar looking back at him.
Confusion and pain glazed the familiar blue-white eyes. Saviar's cheeks carried ruddy circles. "I'm dying."
"No!" Subikahn shielded the wound with his body. Realizing he had answered too quickly and loudly, he sought the right words to reassure. "Your body's just fighting to keep it from getting tainted. You're going to be fine."
Saviar seemed not to hear. "I saw my pyre, and the cold lonely hill where the wind scatters the ashes. A voice told me… I'm all alone. Forever…"
"Just a nightmare." Subikahn turned his back on his brother to fully block his view of the wound while he worked. "A stupid, ridiculous nightmare.You're going to be fine, Savi. Go back to sleep."
"No. Help me up. I have to die in combat."
"You're not going to die!" It was more than a statement, it was admonishment and self-reassurance. If Saviar died, Subikahn would die with him. He could not go on alone. "Now stop this death talk, and go back to sleep."
Saviar swallowed hard. His eyes drifted closed.
Subikahn sucked in a deep lungful of air; but, before he could release it, Saviar continued.
"I'm cold, Subi. So very very cold. Hel is dragging me into her frozen realm. Please." Just talking seemed a great effort. He licked his lips with a tongue that looked dry and swollen despite the copious amount of water he had drunk that evening. "You have to help me up.You have to help me commit taphreselmordat."
"Shut up!" Subikahn had heard all he could stand. "Shut up, Saviar! You are not going to die. Not yet. Not for a very long time."
"I… Hel-"
"If she comes, she'll have to get through me." Subikahn drew Motfrabelonning from Saviar's sheath. "This is the sword that let you see the Valkyrie when Mama died, right?" He did not wait for an answer. "If Hel comes near, I'll see her. She'll have to battle through me to get you."
"Subi-"
Subikahn would not listen to protest. "That's it, Savi. Go to sleep. I will see you in the morning."