New Version with name changes- Post 1

Veyga I (Further title forthcoming)
By Alecia J Rivas

Prologue:

"He's fading." The young woman turned into the warmth at her back. Thick arms pulled her closer to the protection of a broad chest.

"I know, sweets. But what can we do? We have no healer." The man peered through the flickering candlelight, seeking out the still form laid so carefully on a cot within the tent. "Veyga wouldn't allow us to send for one."

"But we can't just sit and wait for the poor boy to die. We have to do something."

"But what?" He tugged her outside and away from the tent. It was lighter here, but he knew it would be dark soon. Another man jogged up, out of breath. "What is it?"

The second man held up a hand, stopping to bend over with his hands on his knees. After taking a moment to catch his breath, he chuckled softly. "Our prayers to the gods have been answered. The most talented healer in these lands is coming our way. I'm on my way to fetch her now."

The young woman gasped. "The Lady Eithna Wensellas?"

With a huge grin, the second man nodded. "The one and only; the young healer that rescued the liege High Lord after he was poisoned. If anyone can save a dying man, it is she!"

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Chapters Begin (to be numbered later)

She didn't know how she came to be there. She last remembered waking in the night, startled by something she couldn't recall. There had been no light. A rush and a confusing tangle of blankets as a rough hand had clamped over her mouth. A bittersweet smell as a cloth was pressed to her face, and then blackness. And now she woke -- at least she thought she was awake -- in blackness again, with something that tasted foul stuffed in her mouth and a pounding in her head that made her feel ill.

She wondered vaguely if she were dead. Just as quickly as the thought occurred, another one registered. She couldn't be dead. Death would be more pleasant than this. Her body ached and her shoulders hurt. She tried to move, and found that her wrists were held snugly behind her back. They must have been tied, because she couldn't bring them forward. She tried to move her feet and found them bound, as well.

Finally, after briefly struggling at the knots, knowing it was futile and yet needing to try, she sagged against whatever it was that she was propped against. She blinked her eyes blindly, trying to sense some sort of light or shadow or movement. Nothing. She turned her head from side to side, and by the feel of cloth brushing against her tender skin, she figured that she had something over her head.

"Ho now, it seems our li'l lady Eithna is awake, lads."

The voice came from right above her, and startled her into stillness; the man that the voice belonged to sounded big.

"Wots wrong, dearie? Cat got yer tongue?" Coarse laughter followed this remark, and she stiffened as she realized that there were many men out beyond the blackness.

"Don't worry, lass, we got our orders not ta harm you, an' we're bein' paid well enough t'be sure that we follow those orders. So just settle down quietly, and you'll be fine. At least, until you leave our company, you will be. And don't be thinkin' to give us no trouble now, 'cause we won't be puttin' up with any sort of ruckus. There's enough trouble brewin' in this wood fer us not to need more from you."

She sagged against her support, weary beyond comprehension. His words intruded on her misery, then, and she wondered what sort of trouble "brewed" in these woods. She tried to organize her thoughts, and wondered if she could be in greater peril than she first imagined. Although it was difficult to comprehend being in more trouble than this, especially after the rather sheltered life she knew she'd led.

Her father was a good man, if a bit overprotective. She knew that as his only child, that was to be expected. And she wondered now if aught knew of her disappearance from her father's keep and from her own warm bed that had seemed so safe before. Sounds began to intrude on her thoughts, then, and she strained to listen to the voices about her.

"Ah mean it, lads, he's here, an' he'll show ‘is face 'fore long. You know it as well as meself."

"Now lissen, Bor, we got to trust our master. Ye know we haven't got a choice. 'Sides, he's too busy raisin' havoc in Burloc to bugger wit us."

"Who you guys talkin' 'bout?"

The one addressed as Bor sounded surprised. "Ya mean you don't know, Dal?"

Dal sounded as confused as Eithna felt. "Know wot?"

"You don't know about Veyga?"

"Who is Veyga?"

Another man piped up. "Veyga is the most heartless, cruel thing to walk this world. He is the worst of criminals, stopping at nothing to get his way. He is as large as a bear, as fierce as a cougar, as mean as a badger, and as stout as an oak. Nothing can bring him down. Nothing ever will. He has roamed these parts for scores of summers now, maybe decades, maybe even a full century. He is ageless and, like I said, nothing will ever stop the destruction he seems to thrive upon. He is evil itself."

Bor interrupted. "Louk’s right. An’ I hear that ‘is lust for all women is ever unsated. He can go through a whole town of women and rape ‘em, one by one, and still he wants more."

Louk spoke up again. "It is said that Veyga was born of ten men, and that he killed his mother with his own birth cord as he was born. He was raised among savages and animals, and he grew up learning to fight with no honor. He can kill a man with a single look."

Dal sputtered. "But -- but wot does 'e look like?"

"No one is really sure, for he shifts his form very easily. But one thing always stays the same- he has only one eye. He gouged the other one out in a deal with demons to see all that went on about him."

"Should we be worried 'bout 'im? Are we doin' somethin' wrong?"

"We are passing through Veyga's territory. He is very protective of it; everyone knows that. We could easily have used an extra day and gone around. But our esteemed leader would not hear of it. It will be on his soul if we are attacked. Many men have entered Veyga's wood and not come back out, alive or otherwise. And no bodies have ever been found."

Bor sounded absolutely certain. "'Tis true, I tell ya."

Louk agreed. "It is indeed true. And watch, and listen, with all the power you have. For if Veyga does indeed attack, then you will not live to see another day. And with such pretty bait, how could Veyga resist?"

Eithna heard the men discussing her as if she was bait, and she felt that the men were telling the truth by the conviction in their tone. How could such a beast of a man exist? She wondered, is Veyga even a man, or is he a demon come to haunt? She shuddered, not even able to imagine what could happen to her at the hands of such a beast. She could not comprehend anyone or anything wanting to do such harm to another living being. Of course, her youth, and her skills as a healer and herbalist had something to do with that. But then again, she was here, and although she didn't truly seem to be in any danger at this moment, anything could happen. In all of her ten and seven summers, she doubted she had ever been as scared.

She worried over these thoughts a few moments more, listening to the rumors going on around her about this cruel fiend, Veyga. Then her exhaustion caught up with her, and she fell into an unwilling sleep. Her dreams were filled with demons missing one eye.

She was startled awake a few hours later to the sound of horses screaming in fear and men yelling. Eithna sat as still as she could, straining her ears, trying to sort out the chaos. Men raced by her, as well as fear-crazed horses, and she heard the name Veyga more than once. Pressing herself tightly against the support behind her, her heart leaping into her throat, she said a prayer that she might be able to live to see her father again. Being in the hands of these men certainly seemed a better fate than being captured by this Veyga.

She thought of trying to get away somewhere else, but images of fleeing into the arms of a huge man missing one eye and breathing fire frightened her enough that she simply huddled against the support at her back and held her breath. She waited to hear something that would tell her what was happening.

Someone grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet, and she screamed around the rag in her mouth, her mind's eye seeing the man from her nightmares. A voice near her ear eased her. "It’s only poor Louk, milady. I'll not harm you. Come, we must flee this madness before someone gets hurt."

She recognized his voice. This was the man who had known so very much about the demon that Veyga was. She nodded frantically, wanting to get away from the frenzy that raged about the camp. She felt a cool blade against her ankles, and then the ropes that had bound her feet and wrists were gone. The covering over her head disappeared, too, and she spit out the rag and breathed deep gulps of smoky air as she narrowed her eyes against the darkness. Fiery ashes floated on the air from where horses had trampled through campfires and the thick canopy of trees prevented the smoke from leaving the rough campsite spread around them, so all was hazy as Louk pulled her along, stumbling, behind him. She clung to his hand with every ounce of her being, not willing to be left behind. She dragged in huge breaths of air as her lungs labored to supply air to her frightened brain.

Reaching the edge of the camp, they plunged into the thick trees and out of the smoke. Eithna couldn't see much with the forest passing by in such a blur, and she didn't know where they were, anyway, so she trusted her grip on Louk's hand to keep her from getting lost. Several times she tripped over roots, unavoidable in the darkness, and branches tore at her hair and nightdress.

Finally, after what seemed like eons of running, Louk slowed, and then finally trotted to a stop. He let go of her hand, and she gasped, not wanting him to leave her. But he only put two fingers to his lips and whistled. Then he turned her way and in the darkness all she saw was the white of his teeth as he smiled. She tried to peer around through the darkness, but not enough light cut through the trees overhead to tell her anything.

"What are we-"

"Sh, milady, wait and see." He took her hand again as another whistle came through the darkness, and led her deeper into the forest. She shrugged and concentrated on avoiding branches and roots. What else could she do but trust him? He led her around an enormous tree and abruptly bright light flared in her face and she flung up an arm, startled.

A gruff voice greeted them. "So, Louk, you managed it well enough, I see."

Her guide laughed lightly. "Aye, that I did, Mik. That I did. She's right and tight and ready to help."

A chill ran down Eithna's spine as she realized that they were speaking of her. She peered out from behind her arm and squinted against the light as she tried to see who the other man was. He was big and dark and burly, with a full beard and a wide scar running down his face. The way he held the light, though, only one side of his face was lit. The other was deep in shadows. She felt his gaze on her, and another tremor went through her. She turned confused green eyes to Louk, whom she had yet to see clearly at all. "Help? I don't understand, what is going on?"

"I have taken you from the men who captured you, and I have brought you to Veyga." He seemed pleased with himself.

Eithna's wide eyes traveled from Louk to the man from her nightmares, and she promptly passed out.

Eithna's head was pounding as she came to a little later. She heard faint voices as she tried to awaken fully. Louk was talking with someone else, someone with a deep, gruff voice. Images of giants flashed into her head.

"Louk, you little fool, why did you go and do that? I believe your little thing here thought I was the very man she fears the most."

Louk laughed. "Wait until she meets him, she won't know what to think at all!"

"And what exactly does she believe now, Louk? What makes you think that he will even see her?"

"She believes all the silly stories that everyone else believes, and I think that when he hears that we have the daughter of Wensellas, taken away from her captors, he will most certainly want to see her! What think you?"

Eithna felt a soft swaying movement, and strong solids supports beneath her shoulders and legs. She curled her fingers, feeling soft cloth covering hard, warm muscle. The deep voice rumbled beneath her ear. She must be in the arms of the man that possessed that voice. How did these men know so much about her? She opened her eyes and gazed up at the man that held her. He was gruff looking, with an ugly scar that traveled from his brow, over his left cheekbone, and into a thick beard that covered the lower half of his face. His eyes were cool, the color of a winter moon. His voice rumbled in his huge chest again. "This little thing is the daughter of Wensellas? Are you certain?"

"Very much so! I joined her bunch of captors when I overheard their plans, and I was even one of the men to go with the group that snatched her from her bed!"

A dark scowl crossed the big man's features, and she shivered as she imagined that anger directed towards her. "And you let them take her from the safety of her home?"

Louk sounded hurt. "They treated her very well, I made sure of it! Besides, I knew how much she was needed in Veyga's camp."

"He'll kill you for this."

"He will not."

"He will." The big man's voice was a deep growl at this point. Eithna wondered how she could feel so safe in the arms of a man so angry.

"Will not. Watch and see."

Eithna turned her head to see Louk dash ahead, carrying the torch with him. She felt eyes on her, and turned to meet that cool gaze through the shadows. He was peering closely at her, and he smiled softly when he saw that she was awake. She knew she must look a sight, with her strawberry blond hair all mussed in a wild tangle. He sighed deeply and her head lifted and fell against the broad chest. "I wonder, and not for the first time, whether Louk is all right in the head. When we sent him to find a healer that would be discreet, this wasn't what we had in mind. Wensellas will be furious!" He glanced up, and she followed his gaze to see the form that must be Louk loping ahead of them. The big man sighed again. "Louk, we ought to send Wensellas a message telling him not to worry, that his daughter is safe."

Louk glanced over his shoulder and just laughed. "And what do you think that'll do? He won't believe that she is safe until she is back in her frilly little bed in his manor."

Eithna nodded mutely, knowing that Louk was right. She looked up at the big man again as he spoke. "Well, then, we need to be done with this as soon as possible so that we can return her to where she belongs. Who wanted her taken by that foul group in the first place?"

She listened intently now, and looked towards Louk.

"I never was able to figure that out." Louk paused now in his lively step and cast an odd look in their direction. "Every man seemed to wonder the same thing. That worries me, and makes me very, very curious." He shrugged and continued on, heading straight for what looked like a solid wall of greenery. He whistled again, and another whistle came back before a gate opened in the center of the wall. The big man carried her into what must be Veyga's secret camp. Torches lit the entire area, and she was amazed, since from outside the wall, she had seen no light to brighten the dark woods other than the torch that Louk carried.

Many people busy at one task or another greeted them. Curious gazes rested on Eithna where she was still clasped by thick able arms, but no one stopped what they were doing. Then a woman with a long auburn braid approached them. She had dark circles under her eyes, and smelled of the herbs that a healer uses. "Is this the healer? Please take her straight to the tent."

The big man’s brow creased. "How is the boy?"

She shook her head. "Not well, I'm afraid. I'm surprised that he's held on this long. He’s beyond consciousness now, and cannot be woken."

The big man nodded, his face solemn, and followed her to a large canvas tent that was lit from within by a fire which cast strange shadows on the walls. A thin line of smoke trickled steadily from a hole in the top of the tent. The woman held the door flap open, and the big man ducked into the tent, pausing just inside. Eithna squinted to let her eyes adjust to the dim interior. Her breath caught when she saw the pitiful figure on the cot that had been set up to one side. She was sweating from the stifling heat, but did not even notice as agony tore through her at the sight of the pale young man who lay so ill.

The big man looked down at her. "Your services are sorely needed, lady."

Eithna squirmed. "Put me down." He did so carefully, and she rushed to the side of the boy and pressed a hand to his brow, bone dry in spite of the heat within the tent. "What happened to him? How long has he been like this? Do you have any herbs that I can work with? I'll need an assistant, someone to do everything I don't have time for. Can you arrange that?”

The big man laughed a bit at all of her questions, although there was no humor in his voice. When she glared at him over her shoulder before turning back to the boy to check his pulse, he only shook his head. "No one is quite sure what happened. He returned from a hunting trip like this, stumbling into camp. No one knows how long he'd been ill before that, but it's been nearly a fortnight now since he returned. I can send you an assistant, and with her I'll send every herb we can rummage up. If you can make him well, lady, we will be in the utmost debt to you."

"If I can make him well, then all I ask is that you protect me from Veyga and any other miscreants that mean me harm as you return me to my father." She turned to face him, hands on her hips.

His eyes gleamed briefly, and then he merely nodded and made her a little bow before he backed out of the tent. "At your service, lady. All will be as you ask. My name, by the way, is Mik."

Eithna did not spare the big man another thought as she went to work. When a young girl appeared at her side awhile later with several pouches containing various herbs, she set the child to work crushing and mixing several ingredients. She requested a bowl and hot water from Mik, and added the herbs when the girl was done. Then put her hand behind the young man's head and tipped the bowl to his lips. She carefully forced the potion into him, and then set back and simply stared at him for a moment.

He was a good-looking youth, maybe eighteen or nineteen summers, with a strong tan beneath his pallor. His features were even, and she knew that many a young girl must fall at his feet. Even her own heart fluttered in her chest, and she reached out a hand to stroke his long golden hair away from his face. His eyes were closed in what she knew to be a dangerous sleep, but he looked peaceful and handsome. His skin was so hot to the touch, though! She hoped that the potion she'd given him would do the job it was meant to do, and lower the fever.

Eithna put a hand on the edge of the blanket that covered him to his neck. She took a deep breath and chastised herself over her nervousness. "He is only a patient, Eithna."

The girl that was busy crushing more herbs gave her a strange look, and then looked back down to the bowl she was working with. Eithna lowered the blanket down to the youth's waist, almost afraid to go further. His chest was well muscled, showing promise of the great strength he would have when he was older, and the taut skin was strewn with several scars of various sizes. One caught her eye, since it was almost perfectly round. It was just below his left breast, and she wondered how it could have happened. His whole body must tell a story, she thought. Then she saw the cloth pressed to his side, and she saw also that it was soaked through with blood. She jumped to her feet and sent her assistant to fetch the big man, Mik. She was horrified that she had been so distracted by his admirable physique. When Mik arrived, she gave him her instructions. "I want clean cloth to make a fresh bandage, and I mean that I really want it clean! I will also need some other cloths to clean the wound, and please bring me a needle and some thread in case I need to do any stitching. And a knife."

He frowned at her, but turned to follow her orders. After all, she was the healer, and surely she knew best.

Eithna returned to the boy's side and pulled the soiled cloth gently away from the left side of his chest. She winced when she saw the livid wound, and by the color of it, she knew that it had become infected. She would have to clean it well, and then most likely she'd have to cauterize it. Thankfully the boy was beyond waking at the moment, for it would be very painful.

Mik returned, and he handed her the items she had requested. She handed the knife back to him. "Please place this in the coals of the fire to cleanse it."

"You aren't going to cut him!" Mik's face revealed his fear at this suggestion.

"No, now will you please do what I asked you? We need to do this quickly."

Mik did as she'd asked, but when she'd cleaned the wound the best she could and asked for the knife, he hesitated. She glared at him. "Please! Do you want him healed or not? If I do not cleanse and close this wound, he will surely perish. I know what I'm doing, all right?" When Mik did not give in, her face softened and she relented a bit. "I do know what I am doing, sir. I have done it before, and if there were any other option, I would surely take it. Please, trust me."

Mik shrugged and wrapped a cloth around the handle of the knife before pulling it from the fire and carefully placing the red-hot blade in her hand. "What other choice have I?"

"That is true. Now, please, hold his shoulders. No matter how deep down he is he will still feel this." And she pressed the length of the blade to the wound.

She was right, he did feel it. The young man's back arched and he screamed in agony. The smell of burning flesh was stronger than the smell of sickness. Eithna took it all in stride, though, and when she pulled the knife away from the wound, she quickly and efficiently smeared a paste onto it that she'd made from some of the herbs, and then with Mik's help, she wrapped a bandage about his torso. He settled quickly back down into a deep sleep, which she knew to be a bad sign. She sat back on her heels and pushed a sweaty swath of hair away from her face. Mik looked at her strangely, looking a little queasy. "Now what?"

Eithna sighed deeply. "Now all that we can do is wait. I would like to bathe him though, in cool water so that I can try to bring the fever down some."

"I'll have a tub and the water brought in. Is there anything else you need?"

She shook her head, weary. "Not at the moment. I just need to watch him closely to see if there are any changes. Between the cool water and the potion I’ll continue to feed him, the only other thing we can do is hope."

Mik got up and left, returning some time later with a few men bearing a large wooden tub. With their help, she was able to get the youth into the tub, and the men made several more trips hauling buckets of cold water. Then she was left alone with him.

Eithna carefully cleaned his body. She'd been relieved to find that he wore a thin loincloth, and also to find that she'd be left alone with her embarrassment. She knew that as a healer she should be immune to such things, but as a lady she couldn't help it. Sometime later Mik returned with two more men and they carefully lifted the boy from the water and dried his body before returning him to the cot that had been made with fresh linens. Eithna saw the reverence that the men treated the boy with, and wondered at it. Then Mik turned to her.

"Lady, I took the liberty of ordering you a hot bath. Also, a meal is being prepared for you. I thought that you'd wish to bathe and take your food here so that you would not have to leave your patient. You needn't worry about him waking, I think."

She took a deep breath, and nodded. "That all sounds so perfect right now. Thank you, sir."

"Please, call me Mik."

She nodded. "All right, and you may call me Eithna." She glanced towards her patient, out of whom not a peep had been heard since his wound had been treated. "And is there a name I might refer to him as?"

Mik seemed to hesitate, and then he sighed. "That is actually up to him. Here now, here is your bath water."

Several men had emptied the big tub, and now they carried it back into the tent, followed by more men bearing buckets of steaming water. They prepared the bath for her, and then left her in peace to enjoy it. She glanced once at her patient with curiosity, then stripped down to her shift and slowly stepped into the water. The tub, which had seemed cramped and tiny with the young man in it, was nearly large enough for her to completely submerge. She relaxed for a few moments, letting the hot water ease away some of her tension, and then she scrubbed her body until her skin glowed pink again. She had been left a chunk of soap and a soft-looking linen towel, and she made good use of both of these. She stood before the fire a little while later, wrapped in the towel, and wrung water out of her hair into a bucket. She felt so much better! She looked at her nightdress lying on a stool nearby with distaste. It was absolutely filthy, and she didn't relish the idea of putting it back on.

A soft feminine voice hailed her just then from outside the tent. "Lady, I have something else for you, may I enter?"

"Of course, please do." Eithna turned to face the tent doorway, and her young assistant entered cautiously, with her arms full of clothing. "These were sent to you, by the women of the camp. They felt that you would want them after your bath. They will be yours to use while you are here."

Eithna gratefully took the clothing from the girl's arms and began to sort through it. "Tell them that I thank them most sincerely. Your name is Danah?"

The girl nodded shyly. "Yes, lady."

"Danah, can you fetch Mik for me, and ask him to join me here in one candlemark?"

"Certainly, lady." Danah scurried out of the tent, leaving Eithna to dress.

Eithna ran a hand over a worn velvet dress, seeing its once-fine quality. The women of this camp must have searched hard for something they felt she would accept. But Eithna had never been one of those ladies that refused to wear anything simple, and she snatched up a well-made linen dress, made like a long tunic with a belt, and slipped it on over her barely damp shift before going to work on her hair.

She had found a worn brush and a couple of limp ribbons in the pile, and she carefully set to removing each and every tangle from her wealth of hair. At this very moment she felt it was a curse, and she was tempted to cut it off, but she knew that her father loved her hair thus, and so she left it. When Mik entered the tent a candlemark later, she was just tying off a thick braid with one of the ribbons. She pulled on a worn pair of slippers culled from the pile and stood, putting her hands on her hips.

"You wanted to see me, lady?"

"Indeed, Mik, I did. I have several requests to make, and I am not certain how you will take them." She raised her chin into a determined angle.

Mik sighed. "Go on, lady."

"Well, Mik, first of all, I would like a quill, some ink and a piece of parchment so that I might scratch out a note to my father, and then I would like for you to send it to him, so that he might worry a little less while I am here. Next, I would like another cot set up in here, if that is possible, so that I won't have to leave his side. At least until he is out of the critical stage, of course. I would also like you to let the women who provided this clothing know that I am very grateful. I hope that I can repay them somehow."

Mik's eyes had lit up while she spoke, and they practically gleamed now. "Yes, lady, I can do all of those things. And if you can make him well again, then that will certainly be payment enough." He chuckled. "I must say, those were not the types of requests I was expecting."

She nodded and sank back onto her stool with a weary grimace. "It has been a long day, Mik."

"Indeed, I am sure that it has, lady. Let me have your meal sent now, and while you eat one of the men will set up that cot. Is there aught else you require?"

"No Mik that is more than enough."

"All right then, lady, I will make sure that you have all that you want. And if anything else comes to mind, simply send for me."

She nodded. "I will, Mik."

He left, and a little while later, a few women asked entrance. They carried a platter of food and a stack of clean blankets. Eithna asked if they were the ones that sent the clothes. The woman that had met them when Eithna had first been brought into the camp nodded. She was several summers older than Eithna, with a long auburn braid hanging over her shoulder. "We were a few, lady. Everyone is pitching in to make your stay more comfortable."

This surprised Eithna. "How many people live here?"

"Oh, at least four score by now, I imagine. Probably more. All of us have come to Veyga seeking work or protection, and he is the only one that has cared enough to provide it. All of us were so poor that we could not even afford to put a roof over our heads, but the nobility doesn't care about us." She flushed. "Er, pardon, lady-"

"No matter, it is usually true. Even I cannot deny that." Eithna shrugged.

The woman hesitated only a moment more before continuing. "Well, as I said, lady, Veyga has been our savior. Without him, most of us would not even be alive. No one else has cared enough about our welfare to do aught."

That didn't match what Eithna had heard about him, but these people did look clean and healthy, which was remarkable considering that there were no towns nearby. Another thing had been bothering her about these people, and she finally put her finger on it. "Your language!"

The woman was startled. "I-. Pardon, lady?"

"Your language! All of you, it is so good! How do you come to speak so well?"

The woman flushed and raised her chin with pride. "Veyga insists that everyone that comes to him for help is taught the basics that a noble child learns. We can all count, and some of us can even write out more than our names. We have a tutor that came to us from some town in the south, and since each of us earns our keep with work, that is how he works, by teaching us. The teacher also earns his keep by telling tales, and he has already started a new tale about the beautiful woman who saved our-"

One of the other women elbowed her. "The tale will be written if you can save him, lady. Only if."

Eithna frowned. "I need no tales written about me. And I will try my hardest to save him, but not because of that. Because he is a human in need, I will try."

The woman with the red braid moved to stand at the youth's side and laid a hand on his cheek. "Already he feels a little cooler, lady. I hear that you are the daughter of Wensellas."

Eithna nodded. "I am."

"Tales of your skills as a healer have reached us even here in the woods. If anyone can save him, you can. He is very important to us, lady."

"I will try my hardest, I assure you. I cannot promise more, though, I am afraid. He is very bad off. If I had been brought here sooner-"

"Veyga would not allow anyone to go after you. None of us felt that you would come willingly with us, and he refused to let anyone take you by force."

Eithna felt a little chill at his name. "Then he knows that I am here?"

"Well, no, not exactly. But he will, and he will be grateful." The woman looked away from the youth and met Eithna's gaze straight on. "None of us knew that you would be so friendly to us, lady. It is most unexpected. All of the nobility that any of us have known has acted high above our stations. That you even speak with us is amazing enough."

"Unfortunately, I cannot deny how most of the nobility acts, even in my father's house. But I see no reason why an accident of birth should make me any better than any of you."

The woman smiled then. "I feel the same way, lady. But come, your food is growing cool and we still have work ahead of us before we sleep. Enjoy your night, lady, and good luck."

Eithna thanked her and set to eating when they'd left. Mik came in awhile later bearing another cot, and he made up a bed for her as she ate. Afterwards she fell into it gratefully, only waking momentarily when Mik came back later to tend the fire. She stayed silent, not wanting to intrude as he stood at the young man's side for a long span of moments, and then sighed deeply and left them both in peace.

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Eithna woke slowly, and stretched languidly. It felt good just to sleep. Over the past two days she'd gotten little rest, with the young man's fever rising into dangerous levels. She had been tending him night and day, and last night, just when she was close to losing hope of lowering it, the fever had broken.

Eithna stretched again and rolled over to her other side to look at her patient. He slept peacefully now, and it wasn't the sleep of death that he had been sleeping when she had arrived. It was a healing sleep, and she knew instinctively that he was well on the road to recovery. She sighed in satisfaction and climbed off of her cot to start her day. She unbraided and brushed her hair and then tied it back. She washed with a basin and cloth then changed into a clean shift and dress.

Eithna ate a small meal that was brought to her when someone realized that she was awake, and then she set to cleaning her patient with cool water and a clean rag. She bathed his face first, and then slowly moved down to his chest. Her hands enjoyed the feel of his smooth, hard skin beneath her touch. His muscles, even slack in sleep, were firm and strong. She knew that this was no youth to take lightly. She began the slow careful process of shaving the golden stubble from his cheeks and chin, having taken this chore from the young lady with the red braid, whose name was Kayli. She patted his face dry and laid a palm against the smooth, damp flesh of his cheek. His pale, honey-blond hair, which had been a filthy mess when she’d arrived, was long, probably nearly to his waist when he wore it loose, twisted now into a simple braid that lay coiled beside his head.

Eithna studied his face, wondering about him. With sculpted lips and a sharp nose, a firm chin with just the hint of a cleft, high cheekbones and fine blond brows, he was surely handsome. She caught herself daydreaming about him yet again and flushed guiltily, even though there was no one there to catch her. She had felt even worse when she'd woken from a dream the night previous. In it, she had been held in his strong arms and kissed by his firm lips. He was her patient! Not to mention the fact that he'd been on the brink of death itself!

A small moan sounded from the youth, and she placed the back of her hand to his forehead. His eyelids fluttered and he turned his face away from her, toward the wall of the tent. He moaned again, and then coughed weakly, one arm lifting to wrap about his chest where the bandage was wound. Eithna sat back and took a deep breath. "Well, I guess that you'll live, after all. You know, I had my doubts."

He stilled, and then the eye that she could see opened. She stared at him, wondering what he would do. He spoke then, his voice raspy from disuse. "Who are you?"

"My name is Eithna Wensellas. I was brought here to save you. But as I said, I had my doubts whether I would be successful or not."

"Where's Mik?" The eye slid closed in exhaustion, and she stood.

"Give me a moment to fetch him." She went to the tent flap and called for the big man. He came immediately.

"How is he?"

She smiled. "His fever broke last night, and he is awake. He's asking for you."

Mik hesitated. "May I speak to him alone?"

"Yes, but please, do not let him wear himself out. He is still very weak, and he could put himself back into another fever if he is not careful. It will be a few days still until he is completely away from danger."

Mik nodded and ducked into the tent. Eithna wandered a little ways off to Kayli, whom she'd befriended, of a sort. She looked very relieved to hear Eithna's news, wiping her eyes and throwing her arms around Eithna. "Thank you, lady. You have no idea what this means to us all."

"It is no trouble, Kayli. He was ill, I am a healer, and it was my job to make him well. So far, I am succeeding. But remember that he is not out of danger yet. It still remains to be seen if he will live."

"Oh, he will, I know it. He is such a stubborn young man. Again, thank you." She drew back and put a hand to Eithna's cheek. "We owe you our own lives. Without him, we are nothing."

Eithna nodded and pulled away from Kayli, confused. "It's my job, as I said." Mik called for her then, and she hurried to the tent. "How is he?"

Mik hesitated then smiled broadly. "Doing well. Thank you, lady." He paused then, and glanced oddly at her. "One thing, lady. I have given him something that you should be prepared to see. When he was a child, something happened to one of his eyes. He covers it with a patch to hide it. I have given him his patch, and he rarely goes without it. If it hadn't been for his fever, he would have had it on already when you arrived. He is very irate that it was taken off. Do not attempt to remove it, and try not to mention it in front of him. He is very self-conscious about it."

Eithna nodded, a little surprised, but she took it all in stride. "I can do that, Mik. Now, I must see to him. Will you have some of Kayli's delicious broth sent over? I want to try to get him to eat while he is awake. Other than the teas I have been forcing into him, he hasn't had a thing. It will do him good to get some sustenance."

Mik's smile was bright, and his fearsome scar was made even more fearsome by it. Eithna had long grown used to the scar, and she barely noticed it now. He nodded to her. "I can do that, lady. Now go, he would like to speak with you."

Eithna entered the tent and went to the side of the young man's cot. He lay with his arm over his eyes, and she could see across the top of his head the black strap that must hold the patch in place. She knelt at his side. "How are you feeling?"

He jumped a bit, startled, and lowered his arm. He turned his head to stare at her silently. She saw that the black patch hid his right eye, and that the left eye was the color of an old silver coin. His gaze was fiery, though. "You are Wensellas’ daughter?"

"I told you that I was Eithna Wensellas."

He only stared at her. A few long moments later he nodded. "Indeed you did. Were you brought here by force, Eithna Wensellas?"

She chuckled wryly. "Not exactly. Some men that meant me ill had taken me, and then I was taken from them by one of the men from this camp and brought here. So I suppose that I was rescued from one situation and brought into another. I must say that this situation has been far more pleasant, especially since you are doing better."

He was silent again, just staring. She shifted nervously. "Is there something wrong with the way I look?"

"Not at all, Eithna Wensellas. I am wondering how I had never before known how lovely you were."

She flushed. "My healing skills are what are praised. I am not known for being lovely."

He closed his eye, nodding again. "Your healing skills should certainly be praised."

She looked up when Mik entered bearing a bowl of the fragrant broth she'd requested. She stood and took it from him, returning to the youth's side and kneeling down again. Mik left quietly. "I'd like for you to try to drink some of this."

He opened his eye and looked at the bowl. "What is it?"

"Broth that Kayli made. You haven't eaten in days at least. If you wish to recover your strength, then you must eat it."

He sighed and began to sit up. She moved to help him, but the youth waved her off feebly. "I can do it. I'm not a babe."

Eithna pursed her lips. "But you are weak as one. After that fever-"

"I am fine." He finished sitting up and reached for the bowl. Eithna stubbornly refused to hand it over.

"Now you just listen here. You may think that you are well again, but let me tell you that you are not. If you push yourself too hard, then you will end up right back where you started. I am not going to nurse you back to this point again if I can help it. You are going to accept some kind of assistance, even if it is only so that I can get back home sooner. Do you understand that?"

His beautiful lips twisted, and she felt her heart catch in her throat. When he swung his legs off of the cot and pushed the blanket down to his lap, he faced her fully. She saw that although he had been handsome lying on the cot, he was stunning off of it. He was made so perfectly! And the patch that covered his single flaw only added to the image of masculinity that he practically oozed. He fastened that one good eye on her, and if he could kill her with a look, he would have done it with the one he was giving her. "Give me the bowl."

Eithna huffed. "Well! Fine then!" She handed it to him, carefully avoiding contact with his skin. He noticed that, and simply glared darker at her. He raised the bowl to his lips.

Eithna stood and stalked over to the fire to stoke it higher as he sipped the broth. When she heard a slight thump, she turned to face him again. He was slumped against the wall of the tent, the bowl upside down on the floor with a spreading puddle beneath it. She smiled grimly. "Well? Now would you like some help?"

He simply glared at her. "I do not enjoy being this helpless."

“Yes, I can see that.” She went to the door of the tent to call for another bowl of broth then turned back to him. "Don't think of yourself as helpless. The best way you can help yourself, though, is to rest and regain your strength. That is going to take several days, at the very least." She took the bowl that Kayli brought, and wondered briefly at the submissive attitude that the normally fiery girl suddenly showed. She shrugged it off and walked to the young man's side. She put a hand on the back of his neck and lifted his head so that he could drink. When he was finished, she helped him to lie back down.

Eithna turned away to mix a potion to help him sleep, but she could feel his gaze burning her back. He suddenly grumbled and shifted onto his side away from her. "I don't like being in this condition. Who will protect the people if someone attacks?"

She laughed at his egotistical remark. "Why, I imagine the legendary Veyga can do that."

He rolled back to face her, startled. Then his one good eye narrowed into a stormy gray slit. "What do you know of Veyga, Lady Wensellas?"

She shuddered delicately. "Only that he is huge and ruthless and merciless. And yet…." She paused, and her look was thoughtful. "And yet I have also heard that he is compassionate and caring." She shrugged. "I suppose that I cannot know unless I was to meet him, and that seems very unlikely."

She turned to face him when he began to laugh feebly, feeling that his humor was at her expense. "Why, whatever is so funny?"

He only held up a hand weakly, clutching the other hand to his bandage. "Lady, I am afraid that someone has enjoyed a joke on you."

"What do you mean? I don't understand." She blinked in confusion.

The young man finally gained control of his laughter and slowly pushed himself up, bracing himself on the edge of the cot. "No, I guess that you do not. Lady, you have already met the infamous Veyga."

"I -- I have? But I should think that I'd remember meeting him…." She gazed down at her boots, sifting through her mind, picturing each of the few men that she had met here in the camp.

"Yes, I should think you would. Lady, you have been nursing the very one of whom you speak."

Her gaze flew to his face, and she saw that all trace of humor was gone now. "You mean that- Surely you must jest."

"Nay, lady, I do not jest." He shook his head slowly, his one good eye never wavering from her stare.

"You are Veyga? You are the cruel merciless man of whom I have heard? How can that be?"

"You told me yourself that you have heard differing stories. Which tales will you believe?"

"Why, I don't really know. But this camp-. These people-. I just don't understand." She sat down hard on a stool, and put her head in her hands. "I don't know what to believe. That such a beautiful looking person could be so cruel is just unfathomable."

A slight flush crept up his neck. "Well, I'm afraid that some of the stories that have been circulating of late are hardly true."

She nodded numbly. "I should think so!" Then she blushed darkly as she remembered the erotic dreams that had plagued her at night. Of all the men to have such fantasies about! Eithna suddenly set down the pot she was holding and surged from the tent, leaving the object of her confusion behind her. She ignored the concerned stares of the camp members and ran, needing the activity to clear her muddled thoughts. She didn't know what to think anymore.

Veyga sighed and put his hands over his face. Even in the flesh he frightened people. Even when they were faced with the reality that he was not the monster people believed him to be, he was intimidating. He did not mean to be, and he did not try to be. He let his arms fall to his sides and he stared up at the soot-layered ceiling of his tent. A scratching on the door alerted him before Mik entered, and he turned his face to the side to watch the big, scarred man. "What is it about me that is so very frightening, Mik?"

Mik gathered up the bowls from the broth and set them aside, easily perching his bulk on the edge of Eithna's cot. "I don't know, honestly."

A tone in his voice caught Veyga's attention, and the youth's eye narrowed and fastened on Mik in an intent gaze. "Do I frighten you, Mik?"

The man shifted a bit, but met that disturbing gaze. "Sometimes you do. Maybe I should say that you intimidate me at times. You can be a sinister-seeming figure, Veyga. You cannot help it. And yet your heart is as soft as down when needed."

Veyga snorted rudely. "So I have a sinister face and a heart of down? What a combination."

"You misunderstand me." Mik's voice was quiet, but Veyga heard him clearly nonetheless. "You do not see yourself as we do. You are the savior of each person living in this camp, Veyga. That gives you incredible power, whether you admit it or not."

He threw his arms out, as if to motion to the world. "But why, Mik? Why do I have this power when I do not want it?"

Mik sighed and turned to leave. "You just don't understand, Veyga."

The young man held out a hand. "Wait, Mik." He sighed deeply when the older man stopped. "You're right, I don't understand. I'm sorry. I'm frustrated, and I didn't mean to take it out on you."

Mik nodded curtly, and then ducked from the tent. Veyga went limp on the cot, weak and hating it. But he was tired as well, and when sleep surged up to claim him, he relinquished himself to it.

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It was dark outside when Eithna finally returned to the tent. She stood just inside the doorway holding a lantern high to light her way to her cot, but she found her footsteps leading to the second cot instead. In his sleep he looked so vulnerable, even with the black eye patch. She swallowed hard, and could not resist brushing a stray lock of soft golden hair from his forehead. He sighed quietly and turned his face towards her hand. She brushed his cheek lightly with her fingertips. Veyga or no, she feared that she was attracted to this noble young man.

Eithna shook her head and turned away to seek her own slumber. Again, his lean form and his shining silver eye haunted her dreams. She woke early and began to pace. When she felt a heavy gaze on her, she turned and met Veyga's somber stare. "Good morning. How are you feeling?"

He shrugged, and then winced. "Not as well as I was hoping. And you?" His gaze was intense, as if he would search her soul.

She shook her head. "I feel as if I have stepped off a cliff into another world, another reality. Or maybe as if-" She stared back into the low-burning embers of last night's fire. "Could it be that I was never truly kidnapped? Could it be that I am still at home safe in my bed?"

Veyga only watched her, silent. His good eye gleamed briefly before he closed it with a look of resignation. When she faltered, he looked up and held a hand out to her. "Come, Lady Wensellas, and sit. I am afraid that events are getting a little out of hand for you."

Eithna stared at his hand as if it were a snake. But then some semblance of sanity seemed to seep into her, and she sat down on the stool beside his cot. Being this close to him was doing strange things to her insides. She suddenly met his sober gaze. "Will you return me safely to my father when you are well?"

"Certes, lady. You can leave with a full escort at dawn."

The healer within her surfaced, and she snorted indelicately. "I think not. You are nowhere near being well enough for me to leave- legends or no legends. It will be at least several days before the plan can even be considered. However, I will accept your word as your vow."

He only watched her silently as she lifted the edge of his bandage to check the wound. She was satisfied with how swiftly he was healing. "You are quite lucky. This could have been much, much worse. It will leave quite a nasty scar, however."

He closed his eye again. "Scars don't bother me. As I am sure you have seen I already have a few."

Her gaze traveled up his chest. "Indeed. Dare I ask how this particular wound occurred?"

He turned his head away, eye still closed. "Stupidity. I was hunting, and I found the tracks of a wild boar. Rather than coming back here to get help, I decided to track it down myself. Let's simply say that the boar found me instead of me finding it."

Eithna sighed. "Well at least I know I'm not the only one you don't want help from."

Veyga winced and turned to look up at her. "I deserve that, I suppose."

She had a difficult time meeting his gaze, feeling suddenly awkward. "Is it acceptable if I spend another night on the cot next to you? I would like to keep an eye on you."

"Of course, Lady, whatever you feel is necessary. I will make sure that Mik sets up a place for you as well, so that you can have your own space." His eye fluttered closed again. "I am so blasted tired all the time."

"Yes, well, your body is using all of its resources right now to heal, and it doesn't have much to spare for anything else. In a day or so you will start to feel better." She brushed a lock of his hair from his forehead and laid her hand on his cheek.

Veyga's eye snapped open and he stared up at her in startled silence. She simply smiled back. "Now just rest. If you can sleep, then it will help to speed things along, and time may pass more quickly for you." She pulled her hand away and stood. "I'll be back in a little while. If you need me before then, please just call for me."

Veyga nodded, his gaze never leaving her slim form as she ducked out of the tent. Then he shifted, and growled at the pain the movement caused. "If only it were that simple."

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Eithna watched from within the safety of her tent as Veyga sat before a flickering campfire, telling a story to several young children. She sipped a mug of tea as she watched, confident that no one would catch her watching so shamelessly, hidden as she was within the twilight shadows. He was dressed as he usually was since he was able to be up and about, in loose wool trousers and a baggy tunic. It was easy to believe that he was just a simple peasant, except for the patch. His hair was pulled off of his face with a leather thong. The light from the fire that burned in front of the young man threw strange shadows onto his face. The gentle look that he gave the children as he spoke warmed her heart. She had been watching him every chance she could since two days ago when she had been given her own tent. He fascinated her, and she was still trying to figure out who the real man was. Louk, the man who had rescued her, had told her just the evening before that the rumors were spread mostly to scare people away from this part of the forest. Many of the peasants living here in the camp were wanted for abandoning their masters' holdings. There were also some wanted for evading their taxes, when the choices came down to feeding their children or paying their Lords. Eithna felt grateful that her father was so fair and generous with his people. Not one person in the camp came from her father's lands. She was appalled to learn, however, how many of the runaways came from the Lord whose lands bordered her father's to the South. Lord Beys had never seemed like a very generous man, but Eithna had not known how extremely cruel he could be.

Eithna had asked Mik about his scar, and he had told her that he had been a blacksmith in Lord Beys' stables. One night, after Lord Beys' daughter had sent away a suitor that the Lord favored, he had come storming into the stables in a rage, demanding a horse to be saddled. The groom had been ill, so Mik offered to ready the horse. When the horse startled while Lord Beys tried to mount, the Lord had taken his whip and started using it on the horse. Horrified, Mik had tried to calm the Lord, and because of his interference, Lord Beys had turned the whip on Mik. The leather had sliced Mik's face open, and Lord Beys had ordered him locked up, refusing him a healer. A fortnight later, a young man showed up at the door to the stall where Mik was locked. The youth managed to get the lock picked and get Mik onto a horse and away from Lord Beys' lands. That had been four summers ago, and Mik had stayed loyal by that youth's side ever since. He had said he owed Veyga his life.

Veyga finished his story, and Louk started a new one. While Veyga's had made the children giggle and laugh, Louk's had them wide-eyed and trembling. When Louk let loose a scary growl, one of the little girls shrieked and scrambled onto Veyga's lap, hiding her face in his neck. He looked down at her with a gentle smile and wrapped his arms about her. Eithna's already softened heart melted. How could people even think such horrible things of this gentle man? She had seen nothing but goodness in him so far. Over the last few days she had seen much evidence of his good nature. He had stopped to chat with the women who did the laundry, pitching in and scrubbing some of the soiled clothing while they talked. He had spent several candle marks one night helping a young man with his reading. Just that afternoon he had taken over fixing supper for one widow who was heavily pregnant so that she could put her feet up and rest. Her children had climbed all over him begging for stories, and he had complied with a smile and a soft gleam in his eye.

Veyga felt someone watching him, and he raised his gaze from the warm bundle nestled in his lap, seeking. He peered around, but didn't see anyone looking their way. A new tent caught his eye, and he looked hard at it, hoping to see the Lady through the opening, but all he could see was darkness.

"Thinking about our Lady, sir?"

Veyga flushed a little and turned to look beside him as Kayli sat down. "Kayli, how many times have I asked you not to call me that?"

The older woman looked down and scuffed a boot in the dirt at her feet. "And how many times have I told you that it is a way for me to show my respect? Are you thinking about our Lady?"

He nodded. "I am. Yet again. I can't seem to get her out of my thoughts. It's driving me crazy."

"And how the mighty have fallen." Kayli chuckled.

Veyga frowned and glanced down at the child in his lap, who was drifting off to sleep snuggled up to him. "What are you talking about?"

"You, sir. I think you might just be soft for our Lady." She peered up at him from beneath her lashes.

His scowl darkened. "Don't be ridiculous, Kayli. I just admire her, is all. She has done a great deed staying here in spite of her fear. She is truly as great a healer as we have heard."

"Admire her, hm? I can't believe I'm hearing you speak so. You've never shown a particular interest in any one woman before."

The flush darkened and crept up his neck. "She's a great healer, Kayli. That's what I admire."

"Oh, really? You don't think she is pretty?"

"I didn't say that." He gently handed the little girl over to Kayli and stood, stretching carefully to avoid tearing his wound open. "I'm going to bed."

Kayli watched after him as he left. Louk chuckled and nudged her. "Think he likes her?"

Kayli smiled knowingly. "More than he knows." She glanced towards Eithna's tent and saw a glint of firelight reflecting off of a pewter mug as the Lady took a sip of something. "And I think that our Lady likes our Lord as well. I'll be right back." She passed the sleeping child to Louk, and stood to head towards Eithna's tent. She scratched on the outer wall before peering inside. "May I enter?"

Eithna was barely visible inside. "Of course you may, let me light a candle."

Kayli ducked within and folded her legs beneath her and waited patiently while Eithna fumbled in the dark. After the candle was lit and Eithna had settled down beside her, Kayli gave Eithna a sly glance. "So... What do you think about our esteemed leader?"

Eithna blushed prettily. "Well, I don't know. I hardly know him. I had quite a shock though, let me tell you. He isn't anything like I expected."

"That was on purpose. If for some reason Veyga is ever captured, then other than the patch, there is no way someone will believe that he is the legendary one of whom everyone speaks."

"I wouldn't have believed it." Eithna fiddled with a loose thread on the skirt of her borrowed dress. "Is he married?"

Kayli laughed, and Eithna's blush darkened. "Veyga? Hardly. If he thinks a girl is interested in him, he flits away like a butterfly. I doubt he even knows what to do with a girl in the dark."

"Oh come now, surely... I mean, he is awfully handsome and... Well, I mean..." Eithna wouldn't meet her gaze.

"Lady Eithna, Veyga is a lot shyer than you might think. He seems confident and brash a lot of the time, but he is really just a big softie inside. The last time I asked him if he was ever going choose from the gaggle of girls that sigh over him, he blushed as dark as you are right now and scrambled away, muttering about duties he needed to take care of."

Eithna smiled shyly. "That's hard to believe. And yet... And yet it is nice to hear, all the same.” A sad looked crossed her face. “But he would never bother with me. I'm a noble, and he's made it quite clear what he thinks of the nobility."

Kayli reached over and took Eithna's hand. "Lady, believe it or not, while we are quite aware of your status outside this camp, here you are just one of us. I know Veyga sees you in a different light than all of the rich spoiled women outside of these walls. But the real question is how do you feel about him being a peasant?"

"That would never bother me, Kayli. But..." She looked longingly towards the fire where Veyga had sat only a short time before. "But I am a noblewoman, and therefore I have responsibilities to my father and his people. I have to return soon, he's doing so much better. If I didn't worry so much about my duties as a healer, then I have to say that I would want to stay here forever. Of course, my father would probably have issues with that." She sighed deeply. "He seems like such a nice man, though..."

Kayli's smile faded. She hadn't thought of Eithna's own duties. Maybe she was doing the wrong thing, trying to press the Lady and her Lord towards each other. Then her smile returned full force. "Well, I think you should just enjoy your time here while you can. Soon you will be home and you will forget all about us."

Eithna gasped and clasped Kayli's hand tighter. "I never will. But you're right, I will enjoy what time I have here."

Kayli nodded and stood, pulling Eithna to her feet. "Come with me. Let's go sit by the fire and gossip. You can tell me all about saving the High Lord from poison."

Eithna allowed Kayli to lead her outside, and they sat close to the fire, shoulder to shoulder. Eithna found that she much enjoyed the other woman's company. "There wasn't much to saving the High Lord Gregor. Two summers ago, someone apparently tried to poison him, and all I had to do was stick my finger down his throat until he brought all of it back up. There was nothing fabulous about what I did; however with the way rumors have rushed about, I have earned quite a reputation. It has brought much business to my doorstep, certainly!"

"What is it like, living in your father's manor?" Kayli glanced sidelong at Eithna. "Tell me all about it..."

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4/16/11- update