Daughter of Witches: A Lyra Novel (24 page)

Arelnath’s face darkened. “Would you leave a friend to die if you had hope of saving him?”

“Save a victim of the river-snakes?” the Templeman replied skeptically. “I think you would be kinder to grant him a quick death. No one can heal the bite of those snakes.”

“I doubt that Drinn has any healers left who could,” Mist said bitterly. “It is one of the drawbacks of burning witches—you cannot use the talents of a dead man.”

“You can heal him?” Erenal looked at Mist skeptically. Mist nodded. Erenal’s eyes narrowed, watching Jaren. A moment later, he looked up and shook his head.

“I cannot allow you to use your magic, even if it may cure your friend,” he said regretfully. “How am I to know what spell you weave? And it is-needless cruelty to drape him across my horse and carry him to Drinn. He will be dead long before we reach the city.” He looked down at his dagger for a moment, then stepped to Jaren’s side. “I am sorry, but there is only one thing I can do. He will feel nothing, I promise you.” He knelt and raised his hand for the death blow.

R
ANIRA CRIED OUT AS
she realized Erenal’s intent. She threw herself forward, knowing sickly that she could not reach Jaren in time. She saw Arelnath begin to move as well, and she heard Mist cry something from behind her. Erenal did not seem to notice any of them. His hand was steady as the dagger came down and embedded itself in bare ground. A look of surprise, almost wonder, touched the Templeman’s face and froze there.

Slowly, he toppled backward. Ranira saw the hilt of a Temple dagger protruding from his chest, and saw Jaren beside him, hand still outstretched from the unexpected blow. Her mind refused to find sense in the abrupt reversal of events. Then her eyes met Jaren’s. They were unclouded by the effects of the poison. Ranira’s brain began to function again. “Shandy, get Arelnath!” she called over her shoulder. Without waiting to see whether the boy obeyed, she threw herself down beside Jaren.

Jaren’s eyes closed as Ranira reached his side. He sank to the ground beside the Templeman he had killed. Ranira’s hand shook as she touched Jaren’s shoulder—she still could not believe he was unwounded. How could a man half-dead of snakebite dodge a Templeman and then kill him?

“I am Cilhar,” Jaren said quietly, as if it explained everything.

Ranira blushed as she realized she had spoken aloud, but Jaren’s eyes were still closed and he could not see her embarrassment. Ranira wondered if she should try to move him. She looked toward Mist for guidance.

A low snort from just in front of her distracted Ranira. She turned, then jerked back in surprise. The chestnut horse stood practically on top of her, investigating Erenal’s body with his nose. Ranira had barely time to register the horse’s presence before the animal reared and sent a high-pitched whinny ringing through the woods.

Ranira fell backward. The horse reared again above its master’s body, and then bolted. Ranira scrambled to her feet as she realized that Arelnath was still tied to the horse’s saddle. She was too late. The rope pulled tight, knocking Arelnath off her feet and revealing Shandy standing behind her with a look of dismay on his face. “The knots were too tight!” he wailed. “I didn’t have time!”

Ranira ignored him. She ran forward, hoping to stop the horse, but it swerved away from her. She continued to run. The horse was heading into the forest where the trees grew more closely; it might slow down once it had to begin weaving in and out among the trees. As she ran she groped blindly for her dagger.

Suddenly the horse slowed and stopped, shaking its head. Ranira forced her legs to keep moving over the uneven ground. She stumbled and half-fell forward. She flung out her hand and found herself gripping the rope that stretched between the horse and Arelnath. Abandoning any attempt to keep her feet, she began sawing at the rope.

The chestnut reared as it felt the additional weight pulling at its saddle. Ranira clung grimly to the rope, afraid that if she let go she would never get close enough to catch it again. The rough, twisted fibers stung her blistered hands painfully, but she ignored them. As the chestnut came down, she hacked at the rope again. The fibers parted reluctantly, a little at a time. The horse reared once more and started to move. Ranira threw her weight onto the knife as she felt the rope slipping from her grasp.

The rope parted at last. With a sound like a scream, the chestnut sprang forward and vanished among the trees. Ranira lay panting on the ground, watching. Slowly her breath came back to her, and she climbed to her feet. She left the Temple dagger lying where she had dropped it and turned to Arelnath.

“Are you all…” Ranira stopped. The Cilhar woman’s face was twisted with pain. Ranira dropped to her knees and reached for the ropes that encircled Arelnath’s arms. As she started to tug at the knots, Arelnath gasped. Ranira stopped fumbling with the rope and bent to examine the other woman more closely. Both of Arelnath’s shoulders were bent at an unnatural angle.

Ranira sat back. Should she continue trying to untie the ropes or would it harm Arelnath even more? Her dilemma ended when Arelnath blinked painfully up at her and said through clenched teeth, “Untie me! Hurry!”

Ranira obeyed. The knots were stubbornly tight, and every pull made Arelnath shudder in pain. At last the bonds fell away. As her arms changed position, Arelnath gasped and fainted.

Not knowing what else to do, Ranira brushed the limp pieces of rope away from Arelnath’s hands and waited. After a moment, Arelnath stirred and winced. Her eyes opened. “Remind me to be more careful about moving. Can you help me?”

Ranira nodded uncertainly and reached out. “Not the arms!” Arelnath nearly screamed as Ranira touched her.

“I am sorry,” Ranira said. “I didn’t realize.”

“Sorry? What are you trying to do, cripple me? Don’t you know a dislocated shoulder when you see one?”

“Dislocated shoulder?”

“No, I suppose you wouldn’t, at that.” The anger drained out of Arelnath in a visible relaxation, leaving only a stubborn resistance to pain. “Go and get Mist. She’ll know what to do. Go! I don’t want to lie here forever.”

Ranira rose to her feet, automatically dusting the front of her robe as she looked around. She was surprised to see how far they had come; she could barely see the others. She shouted “Mist!”

The voice that answered was Shandy’s. “Renra! C’mere!”

Ranira picked up her dagger and plodded back toward the edge of the forest where she had left Mist and Shandy. The trees kept her from seeing either of the two clearly until she had almost reached them. Then she stopped short. “Shandy, what happened?”

Shandy looked up from beside Mist. “Renra, do something with Mist. I don’t know anything about sick witches.”

“What happened?” Ranira asked again. She walked over and knelt beside Shandy. Mist lay half-curled around herself, showing no signs of consciousness.

“I don’t know what happened. I think she was trying to do some more magic,” Shandy said disapprovingly. “She yelled something weird when that horse took off with Arelnath, and then she just sat there for a while with her eyes closed. And then she said ‘I can’t hold him,’ or something like that, and fell over. I don’t like magic.”

“I know,” Ranira said crossly. She looked at Mist again. “We have to wake her up somehow, Shandy. Arelnath did something to her shoulders, and she can’t move. She says Mist knows what to do about it.” She reached out to shake Mist, but recoiled as her hand touched the other woman’s shoulder. “Shandy! She feels like she’s frozen!”

“It’s not that cold,” Shandy said scornfully, “and she was fine a minute ago.”

“Well, she isn’t now,” Ranira snapped. She looked desperately for something to cover the healer with. Whatever the reason for the sudden chill in Mist’s flesh, Ranira was certain that the woman would die soon if nothing were done to stop the growing iciness. “Shandy, can you start a fire?”

“Arelnath’s got the firebox,” Shandy said. “And there’s no wood.”

“There’s plenty of wood. You’re in the middle of a forest, aren’t you? Arelnath is over that way. Get the firebox and tell her what’s happened. Hurry!”

As Shandy plunged into the trees, Ranira grabbed one of Mist’s hands and began rubbing the wrist. There was no response; if anything, the hand seemed to grow colder. She pulled at Mist’s arm. The tug moved the folds of Mist’s robe, and Ranira saw the moonstone dangling from the chain at Mist’s neck. It was glowing faintly, but even as she watched, the light dimmed.

Ranira hesitated. She knew nothing about her own magical abilities, much less Mist’s, and Arelnath had treated the stone with respect. An idea began to grow in her, and her eyes widened. “No,” she whispered. But the stone’s light was fading visibly and there was nothing else she could do. Ranira stretched herself on the ground beside Mist, holding the other woman’s body close to her own. Then she gritted her teeth and took the white stone in her hand.

Nothing happened. Ranira blinked and clenched her hand around the stone. “Do something, curse you!” she muttered. She closed her eyes. Deliberately, she called up memories of Mist working magic, trying to force her own power into action. For a moment, she thought nothing was going to happen. Then she became aware of a slow, growing warmth in the palm of her right hand.

Simultaneously, Ranira felt the heat of the invisible flames that warned her away from magic. This time she welcomed them, gripping the stone closer in hopes some of the warmth would penetrate the other woman’s iciness. Fire began to leap around Ranira. She could see it even through her closed eyelids. She clenched her teeth and held Mist tighter. Fear rose in her as she saw the fire come closer; it was moving faster than she remembered.

The heat intensified. Suddenly, Ranira realized that her right hand did not feel abnormally warm. Without knowing why, she shoved the hand closer to Mist’s face and opened her fingers. By now she could see nothing except flames, but she knew by the sudden wash of pain that the white moonstone had dropped free. Then the fire reached her.

Instinctively, Ranira jerked back, but she had nowhere to go. Pain flashed through every nerve of her body, and she screamed. Her purpose forgotten, she tried to reject the power that had brought the flames, so that the burning would stop. But she had called up her power for the sake of that fire, and it was too late to change her mind.

She screamed again. Her eyes flew open, but she was blinded by the light of the flames. She could not even tell whether she still lay beside Mist or not; she was no longer conscious of anything but pain. For an eternity, she hung suspended in a web of fire. Then, unexpectedly, the flames began to die. As they faded, the pain ebbed to a dull, constant ache. Her eyes began to clear.

The first thing Ranira saw was Mist, seated on the ground next to her with the moonstone cupped in one hand, watching her anxiously. “It worked,” Ranira croaked.

Mist smiled, but her eyes were stern. “Yes, and I thank you. But you must not try such a thing again! Without training in the use of magic, it is far too dangerous.”

Ranira started to shrug. Pain stabbed from her shoulders as her burns rubbed against the coarse cloth of the pilgrim’s robe. Ranira decided that it would be much better not to move. “I see what you mean. Can you do anything about it?”

“No more than I have already done,” Mist replied. “You are lucky to be alive. If that storm of power had not wakened me, you could have burnt to death.”

“Storm of power?” Ranira said, puzzled. “All I saw were flames.”

“Did you think your fires came from ordinary flints?” Mist chided gently. “No one but you can see them. The fire is a token of your power, which your mind is forcing against you to keep you from learning to be a witch. It is a good thing I knew that your block behaves that way, or I doubt I could have reacted quickly enough to save you.”

“
You
stopped the flames?” Ranira asked, remembering how abruptly the heat had begun to die.

“Whatever you saw, I stopped,” Mist said. “I also managed to take in enough power to refresh myself somewhat. But how badly are you hurt?”

Ranira shifted an arm experimentally. The movement hurt, but not as much as she had expected. Evidently, the burns were not as bad as Mist had feared. Ranira puzzled for a moment: If the flames were real enough to burn her, why had they not hurt her more severely? She did not know how long she spent surrounded by the fires that only she could see, but it had seemed like a long, long time. She looked at Mist. “Not too badly, I think. It is uncomfortable to move, but that is mostly because this robe is so prickly.” She noticed as she spoke that the fire had not touched her garments—only her flesh had been burned.

Mist nodded, but insisted on examining Ranira more closely anyway. A narrow line appeared between her eyebrows as she worked. “You are very lucky indeed,” she said. “You will find it painful to move for a few days, but the burns are no worse than you would get from the sun at midsummer.”

The puzzled line did not disappear, though, and after a moment’s hesitation, Mist went on. “What were you trying to do that you would take such a chance? Why would you turn to magic when you knew something like this would happen?”

“I was trying to get the fire to come,” Ranira confessed. “I didn’t have any other way to make you warmer. I was afraid you would die if you didn’t wake up.”

Mist looked at her, aghast. “What a chance to take! And for nothing. I can no more feel your fires than see them.”

“Well it worked anyway, didn’t it?” Ranira said. “What else was I supposed to do? What happened to you?”

“I overextended myself, just as Arelnath feared I would,” Mist admitted. “I drained myself, first by trying to contact the Temple of the Third Moon, and then with Jaren… But I could not let Arelnath die in such a way without trying to do something, and the spell for controlling animals is a simple one. So, I tried to hold the horse in its place, but it was stronger than I had thought, and I did not realize how much of my power I had used up. I could not hold it long enough.” Her head bowed.

“Yes, you could. You did,” Ranira said as she extended her arm, forgetting her burns, and winced as her sleeve scraped her skin. “Arelnath is over in the woods a little way. I cut her free before the horse got away, but she couldn’t move because of her shoulders.”