Raeca considered the unconscious man on her floor. He had stumbled in the door, pale and dizzy, and promptly fallen over into a pile of armor, weapons, and wet wool. He was heavily armed and armored, and there was a good bit of muscle underneath. There was also quite a lot of blood on both sword and armor, and she was willing to bet not all of it was his. She was still trying to figure out whether he was going to be trouble.

On the one hand, he was unconscious, and she was a healer. Helping people was usually what she did.

On the other hand unconscious men on the floor usually weren’t a sign of anything good. 

He didn’t look like a bandit.

That was a lot of blood.

“Raeca? I heard a crash.”

Mitso came in the door at about the same time as she decided to try and get the man onto a cot so she could figure out why he was unconscious. The sight of her mentor was a relief and Raeca smiled wanly at him, glad he was there.

“He needs help,” she said, and gestured somewhat helplessly at the warrior on the floor. He was bigger than she could manage alone. Mitso had good timing.

His reaction, however, was not one she expected.

“Brendis!” he exclaimed, and hurried to the man’s side. “Raeca, put water on and pull out the supplies. I’ll get him on a cot and find out how hurt he is.”

Raeca ran to follow how orders as her mentor knelt and hoisted the man off the floor with the ease of long practice. It was only a few steps to the cot, and he got the man settled. Mitso was a soldier before he was a healer, and he began to strip off the man’s armor even as Raeca pulled their ever-boiling kettle off the fire with a pair of heavy mitts. 

“Who is he?” she asked when she came to her mentor’s side with their basket of remedies and a bowl of steaming water. “He fell in the door and collapsed at my feet.”

“His name is Brendis,” Mitso said and showed her how the complicated armor came apart so she could help him. “You know those rumors that have been going around? About a hero rising at the Queen’s behest to fight the Dark Sword?”

“This is him?” Raeca said, and struggled to lift away the heavy breastplate. It was slick with blood and she was careful not to drop it. When they bared the man’s chest, his skin was riddled with half-healed cuts and deep scars. “He seems very young.”

No older than her, in fact. His face was stern and tired even unconscious, and his brown hair was filthy with blood and dust. His weapons and armor were the finest quality, but his clothing was simple, serviceable, and plain. This was not a man wo worried about his appearance when he had more important things to do.

Stolen novel; please report.

“He’s much older than he looks,” Mitso told her and cursed when a new wash of blood met his questing fingers. “This is deeper than I thought. Switch places with me and keep him from bleeding out.”

Her gift was only just beginning to wake, but Mitso was sure she would be more powerful than him with a little training. Until then, it was a gamble. Sometimes her gift woke at full power and sometimes not, but it was rarely her choice which.

Fortunately for the dying warrior under her hands, this time her gift chose to cooperate. Green light gathered around her fingers and she directed it into the deep wound that had barely missed his heart. It was careful, slow, going. By the time she managed to close the wound, Mitso was nearly done bandaging the worst of the warrior’s hurts and had started cleaning him up. 

“You can breathe,” Mitso told her when she sat back on her heels and went for bandages. His hands moved quickly, but his face was smooth and calm. “If he hasn’t died by now, he isn’t going to. Brendis has some skills of his own. When he wakes, he’ll heal himself up.”

“Why did he come here?” Raeca wondered, and traded bandages for a soft, wet cloth. Dried blood would do nobody good, even if the warrior was out of danger. “I’ve never met him, have I?”

“Probably he was looking for me,” Mitso admitted with a sigh and dabbed salve over a nasty abrasion. “We met a long time ago. I didn’t know he was back.”

“Back?”

“From the dead. He reincarnates every eighty years or so.”

That was new to her, but Mitso didn’t seem overly concerned about it. Probably he heard all about it the last time he healed Brendis.

“Ah,” she said not sure how to reply. Reincarnation? Sure there were always a few heroes around who were hard, or impossible, to kill. That was just a part of the world they lived in. “Do you know why? How did you meet?”

“We met when I was a boy,” Mitso explained, and started getting the rest of the warrior’s armor off now that the worst of his injuries were dealt with. “During his last life, I assume. He does age like anyone else.”

“He looks my age.”

“Technically he is your age,” Mitso pointed out, and shook his head when he discovered that his old friend had broken fingers hidden inside his dark gloves. “he doesn’t remember a lot from his previous lives. Or rather, his timeline is confused. He doesn’t always remember when he met people. Probably he came here because our village hasn’t changed much in the last three hundred years, and this house traditionally belongs to the healer and their apprentices.”

“Why does he keep coming back?” Raeca asked, and leaned over, magic cool on her palms. She wasn’t tired yet, and this man deserved to wake up as pain-free as she could manage. ”That’s different. Usually heroes die and resurrect or become immortal.”

Mitso finished his work and shook his head sadly. “There’s a prophesy. Isn’t there always, right? He’s bound to the Queen, and the Dark Sword. You know, that warlord who nearly burned the whole Southhold about fifty years back? One of them kills the other, or they both die in the battle. As soon as all three of them have passed, they all come back, and the cycle starts again.”

“It sounds exhausting,”’ Raeca murmured, and set her cloth back in the bowl. “Help me get him up the stairs. He can stay in the guest room until he’s strong enough to leave on his own.”

“Good girl,” Mitso said approvingly. “Don’t worry, he isn’t as heavy without all the armor.”

“Glad to hear it. Let’s go. He’ll heal better for a proper bed.”