Stormed Fortress (53 page)

Breath hitched in sharp dread,
that the girl might have suffered an injury during the vehement course of resistance.

Talvish spoke, from behind, to stem frantic conjecture.
'
She
'
s surely alive!

Snatched for leverage. Bransian
'
s men should have kept their strict orders not to retaliate.
'

'
She
'
s not hurt
'
affirmed Arithon. His blood oath, set for her protection in Halwythwood, had not triggered his inner alarms. Sad fact stung afresh: her choice not to grant reciprocity meant he could not reach out, or touch on her mind, or sound with his talent for more direct answers. Clean ethics denied him. Trust in the moment was all he had, that no harm had yet overtaken her.

Sidir
'
s sharp work, meantime, had not left loose ends. No wounded remained to divide concentration, or conflict his affectionate loyalties. Mage-sight affirmed the shocked absence of aura: the duke
'
s henchmen were dead beyond salvage.

Which left the huddled form by the casualty sprawled on the far side of the room. Where a silhouette jammed against the pooled lamplight showed Dakar, brought to his knees, with his hand clasped around the slackened fingers that had reaped the grim price of the sword. The spellbinder choked, unabashedly weeping, as Elaira sank down in support at his side.

Sidir breathed, still. Initiate senses picked up the stammering pulse-beat, which flared static bursts through his faltering presence. From Elaira, as well, Arithon sensed the intensity of focus, as she brought her trained skills as healer to bear.

Eyesight and hearing recorded, unasked: the leap of jerked sinew, as traumatized muscles were thrown into spasm. Skin, wrung too white, and the cut ends of salt-and-black hair, matted with running sweat in extremity.

The body could be made to achieve the unthinkable. Arithon closed the last stride and crouched, met by Dakar, who turned and acknowledged him.

If pain refused speech, the spellbinder
'
s expression transmitted emotion, transparent. Arithon flinched, caught defenceless. All the cankered remorse from a night dell in Vastmark was written over the Mad Prophet
'
s streaked face.

'
Just like that shepherd child, taken by wyverns,
'
he gasped in laid-open distress. "The beer I swilled in the tavern tonight was to heckle Fionn Areth into a safe stupor. Only now, when it counts? We are losing Sidir! I
'
ve pissed away the whole power I had, that could have been used to help ease him!
'

Arithon murmured,
'
Hush!
'
At relentless need, his bard
'
s schooling granted at least the appearance of presence.
'
You
'
ve done enough. We are here, and my liege-sworn
'
s not crossed, yet.
'

But already Elaira
'
s taut features showed pity. Her early prognosis was grim.

Sidir lay on his side. Talvish
'
s hand had cut back his clothes when there had been hope of a field-dressing. The blade struck through his bared chest canted right: no heart damage, but a grievous lung wound. His bleeding frothed pink with let fluid.

'
I
'
cuelan am-jiaskedael i
'
tier,
Sidir,
'
the Teir
'
s
'
Ffalenn said, his Paravian phrased with inconsolable quiet, translated,
'
your feal prince attends you.
'

The liegeman returned no sign of response. His eyes, squeezed shut, pinched the suffering flesh to his skull, while torn tissue laboured, wrestling against inexorable fate for each separately congested breath. The battle he sustained could not last for long.

Dakar choked off a sob.
'
I couldn
'
t hold him! Even to grace him with the last words he might wish to leave his three daughters.
'

'
He
'
s still fighting!
'
snapped Elaira.

The adamant, clamped features, that acknowledged no comfort, proved that Sidir hoarded his dwindling strength. His silence supported a frayed concentration, in pursuit of an obstinate, brave will to live.

Arithon swallowed, eyes wet for such courage. The hard task was his, to rise to match the man
'
s blistering resolve, then speak.
'
My friend, all you fought for, my hand will put right. Care absolves you of fault. You are free to release your feal burden.
'

The next shallow exhale expired, then doggedly, shuddered to inhale. The punishing struggle still would not be relinquished.

'
Vent cuelan am-jiask edael ameinnt-huell i
'
tieri,
Sidir!
'
Arithon repeated, this time phrased in the emphatic form that
claimed
the fullest promise of responsibility.
'
What can be done, shall be.
'
Rathain
'
s prince unsheathed his black sword. Blade laid at his feet, he also unlaced the fleece cover from his lyranthe.
'
Elaira?
'

Her delicate touch traced across Sidir
'
s breast, completing her rapid assessment.
'
The windpipe
'
s deviated too far to the left.
'
A dire sign, that confirmed chilling failure: Sidir
'
s right lung was already filled, and the pierced chest wall, collapsing.
'
We can
'
t pull the sword, either,
'
Elaira despaired.
'
He
'
s bleeding to death. The gush as the steel
'
s drawn will drain him, and flood the drowned airway much faster.
'

'
Cautery
'
s needed,
'
Arithon agreed, sorely tried, that Sidir was clan
born
, and too natively fluent to mask the grotesque exchange behind ancient language.
'
The blade stays in place, then. What do you suggest?
'

She hesitated only a moment, tough lady. Then,
'
Ath above! We
'
ve no time to induce gentle measures. No matter how badly Sidir wants to live, his vigor is ebbing. I
'
m no adept, with the transcendent power of a sacred grove to tap through! This recall is far outside of my means, except through the invasive use of the knowledge derived from the Koriathain.
'

Arithon held her terrified eyes with his own.
'
Imposed measures are not in violation if they are used by informed, free consent.
'
Hammered steady, even under the storm of his human uncertainty, he added,
'
You
'
ve done this before! Dakar is here also, as a Fellowship initiate, in step with that open practice.
'

Elaira spared no sideward glance for the spellbinder
'
s horrified consternation. Tuned into relentless rapport with a suffering that abjured an eased course of release, she curbed doubt. To argue for limits admitted despair, which diminished all effort to nothing.

'
A transduction sigil can be made to flash-burn enspelled heat through the metal,
'
she allowed, though the prospect was frightening.
'
But we can
'
t blunt the senses under narcotic herbs. Already, Sidir
'
s too weakened.
'
The pain would be dreadful, a shock to speed certain death. Elaira shivered. Pinched with distress, she scrubbed fouled hands on her shift and found dauntless courage to finish.
'
If we stem the slashed veins, the lung must be drained, and depending on how bad the damage inside, perhaps even forced to regenerate.
'

Before she broke under Sidir
'
s demand, Arithon broached the rest for her.
'
Then we shall have to halter the living spirit, or he won
'
t survive the harsh course of the surgery.
'

Dakar recoiled.
'
Ath
'
s own mercy, I can
'
t!
'
The dread stared him through: a misery ingrained by the hideous failure, as his resource fell short for the mauled girl in Vastmark. Now, sick with drink and undone by the back-lash from a prescient trance, he lacked his basic faculties.
'
Don
'
t invite the disaster! I won
'
t watch Sidir
'
s life slip through my inept hands! Not even for you will I try this!
'

Arithon bowed his head over his gleaming lyranthe, now unwrapped and braced upright.
'
I quite understand.
'
While Elaira ransacked her satchel for the requisite remedies, he drew up a stool, struck a note, and bent to his tuning.

From flushed rejection, Dakar drained white.
'
No. Your Grace, no!
'
Through the sliding, sweet pitch, ruled fair by the tuning peg, and the ghastly saw of Sidir
'
s ripped chest, the Mad Prophet shouted,
'
Past question, Arithon, you
can
'
t
dare to link in consenting rapport with a Koriani enchantress! If Elaira invokes her order
'
s knowledge for you, you
'
ll be bound to Prime Selidie
'
s cause. Dharkaron Avenge and butcher my carcass, before I let you be compromised by a Matriarch
'
s oath of debt!
'

'
But I
'
m not doing this for Arithon!
'
Elaira cracked, cross. "The healing is Sidir
'
s, underwritten for his sake!
'

Dakar
'
s taut face cleared.
'
Ah, clever lady!
'
For the admissible terms of a feal obligation enabled the crown
'
s opening. As Prince of Rathain, under charter law, Arithon was sworn to protect a kingdom subject
'
s born right to freedom; which legality
also
carried the Fellowship
'
s charge, should Selidie outstep her limits.

Stunned cautious, Dakar warned,
'
You won
'
t like what befalls if I
'
m called to defend in the name of the Sorcerer who trained me.
'
The stakes were unforgiving: for Arithon to rely on a formal intercession, asked under his sanction to rule, the honourable course of reciprocity would be demanded in turn by the Fellowship. His Grace would bend his knee: not to the Prime Matriarch, but to the imposed weight of his ancestral inheritance.

Now, Elaira bristled.
'
I will let nobody
'
s talent act through me! Not if Arithon
'
s to be hounded to embrace a coronation by expediency!
'

'
Peace, beloved!
'
The appeal broke dissension, cut by the unbearable, pure tone as the treble string sang in trued pitch.
'
Sidir
'
s cause won
'
t languish. I have more than one title on which to lay claim to a clear line of authority.
'

Dakar glared, slack-jawed.
'
You would challenge the Prime Matriarch as Athera
'
s Masterbard?
'

'
And on my own resource!
'
Arithon avowed.
'
Sidir is my friend. He is Jieret
'
s appointed replacement for Caolle, to grant Jeynsa the paternal guidance she needs to mature. My debt is personal, and deep enough, that if I must, I
'
ll give all in my power to save him.
'