Chapter Text
It had been a sleepless night for Basim. He had been kept up by his patient’s coughing and wheezing breathing. Eivor had developed a fever in the middle of the night, keeping the Hidden One even more on his feet than he already was. Basim hadn’t counted the number of times he had gathered fresh water to ease the suffering man’s temperature and pain, but it certainly had been a lot of times. Eventually the fever had more or less gone down. Eivor was still a little too warm to the touch and he had still trouble breathing, but having fallen unconscious, his suffering had weakened. It had allowed the Hidden One to take a breath to calm himself and his mind. The drengr was in a critical condition and in the wilderness surrounding them, there was just so much he could do for the blonde, which is why he had spent the rest of the night - while still keeping an eye and an ear on the wounded man - building some kind of wooden stretcher. He wasn’t the most skilled man in woodworking and craftsmanship, but it would do, at least he hoped it would. He had even figured out a way to connect the stretcher to his saddle, which would allow his horse to drag it. Of course he would need to ride extra slow and careful with Eivor on the wooden stretcher, but it was better than putting the man onto the horse’s back or carrying the warrior all by himself.
Basim brushed a few strands of hair back where they belonged and gazed at his work. Satisfied with the result - and knowing he wouldn’t be able to do it better - his gaze landed on the vikingr who rested by the fire. The man was trembling and still pale, but at least not as pale as he had been at the beginning of the night. It was a small victory that allowed the Arabic to feel hope.
“He still looks to be on the brink of death”, Loki’s voice disturbed the silence of the ending night.
Basim turned around, seeing the ghost of his bodiless companion hovering over the unconscious warrior. For a moment he thought he saw worry edged in the god’s features, but perhaps he had been mistaken, for when Loki turned towards him, he was calm and collected.
“He is”, Basim mumbled, stepping closer to the blonde.
“Mhm” , Loki hummed in agreement. “It would be a pity, losing such a comrade. He is a lot like Hávi used to be… adventurous, unafraid and… full of compassion and wisdom.”
Basim nodded in understanding. He knew Loki and the mad one had been close at one point, before the man in question had become crazy with fright. He had desperately tried to fight fate only to cause exactly that to happen. The man had been blinded, in more ways than one.
“He will not become like the mad one”, he said, sure of it.
“Not if he dies, he won’t”, Loki shrugged, his eyes practically drilling into his soul, which was ironic, considering they shared one, “But that remains to be seen.”
“It doesn’t matter if he does… he isn’t the mad one. We’ve already found him and we are going to take our revenge.”
“What will you do, if he steps in between his brother and you?” Loki tilted his head, clearly interested in the answer.
If Basim was being honest, he didn’t have one. He was conflicted. His goal was to let Sigurd - the descendant of the mad one - suffer and eventually die. But Eivor wasn’t really part of this. Of course the man could be a tool to make Sigurd suffer. If the redhead were to lose a brother, not to death, that wouldn’t cause him enough pain, but because of his own arrogance and wrongdoings, this would truly be a fit punishment. The way it currently was, Eivor was still loyal to Sigurd however, but that was certainly something he could work on… if the man survived that is.
“We will just have to wait and see where destiny takes us”, he finally responded towards his bodiless companion.
He could tell that Loki wasn’t happy with the answer, but he thankfully refrained from continuing with the topic. Instead he crouched down next to the wounded male, letting his eyes roam over his frame.
“There is still some fight left in him. Who knows, he might survive this after all”, with that, he stood back up again and walked away, vanishing in the shadows he had come from.
The Arabic stared at the spot where the second part of him had vanished from. He was lost in thoughts about what could be and all the possibilities he had. He was brought back by his horse neighing. The animal was getting restless, apparently wanting to continue. Basim shook his head to clear his thoughts. He would have time to think later, when he had brought the blonde to a real healer.
Sighing, he bridged the last distance between him and the drengr. He whistles his horse closer and positioned it so that he wouldn’t need to move Eivor too much. He carefully maneuvered his patient until he could pull him with some strength onto the stretcher. Eivor escaped a pained sound at being handled this way, but there was nothing Basim could have done against it. He put another fur on the feverish man, before securing him on the stretcher so he wouldn’t fall off. He also made sure that Eivor was still holding his axe, just in case. It had been important for the warrior and who was he to deny a man his last wish? Though the Arabic hoped that it wouldn’t be his last wish. A few moments later, he had extinguished the last embers of his fire, before mounting the restless horse. With one last glance towards the warrior, he urged the animal on, searching for the next settlement in which he might find more adequate help.
Basim had ridden north, hoping to find a settlement or a village. At one point, a certain black bird had called for his attention. It had taken him embarrassingly long to figure out that the bird in question was in fact Eivor’s trusted raven. He hadn’t been overly bothered by the loud animal, until it had descended upon him, surrounding and circling him very close and almost cawing directly into his poor ears. Again it had taken him a few moments to figure out that the bird was trying to show him the way. He just wasn’t used to such intelligent birds that were this close to humans. In fact, it was quite unique.
“The mad one had two”, Loki reminded him, but Basim mostly ignored his comment.
He was keeping an eye out for the bird, following its lead. He was surprised that the raven seemed to keep him on the street, instead of leading him cross-country. It was almost as if the bird knew that her master was hurt and every bump would cause more pain.
The raven cawed two times, loud and clear above Basim’s head, but he had already seen where it had led him to: a farm. It wasn’t the best option, but still better than absolutely nothing and something told him the bird would have led him to a village or settlement, were one around. So Basim had to settle for what he got.
He rode towards the biggest house, slowing his horse as the path became more uneven. He felt the workers’ distrustful eyes on him and he couldn’t even blame them. His formerly pearl-white robe was stained reddish-brown with dried blood. Furthermore he was obviously not from England, just like his wounded companion. Not to forget the weapons he was carrying.
He finally stopped his horse and slowly climbed off of it. He looked around for someone to talk to, someone who was both brave enough to approach him and who also possessed some authority over the people.
“You there! What is your business here?” A gruff voice caught the Hidden One’s attention.
“My apologies for interrupting your daily duties”, he even bowed towards the large and bulky man whose dark hair was turning gray, “My friend and I were attacked by bandits and he was severely wounded. We are in search of someone with healing abilities and I am more than willing to pay for any services.”
The lie came easy to him. He always had a way with words, his abilities grew better once he connected with Loki however.
He felt and saw the distrust in the man’s eyes and Basim realized that more people were approaching, some of them even tightly holding farming tools in their hands. They were waiting for him to make a false move, he guessed.
The man who had talked to him, huffed and motioned for one of the younger men - who bore a striking resemblance to the older one - to take a look at Eivor. Basim tensed and watched him carefully.
“He’s a Dane”, cried the boy.
Basim barely kept himself from rolling his eyes and turned back to the older man. “He isn’t Dane, he is Norse. There is a difference.”
“And what are you?”, huffed the older farmer.
“Human”, Basim replied dryly. “I come from Baghdad and am here to gather knowledge and allies alike.”
“And trouble apparently”, the graying man growled.
“Not at all. I am here to learn and to educate myself. My companion travels with me for safe-keeping. He was referred to me by an old acquaintance, an honest monk I planned to visit. Sadly our journey has taken a turn for the worse. First we got lost on our way and then we were ambushed by bandits. Please”, he hated to beg, “He needs help. He will die if left untreated…”
“They should beg and bow to us”, growled Loki.
“Father”, the younger boy spoke up again, “the man truly is very hurt. He cannot inflict any harm… We should help them, after all the Lord led them here.”
The addressed man pondered about his son’s words, before huffing in something akin to annoyance. “Bring him in there”, he pointed to one of the buildings, “You will be helped.”
“Thank you”, Basim bowed once more - even though Loki protested loudly about it, and led his horse towards the building.
He felt the eyes of the farmer and his workers burning themself in his back, but he ignored them as best as he could. Above him, Eivor’s raven cawed and he briefly gazed up at it. The animal seemed to take it as an invitation, for it descended once more and landed nearby on one of the roofs. At least he had one friendly being here he could trust, the Hidden One mused silently.
The boy, who had spoken up for them, had followed him and now helped him carry his wounded vikingr friend into the wooden house. He thanked the boy, who nodded. Basim almost thought the young man would refrain from talking to him, when he did indeed open his mouth.
“You have to forgive my father, he has seen a lot of bad people in his life. He doesn’t trust strangers.”
“As he shouldn’t”, Basim agreed and lowered himself onto the hard floor, next to Eivor.
The man hadn’t woken up while being carried, he hadn’t eleven made a noise and it worried the Arabic.
“My name is Cenric”, the boy introduced himself.
Basim inclined his head. “Basim”, he simply retorted.
Cenric nodded in appreciation. “I will return shortly with my younger sister. She knows a lot about healing and stitching up wounds”, he explained.
“Thank you”, the Hidden One offered, manners not forgotten.
“Do you need medical attention as well?” The young Saxon motioned towards the blood on his robes.
Basim shook his head. “I am fine and not wounded. It is my comrade I am worried about.”
“I see”, the young man answered with a nod.
He finally turned away from the unlikely pair in his house and stepped out, no doubt searching for his mentioned sister. Once alone again, Basim let out a sigh of relief. He had found help.