They rode as hard as the horses could go, Henry and Arthur on one horse, Praetorus and Rebecca on the other. The knight-apprentice and mage were both unconscious, resting forward on their respective horses' necks as their conscious companions each spurred their mounts to ride as fast as they can, the air growing colder and more chilled the further they went. The sparse pine trees were soon gone completely, with only a desolate rocky landscape on all sides; distant rocky hills capped with snow soon came into view, and before long, the first flurries of snowfall brushed against Henry's face as he rode into the wind.

  Arthur's breathing was no longer audible; a finger to his neck revealed only the faintest pulse of life. Henry gritted his teeth and spurred the horse to go faster, desperate to see any sign of civilization.

  At last, a faint light appeared in the distance, a lone beacon in the rapidly darkening sky; by now, the sprinkling snowfall had become a steady downpour, threatening to obscure the path ahead from vision. Henry steered his horse toward the light, shouting back at Praetorus to do the same.

  After a few more minutes of hard riding, the light slowly morphed into that of a blazing iron brazier, a roaring flame radiating heat and preventing any accumulation of snow around it. Not far from it was a building, a stone structure of considerable size that almost faded into the whiteout conditions surrounding them. Through the densely falling snow, Henry could see faint lights within.

  "Praetorus!" Henry shouted back. "Over here! I see shelter!"

  The squire hopped off of his horse and took the animal's reins, guiding it through the brewing snowstorm and into what seemed to be a stone courtyard. He could hear Praetorus do the same, and together the two of them made their way to the stables beside the main building.

  Henry gingerly slid Arthur off of the horse's back and onto his own, staggering to the main building with Praetorus close behind with Rebecca on his own back. Coming to a set of great wooden doors, Henry pounded on it with his fist, feeling the thick wood reverberate with each knock.

  "We need help!" he cried out, his voice barely audible to his own ears over the steadily rising wind. "Can anyone hear us?!"

  To his great relief, the doors swung open, revealing a lone woman in white robes. She took only one look at the sight before her before she quickly aided Henry with Arthur.

  "Inside! Quickly!" Henry could hardly hear her. As Praetorus staggered into the refuge as well, she hurriedly pushed the doors shut once more.

  It was thankfully much warmer inside, and the wind was but a faint moaning through the building's thick stone walls. Torches dimly lit the space, revealing a rather large central room that they stood in, with a few hallways snaking off in the distance. Tables and chairs were arranged in this central space, but they all stood empty. Henry limped over to a table and rolled Arthur onto it.

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  "Thank you," Henry gasped out. "Please... my friend... he needs help! He's been poisoned!"

  Praetorus gently laid Rebecca on a nearby bench, before rushing over to look at Arthur. He shook his head. "It is too late. I am sorry."

  The woman looked at Arthur as well, a strange expression on her face. It looked to be... fear?

  "No." The woman rushed off further into the building. "No! I can save him! I can save him!" She disappeared down one of the hallways.

  Praetorus laid a hand on Henry's shoulder; Henry disdainfully shook it off.

  "There is no medicine I know of that can save him at this point," Praetorus said gently. "He is past salvation. Allow me to put him to rest."

  "Don't touch him!" Henry put himself between Praetorus and Arthur. "You won't lay a finger on him!"

  "He is suffering," Praetorus pointed out, his voice still soft. "There is nothing more that can be done. Do not make him suffer meaninglessly."

  "He can be saved!" Henry's eyes misted over as he glared at Praetorus. "She can save him!"

  "I have seen this before." Praetorus' expression hardened. "The poison will kill him slowly and painfully. He will suffer for a few days, before his heart will give out from the stress."

  "I thought you weren't a healer," Henry spat. "How could you possibly know what happens?!"

  Praetorus' stoic expression broke, but just for a second. He reassumed it before Henry could pin the moment. "Because I watched my brother die from the same poison."

  The wind howled tersely outside, whistling through the stones every now and then. The torches crackled and sputtered.

  "I watched my brother suffer for days through this same poison." Praetorus' steely look drilled into Henry. "My clan nearly went bankrupt hiring all sorts of healers and apothecaries to help him. In the end, he died, painfully. No medicine or treatment on this earth exists to cure it at this stage."

  The woman burst back into the room, carrying an assortment of phials and jars. She immediately began mixing and stirring ingredients together, crushing some herbs with a mortar and pestle before distilling them into a strange green liquid.

  Praetorus shook his head. "It is useless. I have seen that same medicine be used on my brother, to no avail."

  The woman continued working. "The medicine is only half of the treatment. The other half requires faith."

  She tilted Arthur's head back and poured the green liquid into his mouth. Arthur groaned a bit, but didn't stir otherwise.

  Once the liquid was entirely drained into his mouth, the woman leaned his head back on the table, before rolling up her sleeves and placing her hands on his abdomen. A strange glow began to emanate from her palms, flowing directly into Arthur.

  "Lady, hear my prayer. Let not this soul pass from your grace, let not the cold hand of death take him before his time." She lowered her head as she prayed, her hands still pressed on Arthur. "I beg of you, grant me your strength, your wisdom, your skill in saving this soul from an untimely death."

  Henry watched, amazed, as Arthur groaned again. Was it just him, or did a bit of color just return to his cheeks?

  "What now?" Praetorus asked bluntly. The archer folded his arms and leaned against the wall.

  "Now, I must concentrate," the woman replied. "In the meantime, look after your friends."