North Star Guide Me Home (4 page)

Delphine glanced at Cam again, and held up the stone.

Mages,
he mouthed.

A powerful mage would miss the faint buzz of power given off by the enchantment — those with great power were notoriously oblivious to small fluctuations in the currents of energy. The power given off by the communication device, however, was a different matter altogether.

But she was tired, and the sun was already beating down on their little niche. The enchantment was a delicate and complex working, and her power was already running low from exhaustion. A few more hours of heat and thirst might be more than she could bear.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained,
Delphine told herself, and began to gather her power.

‘Issey, can you hear me?’

His eyelids flickered, but he didn’t respond. Sierra stroked his cheek. His skin was unnaturally pale, and she couldn’t bear to look at the vivid red streaks on his arm.
Should we have done this in the first place? Oh Issey, please don’t die. I couldn’t live with myself if you died now, after everything we’ve been through.

Over by the fire, Rasten muttered to himself as he inspected the bone saw, scratching at some matter caked around the handle before dropping it into the boiling water. ‘Speed is key. He’ll go into shock, but the longer we take the worse it’ll be. If he wakes, you’ll have to help me hold him down. Can you do that?’

‘Yes,’ Sierra said, trying to sound sure of herself, but she couldn’t keep the quaver from her voice.

‘It’ll be easier with you to keep him from feeling it. The pain won’t rouse him, and it won’t tax his strength further. You know how pain can wear someone down.’

Isidro wouldn’t feel the knives and the saw, but she would, in an echo of sensation. She clenched her jaw. She’d endured worse, and if it meant Isidro would live, she’d weather it ten times over. ‘You’ve done this before, haven’t you?’

‘Many times. I thought I’d have to do it back in the winter. I didn’t think he’d live if we left the arm as it was. But Kell wouldn’t permit it.’

‘Let’s just get it done,’ Sierra said.

There was no point her offering to help. Kell had forced her to wield the knives and implements a few times, but she had never been trained the way Rasten had. She could read the tension in his shoulders as he lifted the pot from the fire and began to take out the knives and the saw. Sierra bowed low over Isidro, and kissed his forehead. When she straightened she found Rasten watching her.

‘Once you’ve washed your hands, touch nothing unless I say, understand?’

Sierra nodded. Rasten was tense, his eyes dark, his voice harsh and clipped. She knew his moods now, and when this one came upon him, it was better not to argue or even to ask too many questions. She straddled Isidro’s waist, pressing her bare legs against his skin, and washed her hands in the steaming bucket Rasten had brought to his side. Beneath her, Isidro shivered and muttered something unintelligible, shifting against the bundled shirt under his head. Rasten sat back on his heels and scowled at him. Sierra felt his power flare, and flame-coloured ropes of force boiled out of the air to wrap around him. Only a blood-soaked layer of cloth covered the gaping wound on his forearm. Rasten slipped the tip of a knife under a corner of it and peeled it off. Sierra swallowed hard at the sight of the bruised and swollen flesh.

‘If you’re going to puke lean over the other side. Same for fainting. Don’t contaminate the wound.’

‘I am not going to faint,’ Sierra said, as much to herself as to him.

‘Good. Are you ready?’ Rasten said, reaching for the belt he’d laid under Isidro’s upper arm and wrapping it into a tourniquet.

As he pulled the belt tight, Sierra felt a sudden hum in her ears, a buzzing sound like a swarm of bees. She squeezed her eyes closed and swallowed hard.
By the Black Sun herself, I will not faint. Afterwards, you can weep and swoon to your heart’s content, but I will not let Isidro down, not again.
She forced herself to breathe deeply, but the buzzing in her ears did not diminish — if anything it grew to a throbbing, painful thump within her skull.

Dimly, she heard Rasten growl. ‘What now?’

Isidro? Sierra? Can you hear me?
The voice came within the reverberation that filled her skull.

Delphine
, she said,
is that you?

Yes, I haven’t had time to reach you until now. We’re in trouble, we need help — a patrol has us pinned down in a patch of rocks …

When she spoke mind-to-mind with Rasten or Isidro, the ritual bond allowed her to see through their eyes, but Delphine’s enchantment had no such ability. All Sierra could see with her eyes clenched shut were flashes of light matching the throb of power inside her skull.
We’re in the gorges to the south,
Sierra said. She forced her eyes open, but the daylight sent another blinding streak of pain through her skull. She was breathing deeply through the pain. Kell and Rasten had taught her how to withstand it, how to separate a part of her mind from the howling of strained nerves.

Rasten heard the exchange too. He’d loosened the tourniquet and fetched the map.

We lost the trail during the night,
Delphine said.
Cam thinks we drifted to the west …

We’re half a day’s ride away, I think,
Sierra said.
The Akharians are chasing you? How many? How close?

How close? They’re right here. We’re hidden for now, but they’ll keep searching. Sierra, I’m sorry, but we need help — can you come? Please? Or … or are things bad where you are, too?

Sierra gritted her teeth.
I’ll come as soon as I can. Just hold on.

Oh, thank heavens. Is … is Isidro alright? Is he there?

Not right now. I’ll tell you more when I see you. Now break the contact, before you split my wretched head open.

Oh!
Delphine said, and then the buzzing abruptly died, though it left Sierra’s head still ringing like a bell. She closed her eyes against the too-bright sunlight. ‘Did you hear all that?’

‘I heard enough.’

‘Mm,’ Sierra said. Perhaps she should have told them about Isidro … but no, it would take too long. Time was against them already.

‘Do you need to rest?’

Sierra shook her head. ‘No. Get on with it, Rasten.’

He pulled the tourniquet tight. Then, while Sierra watched the flesh beneath the leather bands blanch to a pallid white, Rasten washed his hands and cleaned Isidro’s arm with a sop soaking in a bowl of steaming herb-water. Then, he selected one of the knives laid out by his side, and began to cut.

He began a handspan below the elbow. Sierra clenched her teeth against the searing sting of the blade, but a few moments later a rush of warmth replaced the pain. Isidro moaned and twitched against Rasten’s restraints, but his eyes didn’t open, and for that Sierra was grateful.

As blood ran from the wound, Rasten laid the knife aside and reached for a tool shaped like blacksmiths’ tongs wrought small. With this, he caught the artery and pinched it closed. ‘Hold it,’ he said to Sierra, and while she awkwardly wrapped her hand around the handle, he snatched up a silken thread and tied the vessel closed.

He cut again, deeper this time, and repeated the procedure, continuing to carve a v-shaped wound that laid bare muscle and bone. Then, as he peeled back the raw flesh to expose the bone, Sierra had to look away. She’d lost count of the subjects she’d seen butchered to fuel Kell’s rituals, but back then she’d been free to lose herself in the storm of power drained from the dying body, letting the golden song of power overwhelm her and make her forget what had brought it about. She’d never tried to force herself to stay present and aware when it was someone she loved bleeding under the knives.

‘Sirri, help me,’ Rasten commanded, and she turned back. When she saw what he wanted her to do, she felt the blood drain from her face.

‘Rasten —’

‘Close your eyes if you have to, but hold it, tight. The blood makes it slippery. Keep taking deep breaths, Sirri. You know how to do that, we’ve been through it often enough.’

Once she put her hands where he wanted them, gripping as tightly as she could against the sticky, slippery blood, Rasten picked up the saw.

She couldn’t stop the tears streaming down her face. Every rasping stroke sent a spear of fire and power streaking through her and there was nothing she could do but endure it, just as she had so many times before, until Kell finally pushed her too far and she opened a volcano beneath his feet.

It took an age. She wasn’t strong enough to hold the arm steady against Rasten’s stroke, and he had to use one hand to help her while he cut with the other. When at last the blade cleared the second bone, Rasten cast the severed limb aside with a curse, and fumbled for the tongs to pinch off another spurting vessel. When Sierra saw the arm and hand lying on the blanket, she almost did faint — the world grew dark around the edges of her vision and the rushing sound of her blood was loud within her skull.

‘Sirri, stay with me,’ Rasten said. She felt warm liquid wash over her hands as he sluiced water over the wound, washing away shards of flesh and bone. She gulped a deep breath, tasting blood, and remembered a day back in the depths of winter when she had gingerly run her hands along that ruined arm, the same flesh and bone that lay discarded and dying on foreign sands.

‘Sirri,’ Rasten said again.

‘I’m here,’ she said. ‘I’m alright.’

‘Just a little longer,’ he said.

‘We’re almost done.’

He filed the ragged edges of bone smooth, and after washing away the debris once again, he sprinkled the raw flesh and bone with a vivid green powder. He had Sierra clamp the raw faces of the wound together as he sewed it closed.

Once it was done, Rasten washed away the blood once more, and then applied another liberal dusting of the green powder. It had a distinct metallic scent.

‘What is that?’ Sierra said.

‘Verdigris.’

What remained of Isidro’s forearm was a tapered stump extending barely a hand’s-breadth below his elbow. Sierra steadied his arm while Rasten wrapped it tightly. ‘After a week or so the blood vessels will have closed over and we can pull out the threads.’

As Sierra watched his broad, strong hands, she found her gaze drifting to the severed limb. She forced herself to look away.

Once the bandage was tied off, Rasten removed the tourniquet. Sierra bit her lip as a fresh flush of blood seeped through the cloth. ‘They always bleed a bit,’ Rasten told her. He’d spread a piece of cloth beneath his work, and now as he took it away to pick up the severed limb it revealed a wide stain of red across the sand. Sierra just stared at it dumbly. Even with the tourniquet, he’d lost so much blood … and after the battle with Kell he didn’t have much to spare. Rasten scraped some fresh sand across to bury the stain.

‘Sirri!’ Rasten grabbed her by the arm and shook her. ‘Fetch the blankets, cover him up. We have to keep him warm.’

She roused herself, and scrambled to reach the blankets, wincing to feel the chill of his skin as she spread them over him. ‘Should we pack hot rocks around him, like someone with hypothermia?’

‘Worth a try,’ Rasten said.

The dry streambed was full of round, smooth stones. Sierra collected a dozen or so and heated them one at a time with a fine thread of power. She packed the warm stones around his torso and tucked the blankets close around him.

By the time she was done, Rasten had cleared away the bloody water and implements. Sierra felt him come towards her, but she didn’t look up from Isidro’s face. ‘Rasten, his lips are blue.’

‘He’s lost a lot of blood. Too much, really, for someone his size, but there was nothing else we could do. He would have died if we hadn’t acted.’

‘What happens if he loses too much?’ Sierra glanced up at him at last. The sun stood high in the sky, above his left shoulder. When had that happened? She shook her head, trying to focus on the matter at hand. ‘Will he just die?’

‘Maybe. Sometimes they live, but it leaves their wits addled. Sometimes they start out that way, but in time their mind is restored. Isidro’s tough, Sirri, but he’ll need to eat well and rest a great deal to regain his strength. I thought we could make a broth with the rest of the dried meat …’

‘If you think it will help, do it,’ Sierra said.

‘See if you can get more supplies from the soldiers. Or another horse, maybe, we could use it for meat.’ Rasten looked down, his brow creased with a frown. ‘Sirri, what … what do you want me to do with the arm? What would
he
want? It’s best to burn it, I think. If we bury it, some beast will only come along dig it up …’

Sierra scrubbed the back of her wrist across her forehead, damp and prickling with sweat and grime. ‘Yes, burn it. But wait ’til nightfall, if soldiers see the smoke …’

‘Fair point,’ Rasten said.

Thinking about the dead, severed limb made Sierra’s belly twist within her, and she looked away, swallowing hard. ‘Rasten, keep a close watch. If Cam and Delphine are pinned down only half a day away, there’s likely more soldiers around.’

Rasten nodded. ‘Once you’re gone, I’ll climb up to the bluff to look around,’ he said. ‘But you should eat something first.’

Her stomach twisted at the thought. ‘Oh, by all the Gods, no. Just give me a water-skin, if we have enough clean water.’

Rasten nodded. ‘I’ve filled it already.’

He fetched it while Sierra pulled her boots on, and then handed it to her along with a few scraps of dried meat wrapped in a rag. She tucked it into her sash without comment. No doubt hunger would overcome her revulsion soon enough.

He helped her saddle one of the horses, and then held it by the bridle as she mounted. ‘Be careful,’ he said.

‘I’m not the one in need of caution,’ Sierra said. ‘If they’ve done Cam any harm …’ She glanced at the sun once more. It felt like days had passed since Delphine made contact. ‘I don’t know how long I’ll be … take care of him, Rasten. You have to keep him alive.’