“At last I found you,” he gasped and fell forward. Rosalea could see the ropes that held him in the saddle strain and go taut. It was the only thing holding him there; he was clearly completely unconscious. The horse he road half-groaned, half-whined and stopped right where she was and her skin crawled and twitched as if she would like to get rid of the rider and the saddle.
Rosalea empathized. Her mouth went dry and her heart was pounding so hard in her chest that it ached. She flashed back to him grabbing her in the forest when she had just gotten Fen, and she hugged herself tightly. The winter cold, the way he had looked wide-eyed and afraid of her, the smell of his breath as she got in his face, the men that had come from the trees… her face ached and another memory surfaced that she did not know she had remembered after her fight with the Gods. She had confronted him in the middle of the night, and he had struck her similar to the drunk man earlier today.
And the fort… all the lies. The stolen memories. He’d stalked her everywhere she’d ever been. She loathed him. She turned her back on him, facing the pond. “Fen, let's go. I'm leaving him there,” she said shortly, yet she didn't move or take her eyes from the pond.
“Nadia, you've had the chance to slit his throat before and did not. Do you really expect to be able to leave him there?”
Rosalea bared her teeth and tried not to scream. She hated him, she should leave him there to die! It was the least that he deserved! She reminded herself of the beatings she could remember. She made herself think of what he had done to Nerric. It would not even be killing him. Just walking away. Just leaving him here with his problems.
But there was a coppery smell in the air with the horrible smell in general from the mare and the man in general, and both of them looked horrifically run down. She knew if she left him, he would just… But I HATE HIM. I should WANT to leave him!
She willed herself to take just one step forward. It wouldn’t be her fault if he died. It wouldn’t. Her breaths were ragged, and she couldn’t calm herself. Tears began to burn her eyes.
Fen waited and did not try to comfort her. “He killed Gaiden,” she said.
“He did,” Fen confirmed.
“He beat me.”
“Yes.”
Rosalea shook. “He gave me Lio in the worst way imaginable. He hid Lio from Nerric.”
Fen did not answer that one.
Rosalea realized that one must have been Nashota. But he helped, she thought.
“Are you an Ieshan? Can you hear me? Please help,” the mare whined.
Rosalea began to cry. She hated him. She did. “Fen, why can I not do it?”
Fen finally moved to her, pressing her head to Rosalea’s hands. “Because you are good, and you know in your heart that he was not all bad.”
Rosalea scrubbed the tears from her eyes with her sleeve and huffed. She whirled back toward the horse so suddenly that she shied, rearing up. Ulric flopped around, the binds still holding him there. Why did he tie himself to the horse? Or did somebody else do it? She calmed the horse, gripping its reins. She stood still for a moment, stroking the animal’s nose. The mare was gaunt and thin, she had been pushed very hard. The human on its back looked much worse.
“All right, lady, let me help you,” she said, starting by unbuckling the bridle from her head and sliding it off. The bit was green with grass and that she had been eating around it to the best of her ability. Rosalea dropped it to one side, seeing sores on her mouth and against the jaw strap. She held the poor thing’s head and brought a little healing magic, soothing the pain in her joints and muscles and erasing the sores on her mouth and beneath the saddle.
Healing always froze her and whoever she was holding in place, but when she came back, the horse was much calmer and Ulric was still unconscious. Rosalea grew a little concerned despite herself.
She held her hand out, a knife from earth storage appeared in it. For now, she just cut away the binding rope, when Ulric started to slip off, she caught him with solidified caelus magic in the air and held him up on the right side as she came around and cut those ropes free also. Then she just set Ulric on the grass, and because she wasn’t ready to deal with him, focused on getting the saddle off.
She knew from the coppery smell and the foul ammonia smell what she would see on the saddle once Ulric was lifted away, and she began to think that he may not have been the one to bind himself to the horse. If he had… what would have driven him to do it?
She undid the girth strap and used magic to lift away the saddle and dump it in the grass. She’d see if she could save it later or not. “Please do not wander off, but eat as much as you like.”
The mare pressed a grateful nose to Rosalea’s shoulder and then she moved a little away where the grass was thick and started to graze. Rosalea watched, feeling judgmental for a moment. She had just parted with Hazel because he was a sweetie that didn’t deserve the pace she was keeping or to be forced through a hard winter through her. So what was Ulric’s justification with this girl?
That judgmental feeling faded a little toward worry as she could hear behind her that Ulric’s breath was uneven, and though she had expected serious saddle sores on the mare, there had been none and the smell of blood remained in the air. She could not keep avoiding Ulric. She had to either commit to caring for him or commit to let him die, since she could not make herself do anything more serious than that. She thought again of the Ieshan fort - how many times had he touched her and numbed her emotions? But, as she tried to psyche herself into doing something she felt he deserved, she also thought of him sitting with her at the slate, patiently teaching her letters. She thought of him getting right in front of a charging ram and clutching her protectively to him. She thought of times that he had been proud when she had done something well.
She was so conflicted. Tears burned her eyes again, and she scrubbed at them with her sleeve one more time and sniffled. It was easier to just help him. All right, she told herself, breathing out, calming down some. If he does something horrible, I shall set him on fire or something with my magic. I will not be defenseless this time. I fought Gods for Rhainnon; I should not be so scared of just one man.
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She turned around. Ulric was laying on his side, exactly as she had left him on the grass. She moved to him, and pulled him carefully onto his back - and then she looked at his wrists and her stomach seized up, and she was a little glad she had not yet eaten her stew. The ropes had cut deep gouges in his wrist, embedding it deep into the skin. There was no saving any of this rope - wherever it had come from.
“It is pretty bad,” Fen observed. “You should take the stew off the fire, this will take a while.”
Rosalea nodded, and glad for the opportunity to step away from Ulric for a moment, moved to the fire and pulled the stew off of it and banished it back to earth storage. She summoned her tea kettle, filling it with water, and set it on the fire, guessing she would need plenty of warm water. She sighed, and returned to Ulric’s side, kneeling in the grass, and calling her knife to her hand from where she had left it in the grass, slowly cutting into the knot around his wrist until she could pull it apart.
It wasn’t a pleasant sound as it came free, and the low quality fibrous rope left little bits of itself in his skin, which she picked out as carefully as she could. She rinsed it thoroughly with the water she had warmed, and then reset her pot to get more warm water. She kept checking his face, to see if he would wake, but he did not. What is the best approach for this? His wrist was bleeding from her removing the rope, but she could not heal anything that had a physical obstruction like embedded rope, and cursory glance at his other wrist told her that one was also bad - though his boots had seemed like they protected his ankles possibly.
“If you heal his wrist, you will be able to see the other areas on him that are impacted and you can prioritize,” Fen suggested. She was sitting quite near Rosalea, offering her a sensation of support.
“That makes sense,” Rosalea breathed out and took a moment to hug Fen tightly. She took Ulric’s hand once more, checking his face again, before closing her eyes. It was as easy as breathing out to reach her magical pool and river, and though not as smooth, it took her only a little more effort to pass through to her deepest magic, where the healing grounds spanned out in every direction around a large white river.
She turned her focus to Ulric and saw so many problems that it was hard to focus on all of them. His wrists, his ankles were bruised and had chafed in the boots, but at least did not have rope embedded in them. But there was also a fever, sickness in his lungs, and more concerning, at least two what looked to be stab wounds - one in his side and the other in his back, and a big gash on the back of his head that radiated so much bruising that he was probably lucky his skull hadn’t cracked. She poured a little magic into his wrist, closing over that wound.
“I… might not even be able to save him, Fen,” Rosalea whispered.
“You are stronger than you think. Just start with the most serious things you found.”
Rosalea nodded. She decided she should remove his shirt. She carefully pulled it off, in case the shirt could be salvaged later, and she saw the back injury, part of an arrow was sticking out; someone had shot him in the back. She rolled him on the side she knew he had not been stabbed on, and she carefully tugged on the arrow. It did not want to come easily, so she felt very guilty as she really had to brace with one hand and pull hard with the other. The infection smell was strong, and it was a slimy process to get it out. She did not want to think about why.
She rinsed it carefully, listening to Ulric whimper and watching him squirm a little feebly, but he did not wake. She filled her pot and set it on the fire again, dipping back into her healing magic to clear the infection from his lungs and to heal the open wound from the arrow. It seemed like it was a fairly recent injury compared to whatever had happened with the rope on his hands because there was no infection radiating from it. When she let go and came back to the physical world, she was gratified to hear him breathing more smoothly and that some of the color was coming back to his skin. He had been looking pretty gray when she first started. I cannot believe I am trying to bring you back from death’s door after all you have done.
She now focused on a wound on his side that was definitely festering, and other than what was on his remaining wrist was definitely a major source of the infection-smell. She first squeezed what infection she could out, and then rinsed it thoroughly. Then, she applied healing magic. It was pretty draining, but she felt confident that his fever would dwindle now that most of the infection had been cleared.
Rosalea rested a little, it had taken a lot of magic to fix that wound. I feel like he got stabbed. By who? When? How did he know he would find me out here? Ulric’s ability to stalk her anywhere she went was a little intimidating. She studied his face. She had only seen him sleeping once or twice that she could remember, and it was weird to see him so soft looking and relaxed. He carried an intensity around with him everywhere he went. I feel like if I had been him, and labeled baktya by my people, I would not have been working as intensely as he does.
She took a deep breath and called her knife once more to her hand so that she could dig the rope out of his other wrist, cutting into the knot and then peeling away the rope and discarding it. She picked away the fibers and then washed the wound out. She healed it and felt that her usual river of available healing magic was running low. Surprisingly enough though, I think I can get the rest of his injuries since they are relatively minor.
Fen pushed her head against Rosalea’s shoulder, “See? Have confidence in yourself, you are an extremely powerful mage.”
Rosalea breathed out and hugged Fen appreciatively. Well, as much as I do not want to, I should probably remove his pants and get him washed. She started by unlacing his boots and cutting away the rope. Then, with a wrinkled nose and a mix of revulsion and pity, she pulled away his pants. She called water over, warming it with magic so that she could get him washed clean, focusing on his hair so she could get the blood and mats in it out. It had an infection as well and seemed to be a similar age to whenever he had been stabbed.
Then, she called one of her sleeping furs, laying him on that now that he was clean and covering him. This time, when she healed him, she did all the sores and chafing as well as the bruise and gash on his head. You will have to tell me who attacked you when you wake up. She got him tucked in and warm. She felt tired.
With a massive yawn, she cleaned up all the area around them and put the waste downstream. I think I have just about enough energy to look at the horse and maybe take care of those sores on her. She stretched. It was getting dark. She was feeling tired. “All right, Lady, what’s your name?”
The mare turned and looked at her, walking over as Rosalea held out a hand with a sugar cube. “I am Nira.” She swished her tail as she crunched the sugar cube appreciatively.
“Hello, Nira. I am going to clean you up, hold still.” She called water from the pond, warming it a little, and then, even though it sent spasms and shivers through the mare, she passed water over her and cleaned her of all the mud and grime on her. She turned out to be a lot less brown than Rosalea expected and more of a silvery-dappled color. Rosalea then poured a little healing magic into her and cleared away the saddle sores and sores caused by her bridle. “There you go, you can eat as much as you like, but please do not wander off.”
The mare nickered, definitely pleased, and she pranced a little, clearly feeling so good to be clean and healed. However, her first act when she got a little away from Rosalea was to flop over in the grass and promptly undo some of her work by rolling and acquiring a nice bright green grass stain on her shoulder along with smears of damp earth. Whatever, Rosalea thought with a slight smile. She’d use some of the brushes she still had from Hazel and brush the mare later. Maybe in the morning. She was feeling really worn out and it was getting dark.
Fen had wandered to get them more wood for the fire. Rosalea was grateful as she added it and sat down. Ulric was still unconscious, but he was still asleep. If I had more magic left, Rosalea thought as she looked at him, I might try mind magic on him.
For now, Rosalea recalled herself a bowl of stew and one for Fen. She ate in silence, taking time to brew a little mint tea while she contemplated the situation with Ulric. “So, I think, I want to see if I can get him to take in a little tea or water, and then I will sleep. Can you keep watch, Fen?”
Fen gave her a side-eye. “He is not going to have any energy to do anything, even if he can recover his strength enough to wake himself in the middle of the night.” Rosalea sighed at her, but Fen just put her face in Rosalea’s lap. Rosalea rubbed her ears and cheeks. “My precious little Nadia,” Fen said with a nuzzle, “I will always watch over you.”
Rosalea huffed, wrapped her arms around the big wolf’s head, and squeezed her close. “Thank you. It makes me feel better.”
Fen nuzzled. Rosalea guessed that Ulric had probably lost a fair amount of blood, so she did try to give him a little chilled tea to help him recover fluids. He acted more wakeful, and she felt hope he would wake, but he did not. She was able to get him to drink quite a bit even so.
He had gray through his dark hair now, and Rosalea noticed that most of his wrinkles were in his brow, but he did have crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes. They just were not as deeply defined as the scowling lines on his forehead and cheeks. He was frowning a little now in his sleep instead of looking relaxed. She sighed and ran her fingers tentatively through his hair, and he calmed, looking serene again. I still hate you, she told herself.
She got up, feeling a deep fatigue from all the magic and excitement. She decided she did not want to call any additional bedding and just became a wolf. She shook herself, getting used to the wolf shape again, and then she turned a few circles next to Fen and flopped down against the bigger wolf’s side. With Fen there, it did not take her long to fall asleep.