Wylde Magic | Book 3

Sixty Two: Heart of the Wyldes

The encampment met a transformation in a matter of hours.

Witches who brought their spells and their potions managed to erect a protective barrier of sorts, something much smaller and weaker than the one that was fading from the edges of the Wyldes, but it was more peace of mind than having nothing. They also began sleeping in shifts, the waking ones seeking out resources and drying herbs immediately. Expending their energy to the fullest efficiency possible before waking one of their sisters and trading places.

The elven children were just as helpful as the witches. They came with a few horses and spears, though I have no idea where they picked up horses along the way. Eidelhein was not built for beasts of burden atop the high plateau so they didn't come with them from there. The spears and a handful of bows would already be a welcome addition to our side of the fight, but they also paired up with the scouts Teyber brought with him to identify local edible foods to forage for. Liana was put in charge of a large team that followed the nearby stream up the slope to a bountiful source of lentils and carrots.

It was only Fandor and Kalor that took time before jumping in to assist. A silent mourning as they surveyed the city they once called home now reduced to nothing but a field. A sad fate that I couldn't begin to imagine for beings so old, and so I left them to it until they were ready. But once they were ready, they had much advice to give from their memories, and more resources as well as underground spaces were uncovered thanks to the elves.

I can't say that there were no hard feelings though. The camp was suddenly overflowing with underlying hostility as the Autumn court fae were now the smallest population of creatures in the encampment. Surrounded by the children of the elves and the witches who, for reasons I still hadn't uncovered, the Wyldes did not trust. I just prayed Teyber and Thain were enough to keep anything from boiling up to a fight until the battle arrived.

And while the entire encampment had erupted in new building, new making, new supplies, I sat under the new simple roof they built for the eventual injured. Purda took charge easily, though the quarter elf and the Autumn fae that had also come over as healers were obviously older than her. There was just something about Purda they didn't argue with.

Spaulder had recovered well with some more work from me and a lot of guidance from Purda. The moment he was recovered, Schula began flying with him to scout from the air, promising to stay well away from Bara Khalja if they encountered him.

It killed me to watch them go, but I was committed to staying with the infirmary and watching over Nassir. The old fae was another problem entirely as he had woken up but barely offered any words since. He kept to himself, didn't fight us when we went to change his bandages or give him medicine. But he wasn't himself. He was a reflection of the Nassir I met in the depths of Icehold. Quiet and introspective, his humor and vibrancy we had built up all this time was gone.

And so I sat by the simple bed we had made for him in a row of empty beds that may well be filled with the injured soon. Nassir sat up, his eyes closed in quiet meditation. The same pose he had held since breakfast. All I could do for him now was stay close by.

His body had been mended, but his heart had not.

I sighed. There was little I could do for him, the raw wound on his heart left by his own triquetram's madness and hate couldn't be closed by me or anyone else. This was something for Nassir to deal with between him and DuVarick. My guess was that the near confrontation in the mountains that led Nassir to causing a landslide is what triggered his new state, but he wouldn't talk about the incident with anybody and the elves and witches weren't close enough to see what happened until after it had already been set in motion.

A soft hand sat on my shoulder, and I turned my head to see Mila. Puko sat happily on her shoulder, eating a piece of bread. Bread that was probably baked on a newly constructed flat stone oven. I had my suspicions that if this battle took much longer to reach us, we would have a simple frame of a functioning village instead of a rough encampment.