Excerpt: Hall of the Valkyrior

Mistress! " Vespyra becconed with alarm as had finished undress the man exposing him completely. It was not the new wounds that she feared the most it was what had already been done to his body.
Vylmya stepped up next to Vespyra and looked down on him. Her knees immediately became weak, her heart pounded like a racing centaur and her soul screamed.
"It is the he, the Warden of the East, return to us?" Vylmya half asked and stated.
Vylmya knelt down next to the bed. Tears sprang from her eyes. His body, three arrow wounds seeping blood onto the sheets under him, the multiple bruises from broken bones and battered flesh were critical, but like Vespyra it was not these wounds but the old scars. The long scar painted white across the right side of his face from under his hairline starting with a shock of white hair against an ebony mane and continued down ward in an angle through eyebrow to the corner of his lips. The scar was companioned with three each an inch wide which crossed from right shoulder to left thigh. The man had been laid open by the claws of a dragon and though even now so close to the doorway of death again should not be alive for those wounds should have killed any mortal.
"By the wings of our first mother, it is indeed he. Enridin, gone for over three years, thought dead or coward, lay before her. Scarred and battered there was still no mistaking him. "What ever is necessary to heal him to . All hope for the way of light lies on this bed."
Thane had moaned ever so briefly as Vylmya when the name Enridin had been spoke, for one brief second his eyes fluttered open though they were unseeing it was as if he looked directly into Vylmya's soul.
It took all of her knowledge to set bones, mend wounds and ease bruised flesh but into the midnight hour the healer had done all that she could. A choir of Valkyrior ringed the room, their opalescent flowing gowns puddled around their feet giving the impression that they stood upon clouds, sang in voices recalling breezes caressing wild flowers and spring grasses, the sound of small brooks gliding over polished pebbles and clouds embracing mountain tops. They sang the songs to carry a warrior to final rest or return his soul to this life. They held vigil singing with untiring reverence for two days and nights before the first moan of awareness issued forth.
Vylmya was immediately notified and she hurried to the sick bed. Taking a cloth dipped in soothing spring water she wipped his sweaty brow.