Warsworn

use my last breath to break you, do you hear me?" He threw his head back against the bed. "Heal him now, or I will kill you."
    "Is this what happened?" I whispered.
    "Don't know, Warprize. I was not aware at the time." Marcus looked grim. "Where are those fools?" He looked toward the tent flap, then back at me. Marcus growled. "Do not dwell on it. He called me back from the snows. I answered. There is no more to say."
    "Fear the day Keir of the Cat is named Warking." Ken-howled. Prest, Isdra, and to my surprise, Rafe poured into the tent, with Isdra stepping forward to help Marcus. At the word 'Warking', all of them flinched in shock, but only for a moment. Marcus darted to Keir's side, and put his fingers over his mouth. "Warlord, the enemy is near. Be silent."
    The others exchanged worried looks. I opened my mouth to question them, but Marcus caught my eye, and shook his head, putting a finger to his lips. So I suppressed my curiosity.
    "Rafe, are you well enough to be up and about?" I asked.
    "Well enough, Warprize." He gave me a faint smile. "Seems I didn't sicken as much as others did. Didn't even need the aid of the lake waters."
    I frowned, considering him. He'd lost weight, and there were smudges under his eyes. He was pushing too hard, I was certain, but for now I had a greater concern.
    Keir had fallen silent, still a prisoner of the fever. The others started to rebind Keir, but I stopped them. "Prest, call Gils. It's time."
    I followed them down to the shore, the moon providing enough light to see by. Gils, Prest, Marcus and Isdra carried Keir, who struggled in their arms. Marcus had insisted that they bind Keir to take him to the water and he'd been right. They set him down on the shore to give themselves a chance to strip out of their own clothing. Once they picked him back up, I followed them right into the water, catching my breath at the bite of the cold against my skin. I supported his head, using my hands to pour the water onto his forehead. His bronze skin looked so pale, his hair so dark as the water trickled through it. He didn't open his eyes, but his lips opened slightly, and I trickled water into his mouth, remembering how sweet it had tasted when I'd been in the same position. The others chanted the same ritual of purification that I'd heard in my fever.
    I knelt down, and whispered his name into his ear. A slight turn of his head, and I knew I had his attention. "Fight, beloved. Remember that you are my Warlord, Keir of the Cat. You are mine, and I am yours. Fight for us, my heart's fire."
    Keir blinked, but gave no other sign.
    They dipped him in and out, letting the water and the slight breeze chill his naked form to the point where he was shivering. Only then did we return him to the command tent. Rafe had stayed behind, warming the bed with heated stones under the bedding, keeping the warmth within the covers. He used a dagger to cut Keir's bonds as the others gathered drying cloths. Once we had him dry, we slipped Keir into the warmth, keeping him upright just long enough to get a bowl of broth into him. He looked so pale, laying there, so still. My heart was in my throat, although his pulse beat strongly under my fingers.
    To my surprise, Keir's eyes fluttered open after we settled him down. They were foggy with sleep, and when his fingers moved, I took them into my hand. He felt so cold, so I sat on the bed, and tried to rub some warmth into them.
    "You need to get out of these wet things and get some sleep." Marcus moved behind me, and put his hands on my shoulders. "I've sent the others off to rest."
    "You need sleep more than I do, Marcus. I'll change, then take the first watch." Marcus sighed, but he didn't argue.
    How many sickbeds have I watched over in my time? More than I can count or remember. Yet, this time was different.
    Eln taught that a good healer was dispassionate. Objective. I tried to follow his teachings, and with most patients I succeeded.
    Not with my father.
    Not with Keir.
    My father's illness had been a long slow process, and his death had been a release. But this man was a strong warrior, in his prime, and my emotions swayed from despair to hope and back again. I'd done everything I knew to save him, and it lay within the Goddess's hands. All I could do was sit and watch over him, taking in each breath as if it were my own. Hours passed, and Keir still slept, with no sign of the fever's return. The light was faint in the tent, with the braziers burning to