Death of a Darklord

by Laurell K. Hamilton

  “If you can heal me, girl, I will have only praise for your name.”

  Still she hesitated. “And if I can’t?”

  “Then you will have tried, and I will sing your praises for that.” A smile peeked from behind his mustache.

  Elaine gave a nervous smile in return and let her fingers touch the wound. The skin folded back on itself where the teeth had torn it. She ran fingertips over the gash, over bumps in the skin with slick holes underneath.

  She glanced at Fredric’s face, but it was blank, unreadable. “If I hurt you, tell me, and I’ll stop.”

  He shook his head. “I’ve had far worse done to me than to suffer a lady to touch a small wound.”

  The injury was not small, and they all knew it. The partial healing that Silvanus had managed yesterday had given him use of the arm, but until it was healed completely, he would not be at full fighting strength. He wore a great two-handed sword strapped to his back and needed two good arms to wield it.

  She had trailed over the surface of the skin, but her fingers wanted to go deeper. Elaine glanced at Silvanus. “I don’t want to hurt him.”

  “Do you remember in the tent how you explored my life-force until you could sense the darkness?”

  She nodded.

  “You must explore the wound the same way. You must know if the damage is shallow, or if muscles or bones are involved. What you did yesterday is really much harder, for you cannot hold an aura in your hands. You can’t even truly visualize it. You can see the bite with your eyes, touch it with your own skin. When you know the surface of the wound, reach inward, but not with your fingers. Yesterday, you felt like you could hold my heart in your hand, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Search this wound until you can feel your fingers melting into his flesh, searching his muscles for injury.”

  Elaine bent back over the wound. She took a deep breath, then pressed her fingers deep into the teeth marks. Fredric let out a sharp, soft exhalation of air. Elaine didn’t look up. If she saw pain in his eyes, she wasn’t sure she could do this. And she wanted to do this. She could feel that same growing power. It flowed through her, from Kartakass. The land was with her. She could feel it, almost as if it were curious.

  Her fingers dug into flesh. There was a soft grunt of pain. Elaine closed her eyes, pressing her hands around the arm. She pushed her hands over the wound, fingers half-curled, searching the torn flesh, sinking deeper through the injuries. It was as if her fingertips slid inside the wounds and kept going. They traveled through layers of muscle. Blood flowed around them, all safely below the surface, like a hidden river. She touched the bone itself, fingering it like a piece of jewelry, trying to memorize the feel of it.

  “Is there any injury below the surface?” Even Silvanus’s soft voice made her jump. She lost that feel of slick bone, and working muscle. She blinked and dropped her hands to her lap.

  “There is some bruising, but nothing more. Nothing’s broken.”

  Silvanus smiled. “Good, now it is time to close the wound.”

  “How do I do that?”

  “You must heal it from inside out. Find the bruised flesh and heal it, then come outward and close the wounds behind you.”

  She stared at him, frowning. “I think I understand healing the inner bruising, but how do the wounds close up behind my fingers? Wouldn’t it make more sense to smooth the wounds shut, like making pottery, and mending holes in the wet clay?”

  “If that makes sense to your mind, do it, Elaine. I do not know about wizardry, but healing is a very individual thing. Each healer uses her own imagery. You use visuals similar to my own, but I know other clerics that go entirely by feel. As long as it works, it does not matter how it works.”

  Elaine reached for Fredric’s arm again. She gave a quick glance to his face, then back to the wound. She had hurt him, she knew that, but it was more important to heal the wound than to ease the pain.

  It was easier this time for her fingers to flow into the flesh. The tips of her fingers ran down the length of the bone in its muscle-and-blood sheath. She opened her eyes, just to see, but her hands sat on top his arm, looking ordinary. If she hadn’t been feeling it herself, she wouldn’t have known anything unusual was happening.

  Now that she had opened her eyes and could still feel the bone, she kept them open. It was odd, almost dizzying; sight told her she was merely holding Fredric’s arm, but touch told her her fingers were deeply imbedded in his flesh. She shouldn’t have been able to see her fingers at all, but there they sat.

  “Do not become distracted,” Silvanus said softly. He was kneeling by her, shoulder almost touching hers. She hadn’t felt him come up so close beside her.

  “Keep your hold on the deep sensation, but remember why you are there. You are there to heal, not to simply sightsee.”

  Heat crept up her face. She had been playing inside the man’s arm without healing him at all, simply enjoying the sensation. She glanced up at Fredric’s face. His face was calm, but puzzled.

  “I am sorry,” she said.

  “No, Elaine,” Silvanus said. “Do not become distracted—not even by words or pity. Concentrate on the injury. Heal it.”

  “How?” Elaine started to turn to look at the elf. He touched her gently and turned her face back to the wound. “See only this. Feel only this.”

  She took a deep breath and did as she was told. She felt the bruising; it went all the way down to the bone. A breaking of blood vessels, a near crushing of flesh. She wanted to heal the broken blood vessels, to smooth the flesh inside as well as out. She drew her invisible fingers through the tissue, as if combing them through putty.

  The broken flesh closed behind her touch, like a wall mending itself. Her fingers drew outward until Elaine could feel them resting on Fredric’s arm. She stared down at the torn flesh.

  Elaine drew her hand over the tears. She smoothed the outer skin, and it moved under her touch like clay. The flesh melting together, mending itself as she ran her fingers and thumb over the wound. She ended by holding his forearm between her hands and smoothing her palms down his arm, as if working in lotion.

  She lay his arm in her lap and looked at it, turning it from side to side. But Elaine didn’t need her eyes to tell her it was healed. With that last smoothing motion, she had felt the flesh whole, of one piece, with no imperfections in it.

  “It is done,” she said. Her voice sounded a little surprised, even to her own ears.

  Fredric lifted his arm before his face, turning it, staring. He ran his hand over where the bite mark had been. “There isn’t even a scar. Silvanus, there’s no scar.”

  The elf crawled forward and grabbed the arm. He ran his fingers over the healed flesh. “Bertog be praised. It is as if the skin were never broken.”

  “I knew a healer that could do that,” Thordin said, “but he was a temple elder.”

  Silvanus looked up at the fighter. “I have known only two clerics that could do this.” He traced fingers back and forth over the smooth flesh. “Are you experiencing any pain?”

  Fredric raised his arm, flexing the hand. “It feels wonderful, almost better than new.”

  “My turn next,” Randwulf said. He held out his wounded arms. He wasn’t smiling when he said it, no teasing now. Elaine didn’t know him well enough to read his expression, but it was solemn, perhaps impressed.

  “How do you feel, Elaine?” Silvanus asked.

  “Fine.”

  “Do you feel at all tired?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “Not at all?” Silvanus asked. “Be sure you are not tired, Elaine. You have just done your first major healing. You must be careful to conserve your strength.”

  Elaine sat back and thought, how did she feel? She wasn’t tired. In fact, she felt wonderful. Refreshed, alive.

  “I’m not tired at all. I feel wonderful.”

  Silvanus stared at her, as if trying to gauge her reaction. “Don’t feel you must
be strong for others. If you are too tired to heal Randwulf, you could harm yourself.”

  “I feel fine.”

  “How could she be harmed?” Jonathan was standing just behind her, tall and forbidding, though he was asking after her safety. Even after last night, he was worried about her. Elaine reached out to touch his hand, to let him know his concern meant something to her. Jonathan jerked his hand away, as if her touch burned him.

  Elaine let her hand fall back into her lap. She stared at his face. She would not look away, would not make this easy for him. Jonathan would not meet her gaze. He stared fixedly at the elf.

  “If she is too tired and persists in trying to heal, she may tap into her own life-force. Elaine could use up her own life, spilling it away into Randwulf. She is new enough to healing that she does not know the signs. She could kill herself giving others life.”

  Jonathan finally did look at her. He stared into her face. He took a deep breath and touched her hair with his fingertips.

  Elaine raised her hand slowly. He didn’t move away. She touched his hand, and he returned the touch, squeezing the fingers gently. “I would not want anything to happen to you, Elaine.”

  “I feel fine, truly.” She laid his hand against her cheek as she had as a child. He smiled, and she felt better than she had in hours.

  “Then heal him, but be careful.” He patted her cheek and pulled his hand gently from her own.

  Elaine turned back to Randwulf. “Do I heal him just the same?”

  “Yes,” Silvanus said, “it is nearly the same type of wound. You can either heal one wrist at a time or both together.”

  “How do I heal them both?”

  Silvanus smiled; it held almost bitterness. “You are eager, child, aren’t you?”

  “It feels … wonderful.”

  Silvanus touched her face, looking into her eyes as if they would give away secrets. “Are you saying it feels good to heal?”

  “Yes.” There was an expression on his face that made her say, “Don’t you feel that way when you heal?”

  “No, Elaine,” he said, softly, “I do not.”

  “Is that bad?”

  “Not at all. It is merely rare.”

  “How rare?” Jonathan asked.

  “Rare enough that I’ve read of such things but never known of anyone who could do it,” Silvanus said.

  “I don’t understand,” Elaine said. “Why should the fact that I feel better after healing Fredric’s wound be so unusual?”

  “In a battle situation, you could heal many more people than I. I would grow tired and begin to draw on my own life-force. If you are doing what I believe you are doing, you will never grow tired. You will always be able to heal, over and over again. It is a great, great gift.”

  “Enough talk about magical theories,” Randwulf said, “I’m tired of these wounds.” He held his arms out to her once more.

  “Randwulf, you are being impertinent,” Silvanus said.

  The young man smiled, then winked at Elaine. “If you all quit talking, this beautiful woman will lay her sweet hands on my bare flesh. Sorry if I’m impatient.”

  Elaine stared into his smirking face. She didn’t like Randwulf, but she wanted to touch the wounds. The injuries were what was important. It didn’t matter whom she was healing.

  “Apologize immediately,” Averil said. She sounded outraged.

  “No,” Elaine said, “it’s all right.” She should have been embarrassed but wasn’t. She wanted to heal, not just Randwulf, but any ruined flesh, touching it and making it whole. Her hands itched with desire.

  Elaine ran her fingers over Randwulf’s wrists. The flesh was punctured, but not torn as badly as Fredric’s arm. The wolves had simply bitten down, held him so the death blow could be dealt.

  She clutched one of his wrists in either of her hands. Randwulf brought his arms up, putting the backs of her hands in a position to be kissed. Elaine plunged fingernails into the open bite wounds. Randwulf drew back with a hiss. Elaine’s invisible fingers plunged into his flesh, tickling along his bones. It was almost disappointingly easy to heal. She drew out the bruising, and her hands sat on his skin. She squeezed down until Randwulf gasped, then pulled downward, smoothing the teeth marks in one hard movement.

  Randwulf drew his arms to his chest, grimacing. “Silvanus never hurt me like this.”

  “You never tried to kiss my hand,” Silvanus said.

  “I promise not to tease her anymore. Just don’t be as rough with the wound on my neck.” He touched it lightly as he spoke. “It hurts already.”

  “If you behave yourself, I promise not to hurt you on purpose,” Elaine said.

  He placed a newly healed hand over his heart. “My word of honor,” he said.

  “Is the skin as perfect as mine was?” Fredric asked.

  Randwulf offered his arms to the big fighter. Fredric rubbed his hands over Randwulf’s arms. “No scars.” The big man seemed amazed. He glanced at Elaine. “If I’d had you around, my body wouldn’t look like a map of every fight I’ve ever had.”

  “Father did his best,” Averil said.

  Silvanus patted her hand. “He is teasing, Daughter.”

  “Ah,” Fredric said. “I’d be dead a dozen times over if not for your father.”

  “I am in some pain here,” Randwulf said. “Could she heal me now?”

  Averil slapped his newly healed arm. “You are an ungrateful wretch.”

  He grinned. “Yes, I am.”

  “If you could just heal him before he makes a bigger fool of himself,” Silvanus said, “we’d be most grateful.”

  Elaine looked at Randwulf, ignoring the smirk. She was thinking about the injury, visualizing it in her mind. “I think he’ll need to lie down to be healed.”

  “Don’t say it,” Averil told him.

  Randwulf ducked his head, pretending to be embarrassed but not succeeding. “I didn’t say a thing.”

  “Keep it that way,” Fredric said.

  Elaine wasn’t sure she had followed all the conversation, and didn’t care. She wanted to see the wound again. She started to take off her cloak.

  “What are you doing?” Jonathan asked.

  “He’ll need something to lie down on.”

  “I think we can fetch a blanket for that,” Jonathan said. “We don’t want your getting sick from the cold.”

  She retied her cloak.

  “I’ve missed the chance to lie down on something warm and smelling of her body, darn.”

  Elaine looked at Randwulf. Last night his words would have bothered her, but not now. She was almost as eager to touch him as he was to touch her, but for very different reasons.

  Blaine brought a blanket and laid it down before the fire. Randwulf knelt on the blanket.

  “Could you loosen your collar so I can lay hands on the wound?” Elaine asked.

  He opened his mouth to say some smart, teasing thing. She raised a hand, and said, “You are wasting my time. Do you want me to heal you or not?”

  Randwulf looked as chastened as he was capable of and said, “Yes, please.”

  “Then loosen your collar and lie down before the fire.”

  He did as he was told. Elaine knelt over him, folding the fur back below his shoulders. She pulled the cloth away from the wound. Every tooth mark was like a small, frozen puddle of blood, except the blood trembled and shook, held in place by something more mysterious than ice.

  “Your healing did this?” she asked.

  Silvanus peered over her shoulder. “Yes. I did not have enough strength to heal it completely, but enough to heal the spine and the deeper injuries.”

  Her fingers hovered over the wound. “Will it be different healing a more serious wound?”

  “Perhaps, perhaps not. You seem to have a quick grasp of such matters. Explore the wound and see.”

  Her hands fell against the skin, almost without her wanting them to. Her fingertips traced the edges of the sunken wounds. Elaine almost expected to
feel something holding in the blood, but her fingertips touched wetness. The blood was surprisingly warm, skin temperature.

  The blood welled around her fingers, trickling in tiny rivulets down his skin. She dug fingers into the open wounds. Randwulf gasped, raising his head. Elaine forced his head down with one hand. Blood stained his curls.

  Her invisible fingers slipped below the skin. The spine was not smooth. She could trace the joints between the vertebrae, but the neck vertebrae were thick with extra bone, scar tissue. Two of the vertebrae were fused together. No wonder his neck hurt. If the bones were left to heal bound together, he would lose some of the movement of his neck. Elaine wasn’t sure how she knew that, but she could suddenly see not only his injury but what it meant for him, what would happen if it weren’t fixed.

  It was as if some window in her mind that had been closed had opened, and she could see things she hadn’t before.

  She touched the bone and rubbed it between her fingers. It wasn’t like healing an injury. The bone was healed, but it wasn’t right, and she sought the flaws. Blood flowed in a sheet across her hands, down his neck. She rubbed the bump down and down, until the vertebrae were even. Her invisible fingernails found the fused line and cut it open again. Her hands easily moved the neck back and forth.

  “Does that hurt?”

  “No, it doesn’t.” Randwulf said. He sounded surprised.

  The blood flowing down her hands was so warm. It spread into the snow like red punch. She was fascinated with the crimson splashes. There was so much of it that the blood began eating through the snow like warm water.

  “Close the wounds, Elaine.” Silvanus’s voice was still calm, but there was an undercurrent of urgency.

  She turned to him, slowly. She didn’t want to look away from the blood, wanted to stare at it, feel it pour down her hands forever.

  Silvanus touched her shoulder. “Elaine, close the wounds.”

  She turned back to the bloody neck. Elaine couldn’t see the injuries anymore. The blood covered them, but she could still feel the bite marks under her hands. Randwulf lay very still under her touch. She turned her invisible touch deeper into his body. She found his life fluttering. He was dying. Why?