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Guxart noticed the first petals in his horse’s mane. The sun was just setting when the witcher rode through the gate of Stygga Castle. Barely a week ago he had left the path, said goodbye to his Wolf witcher friend. He already missed Vesemir - that was the name of his cheeky self-convinced friend. It would be a long quiet winter, at the end of which he would hopefully meet the other witcher again, if he hadn't had enough of him after they had spent half the year travelling and working together.
In the courtyard, Guxart got off his horse and looked at the tiny yellow flowers. They were from a mountain arnica, a well-known widely used remedy. Of course the flower was familiar to Guxart, if only because the witchers used it as a medicinal plant and in potions. Strange. How had it got into the mane of his gelding?
As soon as he had slipped through the double doors of the castle, Guxart put down his bags and swords, and listened. A smile stole onto his face.
"Is that a little kitten sneaking up on its prey?"
"How?" a boy's voice exclaimed indignantly above Guxart. Seconds later, a skinny adolescent dropped out of the rafters and landed silently in front of the older witcher.
"Your heartbeat gave you away."
With a contrite face, the youth hung his head, his thick curls falling in front of his face, hiding his cheeks flushed with shame. Guxart put a hand on the boy's shoulder.
"Aiden. You have done well. Last year I already noticed you when you ran over the wooden beams. This time you almost caught me." Guxart had always had a soft spot for his Children of Surprise, but for Aiden especially.
"But Master Guxart, Jad always says-" Aiden started to say.
"Forget what that smart-aleck brat has to say. You're-"
A violent coughing fit interrupted Guxart's encouraging words. The witcher grabbed his chest, from which came a rattle, and coughed like mad. It felt like something was in his throat.
"Master Guxart? Are you ill?"
Guxart shook his bright red head and waved it off. "Everything-" He could speak no further, for another seizure took his breath away. Tears welled up in his eyes, he gasped for breath, his upper body tensed.
"I will take you to Master Treyse. Hold on." Aiden took Guxart's hand and pulled the witcher with him. When they arrived outside Treyse's room, Aiden didn't bother knocking, but pushed the door open and they stumbled into the office of the headmaster. If anyone knew what was going on with Guxart, it was him, for he was one of Stygga’s oldest and most experienced witchers.
"What in all hells are you doing, boy?" Treyse rumbled off, but jumped up and came around his desk when he noticed Guxart's condition. The coughing witcher sank down on the chair in front of the desk.
"Master Treyse, Master Guxart has just come home from the path and he seems to be ill. He's coughing his guts out." Despite the tense situation, Aiden correctly and calmly explained what had happened. "We were talking in a moment and without warning, spasms began to shake him. There's a rattle in his chest and he can't breathe, I think."
"Get Lexandre, boy," Treyse ordered gruffly. Then he wasted no more thought on Aiden, who ran off obediently, and turned his attention to Guxart. "You must stand up. I'm going to push against your chest from behind and in the same rhythm you cough. Clear?"
Guxart half nodded and came staggering to his feet. After only a few tries, their cooperation showed effect, though no relief from the cough. Yellow little petals and whole flowers fell from Guxart's mouth. Wet, partly red with blood, they floated onto Guxart's armour and onto the ground.
"Fuck! What’s going on?" Guxart gasped. Apparently, the stimulus had worn off enough for him to speak. He wiped his mouth and dropped heavily onto the chair.
Treyse looked thoughtfully at the flowers, picked one up and examined it closely.
"Wolf's bane, hmmm. Who is it, Guxart?"
"Who's what? Shit, Treyse, what's going on?"
Treyse leaned against his desk and stared at Guxart, his brow thoughtfully - or angrily? - wrinkled. He held the flower in front of Guxart's face and shook it as if that explained everything.
"You coughed up these damn flowers. Whom did you get involved with on the path?"
"Got involved? As in with a dishonest client?" Guxart didn't know what path Treyse was on, but he didn't like it at all. On the side, he wiped his mouth with a cloth and took the flower from the older witcher. Exactly the same as in the horse stable.
"No, you idiot, like with a lover. This disease only affects people who have made the biggest mistake a witcher can make. They love a person who doesn't love them back. And it always ends fatally, as far as we know, when this love is unrequited. Who should love a witcher too? Don't we teach you young reprobates anything in this school? In my day..." Treyse was talking himself into a rage, but Guxart had already mentally dropped out at the word "lover". Shit! He had never heard of this strange disease, but if it was known to the more experienced witcher, Guxart believed him that it really existed.
The younger witcher let the tirade wash over him - it could take longer once Treyse started ranting. At the word "lover" a person's face had immediately appeared in Guxart's mind's eye, it couldn't be a coincidence. Not even a week ago, this person had gone east and north at a fork in the road after half a year of travelling together, and Guxart had taken the other fork in the road to the south.
Guxart swallowed hard and braced himself for Treyse's rejection and that of his other witcher brothers when they learned of Guxart's illness.
"I must go to Kaer Morhen."