Highland Sorcerer (6 page)

Going through the nearly identical
motions was weirder than that off-sense she got from moments of
déjà vu. Like déjà vu multiplied by thousands.

She managed to wriggle out from beneath
him and get him rolled over. His arms flopped to either
side.

She tapped his cheek. "Toren, Toren,
wake up."

He looked so hurt and vulnerable. The
urge to heal him as she'd done before threatened to consume her.
She wanted to take every hurt away from him, but she couldn't. Plus
she already knew the extent of his injuries, the two broken
ribs…

She also knew the depth of his magic.
That’s what she had come back to this point for. His power and his
sorcerer gifts.

She'd tapped into his magic before when
she'd healed him and for what she had in mind, she'd need it
again.

"Toren." She rubbed his sternum.
"Please wake up. We don't have much time." Only a few more minutes.
The first time they'd met, she'd barely manhandled him into her tub
and washed his hair before the witch Aldreth pulled him back to her
dungeon through the rift he’d created to get her. She couldn’t see
or sense it, but knew it had to still be open.

Charity wished she could take care of
Toren again, heal him, get him clean, but the magic she needed
couldn't be wasted.

"Toren."

His eyes moved beneath his lids. His
lips parted as he roused. Charity smoothed a hand along his cheek
and smiled when his eyes finally fluttered open.

She didn't wait for him to focus fully
on her. "I need you to listen to me. You came here seeking my aid
and I'm going to give it to you."

His look of relief nearly shattered her
resolve.

"But not just a small
reprieve."

"Can you…" His throat worked. "I seek a
healing."

Charity took his hand and squeezed it
between hers. "I know." His plea had the power to unravel all her
plans. What if this didn't work? Then she'd be sending him back
still broken and wounded with little reserve to continue fighting
Aldreth. And she needed him to fight. Just for a while
longer.

She felt a tear slide onto her cheek.
"I'm sorry. I can't."

His eyes widened, full of disbelief.
"But I came—"

"I know. Believe me I know."

She didn't have time to wait. She
placed her palm upon his filthy chest.

The thrumming started in the pit of her
belly, pulsing like a bass drum through her body, drawing forth
with the beat of her heart the innate magic that was hers by birth
and heritage.

Magic flowed through her, tingling
beneath her skin like static electricity. The ends of her hair
lifted. Focused, Charity anchored the magic within her heart and
guided the power through her arms into her hands and
outward.

The man gasped. His back arched, neck
stretched. Shoulders and head ground into the floor, but she kept
going, kept pouring the healing into him, even knowing she caused
him pain. Just a little bit. She couldn't heal him fully, but let
the power drill through him enough so that she could tap into his
magic. What little healing she did on the way was pathetically
inadequate. The point was for her to be magically in contact with
him so she latched onto his magic, keeping it within a stranglehold
of her own.

And waited while the magic buzzed
between them. She didn’t push for anymore, didn’t delve down as
deeply as before when their magic had exploded together and she had
been thrust into his emotions and thoughts. She just had to keep
ahold of him—essence to essence—a light touch on the
fringes.

“
I need you to trust
me."

Toren's glassy eyes barely remained on
her. They flit incoherently about the room. When she'd healed him
before, his innate magic had strengthened hers beyond what she
could normally do. He had allowed it to flow through her freely and
that emotional connection, almost a type of bond had been somehow
forged between them.

Charity didn't know if it still
remained or if the connection between them had been wiped clean as
though it never existed because they were reliving this time once
more. For Toren it never was. He had never been healed by her. This
was the first time they met. Nor did he know her name.

Names hold
power.

"Charity." She grabbed his large hand
between hers. "My name is Charity." It was suddenly very important
that he knew that.

He pulled his fingers from hers and
looked away. "Is it no longer customary that a Healer Enchantress
give aid to those in need?" His tone was an accusation.

She drew back as though she'd been
slapped. "Of course it is."

A muscle in his jaw twitched. He turned
back to face her. "Then why will ye not—?" His eyes hardened.
"Ye're in league with her."

"With who? Aldreth?"

His entire frame stiffened, muscles
bunching beneath his filthy skin. Oh crap. From his perspective,
how else would she know the witch's name?

"I'm not in league with
Aldreth."

Weak though he was, Toren scooted away,
dragging himself backward on the linoleum. His features twisted
with pain.

Charity crawled after him. "Stop that.
You're hurting yourself. Your ribs have been broken."

Again he gave her a horrified look.
Great. Sure. How could she know that? Like that wasn’t
suspicious.

He blew out the most
incredulous sounding huff she'd ever heard. "'Tis not what ye want?
I'm at yer mercy,
Healer
. Do what ye will."

She grabbed his wrist. "Now you listen
to me, Toren Limont. I only know about the witch Aldreth because
you told me."

That's not poss—"

"Be quiet and listen."

"So ye intend to torture me with
words?"

Charity dropped his wrist. Geez, he was
stubborn. She grinned. Bet he gave Aldreth just as difficult a
time. Good. The thought of the witch and what she'd done to Toren
made her shiver.

Charity got up quickly, keeping a
tendril of magical touch flowing between them. They didn't have
much more time. She needed to tell Toren what she had come back to
this moment in time for, and although she couldn't heal him, she
could give help in another way.

"Soup," she announced, grabbing the
chenille throw off the back of her couch and draping it around
Toren.

A dark eyebrow quirked up as he watched
her movements.

She grabbed a can of chicken noodle and
shoved it under the electric can opener. Though trying to feign
indifference, he stretched his neck, trying to see what was making
the humming noise on the counter. Big bad torture device, also good
for opening cans of soup.

Dumping the contents into a plastic
bowl, she set it in the microwave. Toren's eyes widened. Charity
leaned back against the counter to study him. If she squinted just
right, she could barely make out a ripple in the air of the magical
link she still had woven between them. She wasn’t about to release
it and so far he hadn’t made any attempt to unravel it. Probably
because he knew he could do so whenever he wanted. He’d undoubtedly
already sensed the pathetic amount of her magical prowess and knew
she wasn’t any kind of match for his strength.

She smiled, trying to seem
nonthreatening so he wouldn’t feel the need to yank his magic away
from her slight touch. That would be a disaster and so far, this
wasn't going as planned anyway.

She took a deep breath. "We have
minutes left maybe, so just hear me out."

Toren’s hands clenched. Great. He was
being stubborn.

"We've done this before. Well, not
exactly, this. I'm changing things even telling you this. Last time
I healed you."

"Last time." Toren's eyes narrowed. So
far so good. He at least seemed to take that in stride. "Ah. But ye
won't do so now. Aldreth has gotten to you as she did all the
Healer Enchantresses of my time so ye've traveled back to undo what
ye have already done." He nodded as though fitting all the pieces
together.

Charity's heart ached for him. "Is that
why you traveled so far through time?"

Toren picked at the chenille blanket.
"Aldreth threatened any healers and their kin who dared aid me. I'd
hoped to find someone beyond her reach." He shrugged. "I was
mistaken. Forgive me for whatever harm my rash action coming here
has brought to ye and yer kin."

The microwave dinged and they both
flinched. Flustered, Charity spun around to get the soup and a
spoon, and then brought it to Toren, sitting on the floor next to
him.

He eyed it and her warily.

She huffed. "It's just soup." She ate a
spoonful herself and dipped the spoon back in. "I can't heal you,
but I can at least give you some nourishment. Please. You’ll need
it. We don't have much longer."

His Adam's apple bobbed and Toren took
the offered spoon, his hand closing over hers and a jolt of
electricity charged through them, raising the tiny hairs of their
arms. They stared at each other across the plastic bowl of chicken
noodle.

Toren let go and shifted back.
"Mistress, I…"

"Don't. Toren, this has happened
before. I healed you before and… " She fluttered her fingers in the
air and he reached out and stopped her. Then jolted, his brows
creasing together. Remembering? No. How could he remember something
that for him never happened?

His eyes bore through her, examining,
looking for the trap that lay somewhere within his
suspicions.

The tiny lines between his eyebrows
deepened. "Then why will ye not—"

Setting the bowl on the floor, Charity
grabbed his forearms. "Because I'm going to save you. Trust in
that."

He shook his head. "Nay. How can ye?
Aldreth, she—" He groaned. A tremor rolled through him and he
flickered.

It was happening. Aldreth was pulling
him back through the open rift he’d created. Damn she wished he’d
been able to close it. The bands on his wrists probably had
something to do with why the rift remained open. Though they were
not on him now since nothing inorganic could go through a space
rift, they were still spelled to him, the glowing symbols keeping
him a prisoner as securely as if they were tattooed upon his
flesh.

Charity clutched his arms more tightly
as though touching him would keep him with her, even knowing it was
his magic hers needed to stay in contact with.

Toren's muscles bunched beneath her
hands. His arms shook. His jaw clenched tight, head thrown
forward.

Time was out.

“
Trust me. Toren.
Please!"

He didn't respond. His head bobbed.
Charity couldn't be certain if that was a nod or simply a jerk
against pain.

She thrust her hand upon his chest
again and followed the pathway she'd made down to the core of his
magic. And took some of it to herself for a better hold. Or at
least tried to. He wasn't freely giving it to her this time, and
there was no way she could get at it without his consent. A
person’s magic had to be freely given, not taken. It was one of the
few built-in safety guards that existed among all magic.

All she could do was hold onto
his.

“
Please, Toren, trust
me.”

He was in so much pain, fighting her
while also fighting the pull of Aldreth’s link to him that was
dragging him back. She could feel the depth of his agony in the
tightening of his muscles, yet could do nothing about it. He’d come
for her help and now she couldn’t even give it in this. She had
screwed up royally.

“
Toren,” she
pled.

His eyes flashed to hers, intensely
blue. He nodded. Charity didn’t know what had changed his mind or
if he was simply taking a risky chance upon her, but all at once
his barrier came down and he no longer fought to keep her
out.

Her magic grabbed a hold of his and
drew upon it, feasting upon its strength and enhancing her
own.

The air charged with static. Her bones
vibrated with it. Her teeth hurt. This was happening.
Now.

Bearing down against it, Charity
lowered her head and began chanting.

She didn't have strong enough magic to
travel through centuries or open rifts into time and space, but he
did. Toren did.

Just like when she had healed him,
Charity tapped into his endless reserves and drew what she needed
to her. What she needed to survive what was coming.

Images cascaded into her mind. The
dungeon, Aldreth, beautiful in whorls of white. Toren, hanging from
those damn bespelled bands against the wall, dirty and in so much
distress, his pain assaulted her across the centuries.

"No." The Toren before her rasped. His
hand circled her wrist tight enough to bruise though his flesh
faded in and out. He would soon be gone.

"Trust me," she cried, and his eyes
snapped to her, penetrating her soul as forcefully as the charged
energy of the time spell weaving around them and magic poured into
her, his magic, flowing as strongly as if Toren had dumped a
pitcher of it over her head.