Ingrid took the rag from Beorn and gently pressed the cold bundle to Leo’s brow, while Beorn busied himself by the shelves. Ingrid had never been one for herbalism, it was far too delicate a process with far too much riding on it. Too little of an ingredient and nothing would happen, too much and a man might die because of your carelessness. On the battlefield, delicacy was not required.
“You should go and gather some more supplies,” she said quietly. “Better now when he is safe rather than later when it might be vital.”
The smell of acrid smoke drifted down the hallways as Ingrid tended to Lelinus. Beorn had gone and she could hear cries carry down the corridor. Her instincts pulled her in both directions. Run and help douse the flames, or stay with Lelinus. There was something in her that feared leaving Lelinus would be worse, not least if Brynjar was wandering around. Who knew what that bastard would do given free reign over his ill brother. No, for Lelinus’s sake, she would stay with him. “It’s alright love,” she murmured gently, wiping his brow, as she idly counted the days in her head again. She paused and began again, counting the days down on her hands. She must have miscounted, perhaps she had added a day onto their journey, or lost track of how long she had been here. Ingrid pushed the conclusion that was forming in her mind down. It was too soon for that surely? She shook her head and waited by Lelinus for Beorn to return.
Chaos everywhere. Red flames crackled as they grew higher, the smoke swirling, thick and black. The courtyard grew darker as the smoke blocked out whatever sun there had been. Men shouted orders and Tyr realised that he had frozen. He looked around, trying to peer through the flames to see if he could find Ingrid anywhere in the crowd or the courtyard. He saw Brynjar cross the courtyard to a far corner where another figure was obscured by the flame. Seeing no sign of his sister, Tyr grabbed a bucket of water and joined the efforts in getting the fire under control.
He heard a cry as he continued throwing water on the blaze and briefly looked up to see Brynjar and a serving girl being pulled from the flames. She must be the favourite of the month, assuming Brynjar didn’t change his fancy more often than that. The fire was under control now, but the carnage it had left behind was going to take much longer to repair. Where there had once been a garden, there was now little more than ash.
As the crowd thinned, Tyr noticed Elska beating back the flames. He wove through the people who remained until he was by her side. This close, he could see that she was shaking. He put his arm across her shoulders and gently pulled her back. “It’s done Elska, you can stop now. You can stop. Let me look at you,” he said as he turned her to face him. He studied her face as his hands grazed against her arms, his gaze following behind them. He turned her hands over in his and saw the early appearance of burns on her hands. “You need to get these seen to before they blister.”