“I’m okay.”
“Have it anyway.”
So he did.
It was quiet for a while, though not uncomfortable, at least for the druid. After some time, he noticed the Vaich picking at his fingers.
“It makes you nervous… being so exposed.”
“Aye,” the king muttered. “Not much to do if something comes for us on an open field. I can fight well enough, but I’d bet blood on the one who can see me first.”
It went quiet, again, and every so often the Vaich’s eyes would flicker towards his side. After a while, he said, “Suppose you should have some more of that potion?”
“I am not in much pain.”
“Alright.”
It went on like that, and after a few minutes, the druid said, “You needn’t watch me like a freshborn foal.”
“I ken’ih,” the Vaich whispered, forcing his eyes away. It lasted only a moment before they slipped back. “You should sleep.”
“I have slept enough.”
It wasn’t the truth. The druid was more than tired. Even when he drifted, his mind spun. He did not want to see those dreams.
He did not want to seeher.
All those days at Rhyd-hal, the druid had been losing bits and pieces, but whatever was left of him had been siphoned out into the womb. Now, someone else’s memories filled his head. That fractured, quiet little world he had once called his.
In its place were visions of death and destruction.
And worst of all, he still did not know why.
Even if the earth had borne him twice, it seemed inclined to kill him at every turn.
He held his head as the ache settled in again, thrumming in dissonance with the pain in his ribs.
“Druid?” the Vaich asked.
“It is heavy. So heavy. I wish I understood—” he gasped, watching the familiar shades of his kin vanish in his mind. There was no sun. There was no moon. The forest was far behind.
Now, he was truly alone. And…
“I do not know myself.”
His words dripped into the deepest silence. It seemed to stretch for hours into years.
Then, a dry laugh tumbled over the flame. The druid glanced up to see the king’s face twisted in rage. That old fire had resurfaced, pooled into his molten orbs, and his muscles tensed beneath his skin.
“What a load of horseshit.”
The druid’s breath snagged.
He felt himself brace in a way he had only known twice; a silent surge of need to protect himself against a danger he could not name.
“I’ve never met a thing more sure than you—who might bow a man with the curve of your lip.” The Vaich’s face contorted in a snarl, but it was not the way the druid remembered it. “You were a king before you bore a crown, and could not be questioned—would not be cowed. Now you tell me you dinnae ken yourself? Now you tell me you haveforgotten?”
The Vaich laughed. He laughed and laughed till the high country echoed with his sound.
