He was in a decripit basement with Heinrich. He was in the Tower by the stone steps leading up from the chapel with Vivian. He was also in the mud with Ajax, the only warmth and heat the Enkindled scimitar in the ground next to them as the mage whose heart he'd stabbed stared blankly ahead, dead.
Hakon's jaw set. Ajax would not join him.
He Engulfed the mage, his torch greedily gulping in the extra vitessence. It always hungered for more. No sooner than it had taken in the life force of the human than Hakon set to work, channeling vitessence to Ajax.
Usually, when he healed someone, the energy would pool in a particular location, and Hakon would know that to be the site of the most grievous wound. When he healed someone who had nothing in particular wrong with them, the energy would disperse and scatter, going to a variety of minor cuts, aches, scrapes, and pains. Rarely, though, there was a third pattern, where the vitessence would seem to be confused, being pulled this way and that by the recipient's body.
It was a bad sign. It meant that there was so much wrong that there was no set priority. That the body was so traumatized and so hurt that it didn't know what to do. It was a bad sign and it was happening now, to Ajax.
Hakon bit his cheek to prevent himself from saying anything aloud. If Ajax were watching him, he needed to feel reassured, not scared.
Then he directed the energy to where it needed to go, starting with the groove that the Pyromancer had torn in Ajax's chest. The boy was lucky that it had gone across his body and not through it, or he would have had a hole in his body, and that would have been that.
Lucky, thought Hakon bitterly, tasting blood and realizing he'd bit hard enough to fill his mouth with it. He spat it onto the dead mage. If he were lucky he never would have met me again.
He didn't let up on healing Ajax. The shining light connecting Ajax to his torch pulsed and strobed as it moved up and down the younger man's torso. Every fifteen breaths, Hakon would stop guiding the light, seeing if it would choose one place or another and using that to guide his decisions about where to heal next. He'd rebuilt Ajax's chest and much of his shoulder when is Torch guttered.
Hakon nodded to himself. He was out of vitessence. Of course he was. This was a grievous wound. Ajax would have been dead if he weren't an Engraver and he hadn't been near at hand. He still might die.
"Lad, I have to move you. We're going," Hakon paused, unsure, as he looked around the battlefield, because that's what had become of their camp.
Shriven flame fires still burnt in what had been their campfire. Their tent was gone, though the pyromancer's use of Exigency had left their bedrolls singed but intact when it pulled the flames from them.
"Stay here. Keep your eyes open and I'll be right back."
Hakon pulled the bedrolls close to the campfire. Normal fire could not be counted on to stay where it had been put, but shrivenflame was not normal fire, and with no Pyromancer to guide it, it would remain fixed in place for the next few days. It was blessedly warm in a place where the small hours of Glade felt like the worst Frost many people from the kingdoms further south had ever experienced.
"Be a good lad, I'm going to pick you up, okay?"
He ignored the burns covering his arms and put one brawny arm under Ajax's neck, the other under his knees, and then lifted him. There was nothing to him, Hakon thought, trying to suppress a shiver at that. Ajax had always been light. He wasn't easier to pick up because he was injured. Still, it was hard not to think about how frail he felt, how vulnerable.
Hakon's mouth filled with blood again, and he spat it on the fire this time.
Once he got Ajax settled on the bedroll, he conjured a star and used its sharp blade to cut him out of the tattered remains of his shirt. He didn't want it sticking in the edges of Ajax's enormous wound. He grabbed a clean shirt -- his own -- from his pack and lightly covered Ajax with it, and then covered the lad with all the blankets between the two of them. Then he crawled under with Ajax and wrapped his arms around the lad's waist.
Only then did he finish up the healing, transferring vitessence from his own body to Ajax.
"You're gonna have to-- to take care of me," Hakon said, staring at a fixed point as he drained his own life force.
A fever bloomed on his brow as his limbs started to feel leaden and cold. He coughed in the dry air, but he didn't stop. He couldn't stop, or Ajax would still die and there'd be no one to take care of the wreck he was making of himself. He urged himself to go deeper, stealing more and more himself: his vivacity, his agility, his quickness, his vitality. All of it went into the mess that the Pyromancer had made of Ajax's torso.
When he finished, Ajax was still quite hurt. Where there had been a groove carved to the bone through Ajax's torso, there was now an angry red mark as thick as three of Hakon's fingers, like a strap for a cross-body bag. If Hakon didn't feel like he were on death's door, he would have smiled. Even when Ajax got a scar, it was a stylish looking one.
"You're," Hakon said, trying to focus on the words, "you'll heal," he ground out.
This his head fell back and his arms slackened. Hakon was unconscious.