Death of a Darklord (20 page)

“Take off the bandage,” he said.

“What’s wrong, Silvanus?” Fredric asked.

“Please, just take off the bandage.”

Fredric didn’t argue again, but did as he was told. When the bloody bandages came away, the wound was still there. It had not healed.

Fredric’s eyes widened. “Silvanus, what has happened?”

The elf shook his head. “Randwulf, bare one of your wrist wounds for me, please.”

The younger man had no teasing words, he simply unwrapped his right wrist. The wound no longer bled, but it was still an open bite, nasty to look at and painful. Without a word, Randwulf offered his arm to the cleric.

Silvanus touched the wound, delicately, fingertips alone. He traced the laceration as if exploring it. Randwulf winced, but made no sound.

The elf closed his hand over the wound and bowed his head, concentrating. Again the soft, growing magic built, fluttering in the air like a trapped bird, a bird that had no where to fly. Something was very wrong. Elaine had no words for exactly what, but she knew it shouldn’t happen like this. Even without the ability
to sense the healing, the looks on the two fighters’ faces were enough. They were shocked, frightened.

Averil knelt by her father. He was still shuddering, struggling to heal. She touched his shoulders, gently. “Father, Father, please.”

He shook her hands off and half fell to the ground. His cloak trailed into the fire. Elaine knelt and rescued the cloth. It hadn’t begun to burn yet.

He turned to Elaine. “I cannot do it. I cannot heal them.” His face was raw with anguish.

“Of course you can,” she said. It was a lie, even as she said it, she knew that, but she said it anyway.

“Wizard,” Silvanus said, eyes searching for Gersalius.

Gersalius came to stand in front of the elf. “Yes, my friend.” His voice was full of a deep pity.

“You said I should not be able to heal here in Kartakass. Why was that?”

“I do not know why, Silvanus, but I know that it is so.” He turned to Thordin, who was kneeling by the fire, stirring his stew but watching the cleric. “You had a cleric friend who came over. Did she know why she could no longer heal?”

“Kilsendra said she could no longer reach her god, that she was somehow cut off from her deity.” Thordin’s voice was heavy; he didn’t like saying it.

Silvanus shook his head. “That is not possible. Bertog cannot be separated from his clerics. No, that is not it.”

Thordin shrugged. “I can tell you only what Kilsendra told me. I was never a healer.”

Silvanus turned to Elaine. His glittering eyes searched her face. “Elaine …” He let the sentence trail off. He did not look to where
Jonathan still sat. He did not have to. Konrad had explained some of Elaine’s plight, and the cleric had promised not to reveal that she, too, knew some magic.

Elaine glanced back. Jonathan was watching. His squeamishness forgotten in the novelty of it all. His face was watchful, curious. If he hadn’t been so terribly afraid, he might have been nearly as curious as she was, as he was curious about everything else. But his fear stood like an unbreakable wall.

If Jonathan knew what she had done, she would be even less human to him. She turned back to Silvanus. He watched her with quiet eyes. He would not berate her if she refused. She knew that. If he had argued, or threatened, Elaine could have said no, but those quietly patient eyes … she could not say no to them. More than that, she didn’t want to say no. She wanted to know if she could do it, if she could close a wound with a touch.

She nodded. “Show me how.”

Silvanus flashed her a smile that warmed her like the glow of the sun itself. “Touch Fredric’s wound.”

“What are you saying?” Thordin asked. “Elaine is no healer.”

“Oh, but she is,” Silvanus said. “She helped heal me yesterday.”

“Elaine,” Gersalius said, “that is wonderful.”

“Why didn’t you tell us,” Thordin said.

Elaine glanced at Jonathan.

Thordin said, “Oh.”

They all turned back to the cleric, determined as far as possible to ignore the mage-finder—if one could ignore a storm that might break any minute.

“Touch the wound, Elaine, explore it. Memorize the feel of it in your fingertips,” Silvanus said.

Elaine hesitated, hands just above Fredric’s bare flesh. Her
skin ached to touch the wound, to explore it, but … “Won’t it hurt him?”

“A little, but you are new at healing. You must understand the nature of the injury before you can heal it. You must be free to touch the wound as much as necessary.” He glanced up at the big warrior’s face. “Fredric takes pain well. He won’t hold it against you.”

“If you can heal me, girl, I will have only praise for your name.”

Still she hesitated. “And if I can’t?”

“Then you will have tried, and I will sing your praises for that.” A smile peeked from behind his mustache.

Elaine gave a nervous smile in return and let her fingers touch the wound. The skin folded back on itself where the teeth had torn it. She ran fingertips over the gash, over bumps in the skin with slick holes underneath.

She glanced at Fredric’s face, but it was blank, unreadable. “If I hurt you, tell me, and I’ll stop.”

He shook his head. “I’ve had far worse done to me than to suffer a lady to touch a small wound.”

The injury was not small, and they all knew it. The partial healing that Silvanus had managed yesterday had given him use of the arm, but until it was healed completely, he would not be at full fighting strength. He wore a great two-handed sword strapped to his back and needed two good arms to wield it.

She had trailed over the surface of the skin, but her fingers wanted to go deeper. Elaine glanced at Silvanus. “I don’t want to hurt him.”

“Do you remember in the tent how you explored my life-force until you could sense the darkness?”

She nodded.

“You must explore the wound the same way. You must know if the damage is shallow, or if muscles or bones are involved. What you did yesterday is really much harder, for you cannot hold an aura in your hands. You can’t even truly visualize it. You can see the bite with your eyes, touch it with your own skin. When you know the surface of the wound, reach inward, but not with your fingers. Yesterday, you felt like you could hold my heart in your hand, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Search this wound until you can feel your fingers melting into his flesh, searching his muscles for injury.”

Elaine bent back over the wound. She took a deep breath, then pressed her fingers deep into the teeth marks. Fredric let out a sharp, soft exhalation of air. Elaine didn’t look up. If she saw pain in his eyes, she wasn’t sure she could do this. And she wanted to do this. She could feel that same growing power. It flowed through her, from Kartakass. The land was with her. She could feel it, almost as if it were curious.

Her fingers dug into flesh. There was a soft grunt of pain. Elaine closed her eyes, pressing her hands around the arm. She pushed her hands over the wound, fingers half-curled, searching the torn flesh, sinking deeper through the injuries. It was as if her fingertips slid inside the wounds and kept going. They traveled through layers of muscle. Blood flowed around them, all safely below the surface, like a hidden river. She touched the bone itself, fingering it like a piece of jewelry, trying to memorize the feel of it.

“Is there any injury below the surface?” Even Silvanus’s soft voice made her jump. She lost that feel of slick bone, and working
muscle. She blinked and dropped her hands to her lap.

“There is some bruising, but nothing more. Nothing’s broken.”

Silvanus smiled. “Good, now it is time to close the wound.”

“How do I do that?”

“You must heal it from inside out. Find the bruised flesh and heal it, then come outward and close the wounds behind you.”

She stared at him, frowning. “I think I understand healing the inner bruising, but how do the wounds close up behind my fingers? Wouldn’t it make more sense to smooth the wounds shut, like making pottery, and mending holes in the wet clay?”

“If that makes sense to your mind, do it, Elaine. I do not know about wizardry, but healing is a very individual thing. Each healer uses her own imagery. You use visuals similar to my own, but I know other clerics that go entirely by feel. As long as it works, it does not matter how it works.”

Elaine reached for Fredric’s arm again. She gave a quick glance to his face, then back to the wound. She had hurt him, she knew that, but it was more important to heal the wound than to ease the pain.

It was easier this time for her fingers to flow into the flesh. The tips of her fingers ran down the length of the bone in its muscle-and-blood sheath. She opened her eyes, just to see, but her hands sat on top his arm, looking ordinary. If she hadn’t been feeling it herself, she wouldn’t have known anything unusual was happening.

Now that she had opened her eyes and could still feel the bone, she kept them open. It was odd, almost dizzying; sight told her she was merely holding Fredric’s arm, but touch told her her fingers were deeply imbedded in his flesh. She shouldn’t have been able to see her fingers at all, but there they sat.

“Do not become distracted,” Silvanus said softly. He was kneeling by her, shoulder almost touching hers. She hadn’t felt him come up so close beside her.

“Keep your hold on the deep sensation, but remember why you are there. You are there to heal, not to simply sightsee.”

Heat crept up her face. She had been playing inside the man’s arm without healing him at all, simply enjoying the sensation. She glanced up at Fredric’s face. His face was calm, but puzzled.

“I am sorry,” she said.

“No, Elaine,” Silvanus said. “Do not become distracted—not even by words or pity. Concentrate on the injury. Heal it.”

“How?” Elaine started to turn to look at the elf. He touched her gently and turned her face back to the wound. “See only this. Feel only this.”

She took a deep breath and did as she was told. She felt the bruising; it went all the way down to the bone. A breaking of blood vessels, a near crushing of flesh. She wanted to heal the broken blood vessels, to smooth the flesh inside as well as out. She drew her invisible fingers through the tissue, as if combing them through putty.

The broken flesh closed behind her touch, like a wall mending itself. Her fingers drew outward until Elaine could feel them resting on Fredric’s arm. She stared down at the torn flesh.

Elaine drew her hand over the tears. She smoothed the outer skin, and it moved under her touch like clay. The flesh melting together, mending itself as she ran her fingers and thumb over the wound. She ended by holding his forearm between her hands and smoothing her palms down his arm, as if working in lotion.

She lay his arm in her lap and looked at it, turning it from side to side. But Elaine didn’t need her eyes to tell her it was healed.
With that last smoothing motion, she had felt the flesh whole, of one piece, with no imperfections in it.

“It is done,” she said. Her voice sounded a little surprised, even to her own ears.

Fredric lifted his arm before his face, turning it, staring. He ran his hand over where the bite mark had been. “There isn’t even a scar. Silvanus, there’s no scar.”

The elf crawled forward and grabbed the arm. He ran his fingers over the healed flesh. “Bertog be praised. It is as if the skin were never broken.”

“I knew a healer that could do that,” Thordin said, “but he was a temple elder.”

Silvanus looked up at the fighter. “I have known only two clerics that could do this.” He traced fingers back and forth over the smooth flesh. “Are you experiencing any pain?”

Fredric raised his arm, flexing the hand. “It feels wonderful, almost better than new.”

“My turn next,” Randwulf said. He held out his wounded arms. He wasn’t smiling when he said it, no teasing now. Elaine didn’t know him well enough to read his expression, but it was solemn, perhaps impressed.

“How do you feel, Elaine?” Silvanus asked.

“Fine.”

“Do you feel at all tired?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Not at all?” Silvanus asked. “Be sure you are not tired, Elaine. You have just done your first major healing. You must be careful to conserve your strength.”

Elaine sat back and thought, how did she feel? She wasn’t tired. In fact, she felt wonderful. Refreshed, alive.

“I’m not tired at all. I feel wonderful.”

Silvanus stared at her, as if trying to gauge her reaction. “Don’t feel you must be strong for others. If you are too tired to heal Randwulf, you could harm yourself.”

“I feel fine.”

“How could she be harmed?” Jonathan was standing just behind her, tall and forbidding, though he was asking after her safety. Even after last night, he was worried about her. Elaine reached out to touch his hand, to let him know his concern meant something to her. Jonathan jerked his hand away, as if her touch burned him.

Elaine let her hand fall back into her lap. She stared at his face. She would not look away, would not make this easy for him. Jonathan would not meet her gaze. He stared fixedly at the elf.

“If she is too tired and persists in trying to heal, she may tap into her own life-force. Elaine could use up her own life, spilling it away into Randwulf. She is new enough to healing that she does not know the signs. She could kill herself giving others life.”

Jonathan finally did look at her. He stared into her face. He took a deep breath and touched her hair with his fingertips.

Elaine raised her hand slowly. He didn’t move away. She touched his hand, and he returned the touch, squeezing the fingers gently. “I would not want anything to happen to you, Elaine.”

“I feel fine, truly.” She laid his hand against her cheek as she had as a child. He smiled, and she felt better than she had in hours.

“Then heal him, but be careful.” He patted her cheek and pulled his hand gently from her own.

Elaine turned back to Randwulf. “Do I heal him just the same?”

“Yes,” Silvanus said, “it is nearly the same type of wound. You can either heal one wrist at a time or both together.”