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No comfort in the water, not anymore. Once upon a time he could quench the dreams of burning fire in a nearby stream or pond. Even a puddle would work, if desperate enough. Splash his face, pretend to smother what terrors burned behind his eyes.
No longer.
Now the water was its own torment. Did he weep? Or was that merely the harsh well water in his eyes? It filled his nose and mouth and ears. Cold, slick, coating his skin, dragging down on his clothing. A heavy weight dragging him down, a weight as heavy as Hyllua on fire had been, atop him and forceful, demanding. The stale and musty water forced into his mouth and over his tongue. He was sinking, he was drowning, if only he could breathe, but no, he was choking on it. Choking on her. If only, if only–
“Ahj,” Ghu called to him, his tone ardent. Ghu had been calling for awhile, Ahj knew, by the way his brow was furrowed.
And then Ghu’s hand was on his shoulder. Stabilizing. Comforting in a way no other’s touch could ever be again. He focused on that, reached up to grip that hand and hold it tight.
“Only a dream,” Ghu whispered.
“Only,” Ahjvar muttered, and a harsh laugh escaped past his lips. As if these dreams didn’t reduce him to a whimpering babe. As if their existence in his mind gave him any real hold to fight against them.
Only a dream. Only a sword thrust to the gut. Only the bloody pox.
“Come along now,” Ghu urged, pulling gently on Ahjvar, in the same damned voice he used to calm a frightened camel. Better to be an animal at Ghu’s heel than a man beside him, Ahjvar thought. Did camels think of anything but their next step and chewing cud? Did they dream of burning? Of drowning? Of her and the way she-No, don’t think on that. Don’t think at all
He took a shuddering breath under Ghu’s calm, soothing command, steeled his will, and marched forward.