by Frank Morin
Then Verena recognized the green skirt and satchel of healing supplies and the truth struck her like a punch from a max-tapped Boulder.
“Jean!” she screamed as she closed the last few yards to the tiny group. “Oh, no! Not Jean. Please tell me she’ll survive.”
Hamish glanced up, his face grief-stricken. He spoke through his tears, his voice cracking with grief and fear and stubborn hope. “Connor will save her.”
Connor didn’t respond, but remained hunched over Jean’s body, eyes closed, breathing slow as he tried to save Jean’s life. Just as Verena arrived, another Healer pushed past Hamish and placed her own hands on Jean’s head. She looked dirty and weary from the long morning, but just as determined as Connor.
A second Healer dropped to her knees beside Connor, but paused to stare in shock. Tears rimmed her eyes and she whispered, “Oh, Lady Jean.”
“What happened?” Verena asked.
“Aonghus,” Hamish growled, his expression turning furious.
“Where is he?” she demanded, hand moving to her sword.
“Gone,” Hamish spat, looking south. “The coward fled after he struck down Jean. He was laughing like a madman, shouting that today we suffer, and soon we die.”
“We have to catch him,” Verena cried, reaching for her long-vision goggles.
“I’ll kill him,” Hamish promised with deadly sincerity. “But Jean’s more important.”
Verena pulled him close and said, “She’ll survive. I know it.”
She desperately hoped she was right. They couldn’t bear to lose another dear friend so soon.
Hamish hugged Verena and sobbed into her shoulder. She held him, fighting back her own tears as she looked down on Jean’s unmoving form.
In addition to the horrific injuries on her right side, her face was a mass of burns. If not for her clothing and healers bag, Verena would never have recognized her.
They sat there for several long minutes, quietly waiting for word from Connor and the Healers. Hamish stopped sobbing, but still clung to Verena as they watched, desperate to ask for an update, but fearing disturbing the healing process.
The noise of battle subsided slowly from the city behind them. Verena wished she knew what devilry Shona was up to, but that could all wait. Jean was more important.
Slowly, Jean’s injuries faded. The blisters stopped oozing blood, closed, then faded to scars, and many of them were slowly replaced by clean flesh. Watching the healing progress was awe inspiring.
But it wasn’t complete. It became obvious that not even Connor, with all his incredible healing powers, could restore Jean to full health. Although her scalp healed, her thick, beautiful hair was gone. Most of the burns faded from her face, but some scarring remained, and her right eye remained purple and slightly swollen. The worst was her right arm. It was so badly burned, it was clearly dead.
A moment later, one of the Healers reached up to Jean’s right shoulder and placed her hands around that blackened stump. It came free, revealing pink, new flesh along the stump.
Hamish whispered, “Oh, Jean,” as he watched the Healer slide the broken stump away.
Two minutes later, Jean suddenly gasped and her body convulsed. Her good left hand shot upward, and Hamish caught it. She blinked open her left eye, and Verena read fear and pain in her gaze.
“Jean!” Hamish exclaimed, leaning over her.
“Hamish, you came,” she breathed, her voice raspy and weak. “I was so afraid.”
The Healers sat back, looking exultant, and Connor sagged as he blinked open his eyes. Verena shifted quickly to him and he gladly leaned against her. Hamish held Jean where she lay, and they were both murmuring softly to each other. Seeing her alive and at least partially healed filled Verena with so much relief, she wanted to laugh.
“You saved her.” She kissed Connor, then hugged him again.
“Barely.” He looked troubled. “My pendant is nearly spent, but I wish I could have done more.”
Jean extended her good left hand to grip his. “Thank you, Connor. I know how badly I was hurt. I felt you healing me. I should have died. It still hurts, but I’m grateful for getting even one more day.”
One of the Healers said, “Lady Jean, you’re stabilized, but you need rest and further healing.”
Hamish lifted her easily into his arms. “I’ll see to her.”
Jean glanced to her right side, to where her other arm was missing. She didn’t look surprised or grief stricken, but seemed to be simply examining herself. Verena didn’t doubt the sorrow would come. Such a devastating would would take a mental and emotional toll. Jean would understand that better than anyone.
Jean said, “There are many who need critical care still. Hamish, where’s my bag?”
Verena grabbed the satchel. The leather was charred, but the contents seemed intact. She passed it to Hamish, who draped it over his shoulder. Jean looked relieved.
“You can’t think to help, not after what you suffered,” Verena said.
Jean managed a weak smile. The right side of her mouth didn’t seem to work well, and her right eye had still not opened. “I’m sure I can find something useful to do. I can’t sit idly while my patients need me.”
Hamish hugged her closer. “I’ll help. You tell me what to do, and I’ll be your hands.”
Their love inspired Verena. She clutched Connor’s hand in hers, and he said, “Jean, you’re amazing.”
As Hamish led the way into the city, the troops parted for him. Several hundred of them raised fists in salute and shouted, “Lady Jean!”
She waved weakly to them, and they cheered all the louder. Verena asked, “What did I miss?”
Connor shook his head in wonder as he surveyed the cheering soldiers. “Somewhere during all this, Jean won herself an army.”
102
Darling of the Revolution
Connor walked with Verena through the Army Gate, following Hamish, who carried Jean like she might break.
She nearly had. Connor had never attempted to heal someone so badly burned before. Jean had suffered immense trauma, much of it internal. He’d poured vast quantities of healing power into her, reinforcing it with the last vestiges of the power he’d siphoned from the people of Merkland, and extra strength that he drew from the earth through slate.
He had refused to even consider the possibility that Jean might die, and had thrown himself into the healing with as much determination as anything he’d done in his entire life. If he’d needed more power to heal her, he would have stilled the entire city again without hesitating for a single heartbeat.
His biggest regret was that Aonghus had escaped. The flame-haired captain had laughed as he rocketed away after striking down their precious Jean. His final, taunting words made Connor wonder if he’d been given the specific mission to find and strike down Jean. He didn’t doubt the queen would give such an order.
They hadn’t dare waste time chasing Aonghus. His time would come. Soon.
Connor hated that he couldn’t restore Jean to full health. Her entire right side was broken. He’d healed more bones than he could count, and managed to save her right leg, although she might not be able to walk for a while. With extra healings and time to rest, hopefully she’d recover. But she’d lost her right arm and her right eye.
Thinking of her injuries filled him with such fury that he hoped someone broke the truce and tried to start fighting again. Now that they weren’t fighting, many of the soldiers seemed at a loss for what to do.
Hamish took Jean toward the hospital building, but Verena pulled Connor the other way. “We need to get to the square. We need to find Rory and Shona.”
“Why would Rory be with Shona?” Connor asked, confused.
When Verena told him about Shona’s surprise change of sides, he couldn’t believe it. “You’re right. We need to get to the square right now.”
Pushing through crowds of soldiers would take too long. So Connor pulled Verena close and threw them into the a
ir with a pulsing of the ground. Then he drew a current of air around them and glided over thousands of milling troops to the square. It too was full of soldiers, but they easily spotted Kilian, Ivor, Shona, Rory, and the local lords. Everyone looked battered and blood splattered. They had indeed participated in the fighting.
Shona stood at the ultimate center of attention, glowing with limestone light. Connor blinked and looked again, but she continued to glow.
Verena noted his look and muttered, “Yes, she has a secondary affinity. Don’t mention it to her. Her head grows bigger every time anyone does.”
Shona noted their arrival with a satisfied smile, and began to speak loudly. “My father is dead. Harley is dead. I am the High Lady of Merkland, and I’ve reached an accord with Generals Rory and Ivor. This conflict is over. I hope I’ve made myself clear. All fighting is to cease at once. See to the wounded, regroup in your companies, and send me your senior officers for further instructions.”
“I still can hardly believe it,” Connor said softly.
Verena was watching Shona with open disgust. “She waltzed right up to Rory in the middle of the fighting and told him she’s switching sides. I wish my dagger had penetrated deeper.”
“You stabbed her?” That didn’t surprise Connor, but what did surprise him was that both Verena and Shona looked healthy. They’d wanted to fight so badly.
“Threw a knife. Her blasted stone skin stopped it.” Verena frowned, and actually seemed to be pouting.
“Come on. I want to know what else she’s planning,” Connor said
The two of them pushed closer as Shona turned to Lord Nevan and gave him a hug. “Nevan, I’m so glad to see you.”
“All in a day’s work, Lady Shona. I have to admit, when we received your father’s orders, I hadn’t expected the battle to turn out this way.”
“What orders?” Ivor demanded.
Nevan actually looked a bit sheepish. “Coordinated through Craigroy and his network of spies, High Lord Dougal sent orders prior to the start of battle. Lord Torcall and I were ordered to comply with your wishes, but to open the city gates when Captain Aonghus’s force approached.”
“You betrayed us?” Rory asked angrily.
“Of course, buffoon,” Torcall sneered. “Did you really think we’d throw in with you lot?”
“I did,” Logan said angrily.
“That’s why you weren’t invited to join us,” Torcall sneered. “You’re not worthy to stand on the side of victory.”
Shona gave him a scornful look and said softly, “I joined the revolution too.”
Torcall and Nevan both looked thunderstruck, and Logan chortled with glee.
Torcall exclaimed, “What? You fool!”
Shona frowned and Ivor cracked Torcall on the back of the head with a stone-hardened fist, dropping the man to the ground in a stupor.
Shona gave Ivor a warm smile. “It’s so nice to have competent help on hand.”
Verena leaned close and muttered, “I can’t believe it. Shona’s really doing something heroic, and not entirely for selfish reasons?”
Connor chuckled. “Well, not entirely selfless, either. Leave it to Shona. She’s the only one I can imagine who could figure out how to switch sides in the middle of a pitched battle. She retained rule over her realm, snatching it right back from the revolution by joining the revolution.”
“Is she really now one of the three senior leaders of the whole thing?”
“It appears so. Life is crazy.”
Shona spotted them and gestured them closer, her expression serious. “Connor, I received word that you had a hand in the death of my father, as you had sworn to do.”
“I was there, but it wasn’t me who killed him,” Connor admitted.
Her expression softened, revealing a hint of the grief she must be feeling. “We have much to discuss, but know that I do not blame you.”
“Blame your father,” Verena said shortly.
Shona met Verena’s angry stare and the two enjoyed a hate-filled glare for a moment, then Shona turned back to Connor, her expression returning to neutral. “Will you be so kind as to enhance my voice for me?”
There were probably other Pathfinders nearby, and Verena definitely looked like she wanted him to spit in Shona’s eye instead of doing her any favors. If the request was an opening bid to try reconditioning him to do her bidding, he promised himself it wouldn’t work. Then again, as one of the commanders of the revolution, he’d have to figure out how to coexist with Shona.
So he said, “Of course.”
As soon as he applied the quartzite power to her throat, she spoke, her voice booming over the expectant crowds. “Let it be known to one and all that I, High Lady Shona, ruler of this realm and ultimate authority of Merkland, support wholeheartedly the cause of Obrioner freedom! Generals Rory and Ivor are visionary men, among the bravest I know. I applaud their leadership and command all forces loyal to them or to me to swear fealty to our cause. We will liberate our nation from the evil queen who has brutally stolen the crown from our rightful rulers.”
As her voice echoed through the city, Connor easily read the disbelief on many faces. Those who had supported the cause of freedom were grinning with optimism, and those who had fought to crush the revolution looked like the world had just collapsed under their feet.
Shona continued. “I confirm the truth that these great men discovered. Patronage is a lie. I formally release all Guardians residing at this moment in my realm from their oaths of fealty, and I look forward to your new, freely-given oaths to serve as free men and fight to liberate the rest of our nation.
Verena said, “Connor, you realize she’s leaving you out of all that praise.”
“So?”
“So, you’re a big part of the reason the revolution is happening.”
“It doesn’t matter. She didn’t mention Kilian either, or you, or Hamish.”
Shona spread her hands and said, “Come, my friends and freedom fighters. Let us celebrate our victory today and toast the lives sacrificed in our great cause. Their deaths were not in vain. We shall see victory and freedom for Obrion!”
The entire city burst into cheering. Verena shook her head slowly, clearly sharing Connor’s disbelief. With that pretty speech, Shona had smoothly transitioned from the daughter of evil High Lord Dougal to the darling of the revolution. Soldiers would gladly follow her to their deaths.
He wondered how many would need to.
103
Reasons Don’t Have to Make Sense
Connor sat beside Verena in the great hall of the palace of Merkland, soaking in the warmth, enjoying the mountains of food, and simply savoring a happy moment with dear friends.
The storm had blown itself out the evening after the battle, and the next day dawned clear and cold. That day had passed in a blur for Connor, filled with helping to heal the worst of the injured as well as sitting in meetings with Shona, Rory, and Ivor.
It was a grand thing for Shona to proclaim she’d switched sides and to declare all Guardians free, but not everyone was as eager as she to join the revolution. A couple of different factions emerged, and some of the soldiers from Crann had revolted in ugly, but short fights that ended quickly when Connor, Kilian, and Ivor arrived. As a result, over a thousand captured soldiers were being held in the underground bunkers that had been used for the siege weapons.
Connor wasn’t sure what they were going to do in order to sort out the loyal troops from those simply biding their time. If they had enough chert, and if he was willing to share its closely-guarded secret with Shona, he and Aifric could attempt to search for those harboring thoughts of insurrection.
Luckily, they didn’t. That was too similar to the queen’s evil tactics for him to feel comfortable with it.
A servant arrived with a note summoning Connor to yet another meeting. He gave Verena a kiss on the cheek and followed the young man back to the military command building.
As he walked, he wondered at S
hona’s change of heart. Was it real? Could she be faking?
The servant brought him to a small room on the third floor. Many of the meetings he’d attended in the past twenty-four hours had been packed with dozens of officials and officers trying to hammer out logistics, lodging, and the sharing of medical staff. This time, only Shona, Ivor, Rory, and Kilian were present. They sat in hard-backed chairs around a small table near a crackling fire.
Connor had decided not to spend time alone with Shona without Verena present, just to avoid any possible misunderstandings. Shona was far too skilled at manipulation to let his guard down. Still, he felt relatively safe in the present company, so when Ivor gestured him to the last empty chair, he joined them.
Shona looked regal in a blue and green dress, and Kilian looked comfortable in his scarred leather jacket over a freshly laundered white shirt. Rory wore a new set of battle leathers, while Ivor had changed into trousers, shirt, and vest cut in a popular fashion. He looked every inch a high lord. Connor had left his battle leathers in his rooms and wore clothing he’d borrowed from Lord Logan, so he didn’t feet totally out of place.
“Thank you all for coming,” Shona said graciously. “Reports suggest the city is secure and fairly quiet.”
Rory nodded. “Indeed. I doubt we’ve rooted out the last insurrectionists, but hopefully they’ll take a breather for a few days.”
Ivor chuckled. “Said by one of the chief insurrectionists in Obrion.”
Rory cracked a smile. “I’m all for revolution, as long as it’s my revolution. Didn’t you know that?”
Connor appreciated their levity. They’d seen precious little of that in recent days. They had beaten Harley and High Lord Dougal, but paid a heavy price for it. He’d tried healing Ilse, but her lower spine was crushed, and that injury was beyond the skills of any of the Healers he’d talked with.