25: There Will Be No Dying

In the infirmary quarter, Meira led Sevei to a large tent that had been dyed a muddy green color to block out more sunlight than the usual white canvas. A man standing guard outside pulled the door back for them. Sevei rushed in, but came to an abrupt halt as he took in the scene, his heart seeming to climb up into his throat.

The dim interior was softly lit with the glow of many candles placed about the space. Incense wafted through the air, carrying notes of spices and flowers over something more acrid and sulphuric. In the center of the tent, Yeresym lay in a single bed. He wore a white silk tunic and his legs were covered with white blankets, his hands folded over his waist at the blanket's edge. There were bundles of herbs, both fresh and dried, tucked all around him under the edges of his body. His head rested on a bouquet of purple flowers, their petals curling around his temples. His face was peaceful and soft, the usual hard edges of his jaw and brow relaxed in his slumber.

Face of an angel, Sevei remembered Kyrzhan saying.

Sevei had once witnessed a Derician funeral where the deceased was laid into a boat on a soft bed of greenery, wrapped in furs and embroidered wool blankets and surrounded by treasures. Yeresym's current appearance brought that to mind, but Sevei pushed the thought away. That's not what this is, he assured himself. He's not dead. His lips twisted into a joyless half-smile as he turned to Meira.

“Are these treatments working?” he asked in a trembling whisper. “Why doesn't he wake up?”

“The process is delicate,” Meira said. “We can only give him enough energy to stimulate his own. If we give him too much and he wakes up with excess energy, that energy will want somewhere to go, and he may not have the mind to know what he's doing. There could be a rampage, and you've seen how powerful he can be even normally.”

“That... would be bad,” Sevei agreed.

“Mm. We've done what we can for him now. The rest is up to him.”

Meira crossed to the bed and sat down on its edge beside Yeresym. On the bedside table sat a bowl of water and a pile of towels. She dipped a towel into the water and, pinching Yeresym's chin to open his lips, squeezed a small amount of water into his mouth.

“You can do this while you're here,” she said, “just a little, once in a while. And talk to him. He may hear you.” She dabbed the damp cloth over Yeresym's face before standing again. She turned to Sevei and gave him a squeeze on the shoulder as she passed by him. “You can take your time.”

When she had gone, leaving him alone in the tent with Yeresym, Sevei approached the bed hesitantly and stood looking down at Yeresym's eerily still and serene form.

“Hey,” he said quietly, “it's me. I don't know if you've been wondering if I made it out of all that mess, but I did. Here I am.”

He sat on the edge of the bed very gently, then laughed at himself for being so gentle and quiet. He wanted Yeresym to wake up, right? As he sat, some of the bundled herbs shifted out of position, and Sevei hurriedly tucked them back, looking around as if someone might reprimand him for it. Meira hadn't been careful about them, though, so he guessed it was alright.

“Look at you,” Sevei chuckled. “They've got you done up like they plan to roast you.” He plucked a tuft of herbs and brought it to his nose. Its fragrance was strong and earthy and smelled like it would be delicious in a stew.

“So... you plan on waking up any time soon?” he asked in a conversational tone. “You heard the Sergeant. It's all up to you now. I really hope you're fighting in there.” He dragged a hand down his face. “There is an incredible lot of work to do out here. I could really use your help with it. All these Alchemists need to be whipped into shape. They won't listen to me.”

Sevei bent down and leaned his forehead against Yeresym's, the tips of their noses brushing.
“I need you,” he whispered.

From this close range, he looked at the dark lashes lying still against Yeresym's too-pale cheek.

“I'd give anything to see those gorgeous eyes right now.”

Yeresym's soft breath drifted over his lips, giving him some small comfort. He smiled mischievously.

“If you don't wake up right now... I'll kiss you,” he warned. “Wouldn't you like to get up and storm away in a huff?”

He only pressed against his nose a bit more firmly, though, breathing Yeresym's breath in for a moment. He sighed.

“Well, it was worth a shot. You probably know I wouldn't take that sort of liberty. When I kiss you, I want you to know you're being kissed.”

Sevei turned his face to the side and lowered his head to lay their cheeks together. The scent of the herbs filled his nose, along with a clear and sweet fragrance from the flowers under Yeresym's head.

“There will be no dying, though, alright?” he said sternly into his ear. “If you dare, I will search every corner of every Hell to find you and drag you back.” He stopped to laugh at himself. “Except you'll be up in the Heavens, and there's no way they'll let me in there. So, you'll just have to stay here for now. Promise me. I haven't finished helping you live yet.”

Sevei squeezed his eyes shut as tears began to flow freely. He brought his hands up to hold Yeresym's face, even as he kept his own firmly pressed against his cheek.

“I've been looking for you for too long,” he whispered harshly, his lips trembling. “You can't make me love you this much and then leave me behind.”

He sat up, trying to collect himself, sniffling and wiping at his eyes with his fingertips. He saw that Yeresym's face was wet and blew out a breath, chastising himself.

“Sorry,” he said, picking up the damp towel that Meira had left behind and wiping Yeresym's face clean. “I didn't mean to cry on you. You're probably in there thinking I'm talking too much. And look, I've made a mess of... whatever these plants are for.”

He took up a clean towel and dipped it in the water, then opened Yeresym's mouth as Meira had shown him. His lips were dry, with patches of skin peeling up here and there. As he squeezed the towel to send the water between his lips, the tent door opened quietly. He glanced over to see Yanek poking his head in.

“I'm sorry to interrupt,” he said quietly, casting a sympathetic look over Yeresym. “There's been some news.”

Sevei held a finger up with a nod, and Yanek retreated, gently lowering the flap again. Sevei put down the towel, then stood and did his best to tuck the blanket back around Yeresym and rearrange all the foliage, although he couldn't really remember how it had been.

Stepping out of the darkened tent, Sevei blinked in the bright sunlight, then regarded Yanek expectantly. Yanek sighed with hesitation, then kept his voice low as he spoke.

“Loranar's army is massing a bit upriver,” he said. “They've got a couple of warships up there, and I just overheard the weirdos talking about someone called the 'Butcher of Anwynd'.”

“Fuck!” Sevei spat. “Here I was hoping that particular asshole would stay out of this one. We're going to need more Alchemists.”

Yanek shook his head. “I doubt we'll get them. The main front is still in Dericia. Captain Geir says they've already spared us all they can.”

Sevei pinched his nose, then glanced back at the infirmary tent with a heavy sigh.

“Maybe he's got the right idea sleeping through all this bullshit.”