Chapter 51, Spite is good

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of Shattering 181 - The Alyar end their silence, expressing concern that the Humans' continued forays into sin have corrupted the Draig'yar.

An excerpt from the diary of Pia...



LAYLA

Three moons since the Mark of the Other One blossomed. The moon of Fading Frost has come.


"Hold him still, Layla!" Cynric scolded her.

"What do you think I am doing?" Layla was desperately trying to sit on the northman's legs.

It was clear from the beginning that the unconscious man was healing well, but nightmares and intense spasms had come soon. At nights, the man would wake up and then scream and cry.

Yet there was still no sign of him being fully conscious. The man slept most of the time, Cynric assured Layla. Although it did not feel like it to her. Sometimes they could make him drink.

"Sethian! Sethian by the Makers get in here! Seth, by the Makers!" Cynric was bellowing throughout the house.

"She is out! She went out to Yorstam. She won't be back until tomorrow!" Layla reminded Cynric.

The nightly attacks were mild compared to what could happen during the day. Layla could not look after the northman alone any longer. One of the healers had to stay in the village at all times.

No one was happy about this. If there was no other way Iorgen or Layla's mother would come to help, Leyla, too, if it was absolutely necessary. No one else dared enter the healer's house.

Cynric and Gaven, the village elder, were openly arguing, at times yelling at each other in the middle of the street. The elder had always had little tolerance for the healer.

Gaven demanded the northman be sent to Shadowwatch over Tristen, but Cynric had overruled the village elder with an edict. Layla was not too sure what it meant.

"Iorgen then! Get him!"

"How are you going to..." Layla started, but she was cut off by Cynric.

"Just run and get the boy!" Cynric shouted.

Before Layla left the room, she was treated with the sight of Cynric straddling the northman and slamming the man to the mattress. "Hurry!" The man hissed through gritted teeth.

By the time she had returned with Iorgen, Cynric was still wrestling with the northman.

"How is he not awake? How is he standing up when he is not awake?" Iorgen stopped at the doorway and stared at the scene. Layla had to push the boy inside.

"Help, you idiot!" Cynric raged at Iorgen.

By the time Cynric had stuffed a sedative herb into the northman's mouth, the sun was shining high in the sky. Winter would not let up for a few tens, but spring was on its way.

"How is he standing up?" Iorgen panted, facing the healer.

"It's the bloodseal. His mind is ailing. Sometimes, melding with the bloodseal causes enormous mental stress. People have talked about losing their thoughts and so on. At least that's what I have heard." Cynric explained.

"Explain to me again, why can't we send him off to Shadowwatch? You do not have the means or the knowledge to treat that man." In spite of being younger than Cynric and a year or two younger than Layla, Iorgen showed no fear or hesitation when talking to the healer.

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