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Every day after that, Yuval would start it with some breakfast for them both, and would then stick his nose on the books, seeking information on the sword, and seeking a spell to send Amath back home. Usually, Amath watched him do this quietly. He observed the wizard fuss with their food, talked a little with him while they ate, accompanied him to the little study to pursue books.
The demon didn’t like feeling useless, so he helped where he could. The books he understood, he checked himself; when they were low on food he would go hunting to get them more meat, he would accompany Yuval herb-gathering, or even into the nearest town to sell potions and purchase whatever couldn’t be found in the forest.
Although he found himself missing home, wondering about his child, about the war, about who would have taken over his post, he couldn’t help but find this life with Yuval rather... nice. Yes, he liked the wizard, rejoiced in their shared intimacy, enjoyed his attentions, and part of him was starting to wish he wouldn’t have to go. But part of him still called to his unfulfilled duties back home. To add to his worries, Yuval had been acting stranger and stranger with that damned sword. Lately, he’d been carrying the damn thing wherever he went. He’d been looking paler, too. Amath didn’t know what to do.
That afternoon, as Amath returned from hunting, he found the cabin empty. Likely Yuval had gone gather herbs, or water, or something of the sort. The books he’d been going through were all open on the library’s desk. Strangely enough, the sword was there too, resting right over the books.
“Yuval?” he called, wondering if the man was perhaps upstairs, after all. Seeing how close he kept the sword as of late, it was odd that he would just leave it lying around. But his call got no answer.
Amath set the meat aside, washed his hands, and went to the table that functioned as desk, reaching out. As soon as his hand came in contact with the hilt, his skin burnt. He cried out in surprise and tried to pull back, but it felt as if his hand were stuck. No matter what he did, he couldn’t pull his fingers away. The searing of his skin was not an exaggeration – he could clearly hear the sizzling, smell the burning skin, see the light smoke... a second, different kind of pain shot up through his arm and reached straight to his heart, sharp like needles, stabbing, stabbing...
“What are you doing?” Yuval stood at the entrance of the cabin, shocked first, then stalked to him. “Don’t touch that!”
The sword gave up its hold on Amath, and he was able to pull his hand back with a gasp.
Yuval hurried... to the sword. He observed it with care, reached out to touch it.
“Don’t-” Amath warned, still holding to his wounded hand.
But Yuval touched it anyway, and nothing happened. “You could have damaged it.”
Amath hissed. “Me? Damage it? It nearly burns my hand off!”
Yuval turned around sharply. For a moment it seemed as if he were about to argue such a thing, but then his eyes fell on Amath’s hand, and widened. It was as if something had snapped at the sight, and the worry Amath would have expected to find at first, was now written all over his lover’s face.
“Oh, Amath! I’m sorry, here-” he reached for his wrist, hovering his free hand over the burnt palm of Amath’s hand, whispering a few words. At once the pain receded, numbing down a bit. The healing was not perfect, but it spared what might have been months of healing. Yuval hurried to find some ointment and bandages to dress that wounded hand. “Tonight we’ll do another healing spell; you’ll be fine in a couple days.” He looked up with worry in his eyes. “Are you alright?”
Amath pulled his hand back a little harshly as soon as the wound was dressed, unable to hold back a little glare. He knew in his heart it was the sword that had made Yuval care so little about his wound, and yet... yet he couldn’t forgive it so easily. He turned to head back outside, rubbing his chest as he went, a ghost pain still bothering him. He heard Yuval call his name as he crossed the door, but did not turn back. He needed to clear his head.
