He wouldn’t have energy left when this was through.
Lial sat on the stool at the head of the table as Elan took the other stool at the side. Already, Elan had the needle and thread ready, waiting for Lial to sedate the mage. Lial placed his hands on each side of Caeleth’s head, closed his eyes, and released himself into his work.
There was so much damage that only experience allowed him to act without hesitation. A touch of healing magic to ease the swelling around the patient’s brain. The swift command to sleep. More power to numb any affected nerves. Which was practically all of them. Then he sent his magic toward the knife wound to staunch the blood while Elan stitched.
It would be Lyr’s job to figure out who’d stabbed the man with a steel blade. Right now, Lial had to coax the patient to heal despite the mage’s allergy to iron. Fortunately, dealing with Kai’s and Lyr’s injuries involving the metal had taught him a few tricks. As he held the relevant arteries clamped with his magic and Elan stitched, Lial used another stream of power to work as many iron remnants free as he could. Those he gathered in his palm until he could wipe them on a piece of silk.
“Maddy,” he said. “Gather bandages. Then observe.”
He had to trust that she complied. Elan was struggling to stitch the more difficult areas, and there was a fair chance Lial would have to take over. This attack had been meant to kill. The assailant had slid the blade upward beneath the ribs, slicing part of the mage’s intestines, shredding one side of the gallbladder, and piercing the liver. Between this and all his other wounds, Lial wouldn’t have stood a chance of healing the man without magic. Had Caeleth’s allergy to iron been worse, he’d be dead.
“This section of the wound is beyond my sewing skills,” Elan finally admitted.
Without comment, Lial shifted his stool to the other side so he could take the needle. “Begin work on his legs.”
Lial’s concentration was too split now to continue drawing out the iron, and he could no longer coax the mage’s body to regenerate. All of his power went to controlling the man’s blood flow and lungs while he bent over the wound to stitch. Gods, what a mess. Elan had done a good job repairing the intestines and liver, but he’d been right to have Lial work on the gallbladder.
Time suspended as Lial worked, doing his best to restore the organ to its original function. It wasn’t vital to life, but it wasn’t his nature to shirk any possibility for success. He continued even when his reserves dwindled and his muscles grew stiff with fatigue. Blood coated his hands and sweat rolled down his back by the time he made the final stitch.
Only then did the force of his exhaustion hit. Unfortunately, he wasn’t done. Because of the iron, he couldn’t heal the wound entirely, so it would have to be bandaged. Lial lowered his hands to the channels carved into the side of the table, and with a touch of magic, he sent the mage’s blood rolling from his hands downward, where it would flow to a reservoir at the end of the table. He still had Caeleth’s concussions and broken bones to repair.
Even so, he let his power flicker out so he could take a moment to breathe. On the other side of the table, Maddy stared at the now-closed wound on the mage’s abdomen with wide eyes, and at the end, Elan used his gift to repair abrasions and straighten bones in the man’s legs. Lial blinked, and a cup appeared in front of his face. He followed the holder’s arm upward to find Lynia peering down at him.
“Here,” she said. “Sip.”
Lynia tipped the cup against his lips, and he swallowed the offering gratefully until she withdrew. Then she wiped his damp brow with a cloth and stepped back, a concerned frown on her face—not the disgust or upset he expected. Was she not disturbed by the bloody mess? Despite the cleansing spell, his upper arms and clothes would be flecked with it. Possibly even the brow she’d just wiped.
He refused to look at the cloth she held to find out.
“I’ll get the tincture that speeds healing before you bandage the wound,” Lynia said, turning toward his workbench and the line of baskets he hadn’t pulled out earlier.
If he wasn’t already in love with her, he would be so now.
The door opened, and Aris strode through. The life mage’s attention centered on Caeleth before his gaze shifted to Lial.
“I’ll provide energy,” Aris said softly.
“A welcome gift.”
Lial’s reserves were nearly gone, and unlike the average person, a life mage’s energy was compatible with any elf. Otherwise, Lial would have to use his own power to convert natural energy for personal use or find a relative close enough in magic to provide some aid. Like Ralan, his seer cousin who could have been here to help. Of all the times not to show up unannounced.
Aris settled his hands on both Lial and Caeleth, and Lial lowered his shields enough to accept the gift. A life mage bore the power of life, but they weren’t necessarily healers. Creation didn’t always relate well to fixing, and although Aris had once cured Selia of an injury, that had only been possible while connected to the heart of Earth’s energy field.
The magic he sent coursing through Lial pulsed like the core of Moranaia. It was leaves unfurling and trees stretching their branches into the sky. The power of a million lives throbbed in Lial’s blood, and for the barest drip of time, he could sense the beating heart of the world around them.
Then it was gone.
“I hope that helps,” Aris said, lowering his hands. “And it does not count as the boon I owe you. I haven’t forgotten.”
“I thank you,” Lial replied. “For this and the boon.”
Aris inclined his head, and after a glance at the stitches across Caeleth’s abdomen, he sidled back. “I would rather not…”
Having accidentally experienced some of Aris’s memories, Lial understood. This type of scene had to remind him of the torture he’d endured during his imprisonment in the past. “Would you see Fen and Anna here when their task is complete?”
Relief crossed Aris’s face. “Of course.”
Lial flexed his fingers and returned to work as the door closed behind the life mage. His reserves weren’t fully restored, but he could do this. The worst was over—he hoped.
Chapter 10
Lynia scanned the row of labeled baskets until she found the one she wanted and grabbed a vial. Tincture of ereth, tobahn, maiseb, and turek. Together, these herbs promoted rapid healing, reduced swelling, and helped with bruising. Swiftly, she returned to Lial with the tincture, and just in time. Elan had the patient levitated, and Maddy held out a roll of bandages.
When Lial opened his hand next to Lynia, she placed the vial in his palm. He read the label and nodded before turning to his task. She didn’t watch him spread the tincture on the wound—she was too busy staring at his face as he focused on his work. She’d been around when he healed serious wounds before, but never when she wasn’t focused on the patient. She cared about the mage’s life, of course, but he wasn’t family.
Gods, Lial was incredible when he healed. He’d stitched the wound so quickly the motions were difficult to follow, his fingers more nimble than any tailor’s. All the while growing paler as lines bracketed his tense mouth and created furrows between his eyes. He had that same intense frown now as he bandaged the wound and waited for Elan to lower the patient once more.
How could he give of himself so absolutely, time and time again? Lynia couldn’t look away from his face even once the blue glow of his magic highlighted it an eerie color. He circled the table, pouring his very life into the task. He had to be burning through the energy Aris had given him, but she had no doubt that without that infusion, Lial would have carried on until he was nothing but a husk. And he would stir himself to help anyone else injured today, regardless of the cost.
As though summoned by her thoughts, someone knocked on the door. Lial didn’t appear to notice, but Maddy frowned at the entrance as though she couldn’t decide what to do. “I’ll get it,” Lynia whispered.
Maddy nodded, and Lynia walked over to answer. A youn
g scout stood on the other side of the door, his hand raised to knock again. Lynia skimmed the man for signs of injury but didn’t see anything obvious.
“May I help you?” she asked.
The scout extended his other hand, revealing a gash across his palm. “I slipped on the practice field and cut my hand on a rock. I’m hoping the healer can help.”
Lynia lifted a brow. “You were on the practice field during an ice storm?”
Wincing, the scout tucked the hood of his cloak more securely around his head as if reminded of the pelting ice. “It was empty, and I thought I should work on being outside in bad conditions.”
“Which I am certain your commanding officer did not approve,” Lynia said sternly, eyeing the cut while she spoke. It wasn’t too deep. Uncomfortable, but nothing that wouldn’t heal on its own. “Wait here.”
Lynia grabbed a tincture and returned to the scout, plopping the vial into his free hand with relish. She refused to have Lial expend more energy because a trainee couldn’t use common sense. He could deal with a sore hand while waiting for the ice to thaw.
The scout frowned down at the vial. “What is this?”
“Put a little bit on the cut and keep your hand wrapped. It will aid in healing,” she replied.
“But—”
“Do you have a complaint for me, trainee?” Lynia asked. At her words, awareness of her identity washed across his face. “I will be happy to mention it to the Myern at the midday meal.”
A flush turned his cold-pinkened cheeks to deep red. “Of course not.”
Lynia smiled. “Good. I would hate to think you’re disturbing an important healing for a minor matter after your lapse in judgement.”
“Ah. Yes. Or no. I…” The scout’s throat bobbed. “Thank you for your help, Myernere.”
Her smile spread into a wicked grin as the trainee fled. Sometimes, her reserved reputation came in handy, though she didn’t use it as often as she had when she was the Myerna. But today, she was happy to employ her haughtiest expressions if it kept Lial from draining himself over foolish complaints.
If the man needed a guardian, she would be one.
Anger roiled in Lyr’s gut and climbed up his throat as he stared down at the silk-wrapped dagger in his hand. He’d never thought to see that hilt again, but here it was. The same design at the crux of his life’s worst moments. But how? Allafon was dead, as was Kien. Even if the assassins both men had employed hadn’t been defeated, why would they strike out at a lone mage working in the valley?
Selia approached, a frown on her brow. “I helped Anna redo the spells stabilizing the stream, and Fen and Kezari are making sure the sinkhole at the base hasn’t become obstructed. I’m afraid the water won’t fall down the wall in the same pattern, but it should drain into the water table all the same.”
“Thank you, Selia.” Lyr scanned the area, now clear of the debris and almost back to the way it had looked before. A few of his best tayn were searching up and down the valley, but so far, they’d found nothing. “You unraveled the spell on the invisibility cloaks used by Allafon’s assassin. Do you sense that same magic at play here?’
Her frown deepened. “No. Not a hint of it. In fact, the only magic I sense belongs to us or to Caeleth.”
“Do you know him?” Lyr asked. “Caeleth?”
“Not well.”
Lyr turned the blade in his hands. “Any idea why someone would have come out here to stab him?”
“He is from a prominent family on the Taian branch,” Selia answered, her gaze slipping to the knife. “One that might cause trouble if he were murdered here. I hope Lial manages to save him. But I suspect that’s not what you’re worried about. Not with that hilt.”
“You suspect correctly.” He wrapped the silk around the knife until it was completely covered and slipped the bundle into the pocket of his cloak. “The way this happened baffles me. Is there a reason behind it, or was it merely an opportunity taken?”
Selia pulled her cloak tighter. “Possibly the latter. Mages don’t typically handle this type of task alone, but Caeleth was out here working on the ridge by himself. If he survives, we’ll have to find out why.”
A muffled curse sounded from the path, and Lyr glanced over in time to see Aris catch his balance against the railing. Selia chuckled, but her amusement was hidden by the time her husband reached them. Granted, humor was difficult to maintain considering the life mage’s pale, drawn face beneath the shadow of his cloak.
“What’s wrong?” Selia asked, brushing a strand of her husband’s brown and green hair from his brow. “Did something bad happen with the healing?”
Miaran, Lyr hoped not. A plague, a mystery assassin, and a murdered Taian mage would be a sad and terrible start to the month. He didn’t know Caeleth personally, but they’d met a couple of weeks ago when the mages had arrived to help reinforce the spells protecting the estate and lands from the harsh winter storms. Caeleth had been a pleasant, capable sort, and his death would be a grave loss, one Lyr would be responsible for.
“It wasn’t complete when I left, but it appeared to be proceeding well.” Aris sighed. “There was so much blood. I…I offered energy, but I couldn’t stay.”
“Ah, love,” Selia whispered.
Lyr averted his gaze as Selia wrapped her arms around Aris’s waist. Despite his sessions with a mind healer, the man struggled. Not even magic could erase the trauma of being tortured by one’s potential soulbonded and then having to kill her. Centuries might not be sufficient, much less three months.
As soon as the ridgeline was finished, Kezari, Fen, and Anna returned, and together, they worked their way up the pathway to the top. All save Kezari, who’d shifted to dragon form to see if she could find the assassin’s trail. She’d caught a scent, one that hopefully wouldn’t prove useless. If Lyr needed anything, it was a solid break.
As soon as the mage was settled into the recovery bed, Lial dropped into the chair beside him and tilted his head against the wall. Even after the infusion of life magic, he was tired, but what had he expected after a night with little sleep and the morning’s broken elbow to heal? Now he had to gather himself for the next deluge of disasters.
The scent of summer flowers and old books hit his nose before Lynia’s hand settled on his shoulder. Her scent aside, he didn’t have to look to know it was her. Her energy was as familiar as his own after so many years, especially the last couple of decades. He could find her anywhere.
“Go sleep,” Lynia said.
He cracked his eyes open. “Can’t. You’ve seen how busy it gets.”
“Some of your patients should learn to take care of themselves,” Lynia grumbled, her voice fierce enough to surprise a smile out of him despite his exhaustion. “I would be happy to hand them a vial and send them off as I did that trainee earlier.”
Lial lifted an eyebrow. “What trainee?”
“You were too busy to notice.” Her fingers tightened on his shoulder. “He had a cut on his palm, of all things. Hardly fatal. In any case, the ice is getting thick enough for spiked boots, so you should see fewer cases. Go to bed.”
He straightened, and Lynia dropped her arm, though she didn’t look less fierce. Dizziness spun through his head with a flourish, but he summoned his own glare. “You know I will not abandon my duty. Maddy doesn’t have enough training to tend to patients, and Elan is nearly as exhausted as I am. If someone needs more aid than a tincture can provide—”
“Then someone can wake you,” Lynia interrupted.
“I have other tasks,” Lial said, scrambling to pull said tasks from his muddled brain. “I need to secure the feeding box beside the camahr’s hole, replenish the tinctures—”
Lynia cupped his chin in her palm and leaned close, the abrupt action surprising him into silence. “You are not one of the Nine Gods of Arneen, Lial. Your energy isn’t unlimited, nor is your life. There are three capable people in this room who can do those things, but only you will be able to heal anyone else w
ho might get stabbed. Is it wise to continue to drain yourself on simple tasks with a mysterious assailant on the loose? Think about that.”
For a moment, her eyes held him enraptured, the concern and resolve almost his undoing. He wanted to kiss her, audience or not, but he wouldn’t. If such a thing were to happen, it would be her choice. Her move.
“Are you listening to me, Lial?”
Gods. Lial blinked, his mind replaying the argument she’d made—and she was right. He’d told Elan much the same earlier. “Fine, but only for a couple of marks. And only if you promise to wake me if anyone needs help.”
Letting go of his chin, Lynia straightened, and he suddenly wished that he’d drawn out the argument to keep her close. “I promise. If you’ll hold up your end of the bargain.”
Well, then. It seemed he was taking a nap.
During a break in the incessant sleet and freezing rain, Lynia shrugged her cloak around her shoulders and lifted the bowl of shredded meat from the counter. As Lial had mentioned, she’d found the food in a jar he kept in the enspelled cold box beneath the workbench. She grinned at the thought of it. Lial, the fierce healer who’d threatened more than one injured patient into compliance, had a large jar labeled camahr food tucked amidst his temperature-sensitive potion components.
Maddy followed behind her with a wooden cover designed to go over the bowl to protect it from the weather. It was scratched in spots and weathered smooth in others—old, and not likely something used indoors. How long had Lial been caring for camahr at the base of the healing tower? Lynia pondered this new facet of his personality as she picked her way carefully around to the back of the tower.
“There,” Maddy said, pointing to a hole at the bottom.
Fortunately, the spells that heated the tower kept the stone and the ground near the base from freezing over, but that wouldn’t stop the camahr from becoming trapped if the ice built high enough. It already reached the first knuckle of her forefinger, and the weather mages estimated more after this brief reprieve. Lial was right to provide a shelter for the bowl.
Solace Page 11