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It wasn’t often that Crowley found himself wishing to be inside the castle. Not that he was fond of the amount of paperwork that was waiting for him. Or the endless meetings he had to attend. Let alone the reports sent by his colleagues that he had to read, evaluate and then make a copy for both himself and the King. No, compared to that, he rather spend his time outside, training, riding on Cropper or walking around with another Ranger. He normally loved to trade his wooden chair for the saddle, the musky smell for a fresh breeze of wind. That is, if it wasn’t as hot as it was that day.
It had started like any other day: a bit cloudy, but dry. Some wind and an occasional sun poking through. He had been looking forward to the monthly round across the fief. He always split it up in three travels: the southern parts that bordered Gorlan Fief, the part that bordered the river and then the eastern part that bordered Trelleth.
He was halfway on his way home when the weather had changed. Not in a bad way, although this wasn’t ideal either.
“We should stop somewhere, take a break before it becomes warmer,” Cropper neighed, tossing his head up.
Crowley’s head shot up in surprise.
“What?” he said, looking around, only to see dry land.
“I said, we need to go to some shade. It’s too warm,” Cropper replied, flicking his tail.
“I hadn’t thought of that yet,” Crowley snorted. “But tell me, where in the name of Gorlog do you plan to do that? Haven’t noticed where we’re riding?” He spread his arms, moving them around him.
“I have, but you’ve been sleeping for quite some time during the trip home. Getting older, that you need some rest?”
For some reason, Crowley couldn’t appreciate the comment. Usually, he would roll his eyes, joke that Cropper was older than he was, or just let it be.
Today, however, he didn’t appreciate it at all. Thinking was already difficult enough, so to argue with his horse was out of question.
Instead, he kept silent, signalling Cropper to go into a canter. They had been going in the slow pace for long enough.
The next day, Crowley arrived at the castle just after noon. The sun was still shining, the warms rays touching him. He had made the choice to leave his cowl down ever since they entered the forest. He could survive the beaming sun for a few minutes as he crossed the plain grass fields that were between the forest and the bridge.
“Good noon, Ranger,” the guards greeted him cheerfully. Their faces were red, small drops of sweat rolling down. “Quite the heat today, isn’t it?”
Crowley casted them an annoyed glare.
“Yes, that’s why I want to get inside and stall my horse. Any stable boys around to help me?”
The guard on his left looked over his shoulder.
“Within a minute or five, I think. They just had their lunch break.”
The Ranger sighed heavily, guiding Cropper to the gate.
“A bit of heat and everyone suddenly forgets their job,” Crowley muttered under his breath. Then, louder, he looked at the guards. “Can I pass or do you two need me to tell you to move aside?”
The guards quickly stepped aside, moving their lances so the points were pointing to the sky. They apologised, but Crowley didn’t respond.
It wasn’t until the Ranger was out of hearing reach that the guard on the left leaned towards his colleague. He nodded in the direction Crowley had gone to.
“Is it just me, or is the Ranger Commandant acting different than normal? I’ve never seen him like this in the three years that I work here.”
His colleague, a couple of years older than him, quickly looked over his shoulder to make sure the Ranger wouldn’t hear them.
“Neither have I. No matter what, he always greeted me kindly. But who knows, maybe someone pissed him off and it’s been bothering him? After all, he’s still a Ranger.”
They glanced once more at Crowley, who was now scolding a stable boy. They couldn’t hear his exact words, but they saw him shoving Cropper’s reins in his hands before storming off inside. He slammed the door close when he entered the building.
Inside, Crowley was skipping two steps, making haste with going to his headquarters. He would dump his saddle bags, get into some clean clothes and then –.
He placed a hand against the wall, steadying himself as the world was moving in circles in front of him. It felt like he was on a boat that was tossed around by the waves. It took him a couple of minutes before he had somewhat regained his balance. Slower, yet still in a quicker pace, did he walk through the corridor until he reached his rooms.
He searched for the key that was in a pocket in his jerkin. After a minute, he finally found it, but then it took him a few tries before he finally got the key in the keyhole. He unlocked the door and immediately stumbled inside, throwing the bags in a corner.
“Is everything alright, Crowley?”
The Ranger turned his head to his left, seeing a girl looking at him with a frown.
“Who are you?” Crowley required, his hand moving to the hilt of his Saxe knife.
The girl raised her hands in defence, taking a step backwards.
“It’s me, Melany. Your assistant, remember?” the girl replied, now even more confused. Had the Ranger already forgotten about her after less than three months?
Crowley shook his head as he tried to think of that. He didn’t have an assistant, and if, than it was that boy. No, man, he corrected himself.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, breathing slowly. Why was thinking so much more difficult than usual, he thought.
Without paying too much attention to her, Crowley walked to the kitchen. Or well, he thought he was but instead he was swaying from his left to his right, his arms waving around as he tried to stay on his feet.
“Careful!” Melany warned him. She couldn’t prevent the Ranger from tripping over and falling on the floor, his head hitting the oaken leg of the table.
“Damnit, girl!” Crowley snapped, rubbing his head. “I was fine until you started screaming!”
Melany stopped in her tracks, her hands reached out to the man on the floor. He slapped them away as he got up, placing a hand on the table.
“Are you…” she started, but then kept her mouth shut when Crowley stared at her.
“What? Were you going to say ‘alright’? Aside from the bump on my head that you caused, I am.” Crowley said, a hint of anger in his voice.
Melany lowered her arms, not knowing what to do or say now.
Crowley was grateful for the silence and turned around to his bedroom. He made sure to take small steps, keeping his balance by placing a hand on items nearby.
“Where are you going?” Melany asked, although it was obvious.
Crowley took one, deep breath.
“I’m going to my room. Don’t you dare to come bother me.”
“What do you want me to do until you’re back?”
“I don’t know, nor do I care! Go clean, cook, study. Anything, as long as you stay silent and stay away.”
Melany couldn’t even reply for Crowley slammed the door behind him. One moment later, she could hear him falling onto his bed.
Even in his dreams, the world kept spinning around. It didn’t help he was tossing and turning as well, trying to find a comfortable spot and position to lay in. He was tired, his head hurt, he was hungry and thirsty. And so, so warm.
Crowley opened his eyes, taking in where he was at the moment. He was laying on his stomach, his arms next to him. He didn’t even know what woke up him up.
He pushed himself up, slowly, his muscles protesting and his limbs partly numb. The world spun again, more and more. He sat on his bed, the quiver pushed up. He reached to the belt of it to take it off. The quiver fall on his bed the moment the belt was loosened.
Crowley shoved it aside until it fell on the tiles. He would pick it up later, he thought.
Next was the cloak. He tried to loose the fibula that kept it close, but he simply didn’t have the strength to turn the circle and take it out.
“Damnit!” Crowley muttered when his finger slipped and he stabbed himself on the point of the pin. He put the finger in his mouth until the bleeding had stopped. Then, tired of trying, he pulled the cloak over his head, taking a few strands of hair with it. The cloak ended up on the floor as well, on top of the quiver. He would take care of it later.
Crowley took a breath, then another. Something wasn’t quite right. He was feeling hot, his heart racing in his chest, sweat drops falling down. His tunics were drenched in sweat, sticking to his hot skin. He should take them off, he realised. But once again, he had no energy to do that.
Suddenly, coldness crept into his hands and feet, spreading up, to his arms and legs. He didn’t recognise it until it was almost too late.
Crowley stumbled forward, reaching the bowl he normally used to wash his face. There was always water in it. Now, it was filled with the inside of his stomach.
He used a cloth to wipe his mouth. His legs, already weak, gave away and he fell on the floor, his hands no longer able to break his fall.
“For Gorlog’s sake, feck!” The strong curse was barely louder than a whisper. Even his mouth betrayed him.
Crowley’s attention was then caught by the coldness of the tiles. It wasn’t much, but it was some relief of the heat he was feeling.
He laid down, his cheek resting on the tiles. A sigh of relief escaped his mouth as he felt the cold seeping into his head. It wouldn’t last long, he knew that. But anything for a moment of coolness.
The following hours, Crowley kept moving around the floor to gather as much coldness as he could. He had discarded the plan to change clothes. By now, they had dried up. Maybe, in some hours, he would be able to get a bath and get into something clean.
It wasn’t until the late afternoon that he finally had enough strength to push himself up from the floor. He had been laying in the shade, close to the window.
As he looked around, he noticed that there was a stone carafe standing on the cabinet next to the door. With it, there was a cup as well as a small bag.
Grunting, Crowley got up, his head for once not spinning but pounding. His eyes hurt, and his hands looked for steadiness on the wall.
Slowly, taking small and careful steps, he managed to make it to the cabinet. He now saw that it was water that was in the carafe. He didn’t bother to pour it into the cup. He placed the carafe on his lips and drank one gulp after the other. Only when it was empty, he took a deep breath.
He placed it down, harder than he intended to do, and winced at the sound it made. He then took a look in the small bag and noticed there were herbs in them.
Crowley held the bag up and smelled carefully. The scent was strong and bit into his nostrils. Without another thought, he dropped the bag and planned on what to do next.
Stumbling to the door, he pushed the handle down and opened it. His eyes went around the room until they rested on the one he was searching for.
“So you thought I wouldn’t notice?” Crowley said, leaning against the frame. With one hand, he looked for the coldness of the bricks, the other was placed on the hilt of his knife. “I told you not to bother me.”
The girl swallowed nervously from the place she was sitting. It was true that she had entered his room, but she had made sure to be very silent.
“I just wanted to help,” Melany replied. She was sitting at the table, her face towards the bedroom of the Ranger. She leaned back in her chair, her arms resting in her lap.
Crowley snorted offendedly.
“I don’t need any help for I’m fine. I think I had made that clear damn well when I returned.”
Melany nodded once. Still, she couldn’t help but to think the Ranger wasn’t doing well. She dared to look at him, although not into his eyes.
His face was red, as were his arms and hands. She wasn’t sure if it was just heat or perhaps because he had burnt himself. His clothes were sticking to his body, and he was leaning against the frame. Not casually, but as if he needed it to support himself.
“Are you done staring or what?” Crowley snapped angrily. He was preparing himself to start another round of remarks when his knees gave away again.
He managed to catch himself partly, but he did end up on the floor again. This time, he didn’t bother to try and get up. He was leaning against the frame, slowly sliding down more.
“Crowley!” Melany had shot up from her chair, pushing it onto the ground by the force. Crowley couldn’t gather the energy to scold her for it. He didn’t care, actually.
“Crowley? Can you hear me?” the girl shoved his shoulder with one hand, her other checking his forehead. She was shocked to discover it was blistering as well as a starting fever. He wasn’t just warm. He was sun sick.
“Come here to me,” Melany said, now worrying because Crowley didn’t respond. He kept closing his eyes until they stayed closed. His head fell down, his chin resting on his chest. The movement made him fall forward and the girl quickly caught him. She laid him on the tiles, not knowing what to do now.
To Crowley, everything was just one big blur. He could hear her voice in the far distance, but it was moving around all the time. He felt her hands on his face and shoulder, which he tried to push away. His muscles refused to do as he said, so he couldn’t do more than just hope she would leave him alone soon. He let himself be pulled into the darkness and didn’t even notice that he almost greeted the floor again.
There were a couple of things that Crowley noticed when he woke up again. First, he wasn’t laying on the floor anymore. Instead, he could feel that he was laying in his bed. Second, the headache that he had been feeling the whole day had finally calmed down. It still hurt, but not as bad as before.
“I had hoped that you were more careful, but I see that my words didn’t mean a lot to you.”
Crowley turned his head to his left and saw someone sitting on a chair next to his bed.
“Pritchard?”
No, that couldn’t be right. Pritchard had been dead for years now, he was sure of that. But the person looked so much like him. Crowley blinked once, then again.
“I’m afraid not,” the man spoke, standing up and stepping closer. “Though I’m sure you remember me once that head of yours is clear and awake.”
The man reached out with his hand and took something from Crowley’s forehead. He saw it was a cloth that the man put in a bowl with water before putting it back.
While Crowley was waking up more, the man pulled the blanket down and took another cloth. He put it in the water and started to wash Crowley’s chest, neck and face.
“My arms?” Crowley asked when the man didn’t do them. Looking down, he saw they were bright red.
“I fear you won’t let me see another day if I do that,” the man replied. He did take a small ceramic jar and took something out of it. “Your skin in sun burnt. The salve will help to take away the pain, but also help the skin heal. You will have to use it until it’s healed.”
The man spread a layer on his arms, hands and face. Even the top of his head was covered in it. Crowley supressed a groan, clenching his teeth together.
“That shall do it, for now. Repeat it at least three times during the day and if really bad, also during the night. Once the skin is healing, you can reduce that.”
Crowley thought he was giving the instructions to him, so he was surprised to see the man looking to his other side.
“I shall, sir. Thank you for helping,” Melany replied, walking around the bed and taking the jar from him.
Crowley noticed that she didn’t look at him, only at the man who he now recognised as the healer.
“Very well. If that’s all, I shall go to my other patients.” The healer took his bag and let himself be brought to the door by the girl.
Crowley listened to their chatting and the door being closed. Melany walked into the room a moment later, the jar in her hands. She placed it on the cabinet next to the door and wanted to leave the room when Crowley called her.
“Come here, will you?” It sounded like a request, but she knew it wasn’t.
Melany walked to him, but stayed on a distance. His angry comments and behaviour were still fresh in her mind.
Crowley noticed it, but decided to not address it. There was something else he wanted to say to her.
“I apologise for how I behaved and treated you earlier on. That wasn’t nice of me, nor did you deserve any of it.”
The girl lifted up her head, her eyes now focused on his.
“It’s alright, you weren’t feeling well,” she said, but Crowley shook his head.
“That’s no excuse for what I said or did. You saw what I didn’t want to acknowledge and tried to help. I was just too stubborn to accept that I had made a mistake. I shouldn’t have put the blame on you. That wasn’t fair of me to do.” He couldn’t lift his arm, so he turned his hand, the palm now facing upwards.
Melany had been taken back by the Ranger’s apology, but when she saw what he tried to do, she took a few steps forward until she was standing next to his bed. She placed her hand in his, a bit unsure what to expect.
Crowley closed his fingers around hers, although it did hurt. He bit through it, not wanting to let her see the pain he was feeling.
“You’re a good kid,” he said, which he meant.
Melany felt a glow inside of her when she got the compliment. All she had been worried about aside from the man being sick, was that he had started to hate her. Turns out, it wasn’t the case at all. She nodded once, a smile on her face.
Crowley let go of her hand and turned his head to the cabinet.
“Those herbs, what are they for?” he asked her.
Melany was already on her feet, walking to the carafe that she had refilled and opened the bag with herbs. She put a handful of it in the water and watched as they slowly sank to the bottom.
“Medicines against headaches and nausea,” she answered him as she poured water in the cup. “But they’re good for any pain, actually.”
Crowley grimaced.
“I hope you have a decent stock of it, because I will be needing it for the upcoming time.”