27 Nyka Larkin

_Nyka Larkin_

Nyka was packing up from their seventh day on the road. It had been a week since grandmothers death, he realized as he wrapped a beat up cotton blanket into a bag. A week since they had started traveling. A week since he murdered a man. A week since the nightmares had graced him with their presence.

At least he had Kori now. It had been quite the scare when he heard something rustling about the bushes, but when the little dog randomly appeared, Nyka had been overjoyed. He had smiled then, for the first time since the day of the fire. The reappearance of the dog made him feel a little bit better. At least someone who was looking for him wasn't doing it out of spite of his existence.

He wondered how long the little dog had been following after them, and how long it had been since he had eaten. Nyka assumed it hadn't been much when he fed the dog, who had eaten like his life depended on it. Ingrid had scolded him then, that they could not waste what little food they had on the dog. Complaining then, about how the mangy thing had managed to follow them.

Nyka understood they did not have much out here on the road, but he could not abandon his little friend so easily- especially not now after so easily leaving without him. However, the dog did not seem as angry as he would have imagined it. Only glad to see him. Nyka liked that about the mutt. He would leave or do something else that was not particularly good, but the dog was always glad to see him. He promised Kori, though he knew the dog could not understand, that he would never leave him again. 

They had left in such a haste that they were not able to locate the dog by the time they left. Nyka had been grief stricken- too distracted to remember his little friend enough to fight his way into staying to look for him. He was a bit ashamed he had not pressed the subject. However, he vowed to do that now.

He was going to take care of Kori and keep the little dog with them wherever they went. The dog was stupid and not trained to do anything other then come at the call of his name, but he was good company. Especially when Nyka woke up in a cold sweat in the dark. That was perhaps the only reason Ingrid allowed the creature to stay. Nyka was doing better with him around and she could see it.

Infact, on this night, the thought of warm food was not a repulsing one. However, the boy was still weary of it.

"Nyka please, eat before it is cold. Yew will catch a cold yerself if you do not warm up soon." Ingrid warned him.

"The sun warms me in the day," He told her.

"Yes but there is no sun at night to warm ye, is there?"

He slowly shook his head. They were about halfway to the crossroads between Denheim and Faun Gaia, and already things were growing colder. Altitudes here were higher than down in Wardruna, and with the hills came colder weather. There was less oppressive heat in the daylight hours, but this meant that nights were colder. The best part about this however, was that his feet were growing callussed, and it no longer hurt to walk so much all day, though he still went to bed sore.

"Eat yer damn food warm, Nyka. Ye'll worry me half to death at this rate." She warned him.

"Ingrid, let the boy eat how he likes. At least he is sleeping with a blanket now." Byrne said softly.

"It is alright, Byrne... I... I'll eat it warm." He decided out loud. Ingrid nodded at this, satisfied and Byrne looked between the two with worried eyes before he went back to his supper. The tanned southern man seemed to be a mediator between the two of them. When Ingrid went too strict on Nyka, Byrne was there to step in, though sometimes it was unwanted by both parties.

So far, the two adults had only fought once, but there was a daunting growing tension between the two. Ingrid was nearly a decade older then Byrne, and she had given herself the role of the parent of the group. Byrne was a grown man of twenty-four however, and he had been taking care of himself for quite some time so it was obvious that he would not enjoy being told what to do all the time. Ingrid was good about not bossing him around, but as for Nyka, sometimes she took after his grandmother, and tried to control him a bit too much. 

It was a delicate relation they each had going on now, but they made it work as best they could.

Nyka took a bite of his supper, and for once the warmness of it did not bother him as it once had. Kori was laying next to him, looking up at him with begging eyes. He would save some for the little dog later, but with Ingrid watching him expectantly, he could not share with his friend at the moment. He chewed and swallowed with little problem, watching Ingrid smile and go back to eating her food.

After dinner, Nyka helped clean up before he laid on the hard ground, scratchy cotton blanket covering him. He missed his bed and his pillows. They had been straw but still they were better than the hard dirt. He had never known any bed more comfortable. It was said they had feather beds in the castles, which was preposterous. Where did you find enough birds for a bed? How did you make such a thing? Surely you would not waste the birds by only taking their feathers. What did they do with all that meat?

He could not find the answer for these questions, but nor did he ask about them. Though the boy talked more than he had at first, he was still rather quiet. Recovery took longer than merely a couple of days waiting and a dog. As he laid on the ground, he found it easier to sleep than before, though his burn already made it an uncomfortable affair.

The burn was getting better now, but it was an ugly thing. His skin was not going to be the same. It crept up his shoulder and stopped just shy of the base of his neck. If he wore low collared shirts in the future, the scar would be visible to everyone. He still wasn't sure he liked people seeing it- not even if those people were Ingrid and Byrne. The same was true for his arm- if he wore short sleeve shirts- or anything above his elbow you would be able to see it. People would no doubt ask questions about it, and he found that he did not fancy answering such things. Perhaps it was good that they were going north then. It was colder, so that meant less chances to expose skin. The thought was a comforting one. 

Nyka had fallen asleep that night, but it did not take long to stir awake, breathing heavily next to a concerned Kori. He had gone to pet the dog, but found that he was covered in an uncomfortable cold sweat. Another nightmare, but he did not want to think about it lest he remember. Instead he rubbed his clammy hand off on his cotton blanket, and pet the little dog that tried to comfort him, finding that his left arm was hard to move.

Byrne had told him that if he stopped moving his arm, the muscle would wither away, and by the time it was healed, it would be stiff for a long time afterwards. But how was he supposed to move his left arm if it hurt to do so? Byrne said to work through the pain anyway, but it was an unbearable thing- just lifting it to wrap and unwrap it was a pain. Most days he held it to his side gently, as not to upset the wounds on his torso.

Packing up was hard, and he could not carry a bag. Most times he carried something in his right until it got sore and he handed it off to one of the other two or stopped for a break. Ingrid hated stopping for breaks. Nyka liked it, it meant rest and less strain on his wounds.

But this night, Nyka had the feeling that they would be resting for quite some time. He did not feel good- in fact, though his sweat was cold and his skin was raised like a plucked goose, he felt hot. Incredibly hot- he believed grandmother called this a fever. Nyka did not often get those. He felt his stomach churn in an uncomfortable way, and his mouth watered considerably. He felt as though he would be sick. 

The boy swallowed and pushed the little dog away from him so that he could stand up. He did not get far before stumbling and falling to his knees, retching hard. He expelled last night's supper with disappointment. He did not like to waste things... and more importantly this meant he would have to eat things again. He was only just getting used to warm food again and Ingrid would no doubt make him more soup.

"Nyka?" She called out into the dark, sounding groggy from sleep. He didn't respond, too caught up in his vomiting. Ingrid got up from her makeshift bed and approached the sickened boy, whose side was stinging from a mixture of sweat and the muscle contractions that irritated his burns. Ingrid came to rub her hand on the unburnt side of his back. "What had ya ate before dinner?" She asked him.

"Nothing but what you gave me," Nyka said between dry heaves. "I know not to eat strange things from the forest without consulting you," He said now, wiping at his mouth and catching his breath on his knees. If he had paid more attention to the books grandmother gave him, perhaps he would know what was safe to eat and what was not, but he was not stupid so he would not eat any of it unless Ingrid said it was okay anyway.

Byrne had gotten up and appeared next to them now. He put a concerned hand on Nyka's forehead. "He is burning up," He pointed out and Ingrid seemed to bristle at that. 

"Grab a rag and rundown to the nearby stream." She commanded Byrne who nodded and went off to do as he was asked.

"Nyka come, follow me." She instructed the boy, helping him up and attempting to lead him towards the firepit whose fire had long since ran out with only faintly glowing embers and smoke that reached up into the sky next.

Nyka planted his feet into the ground as best he could for a sick boy. "I am fine here," he said with his eyes trained on the fire pit.

"It is cold and yer body is trying hard to warm itself. Come by the fire so ye do not end up with pneumonia."

He shook his head. "I will be fine, I-"

"Nyka the fire pit will not hurt yew, please. I do not want ye sick,"

"I am already sick. I will be better soon,"

"Not unless ye take care of yerself," She told him, trying to usher him near the fire pit. "I have not even started the fire back up yet,"

"But you will," Nyka pointed out.

"Aye, I will,"

"Then I will stay where I am,"

"Nyka, please,"

"I do not want to," He tried to say firmly, but he was weak and felt rather faint.

"Why do yew fear fire, Nyka? This fire cannot hurt ye unless ya jump into it. It is contained," She pointed out.

"I just don't want to," He said more stubbornly this time. 

"Yew have to get over yer fear some time- and this is the prime time to do such a thing," Ingrid said to him now, pushing lightly against his good shoulder.

"I do not want to!" He raised his voice now, tears prickling his eyes.

"Oh, Nyka," Ingrid said in calm irritation. She knew why he did not like fire, and she understood. But she could not let him get any more sick than he was. "Please Nyka,"

"I'll just make my sick go away with magic," He said now, unsure if such a thing was possible.

"I am not so sure that is a good idea, ye could hurt yerself."

"I will do it, I think I can," He said more confidently.

"Have ya ever used magic directly on yerself before? On someone else?"

"Well, no... not besides that man..."

"Do ya even know what it was you did to do that to em?"

He frowned, looking down. "No..."

"Magic should not be a quick fix, Nyka. It is a dangerous thing," She warned him now, looking down at him to make some sort of eye contact of understanding but the boy was looking at his feet.

"It is not always dangerous, and if I can cure my sickness then perhaps I can cure other's sickness," He offered, looking up at her.

"Perhaps ye can, perhaps ye cannot. Yew do not know the prices of something as great as that. There could be none, there could be a dangerous one- the legends-"

"You are basing your words off of legends?"

"It seems that those might be true, thanks to yew." She offered with an apologetic smile. "Perhaps some are still false, but the point of them is for morals. It does not seem right to me that ye cure yerself with magic when ye can get better as a normal person- without that risk."

"Then I will not use magic," he said with a sigh, coming to hold onto her dress for balance, his world feeling as though it was tipping a little. "But I will not go towards a fire neither." he said next.

She frowned, unsure if it would be wise to force the sick boy to come near the fire when he did not wish to. Before she could make a decision, Byrne was back, his labored breathing an indicator of his rush. "What are you two doing just standing there? You don't rid yourself of a fever by standing like a stone wall," He said as he handed Ingrid one of the wet rags he had. He came to the fire pit and started it up, though it took a second.

Nyka watched in silence. Byrne had been hurt by the fire too... he would likely never be as good at the lute as he once was... and yet he had not hesitation around the flames. Not like Nyka had. He had loved grandmother too, hadn't he? Nyka didn't know how the man carried out the daily tasks with his burnt hands. Had he been suffering in silence this entire time? Nyka wasn't sure. He didn't know if he should ask such a question either. 

"Well? C'mon, you'll burn out with this temperature," Byrne told him now. As the fire started up, Nyka could see that Byrne had pulled his long brown hair out of his face and tied the top half of it behind his head in a small bun. Nyka's own hair was getting long. He wondered if he would ever have the same hair style as Byrne did, but for now his thoughts wandered back to the fire.

"I do not want to go near it." he clarified for the tan southern man.

"Nyka, ye must," Ingrid told him.

"But the magic-"

"No magic!" She interrupted him, running an exasperated hand down her face.

Byrne looked between the two. "Magic?" He repeated, as if only hearing of it for the first time again. He thought over the idea for a moment before looking at Nyka. "You could try to cure yourself, but it might not work. If it does it would save us time," Byrne said thoughtfully.

Nyka found himself sitting down, still a great length from the fire. Ingrid looked miffed by Byrnes support in this matter. "He could hurt himself- we don't even know if there is a price involved in this. It is not safe,"

"Have you ever hurt yourself with magic, Nyka?" Byrne asked him.

Slowly, Nyka shook his head no. He didn't think he had ever hurt anyone before the day of the fire.

"What about a price?" Byrne asked, watching Nyka think about it before shaking his head once more. "I don't see why he can't try," Byrne concluded, looking at Ingrid.

The blonde woman looked down at the boy with a worried expression now. She was weary of this magic. "Magic is the reason we are on the run, is it really wise to practice it?"

Nyka looked down at his hands now. He was conflicted, wanting to try but understanding where Ingrid was coming from. He flexed his fingers before pulling them into fists and looking up at Ingrid. "I- I don't know.... It would be good to at least try wouldn't it?"

"I think it would be," Byrne spoke up now.

Ingrid pinned the man with a glare. "It sounds dangerous. Do ye remember what he did to the kitchen? What he did to that man?"

"That man was going to kill us!" Byrne pointed out, looking from Ingrid to Nyka. "Look, It is up to you. I am not telling you what to do."

Ingrid glared at Byrne now. "Do not make me look like the bad one," She told him, crossing her arms. "I am only concerned."

"You are not my mother," Nyka spoke up now, growing irritated at the both of them. "I have no one, my family is all dead and it is the robed people's fault," He said with tears pricking his eyes. "And I do not want you two to fight. I do not want to be told what to do, either-"

"You are still a child-" Ingrid tried.

"I do not care! It is my ability and-... And I'll practice if I want!" He declared to her. "I will try, and if you are right then I will not do it again, but if you are wrong, and I can make things easier with my abilities then I will do just that." He said finally.

Ingrid looked as though she might cry, but she said nothing more than a single "Alright," but it sounded quiet; a whisper. 

Nyka nodded, glancing at Byrne to see him smile weakly in reassurance. The boy wasted no time in closing his eyes and focusing his hands on his legs. He really had no idea what he was doing but he imagined it was like the quartz he made glow, only it was stopping his illness. Suddenly, this seemed a lot harder than he anticipated. He could feel his arm burn at the stretching of it to move to his leg. He focused it out.

Nothing was happening yet, in fact, he felt worse. He felt quite drained and he figured this was due to the fever and his lack of sleep. However, the feeling got worse as he tried harder to focus. He felt a warmth pool in his hands but it felt like his left arm was on fire. Opening his eyes, he winced at the entire feeling in his left side. His burn felt awful, perhaps he could heal this too?

Now, instead of having his hands on his legs, he found to put them on his chest, though very lightly on his left side, which was easier for his arm. He tried again, thinking about how it was he would be healed, though he hardly understood how such a subject worked. When he thought of rocks floating and glowing, and how they might do that, it usually worked. Perhaps if he thought of how he would heal, though he hardly knew, this would work. It was worth a shot, wasn't it?

He focused harder, keeping his mind trained on healing, even if he didn't know, he kept the idea of the outcome he wished in mind. This had to do something, wouldn't it? It worked for rocks, and it had vaguely worked for a variety of other things. Again his burn came to sing and hurt, feeling like it was on fire once more, but he ignored it, knowing that there was no more fire. The pain got worse however, and he found himself shaking through it.

"Nyka?" Ingrid asked out and touched his shoulder.

He flinched away from her touch and heard Byrne whisper something to her, perhaps telling her to stand by. Nyka swallowed the foam that formed in his mouth, and ignored the sweat that started coming off of him. Now he felt hot; now he had a reason to sweat. When the pain got too much to bear, he cried out, cradling his arm and chest. He was breathing heavily now, but none of this lasted long as he soon found himself toppling over onto his right side, eyes closing and the world fading away from him.

He woke up moments later, screaming. The sound echoed across the valley they were in, driving birds from trees and quieting crickets. A bright light showed through his bandages and he cried like he had never done before.