Spirit Mage

by Esther Mitchell

  Paduari shook his head. "Grandam Tarlae never explained what went into her concoctions, and I never asked."

  Telyn grinned sympathetically. She'd seen some of those Borderland medicines, and she'd been right glad to avoid them, herself. "Probably wise. Borderlander medicines make me shudder."

  Paduari glanced at Nacaris as the other man muttered in his drug-induced slumber, and frowned. "He's troubled by something. I can feel it."

  So could she. Only, she couldn't tell anyone -- not without explaining how she knew the man Paduari called Marakai. "That's the danger of Caluva. It can bring on troubled dreams, or unpleasant memories. It can even kill, if the tiniest drop too much is given."

  Paduari's gaze snapped up to her face. "Then why did you give it to him?"

  She sighed. "As long as he was sleeping without it, I wasn't going to. Truthfully, I was hoping he wouldn't start to wake until after I was done stitching. But he woke too soon. Had he woken completely, his pain would have been too great for him to handle. It might have caused his heart to stop. I couldn't let him wake, and the Caluva is all I have to force sleep."

  Paduari frowned again. "So, how long before you can stitch?"

  Telyn shrugged. "I really don't know. Without knowing how long the infection's been in his bloodstream, I can't be sure of anything."

  "How could he be so infected? It's only been a week since you found me in the forest."

  Telyn nodded grimly. "Which is long enough for an untreated wound to start to fester, under normal circumstances. Paduari, do you know anything at all about Rahians?"

  He shook his head. "I know they're tough, and they're Sehidhe's hired thugs."

  "The Rahians are a race of warriors, trained from the cradle to kill in means far more insidious than a sword wound. They've been known to coat their blades and arrows in marlett blood, making them deadly poisonous if the blade bites too deeply. Unless the wound is immediately sanitized, poison can enter the bloodstream and cause rapid wound rot."

  Paduari's face was grim. "How long before it's lethal?"

  Telyn shook her head. "It depends on the victim. A child or particularly frail adult can succumb to the poison in a matter of days, or even hours. A stronger adult can survive a few weeks untreated."

  "Marakai..."

  "He's a strong man, and a tough warrior, but even the strongest fall eventually, and he lost a lot of blood. I don't know how much, and I've no idea how fast the poison's moving through him."

  "So you don't know if he'll even live, do you?"

  Telyn shook her head, answering the question she’d been unwilling to face, herself. "No. I can only hope he'll recover enough to administer the antidote in time, and do my best to heal him in the meantime. I can't make any promises, Paduari."

  He nodded glumly. "I'm going to try and rest. Let me know if there's any change."

  "I will. Get some sleep. I know how much energy you spent today."

  Chapter Seven

  Telyn turned her attention back to Nacaris as Paduari walked away. She swallowed hard, and reached out to feather her fingers over his face, her heart twisting in her chest. His life was precious to her, but she couldn't tell anyone. Unlike everyone else here, she wasn't supposed to even know who he was.

  Paduari obviously valued him as a friend, and the monks valued him as a life and a fellow Lurudani. Even Reaphia, in her own twisted way, valued Nacaris enough to keep him alive. But none of them knew this man like Telyn did, or felt her bone-deep need to protect him. No one could know the compulsion she fought every few seconds to check for the pulse she could tell was there by the steady rise and fall of his chest. Revealing their past could put Nacaris in immediate danger while he was still far too injured to save himself.

  She heard a distinct pop, and then a familiar sizzle, from the fire. She glanced up to see the fire flare, just before Sala separated herself to bob in the air before Telyn. The little Salamandar was obviously amused about something by the way she flickered and danced.

  "What is it now?" Telyn asked wryly.

  Sala twirled closer, until she floated just above Telyn's upraised hand with a giggle. All this time, and you are still so stubborn.

  "What are you talking about?"

  Sala stretched luxuriantly. All the power of Fire is not yet yours, Telyn. It is why you are still not a Fire Majin, after all this time. One path still lies unmastered.

  Telyn shot a quick look Nacaris' way, to be sure he still slept. "That path doesn't belong to me. Not since Falraec."

  Sala flickered her annoyance. Fire is not only for destruction, Daughter of Ashes...

  "You can't just expect me to pick up where I left off, Sala. I mourned this man. Remember? I said my goodbyes, and laid my heart to rest when I came back to Raiador."

  We have a compact! There was no mistaking Sala's anger now, as the little Salamandar showered sparks all over the floor, nearly catching the bandages at Telyn's feet on fire.

  Telyn turned to study Nacaris. "And it won't be him. If we were meant to be together, Kishfa wouldn't keep separating us. I can't take the pain anymore, and there's a very good chance he hates me. If he even survives."

  You can heal him, Telyn. He will live if you find your mother's Gift within you. Remember the Firedance.

  Only too well. Telyn turned her gaze away so Sala couldn't see her flinch as she remembered how the frenzy of unleashed power tasted, how it turned her into a vengeance-obsessed, blood-thirsty lunatic when she found Nacaris missing from the cell at Falraec. "The Firedance is dangerous, Sala."

  No, Sala was a steady blue-white flame, as if she expected this argument. The Firedance allows you merely to touch the Fire within, to be a part of it. It is the emotion behind your call upon it that determines its use. Falraec...

  Telyn flinched away from the memory. "Falraec was a disaster. I almost killed someone with Majik because of the Firedance."

  Not because of the Firedance. Because you had not learned to master it, yet, Sala reminded her serenely. Because you rejected its stability in your quest for vengeance. The Firedance can be used to accomplish what the heart and soul unify to achieve. There is much which holds you back, but you can still succeed, if you try.

  "I can't. Not with a man who hates me. Why not Paduari?"

  Sala's disgust was evident on her face as she bounced to hover over Telyn's shoulder. You cannot mate-bond with Paduari. He is your Spirit-brother. And Nacaris does not hate you.

  "How can you be so sure?"

  Sala gave every appearance of ignoring her question. Paduari is neither warrior nor healer, yet, and he belongs to the realm of the spirits, not the flesh. To bond with him, or even to mate for the sake of your compact, would be to court disaster.

  "Great." Telyn barely resisted the desire to roll her eyes. With Sala so close, that would have been a mistake. "So Nacaris is acceptable because he's a warrior? What about all those mercenaries in the square? Should I invite them all in for an orgy?"

  Don't be absurd! Sala snapped, clearly annoyed with Telyn's condescension. Nacaris is acceptable because there is already a bond between you. He has shed his own blood for you, and more than once. He would give his very soul for your love.

  Telyn glared at Sala to hide the twist of desire and panic in her chest. She'd give anything for Nacaris to still want her -- to say nothing of loving her -- but what man could want a woman who walked away from him constantly? Who could love someone who left them to tortures more horrible than death?

  No, Sala had to be wrong about this. Telyn dreaded what would happen once Nacaris was finally lucid enough to remember she wasn't supposed to be here at all. Glowering at Sala, she snapped, "You don't know that."

  I am Fire, Phoenix, Sala rebuked quietly. The heart is my vessel. Nacaris has loved only one in his life -- he would give his heart and soul for love in return.

  Shock plummeted through Telyn. Her wide-eyed gaze riveted on Nacaris and, in a stunned voice, whispered, "You mean he... Sala, no."

  Sala sh
ifted shades of orange, to a muted red pulsing with sadness. Marakai Swordsinger -- the man you know as Nacaris -- is a man without a family. He was still a boy when the Endlands claimed him, and though he's known many, he loved none – because of you.

  Telyn's breath stuck in her throat. How had he hidden this from her, all this time? She always believed Nacaris pitied her for her troubled youth, and for the emotional abandonment of her only family, when they first met. She never imagined he was drawn to her because they shared an outcast existence, or because he truly thought they had kindred souls.

  Her heart ached at the thought of the torment Nacaris must bury so deep, to have kept it so hidden from everyone, and especially from her. She never forgot her own loneliness, and she couldn't imagine he'd ever done the same. She still remembered how long she wandered the Endlands, alone, after fleeing Raiador the first time. Even in all the cycles after she was rescued first by Raleena, and then by Dariadus, and finally by Bocjar, she never forgot the pain of being utterly alone. No, somewhere deep inside of her, pain still burned, and a young girl still cried out for someone, for anyone, to hear her and love her exactly as she was. Where had that child gone? Had she become so jaded she lost her innocent desire, hardened herself to pain and need?

  Telyn's eyes closed against the stinging pain of tears. Through most of her life, there'd been one constant, loving light, and she'd barely seen him.

  No, she was through lying to herself. Her head snapped up as memories swelled within her. She did remember.

  She could remember clearly the first time she ever laid eyes on Nacaris. Likely, she never really forgot -- the memory was burned into her mind and soul like a brand upon her very being. Only, that mark -- like so many other in her life -- hurt for so long, she learned to ignore it.

  Now, her mind floated backward over the cycles, and she saw that day as clearly as any since.

  She was terrified. She didn't know who to trust -- she heard so many terrible stories about these Endland tribes. They were bandits, according to the Emperor's men. But the one with the gentle smile and the sad eyes -- the one who called himself Dariadus -- he'd rescued her, given her his own food and water when she was nearly dying from exhaustion and hunger. He cared for Bloodcloud, too -- gave the horse part of his precious water, as well, and she was certain no man meaning to rob her could possibly be so giving.

  Dariadus told her she was welcome in his camp and brought her here. But, Shelliacs or not, she wasn't sure she trusted these people.

  "That horse looks done in. Let me take him."

  She whirled, her blade flashing into her hand, to find a boy only a handful of cycles older than herself standing there. His grey-green eyes were at odds with the dark eyes of everyone else she'd seen, and his face hinted at the handsome man he was becoming. Her heart tripped over itself, and new terror gripped her. Did he mean to steal both her horse and her soul? She'd have none of that!

  Her blade shimmering in her hand, she pressed the point against his throat until it would take only the slightest pressure to draw blood, and hissed, "You touch my horse, and I swear on the breast of Blessed Sheli, I will slit your throat wide."

  She expected fear. She anticipated anger. Shock swept through her as his lips curved, and a smile broke over his face, lighting up the dim stable tent. "Fair enough. But give me half a chance, and I'll teach you how to turn him from a wild-eyed beast into the finest horse you'll ever ride."

  And he kept his word, and so much more. To this day, Nacaris' smile had the power to rob her of both breath and thought. Since their reunion at Raiador, she learned so much more about him than he ever had a chance to share during her stay in Dariadus' camp. Yet, faced with everything she discovered since crossing the Eleshau, she began to realize how very much she still had yet to learn.

  Who, exactly, was this man of so many faces? Was he the mild, unassuming horseman's apprentice she gave her young heart to in the Endland Wastes? Was he the hardened but compassionate mercenary who battled at her side at Raiador and Ulambara? Or was he the near-legendary hero of the Borderlands -- the man entrusted with the fate of an entire kingdom?

  Something told her he was both none of and all of those things, and the contradiction confused her. Still, those other men, she at least knew.

  She was young and infatuated with the horseman's patient hand and tender smile, so many cycles ago. Yet, she'd run away when her dream perched on the edge of true flight. She fell hard for the mercenary, and mourned the passing of the hero with more ferocity than she ever believed herself capable of. And yet, in the end, she walked away from both when staying might have changed the course of things completely.

  But this man before her now -- this wounded man who lay weak and restless, locked in battle with his own demons -- she did not know. Surely, this wasn't the same man who taught her the pain inflicted upon an enemy revisits the one holding the sword three-fold, and even the most honorable of soldiers can hide dark secrets which plague their sleep. This wasn't the man who taught her about the twin demons of love and loss. He couldn't be, because if he was...

  She swallowed hard, blinking away tears. She buried the man she knew and loved, in her heart if not in body. If this was the same man, then everything she knew was a lie.

  They'd been a team, she and Nacaris, fighting back-to-back against the Rahian armies threatening the Borderlands with annihilation. By day they'd run skirmishes and bedeviled Rahian camps all along the length of the Eleshau's border and pulled city after city from Rahian clutches. By night, they'd banished each other's ghosts with their bodies and souls.

  Telyn bit her lip hard as she recalled how it all ended.

  Falraec.

  She'd done everything in her power to keep them out of that wooded glen. To this day, the sight of mist rolling through the trees caused her heart to stutter in fear.

  But Kishfa had other plans for them that misty morning. Telyn thought Majik would save them, but it doomed them, instead -- and the one who paid the ultimate price for her arrogance was Nacaris. Or so she thought.

  She and Nacaris were both wounded -- she by her own foolish ego and the Eleshau's Wild Majik, and he much the same way as now -- battered in his fight for survival. The Rahians dragged them off to interrogate, but couldn't break them. Then Nacaris launched his escape plan -- for her. To this day, she regretted agreeing to leave him behind. For a long time after Falraec, she believed her promise to flee cost Nacaris his life.

  How Nacaris supposedly died, she'd never been sure. But at the time, she believed he was dead. She believed it heart and soul, and the weight of her belief nearly crushed her. Telyn promised herself, in the first instant of soul-robbing pain and grief, she would never love again. Her heart died with Nacaris. Now, she was faced with the mockery of both her oath and her grief. Sala was right. She could heal his wounds. But to give him her heart again? Telyn swallowed hard. That was asking far too much.

  Nacaris moaned again, tossing in fevered dreams, and Telyn reached instinctively to place a soothing hand on his chest. Nacaris stilled and, for a brief second, Telyn feared he was dead. The strong, if fast, beat of his heart beneath her hand told her otherwise, and she relaxed with a relieved sigh. Nacaris' sleep once again peaceful, Telyn moved to pull her hand away, but Nacaris' good hand raised to cover hers, holding it tightly over where his heart beat. Telyn stilled, another fear altogether racing through her as her gaze flew to his face. Was he awake? Had he been awake through her conversation with Sala? Or was he simply reaching out in response to human contact, struggling to hold onto something of this world? Telyn bit her lip and glanced away, looking for Sala. The Elemental was nowhere to be found, and Telyn gnawed her lip in worry. Under the effects of Caluva, Telyn couldn't accurately read Nacaris's condition from physical signs. She couldn't tell whether his grip was a sign of alertness, or impending death. But Sala could have, had she been there. Frustration poured through Telyn. Of all the times for the little brand to disappear!

  Telyn's gaze turn
ed back to Nacaris. According to what little Nacaris told her of his past, and the sparse information Sala provided, Nacaris knew the same loneliness and solitude she felt for so much of her life.

  Knowing the truth made her ache to reach out to him, to both offer and receive comfort and love. However, their current situation made any future uncertain. If he had been alone before, Nacaris at least had his sword to accompany him. With it, he’d likely made a name for himself in many households, and many lands. The Borderlands, for certain, hailed him as a hero and champion, for all the rumors his welcome was at best grudging. Now, in one crushing blow, Kishfa took that sword from him. What would he think of life, when he discovered he wouldn't have full use of his arm?

  Telyn blinked away tears. Who was she trying to fool? No matter what happened, or what the distance between them was, she would always love Nacaris. There was a bond between them running to her very soul. When she thought he was dead... Telyn drew a sharp breath, forcing the memory from her even as she pulled her hand free of his. No matter her feelings for Nacaris, she couldn't let herself be distracted. She let love distract her once before, and it nearly cost her Nacaris. If there was one lesson she learned well at Falraec, it was love only got people killed.

  Her touch gone, Nacaris began thrashing again, muttering roughly, "Balnyt, don't leave me..."

  "Shh," Telyn murmured, then glanced toward where their other companions slept. There was only one way, short of a physical contact she couldn't allow, to soothe him. She only prayed this man, and the spirits of this place, would forgive her for the lie she was about to tell. "I'm here, Old Bear. I'll always be here."

  "Telyn," his plea was hoarse with fear. His hand reached to grip her wrist then, his grasp as hard as steel. "Forgive me..."

  The tears she'd held back rolled unchecked down her cheeks as the raw anguish of his plea ripped through her heart. Yanking away from it, and him, she rose and walked to the fire, drawing deep breaths as she stared into the flames. Blessed Kishfa, she had to get out of this mess! Grabbing up the waterbag full of hot water, she mechanically fixed new poultices for his leg and shoulder, her mind searching frantically for the means to fight her way out of feeling. She couldn't risk her fragile heart again. If he died... Automatically, she measured a length of sinew, before she realized what she was doing. Sighing, she bit her lip and glanced back toward Nacaris. If he was in this much pain, then the poultices were spent, meaning it was time to stitch his wounds closed, anyway. It was a good thing, too. She didn't want to risk keeping him sedated much longer. Telyn knew far too well the effects of Caluva juice, and she was loath to give him even one more drop -- he might never wake up if she did.