My eyes fluttered open to a comforting darkness, broken only by the light of one candle some distance from the bed upon which I lay. Someone sat there, watching me.
“Waelden?” I whispered gruffly, the words tearing at my throat like the raking of claws.
By Bema, what had happened to me, I thought, as wave after wave of fire engulfed me, prompting me to try and toss aside the blanket.
“Nay, Yllfa. It is I, Northgyth. I will keep watch over you. I have sent your man and child away, for their own good. As yet I am not certain what ails you. Your task is to sleep.”
I was away in a muddled dream then, riding to the garrison to speak with Thilwend, then taking a tisane of feverfew to stop the ache in my head. I turned in our bed to lightly prod Waelden, as he had again wrapped himself in all the blankets.
I shivered.
Ethel was sobbing, but I couldn’t find her.
“Rest, Yllfa,” It was Northgyth’s voice again, calmly chanting old words that I almost recognised, while she burned a small dish of herbs. “You have a fever, but we shall break it with the aid of our allies.”
‘Waelden?’ I tossed in the bed, my hair plastered to my head with sweat. I turned to bury myself against him, but it was my pillow, also damp and uncomforting.
Smoke in the room, and again a chant that I almost knew.
“Let the wolf rest for now. Seek deeper, older. Find the bear within,” Northgyth was saying.
The bear? I should know what she meant, but it was too hard to think. I ached. Every bone in my body ached as a flame all but consumed me.
She was passing something into my mouth. Something crushed, so possible to swallow. Garlic, I thought. Aye, I would have chosen garlic as an ally. There was another herb as well, but I could not place it.
And a face appeared from my youth. One I was not fond of. It turned in an instant into that of an aggressively roaring bear. I jumped in shock.
“Yllfa! You must work with me,.....” Northgyth’s voice seemed distant, as if she was riding away.
It was dark. I was suspended between fire and ice. My throat was so riven I could not cry out for aid.
Then there was something else. A song.
A different voice it was, one that called to me.
A song, one my heart could beat to. One that said ‘Fight! For I fight at your side. We will win.
There was a cool cloth on my brow.
Again the song, from beyond the wall of my infirmary.
He was forbidden entry, but outside he was singing me home?
A fainter voice, a younger one, a different ‘magic’ to that of Northgyth.
‘Mama, mama,’ it called. Gently, but with a will of iron.
In song his arms were around me, holding me tight.
“Not again. I will not lose you, she-wolf.”
“So, they have found a way,” Northgyth spoke. “You have stronger allies than I realised, dear one.”
But I was resting then, in a healing sleep.
He had called me home.
