Larthuza's Hut, Atmanta In his fevered sleep, Teucer shouts and screams. He thrashes wildly and spits out names of demons unknown to Tetia and Larthuza. Pain roars through him. As hot as flames. As sharp as a needle through the eye. Larthuza holds him and with Tetia's help administers another draft of valerian. They press his shoulders to the bed until the drug kicks in and his mind passes into calmer waters of unconsciousness.
It's long after dawn when they next check him. The healer seems pleased with the progress of the last few hours. 'The gods have taken the fury from his wounds. He will be left with scars, but they will look naught but the scratches of an animal.'
'And his sight?'
'Sweet Tetia, it is too soon to speak of this. There was burning ash and wood rooted in his orbs. If the celestial gods wish their seer to see, then it shall be so.' He takes her smooth and gentle hands in his bony old fingers. 'Your love for him will impress the gods and bring him fortitude. Hold nothing back. Use your most feminine powers to bring him comfort and healing in every way you can. His body is hurt, but so too is his spirit and his soul.'
Tetia nods. 'I will always be indebted to you for your help.'
He stands and hugs her. 'Then I hope I will be repaid by living long enough to see that child of yours come into your life.'
She instinctively puts a hand to her stomach.
'And remember, you need to take care of yourself and that baby as well as your husband,' Larthuza adds as he starts to prepare a poultice of feverfew.
'I will.' Tetia wrinkles her nose. The poultice smells worse than the sulphur baths her mother is so fond of. 'I hope its healing power is as strong as its stench. What will it do?'
Larthuza laughs. 'It will make you feel sick, such is its noxiousness. But it will further remove the fire from Teucer's burns. I dare not give him more valerian, so this will help keep him bound in the healing folds of gentle sleep.'
Larthuza removes the pads of ram's wool and pats the poultice gently over the netsvis's eyes. 'Injuries such as Teucer's are similar to those of the battlefield. When the body is wounded it creates its own medicines, powerful potions that race in the blood and kill the pain, but only for a short spell. When the body's potions are spent, then terrible pain surfaces. Feverfew will ease the agony in Teucer's mind.'
Tetia is still grimacing from the smell. 'I hope it is so.'
'It is, my child. Now I must go. There is sickness with a newborn and I promised its parents I would attend.'
Tetia touches his arm tenderly. 'Thank you again.'
'You are most welcome. Now I think you should settle beside your husband for a while and get some sleep.' He leans closer and whispers, 'Baby will need it too.'
Tetia smiles as he leaves. She would indeed like to rest. And she supposes it is her duty to endure the awful smell of the poultice. She wipes Teucer's brow and moistens his dry mouth with fresh water, then she lies next to him and kisses him softly on his dampened lips. She closes her eyes and prays for a speedy recovery.
She is in that magical space between daydreams and sleep, when it happens -
Teucer grabs her by the throat.
Squeezes so hard she cannot breathe.
She kicks out but can't get free. Grabs his wrists but can't unlock his grip.
'Be gone! Be gone!' shouts Teucer. 'Dark demon with no name, I vanquish you!'
Tetia gasps for air.
'I need to kill it. I must kill it!' His grip tightens murderously.
Tetia kicks again. Connects with something fleshy. She thrashes harder. Her foot hits Larthuza's fire and scatters embers.
Blackness floods in.
She's losing consciousness.
Through the sickly fog she sees Teucer's outstretched arm, his blistered face and the creamy poultice masking his eyes.
And then she collapses.