Honor Found (The Spare Heir) (12 page)

“This?” she asked, holding the chest up so Jorem could see it.

“Yeah, tha's it,” he murmured.

A wave of nausea and pain caused his stomach to knot and his eyes to blur.  The potions they’d given him earlier were wearing off.  If this didn’t work, he wasn’t sure what would happen, because he was about to pass out.

“Shet it down an’ open it.  Careful, don’t touch.  Is ver fragile,” his words came out, slurred.

“A glimmer stone?” Jen asked confused.  “What am I supposed to do with a glimmer stone?”

“
Glimmer stone?
” Jorem thought. The old woman, Sashia, had tried to make power stones as her father had, but she hadn’t been successful at making the mage-enhancing stones.  What she made looked the same as power stones, large glittering gemlike pieces, but that was all they were, shiny bobbles.  Had it not been for their size and durability most people would mistake them for true gems.  The glimmer stones had become very popular as gifts between friends, especially those hoping for a little more than friendship.

“No,” he said, his words getting difficult to say clearly.  “Not glimmer.  Is a power stone.  Look into it.  Relax.  Don’t touch it.  Thin’ of yer shields dissolvin’.  Jus’ relax an’…”

The blackness overtook him and there was nothing he could do about it.  The pain became so intense he could no longer speak.  Some maniacal voice in the back of his head said,
“As long as it hurts, you know you’re still here”
.  He squeezed his eyes shut as even thought became impossible.  The searing pain from his wounds became his world, the only thing of which he was aware.

Chapter XVIII

A blinding green light surrounded him.  Heat engulfed his body and stole his breath away.  He felt as if he were floating in a warm, soothing bath.  Startled exclamations came from all around.  He didn’t care.  Everything felt so good, so right.  Slowly, the light dimmed and went away. 

The pain was gone.  The nausea was gone.  Even the warmth that had surrounded him was gone.  The scent of fresh spring air filled his lungs.  He resisted the urge to open his eyes.  He wanted to hold on to this sensation for as long as he could.  Several voices babbled nonsense around him, disturbing his peaceful drifting.

“
So this is death
,” Jorem thought.  “
Not quite what I was expecting.
”

Several hushed voices whispered just far enough away that he could not distinguish the words.  Slowly, Jorem opened his eyes.  The grey canvas of the sick tent was a bit of a surprise—definitely not what he’d thought he’d find when he died.  A glance across the tent showed a few clusters of men talking quietly.  Looking down, he saw Jen sprawled motionless across a carpet of lush, green grass.

Jorem sprang from his bed.  As he landed at Jen’s side, he realized that springing wasn’t something he should be able to do.  Singed bandages fell from his shoulder.  No wounds were visible on his chest or shoulder.  Tanned clear skin covered a slightly more muscular body than he’d had before.  He felt refreshed and energized.  In fact, he couldn’t remember ever feeling this good.

Pressing a palm to Jen’s forehead, he found her skin cold and clammy, her breathing shallow and labored.  She had a pulse, but it was faint and slow.  Closing his eyes, Jorem saw a bright core of green light where Jen lay, and a faint green aura extending about an arm’s length from her.  The power stone, still nestled in its chest, pulsed and throbbed to Jens heartbeat. 

“Jen,” Jorem whispered, and then more loudly, “Jen, can you hear me?”

He carefully opened one of her eyes, but only the whites showed.  If she’d passed out, her healing energies should have stopped, but they were still flowing.  Jorem had read of healers expending all of their energies.  They generally died from such efforts.  Once they were sapped of all their energy there was nothing left to keep their own bodies going.

As he leaned over Jen’s limp body, his necklace dangled down between them.  The sword shaped amulet attached to the chain glinted in the light.  It had been a gift from Lady Dragon Mage Zensa, the most powerful mage he knew of—the most powerful mage anyone knew of short of an actual dragon.  True, she was no healer, but if anyone could help, she could.

“Should you ever have need, break the amulet and I will come.”
The mage’s dulcet voice whispered in his mind.  Would she come?  The last Jorem had heard the mage had been off searching for someone or something.  Actually, she had always been on some quest or another.  This last had been going on for several years now.  Jorem only knew of it from the conversations he’d overheard between the mage and the wizard Pentrothe.  She might be too busy to help him, but Jorem had to try something, and the slim chance of a Dragon Mage coming to his aid was all he had.

Grasping the amulet in his hand, Jorem squeezed until it snapped.  A small shard pierced his thumb, his blood coloring the amulet a crimson red.  Before he could react, however, the small gash closed before his eyes and was instantly healed.  Jen was still projecting her healing power even though she was unconscious.

One heartbeat, two heartbeats, three heartbeats…

A tremendous clash of thunder shook the ground.  Several men stumbled and fell from their reaction to the concussive blast.  The side of the tent burst into flames and crumbled to the ground.  An acrid smell filled the tent as a slight breeze blew smoke through the new opening. The men inside the tent dove for cover.  Shouts of alarm echoed across the encampment.

A raven-haired demon stood before them just outside the tent.  She held a long, flaming sword before her with a double-handed grip.  A shimmering silver gown clung to every curve of her form as it reflected the red and yellow light from the flames.  Yes, definitely a she.  Fiery light shone from emerald green eyes.  A black, shimmering robe flowed around her.  The edges of the robe fluttered slightly from a slight breeze.  That same breeze sent the smoke curling about the tent.  Power and danger radiated from her being.

“Now that’s what I call an entrance,” Jorem muttered.

Zensa flicked a glance at Jorem, and then she glared at the cowering soldiers.  Her sword vanished as she strode over to Jorem.  Even without the sword in hand she sent a chill of fear into everyone nearby.  There was no smile of greeting, nor words of concern.  She looked ready to kill the first thing that annoyed her.  No one ventured to approach her.  Most beat a hasty retreat. 

“I trust you have need?”  Her voice left no doubt to the fury pent up, ready to be unleashed.

“Not my need, but hers, Lady Dragon Mage.”  It’s best to use her full title, Jorem thought as he spoke.

Zensa approached and looked down at the waif of a girl sprawled on the grass. Jen was even paler than she’d been before the mage’s arrival.  Jorem still knelt at her side.  He didn’t dare move her.  He wasn’t even sure it was safe to touch her.

“I’m no healer, Jorem,” Zensa said, her voice like dark velvet.  “Besides, the amulet was for your need, not another’s.”

Jorem looked down at Jen.  The words of the Folk came back to him
.  “You are bonded.”
  He hadn’t known what that meant then.  It was becoming clearer with each passing moment.  With the removal of Jen’s shields, powerful emotions were crashing down upon him.  He felt as if part of him was melting into Jen, and part of Jen was seeping into him.  Somehow her shields had prevented it from happening before.  Now they were as one.

“Her need is my need, Lady Mage,” Jorem said calmly.  “The Folk said I was bound to her.”

Zensa looked at Jorem and then back at Jen.  “You mean bonded,” she said.  “Bound is something forced, like tying two things together with a cord.  Bonded is more like fusing two things together to make one.”

“All I know,” Jorem replied, “is that she is part of me as I am of her.”

Zensa knelt beside Jen and pressed her hand against Jen’s chest.  Long slender fingers splayed wide.  Several small scars on the back of Zensa’s hand shimmered, faded and disappeared.  The skin left behind was smooth and tan.  No injury, it appeared, could remain in proximity to Jen.

Zensa removed her hand and backed quickly away.  Jorem knew her well enough to see she was startled.  The Lady Mage looked at her hand and back at Jen.

“She’s a healer?” Zensa queried.

“A trainee, yes,” Jorem replied.

“Tell me everything that has happened.  Leave nothing out,” Zensa ordered.

She sounded so much like Pentrothe that Jorem automatically took his mind down to a meditative state, a trick the old wizard had taught him for when perfect recollection was needed.  The wizard had said that it was more reliable than a mind reading spell and took a lot less effort.  What a person thought they saw was often dependent on their mood and level of stress.

Jorem started from his regaining consciousness in the sick tent.  He described everything in exacting detail from who was in the tent, where they were and what they said, to the passing shadow of a cloud when it blocked the sunlight.  When he was in a deep trance he often lost track of time, so he was not sure how long his recitation lasted.  As he finished, he opened his eyes to see Zensa staring intently at Jen.

Zensa knelt down beside Jen again, with no regard for the fine gown she was grinding into the grass and dirt.  This time she put her hand on Jen’s forehead.  She closed her eyes and Jorem felt the familiar prickling of magic at the back of his neck.  Zensa’s lips moved but no sound emerged.  Her brows were furrowed in concentration.  Slowly the light from the power stone dimmed and vanished.  As it dimmed, a myriad of minute cracks formed on the surface of the crystal.  In less time than it took to take a breath the power stone crumbled into a pile of
fine dust.

It was only a few moments before Zensa stirred.  Her eyes fluttered open, but her furrowed brow remained.  Something wasn’t right, and Jorem couldn’t accept the idea of Jen not being all right.  There had to be something more they could do.  Jorem was about to ask if he could help when Zensa held up her hand to silence him.

“Three things I’m going to tell you,” she said in a dangerously silky voice. “First, if she’s a trainee, I’m a barmaid.  There is more healing power in this girl than I have ever seen before, and I’ve been healed by a dragon.  She expended more raw magic than even a power stone could withstand.  The stone may have helped her gain focus, but other than that it merely reflected the power she was channeling.”

She paused a moment before continuing.  “Second, she’s in some kind of shock—something like whiplash, but of the mind.  Her conscious self is buried somewhere deep inside her mind.  From what I could see, the only reason she hasn’t willed herself to death is the bonding between the two of you.  Somehow you two are sharing your energies with each other.  I’ve turned off her healing spell so she isn’t draining herself anymore.  I’ll have to take her to Echalain’s keep, Dawnsword.  There are some
“people” there who can help her.”

Zensa turned to face Jorem.  From the look in her eyes he was fairly certain that if he blinked wrong she’d incinerate him on the spot.  Her delicate finger, the nail painted a crimson red, pressed against his chest.  If he didn’t know it to be her finger, he’d swear it was an iron spike.  Seldom had he seen her so intense.  He couldn’t have turned from those sparkling green eyes to save his life.

“Lastly,” her voice a whisper, “through this girl’s eyes I saw you dying.  Not just injured, as you claimed, but dying.  You are the closest thing Pentrothe has to a son.  Don’t you understand how much you mean to him?  Not just him, but many others as well.  I gave you that talisman to guarantee him you’d be safe.  Why didn’t you use it when you were in danger?”

Jorem carefully stood and helped Zensa to her feet.  He looked down into the emerald green eyes still glaring at him. 
“She always seemed so tall before,”
he thought to himself.  It was true Pentrothe had been more of a father to him than any other.  Zensa though, Zensa had been his friend and, well, his hero.  She could, and had, done great and amazing things.  Taking a deep breath, he considered what to say.

As calmly as he could, Jorem began.  “By the time I knew I was in danger, it was too late.  The creature attacking me was upon me so fast I barely had time to draw my sword.  After that, thinking wasn’t really an option.”  He paused for a moment, then continued.  “To tell the truth, until I saw Jen collapsed on the ground, I didn’t even remember I had the talisman.”

Jorem looked at the ground.  Thinking of Jen crumpled and fading made it difficult to breath.  He hadn’t seen her for ages and they’d only exchanged a few letters in all that time.  He’d liked the willful, strong-minded girl from the first time they’d met.  He hadn’t realized how much he cared for her until just moments ago.  Now, now he’d do anything, give up anything, for her.

“Will she be alright?” he asked.

Zensa’s face softened at the question.  “I think so.  It will take a long time.  The power she expended was unbelievable.  Healing is supposed to be a slow, deliberate process.  In less than the blink of an eye she healed every man, animal and plant within half a mark’s travel.  I’ve never heard of the like.”

Jorem didn’t know what to say.  Finally, when no other words seemed right, he put a hand on Zensa’s shoulder.

“How is your search going?” he asked.

Zensa looked at him as if trying to see through to his inner thoughts.  ”I forget sometimes how well you listen.  Mind well with whom you speak of this, my friend.  Echalain is yet missing.  Few are the clues I have found.  I fear Pentrothe may be correct in his guess of someone using The Forbidden.  The old woman Sashia, daughter of the maker of power stones, gave me the best lead I have.  Even that lead is but a dim hope.

“If The Forbidden was used on Echalain, I might yet have hope, though time is growing short.  The body of a strong mage might last as long as two sevendays if his essence is trapped in one of those evil contraptions.  A true dragon, however, could survive for five, maybe ten years.  It would seem an eternity to the one trapped.  If Echalain is being held within a sphere of The Forbidden I wouldn’t care to be near if he should ever escape.  A dragon’s anger is unlike anything man can imagine.  Entire races have been wiped from the face of the land by an enraged dragon.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Jorem asked.

Zensa smiled a sad smile.  “I fear in this there is little any other can do.  Strong and dangerous magic is at work.  I dare not even ask help from Pentrothe any more.  So many have been lost I couldn’t ask another to take such a risk.”

Jorem nodded in understanding.  “Danger, unlike many things, is not halved when shared.  Dangerous or not, I’m of no real use anywhere else.  If you have need of me I am yours to command, even if all I can offer are my wit and my sword.”

“It is no wonder Pen cares for you so.”  Taking Jorem’s other hand Zensa opened it to reveal he still held the broken talisman.  Covering the talisman with her hand, she whispered something and the talisman was whole once more.