Chapter Thirty-Six

Like a Nightmare

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If Rhydian could have leaned into his tent for support without fear of taking it down with him, he would have.

The world spun and he stumbled sideways. Mercifully, he’d been able to keep himself upright, but the sudden movement had his vision blurring. Muttering a curse under his breath, he pressed a hand to his temple. Skies, his head hurt.

His sluggish mind failed to register the man seated beside the entrance.

“Glad to see you back among the living, ser,” Cydan said.

Rhydian gave a start and dodged sideways.

“Skies, Cydan. You can’t sneak up on me like that.”

“Ser?”

He cast him an incredulous look, only to find the man had been quietly whittling upon the stump he’d dragged in front of his tent. Between the shavings and the nearly complete carving of Inet in his hand, he’d likely been there for some hours. Not sneaking, then. Monitoring.

Right.

He must have been worse off than he’d thought.

“How long have I been out?”

His forthrider glanced up at the dusky sky.

“Around eighteen hours or so?”

Rhydian spluttered.

Eighteen?

No, that couldn’t be right. He still felt like the dead. It was dawn, it had to be. If he’d truly slept so long, surely he wouldn’t feel like such a walking corpse.

“I’m serious, Cydan. How long? I need to check on Inerys.”

“I am being serious. You’ve been asleep ever since we brought you to your tent last night.”

Rhydian cast a vague gesture toward the horizon, his hand stiff and heavy. When had the weather turned so cold? It was miserable.

“The sky doesn’t lie.”

The man politely cleared his throat and pointed his dagger in the opposite direction.

“East is that way, ser.”

Brow furrowed, he humored him with a glance in the direction he’d indicated.

Oh.

So it was.

His pride all but shriveled and the tips of his ears grew hot. Clearly, eighteen hours hadn’t been enough. He hadn’t realized he’d become such a complete and utter invalid overnight.

“It might be best if you lay back down, ser. You’ve lost a lot of blood,” Cydan said, rising to place a steadying hand upon his back.

Shaking his head only made his dizziness worse.

“I’ll be fine,” he assured, “Sorisanna gave me a blood tablet.”

“Which is meant to help over a period of days, not hours.”

“I can manage. I just need to take things slow. Where is she, anyway?”

“She and Ephaxus left to gather herbs not that long ago.”

“Good. Inerys will need the extra essence. How is she?”

“You both need it,” he corrected, “And she’s fine. Sorisanna checked in on her before she left. She’s still asleep.”

He wanted to see for himself, but it was better to leave her to rest.

“She’s healthy?”

He nodded.

Rhydian took his first full breath since last night.

“Good. That’s . . . good.”

His eyes lingered upon her tent, but he turned away to survey the rest of camp. Was he imagining it, or were things unusually quiet? Ordinarily, most everyone would be gathering for breakfast by now, though Vesryn was the only one seated beside the fire.

Aside from Tanuzet and Inet, the fields beyond were largely empty, which in itself was an odd sight, for whatever reason.

“Is Ayduin out hunting?”

Cydan sighed, “That’s what she told me before she left, but she’s been gone for hours. She needed some time away, I think. If she’s not back by twilight, Inet and I plan on going after her.”

The events of the night prior were rather hazy, but he recalled the look in her eye when she’d returned to find Inerys’ fangs buried in his arm. After all they had been through, skies, after what she had been through, perhaps expecting her to forgive him was asking a little bit too much. He’d placed his life on the line with little regard to how she might take it. He’d wounded her.

He would have done it all again in a heartbeat, though.

Their lives came first.

They had to come first.

“She’ll come back, when she’s ready,” he said.

She hadn’t abandoned them. Of that, he was certain. Distancing herself was how she coped and he wouldn’t infringe upon it. Not when he’d crossed so many lines already.

“Fair enough,” Cydan said, “Well, if you refuse to lie down and rest, can I at least talk you into sitting by the fire? You look like you're a heartbeat away from the grave and Sorisanna will have both our heads if she sees you walking around.”

He certainly wasn’t wrong, on that account. Rhydian was sure he was on thin ice with her as it was. He vaguely recalled her scolding him for sending her away while she’d mended his arm and he wasn’t keen on tempting fate any further.

He rested a hand against the hollow of his stomach.

“Something to eat would be nice.”

With luck, the campfire would chase off this infernal cold, too.

After trying and failing not to stumble along like a drunken fool, Rhydian finally accepted Cydan’s help. Progress was slow, but steady. His limbs felt as though they’d turned to iron and for a time, he was convinced even the grass was conspiring against him. The long blades clawed at his boots, determined to make each step more difficult than the last. He would have lashed at them with his fire, were his rysk and core not working so hard to keep him warm and compensate for the lack of adequate circulation.

Vesryn stood in alarm as the two approached, his disapproval etched into the fine lines of his face.

“You should be resting, boy. In your state, you’ll be lucky if a cold doesn’t claim you,” he said.

“Spare me the lecture, Vesryn. I’ll be fine.”

Shaking his head, the man crouched beside the kettle he’d set among the outer embers.

“Why is it you only seem to listen to the women in your life?”

Rhydian shrugged a shoulder as Cydan guided him down to the grass with his back to the log.

“They tend to threaten me and unlike you, I know they’ll follow through on them.”

The older man snorted, “You have a penchant for pain.”

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Gritting his teeth, he closed his eyes and rested his head against the log in an effort to quell his nausea.

“Please, I’m not a masochist.”

“You could have fooled me,” he said, offering him a cup of tea, “Here, drink this. I’ve gathered enough material to see you two ingrates through the next few days.”

He chose to ignore the slight, opting to take careful sips of the herbal brew, lest he spill it all over himself and look more the fool.

“I'm glad to see you've finally decided to make yourself useful.”

A muscle flexed along the man’s jaw, partially obscured by his greying beard.

“I may not care for our ward, but that doesn't mean I've been shirking my duties, boy. Sorisanna is a bright young woman, I'll give her that, but even she needed help refining those infusions. Tailoring them to Adai and Adai-adjacent physiques is different from those of wyverns,” he said, taking a seat beside him.

He peeked an eye open, too tired to correct the man’s lack of honorific.

“Why haven’t you mentioned anything before?”

The man loosened the edge of his sage’s cravat, his eyes upon the fire.

“Because I don’t need a pat on the head for doing my job.”

Rhydian supposed he could respect that. It didn’t change his feelings toward his behavior, but there was something to be said for a man of quiet dignity. How much more had he done behind the scenes? Had he been brooding as often as Rhydian had thought? Or had he actually been of use in his own way? Perhaps he’d ask Sorisanna when she returned.

His thoughts were too muddled to comb over the details on his own, at present.

When Rhydian didn’t offer a reply, he asked, “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve had a few too many and a fever to boot.”

The man’s dry chuckle was devoid of any true humor.

“You’re lucky that creature didn’t take your arm off.”

“She’s not a creature, Vesryn, she’s a person, same as you,” he said, though his left arm began to itch along his freshly mended scars.

“You can call it whatever you like,” he muttered, “I still don’t trust it.”

Cydan spoke up from where he’d been preparing a meal across the fire, “You might change your mind, if you took the time to actually talk to her.”

“Our duty is to deliver it to the Wardeness in decent health. She said nothing about making friends with it.”

The glare his forthrider cast the sage through the flames could have rivaled Ayduins.

“I’ve seen you treat criminals with more grace. How is Inerys worth less in your eyes?”

Rhydian could have imagined it, but he could have sworn he saw the older man’s knuckles turn white where they gripped his own cup.

“Some of us know a mad dog when we see one. You’ve brought a predator into our midst and instead of letting it die, you’ve decided to nurse it back to health with your own blood. If it weren’t for its pretty face, you would have put it down like the last one.”

A low growl issued from Tanuzet as her hackles began to rise.

Slowly, Rhydian began to sit up.

“Pardon me?”

Vesryn met his eyes.

“Tell me I’m wrong, boy.”

Pretty face? What, exactly, was the man implying? She had been a victim in all of this, not some ill-born spirit preying on his baser instincts for survival. If it weren’t for Rhydian and his inability to end the last one cleanly, none of this would have happened to her.

He hesitated, though.

There was, after all, a determination that drew him to her, something in her smile that made his heart skip despite the fangs. He had yet to fully make sense of it, but there was something there. Now that he’d stop to think, it was impossible to ignore. Skies, had everyone else seen it?

Vesryn had.

The vindication in the man’s eyes told him the man had found exactly what he’s been looking for. He wasn’t sure if it was shame or rage that stoked his nerves, but Rhydian wanted to punch the man. One solid hit and he could put this coward of a man back in his place. Only, he wasn’t even sure he could find his feet without help.

I could do it, Tanuzet said, her hiss causing the fire to shudder and pop in the wake of her breath.

Allowing her to snap at him would likely have a similar effect. In truth, he was tempted to let her take it a step further. Would his satisfied little smile still be there after she snapped her teeth within an inch of his face? The shock alone might have been worth it, but Rhydian decided he wouldn’t rise to the bait.

His jaw clenched.

“Don’t,” he muttered, “He isn’t worth it.”

Vesryn rose, likely assuming Tanuzet had been called off entirely.

“You best start thinking with the right head before you get yourself killed. Or worse, the rest of us.”

She lunged and her jaws snapped just shy of the sage.

The man yelped and in his haste to move out of range, had thrown himself clear through the fire and onto his back on the other side. Cydan was on his feet and Rhydian himself had shoved himself further against the log he’d leaned upon. She had moved so quickly, the man hadn’t had the chance to flare his rysk in defense. He stared up at her, wide-eyed and panting.

I would suggest you keep your tongue behind your wretched teeth, sage, lest I liberate your head from your shoulders myself.

Rhydian shuddered as her anger bled into him.

“Easy, Tanuzet,” he murmured, reaching to place a shaky hand along her cheek.

Inet had dropped her head behind the man, her lips pulled back over fangs that glinted in the firelight. Both growled low in their throat, pinning their prey to the ground through the weight of their glares alone. Cydan was holding his head, likely trying to wrestle down his own influx of emotion through their bond.

When neither female moved, Rhydian used the ridges and spikes along Tanuzet’s jaw to find his feet.

Gathering himself, Rhydian placed a soothing hand upon her scaly cheek. His whole body ached in protest, but he willed himself to stand and cross the short distance to the man’s side. For a moment, he feared the man may have had a heart attack, but a quick sweep of his soul told him he was merely stunned.

Despite his desire to let the sage suffer under their combined ire, he offered him his hand.

“I suggest you take your leave, Vesryn. If we have further need of your assistance tonight, someone will come find you.”

His wide eyes flicked toward his outstretched arm, eyeing it as if he expected some sort of trick.

Eventually, he took it and though he clearly had more to say once he’d recovered, he wisely kept his mouth shut. He dropped Rhydian’s hand the moment he was on his feet, glancing between he, Cydan and their wyverns as if he might curse them all. In the end, he stalked off without so much as a nod.

“I remember a time when that man was actually pleasant,” Cydan said, “When did he become such an ass?”

He watched him disappear into the forest at the far edge of camp.

“The moment we decided to spare Inerys,” he said, “I can understand fear. Cowardice, even, but I can’t help but feel like there’s something more to it.”

“Should we do something about it?”

“No. Better to leave him to the Wardeness. If he’s determined to dig himself into a deeper hole, I say we let him. We have more important things to focus on.”

“You’re not worried he might retaliate?”

“It wouldn’t do him any good. That being said, we should still keep an eye on him. There’s still plenty of time for him to decide to be an idiot.”

“Will do, ser,” he said, patting Inet’s snout.

Rhydian wavered on his feet, but Tanuzet’s head was already at his side.

Take a seat before you hurt yourself, she said gently.

“I will,” he promised.

The tea had given him a small boost, but it would take far more than a single cup to see him back on his feet. Even so, there was a level of unease rising in his chest. When he’d finally woken up, he’d noticed his heartbeat was more labored than usual, thanks to the bloodloss he’d yet to recover from, but this was different. It grew erratic and forced, though the sensation was a step removed from his senses.

He pressed a hand to his chest, only to find the rhythm he felt did not match the rising tempo he felt in his bones. Was he imagining it? He sensed Tanuzet’s attention join his, but it seemed she had reached the same conclusion– whatever was happening, hadn’t originated from him.

What in sky’s name was that?

“Rhydian?” Cydan asked, “Are you all right?”

“I think so,” he said, trying to focus on the source of the disturbance.

His eyes drifted toward Inerys’ tent of their own volition, instinct warning him she was in some sort of distress. Tanuzet felt it too and, in a way, his sensitivity to the woman’s emotional state was not all that different from the one he shared with her. He wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“Something’s wrong,” he said and thankfully, the other man had already caught on.

He moved to help Rhydian toward her tent, a worried urgency to both their steps.

Her muffled cries sounded from inside and when they parted the canvas, they found her sweat-soaked and thrashing. Her words were little more than incoherent ramblings, yet here and there, he caught phrases. They were hard to discern, but the more he listened, the more he recognized them– They were fragments of conversation that had once been spoken from his own lips. Her voice had morphed into a haunting rendition of his own.

“The woman needed to be stopped, my Lady,” she said, “I was simply carrying out my duty.”

At first, he didn’t understand. Clearly, she was having some sort of conversation, but the context of whomever she was speaking to was lost. She continued, responding to unspoken questions that were all too familiar when he finally put two and two together.

Skies, she was reenacting his first encounter with the Wardeness.

How was that even possible?

He knelt beside her, eager to see her awake and well.

“Inerys? Inerys, wake up, it’s just a dream.”

His hand found her shoulder and her voice fell to a hoarse whisper.

“Who is she talking to?” Cydan asked, kneeling across from him, his expression tight.

“I have an idea, but it’s mad. Let’s get her calmed down, first.”

He nodded.

Rhydian carefully brushed her hair away from her face, searching for any indication she might return to her senses.

“Inerys?”

Her eyes snapped open and she immediately pulled away, frantically glancing between he and Cydan as she backed herself into the corner of her tent. Sweat lined her forehead, her chest rising and falling in labored pants. Her mind was still somewhere else, but soon enough, the glassiness receeded. Panic and something akin to rage replaced it as they settled on Rhydian.

She bared her fangs.

“Where in spirits’ name are you taking me?”