by Matt Heppe
“I thought you would keep them away from us,” Cam said.
“Those weren’t King Morin’s ghuls,” he said. “They belonged to Garion.”
“Belonged?” Cam asked.
“King Morin set out to punish Lord Garion for his attack on you. The fact that Garion’s ghuls are running loose tells me that he was successful.”
“Morin killed the other lych?” Ayja asked.
“I assume so,” Darra said. “Now his pyren and ghuls are free of their bonds to him—those who survived.”
“They will just wander now?” Ayja looked off into the hills where the ghuls had run.
Darra nodded. “If any pyren survived, they might go off on their own, or they might serve King Morin. The ghuls will run free and try to feed. Their lives are not long, though. They will succumb to time and die.”
“They’ll kill innocent people before then.”
“They might. Such is war.”
Chapter Twenty
The demon inside Telea cringed as she sang the first words of the Song of Light. She felt it gather itself to attack her and stop her song. She dared not risk it breaking her song and focused the song outside of herself, directing it at the young man dying in front of her and at the pulsing crystal stump.
The pain wracking Orlos’s face eased as the magic of the song touched him. For three days demonic magic had assaulted him, tormenting his spirit and draining his strength. She wondered that he yet lived.
There was no more powerful weapon against demons than the Song of Light. Sung by a true air singer, the song was capable of banishing most summoned creatures back to Dromost’s world in just heartbeats. Only brutes and fiends created by true sacrifice could withstand the Song of Light, and even then, it caused them great harm.
The magic of the sacrificial stone was immense, but its true purpose was to bind, not to attack. Telea’s song drove the demonic magic back, all the way to the stone. Try as she might, though, her magic couldn’t touch the stone. It was beyond her.
She could, however, look at the stone now. The swirling shapes danced and swam within the crystal. She felt their torment. What are they?
They are all around you. The voice was just a whisper, hidden deep within her.
Telea glanced all around. Skeletons everywhere. The skeletons of the spiridus. Her heart thudded in her chest as the realization struck her. The spiridus weren’t slain. They couldn’t be slain—their spirits were immortal and Helna’s world was their home.
Sulentis knelt next to her. “Can we move him?” he asked.
Telea continued singing, nodding her assent. Escalan and Kael knelt close. Telea stood and backed away. There were more people in the cave now. There were lanterns and torches, their light reflecting off the emerald branches of the tree high above them. The baleful light of the red stump was suppressed, and green light suffused the chamber.
Men and women gently cleared a path through the bones so that Escalan and Kael could pass. Telea walked behind them. She felt, and saw, the weakening of the bloodstone’s influence as they moved away from it.
Without stopping her song, she switched to the Song of Life, hoping it might sustain Orlos as they took him to the surface. They reached the collapsed entrance to the chamber and then paused. Kael held Orlos while Escalan crawled backwards into the narrow crevice. Telea realized they’d have to pull Orlos’s unconscious form through the fallen tunnel.
Telea paused her song for just a moment. “Be gentle. Very gentle—he is close to death.” Kael nodded, and she resumed her song. She sang clearly but gently. Telea didn’t know how much voice she had remaining to her.
Slowly, Orlos disappeared into the gap. They’d taken belts from the Landomeri gathered around and wrapped them around Orlos’s chest to make a harness Escalan could pull behind him. Kael followed him in, and then Sulentis motioned for her to follow.
Telea stopped singing. There was nothing she could do now. She crawled into the crevice, not thinking at all of her own safety. She didn’t know this boy Orlos, but the idea that she had to help save him consumed her. It wasn’t a new feeling. This was what she did. It was what she was.
Demand that they help you in payment for what you’ve done, her demon said. Away from the bloodstone, and with the pain of the Song of Light gone, the demon had returned.
It doesn’t matter if they help me or not, she thought, I must help him.
Demand it.
Telea crawled over the rough stones, not thinking of the pain and scrapes and the tears in her clothing. She caught up to Kael. She heard him grunt and strain with the effort of getting Orlos through the tight confines. There was nothing she could do but hope that he survived the passage.
Were the veden demons? Telea asked.
Not demons, but still Children of Dromost. Reflections of demons.
They used blood magic to imprison the spiridus.
No… not a prison. Much worse.
What do you mean?
The demon didn’t reply. Before she could ask again, she saw a light ahead. Helping hands pulled Telea free and helped her to her feet. The hall was crowded with people. Ahead of her, Escalan and Kael carried Orlos up the tunnel. “Stop! Don’t leave with him.”
Kael turned at her voice, and then he and Escalan stopped. Telea ran up to them and put her fingers on Orlos’s throat. There was no heartbeat at first, and then she felt it. So weak.
You could take him as your servant, her demon said.
She pushed the voice away. “Take him slowly. I must sing him out of here. Take him to an open place when we get out, so that I can heal him.”
They nodded and started back up the tunnel. Telea cleared her throat and sang the fifth verse of the Song of Life. It was the most life sustaining of all the verses. The men kept a slow pace, slow enough that Telea could keep up while she sang. They carried him up the final flight of stairs and emerged into brilliant sunlight so strong that she was blinded.
Crowds filled the area around the tunnel entrance, silent at the sight of the still Orlos. A woman ran up and cradled Orlos’s head. Her face was deeply scarred, making it hard to judge her age.
“He lives?” she asked.
“He lives,” Kael said. The word swept through the crowd and cheers erupted. Telea waved her hand and caught Escalan’s attention. She motioned for him to put Orlos down.
He said something to Kael, and they looked around before taking Orlos a dozen strides to an open place where they set him down. The crowd completely encircled them but kept back.
The scarred woman knelt by Orlos’s head, opposite Telea. The woman sobbed as she swept matted hair and dirt from Orlos’s face. Telea let some of her song touch the woman, and she looked up at Telea with wonder in her eyes.
Orlos’s mother, it had to be his mother, wiped the tears from her eyes and her breathing quieted. She turned back to her son and searched his body for signs of wounds, but Telea knew she would find none. He was starved and parched and suffering from wounds to his mind.
Telea touched his neck and felt his pulse again. His breathing was shallow and she feared that he might soon perish. The healing had to begin immediately. She stopped her song, knowing that doing so might cause Orlos to fade, but preparations had to be made.
“I will heal him now,” she said. The crowd was completely silent as she spoke. “I need water to drink for me, and for Orlos to drink when he awakes. I need water to wash and a towel. And I need a knife… a very sharp knife.” She paused. “I will start chanting. When I chant an animal will come. A large animal like a horse, a deer, or even a bear. You must not harm it, and you must let it pass. Only then can I complete the healing.”
Orlos’s mother looked up at Telea, her face a mask of fear and doubt. Sulentis suddenly knelt beside them. “She can do it,” he said. “She’s a healer from Belen. There’s magic in her.”
“I saw it too,” Kael said. “She saved Orlos. There were terrible sights…terrible things down there, and she kept Orlos alive.�
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“Please, I must begin,” Telea said.
Orlos’s mother nodded. “Bring her what she needs.” She met Telea’s eyes. “What’s your name?”
“I am Teleana Telas Tarsian. I am a healer of the Broken Seven of Ianwe Illanth. My master was the greatest healer in history, and I can save your son.”
“I’m Maret. Please, do what you must and save my son.” Maret drew a short knife from her belt and handed it across Orlos’s body to Telea, who accepted it in both hands.
The knife had a short, finely honed steel blade and an antler handle. Telea nodded her approval. “Please hold it until I’m ready. I will cut him, but it will not be deep and is part of the healing. Don’t fear it.” She gave the knife back to Maret.
Someone from the crowd put a water skin beside her, and Telea drank greedily from it. She’d already sung a lot this day and had sung even more during the long flight from Del-Oras. She had to have her voice, not so much for the summoning or for the healing. She would need it if the healing went awry.
A bowl of water and a linen towel were placed next to Telea, and she nodded her thanks. She held her hand out to Maret, nodding at the knife at her belt. Maret drew it, and after a moment’s pause, gave it to Telea.
Orlos’s clothing was torn and dirty. Telea took the knife and cut down the front of his tunic, all the way to the bottom. She pulled the halves wide, exposing his torso. She gave Maret the knife and then took a towel, and after wetting it, washed off Orlos’s chest. He was too far gone to react to the sudden cold.
“We begin now,” Telea said. “Make way for the animal when it arrives,” she said to the crowd gathered around. “Make a way.”
She put the towel into the bowl and took the knife back from Maret. Drawing a deep breath, Telea made a cut as wide as her hand over Orlos’s heart. Maret gasped as the blood welled up.
Telea placed her left hand onto the warm blood and put the knife into the bowl. Without a pause she spoke the words of summoning.
Yes, take him. He’s a demon. He’ll be our first slave.
Back! Be silent!
The words of her chant went out and very quickly touched a willing subject. She was shocked at how quickly it occurred. She’d thought the words would have had to carry out to the forest.
He is so weak—
Quiet! I must focus!
Take him now! While he still lives!
Telea stopped her chant and without hesitation went into the Song of Light. She turned it upon herself, sending it deep within her. The demon sent out a shrill scream of pain. Telea closed her eyes against it.
I submit! Don’t send me back! I am yours! I beg—I beg—I beg—
Orlos jerked under Telea’s hand. His heart stopped under her hand. She quit the Song of Light and started her chant. The summoned creature was close, and she quickly established control again.
They were out of time. There could be no more delay. There could be no errors.
“What’s wrong?” Maret cried out. “What’s happening to him? He’s not breathing!”
Telea kept chanting. She met Maret’s eyes and nodded, hoping to reassure her. There were cries from the crowd. Telea looked up and saw movement. The summoned animal was already here. Even with Orlos’s heart stopped, and no breath in his body, it wasn’t too late.
Telea saw the blue aura of the summoned creature above the crowd. There was no hurrying it—the animal would come at its own pace. There was time. She just had to keep the chant steady and all would be well.
The crowd parted and a woman appeared, wreathed in the blue aura of summoning. Telea stumbled over the words of the Chant of Summoning.
A person! It shouldn’t happen this way. No person should respond to the summoning.
She resumed the chant, pushing the thought from her mind. There was nothing she could do about it now. She could only stop, and that would mean Orlos’s death.
The woman stepped close, walking slowly under the summoning trance. She wore Landomeri clothing—moccasins and leggings under a long linen tunic. The woman was young and healthy. She was full of life, a powerful source of healing, but also a tremendous danger.
Telea took the woman’s hand and drew her down to her knees. There was a man behind the woman. Her husband? A friend?
“Will she be all right?” he asked. “Is she safe?”
Telea could only nod, she couldn’t break the chant now. There was no time. Orlos’s life was fleeting at this moment. The healing had to begin.
Telea took the woman’s hand and turned it palm up. The woman was entranced, but was it enough? Telea was desperate to deepen the trance, but didn’t dare take the time.
She picked up the knife and placed it against the woman’s palm. Telea switched from the Chant of Summoning to the Chant of Healing. She pressed the blade against the woman’s palm, but before the first drop of blood was drawn, the demon within her whimpered, Song of Light. Sing the Song of Light.
Why?
A demon waits. The voice was quiet, pleading. It feels the opening. It is powerful. Sing the Song of Light.
Then Telea felt it too… the demon waiting just beyond the thin veil between the two worlds. It was as powerful as any demon she’d ever felt before. This was the price of using a human for a healing—blood so powerful it drew a demon of great strength.
Telea sang. She let the power of song flow through her as she sent the Song of Light at the demon. The demon resisted… it was no imp to be shredded by the first notes of music. This was an ancient, powerful demon, capable of fighting through her song.
She redoubled her efforts, skipping the chorus and moving straight to the third verse. The notes were in the high air but still within her range. Despite her fatigue she reached them and sent them to pierce the demon. The summoned woman shuddered as the demon recoiled under the assault. Telea didn’t relent, although each precious moment brought Orlos closer to death.
Finally, the demon retreated. She felt its anger through the ethereal barrier to Dromost’s world. Is it safe? She asked her demon.
Not yet…wait…now.
Telea halted her song, resumed her chant, and then drew the knife sharply across the woman’s palm. Blood welled up, and Telea clasped the woman’s hand in her own. There was no smoke, no demon sign.
The words of the Chant of Healing came easily to her lips. They were safe now. The blood covering their hands disappeared in a golden glow, absorbed into Telea. Life flowed up her arm and into her chest. She gasped at the rush of life. She rushed the golden tendrils through her body and down her left arm and into Orlos’s chest.
Telea’s vision spun and she staggered forward. It was a risk doing it so quickly. She could easily pass out at the sudden rush of life, but there was no alternative.
Healing energy poured into Orlos. Telea pushed it right into his chest and to his heart. The power of the woman’s blood, human blood, was more potent than any Telea had ever felt. It was rich with power and potential. She saw how the summoners craved it for their rituals.
But the danger was so great. A demon brought through a human summoning—it would have been far too powerful for her to handle alone. The demon within her had narrowly saved her.
Orlos’s heart thumped under her hand. Telea smiled. It thumped again, and then after a few beats, was steady. He gasped a breath and his mother cried out with joy.
Telea looked to her source of healing. The woman was strong, but Telea had to be careful. Take too much and there would be no stopping a demon from taking her.
Orlos’s eye opened and an excited murmur washed over the crowd. He blinked his eyes in confusion, and then his glance met Telea’s. She smiled at him, but he frowned at her, and she thought she saw fear in his eyes.
It wasn’t a shock to her, although she wished for a different response. She was certain she looked strange to him. The last thing he probably remembered was being stuck in the cave.
Maret took her son’s face in her hands and turned him to look at her. She k
issed him on the forehead and said, “I’m so glad you are back with us.”
He tried to speak but couldn’t find any words. Maret reached for the water skin, but Telea shook her head, no. She couldn’t have him choking and breaking their link. The healing was safe now, only as long as it wasn’t interrupted.
He was stronger now, safely out of danger, if very weak. The woman was weakening though, having given a great deal of blood. It was time to end the ritual.
Telea took the tiniest part of Orlos’s new strength and gave it back to the source of life, closing the cut in her palm. Then Telea took her hand from Orlos’s chest. The cut she had made there was gone. She released the woman’s hand, and there remained only the faintest scar.
The Chant of Dismissal broke the bond with the woman. She looked around, confused, and her husband raised her to her feet. Telea sang the first verse of the Song of Hope, and as the final note ended, she slumped forward, putting her face in her hands.
She’d never in her life been so drained. So physically and emotionally exhausted. And it wasn’t over. This wasn’t even her task. Far away there was a threat more dangerous than anyone around her could imagine, and so far she’d done nothing to stop it.
“Can I give him water now?” Maret asked.
Telea lowered her hands. “Yes,” she said. “Water and food, but not too much of either. And a lot of rest.” She looked up at the woman. The man held her close. “The same for her. I’m sorry, what is her name?”
“It’s Carel,” he said. “Will she suffer any harm from…from this?”
Telea shook her head. “There’s no danger now. She’ll be perfectly fine. Helna’s blessing is on her for her contribution. Just make sure she gets rest. A lot of rest and water. She saved Orlos’s life.”
“She seems…she seems asleep.”
“In a way, she is. Take her home, and let her sleep for real. No creature of nature will harm her with Helna’s blessing upon her.” The man lifted Carel into his arms and took her through the crowd.
Orlos was sitting up now, drinking from the water skin. “The spiridus are down there,” he said. “They’re in Dromost.”