Page 36 of Tethered In Blood

The first dose poured into a small cup and I turned to the nearest knight, extending it toward him. “Drink.” He hesitated, glancing at me and the mixture as if it might kill him. My expression, or perhaps the way his breath still rattled in his chest, compelled him to take it.

Then another knight. And another.

Time passed, and the change was undeniable. Their pallid complexions brightened with color. Clammy skin dried out. The rattling in their breaths transformed into steady inhales. By mid-morning, they stood, stretched, and tested their limbs as if they hadn’t just been on death’s doorstep.

A grin tugged at my lips as I watched them move, but the realization pulled it away.

Magic.

It wasn’t just the herbs. The illness, the sudden decline, and their rapid recovery suggested that it was unnatural.

Valdier grunted and crossed his arms, his face contorting into a scowling frown.

I huffed, glancing at the knights who had been gifted new bodies. “You’re not just going to linger, are you?” They exchanged hesitant glances. I gathered the remaining mixtures and handed them to the men. “Take these to the villagers. Follow my instructions, or you will waste everyone’s time.”

They grabbed the doses with the written instructions and left. The remaining knights, especially those closest to the hearth, weren’t improving. Their condition had deteriorated. While the others stood, these men remained motionless. Stubborn fevers clung to them, and their breathing was shallow, rattling like rusted hinges.

A chill slithered through me.

It was the fire.

My pulse quickened as my mind raced through the details. Perhaps not the fire itself, but every house had a hearth. Each sick villager had relied on theirs for warmth. Those who had recovered were no longer near open flames, while those still suffering hadn’t moved away from theirs.

So, what was different?

Why were they still sick when the others had returned to normal?

I stepped closer to the fire. The heat of the fire on my skin didn’t hold my attention. It was the burn, the smell, the crackling, spitting embers of the flames, and their flickering dance of red and gold.

The timber.

Or rather, something on it that released dust or fumes into the air, something they inhaled every time they stoked the flames. A slow-acting poison. Not strong enough to kill quickly, but sufficient to leave them burning with fever and their lungs clouded by illness.

I threw the door open and rushed out of the knights’ quarters.

The world outside was different. The heavy, suffocating stillness had lifted, replaced by the first true stirrings of life I had heard since our arrival. Muffled conversations drifted from the tavern, boots scraped against the cobblestone, children played outside their homes, and there was a distant metallic clang as people moved once more.

I did that.

The thought struck unexpectedly, accompanied by a fleeting sense of satisfaction, but there was no time to indulge in it. The illness would return if I didn’t identify the source.

“Hey, little herbalist.”

The voice pulled me from my thoughts, tinged with irritation and a hint of reluctant respect. I halted mid-stride to glance over my shoulder. Valdier stood with his arms crossed, regarding me as if I were a riddle he couldn’t solve. He must have despised the fact that I had succeeded.

“Why don’t you join us in celebrating?” he said, his voice strained as if the words tasted bitter on his tongue. “You did great work.”

“No time,” I blurted, returning to the path ahead.

Wait.

I turned back to grasp his arm. “Where do you find the firewood?”

He stiffened, his eyes widened, and his brows shot up in alarm. “Uh… There’s a location in the woods east of the village, near the ridge.”

Without another word, I turned and sprinted.

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