Bard's Oath (Dragonlord)

by Joanne Bertin

  “But if I don’t—”

  “No! I won’t lose the leg.” He groaned in pain and spasmed in her arms. “Not worth…” The next words trailed off into another groan.

  Pod could guess the rest: If he couldn’t tramp his beloved forests, life was not worth the living for Fiarin. He would rather die doing what he loved, not spend the rest of his life hobbling on crutches around his chapterhouse.

  She didn’t know if she agreed; she was young and life was very sweet. But this was Fiarin’s choice, not hers, not Kaeliss’s. If only she was a Healer!

  Well, she was—of a kind. It might not work—Beast Healer magic often didn’t work on humans, just as a Healer’s power usually had no effect upon a hurt animal—but she had to try.

  “Snakebane … healmoss. Try…” His words were barely audible.

  Pod held him tighter. If nothing else, she could try to lay the Sleep upon him to ease his passing if the herbs that Kaeliss was pulling from her pack didn’t work. The thought made her want to cry, but she could not watch him suffer needlessly. She’d heard what the victims went through; Olbari, one of the senior Beast Healers, had come upon someone after a crowned viper bite.

  He hadn’t been able to help; Pod remembered the grief—even guilt—in his voice as he told the tale. She watched Kaeliss crush the herbs together into a thick, dripping wad that she pressed to the tiny but deadly wounds and bind it in place with her kerchief.

  “Let’s get him back to dry ground,” Kaeliss said.

  “I want to try a Healing first,” Pod replied. “Switch places with me.”

  When she had taken Pod’s place, Kaeliss asked tensely, “Will it work? You’re a Beast Healer.”

  Pod studied Fiarin’s face; his color—or lack of it—alarmed her. Nor did he seem to hear them; Pod wondered if it was because he was simply focusing inward, husbanding his strength, or if he was so far gone already he couldn’t hear them.

  That scared her. “I don’t know,” she said, more shortly than she meant to.

  Resting Fiarin’s leg upon her knees, Pod gently laid her hands atop the poultice, closed her eyes, and invoked her magic. When she felt the familiar tingling in her hands, she looked down at them.

  Damn! Instead of the usual steady blue-tinged green, the misty haze surrounding her hands pulsed and eddied as if confused or even angry. Or was it her fear for Fiarin’s mortal peril coming through? Pod drew a deep breath and let it out slowly, willing herself to calmness as best she could.

  The agitated swirling eased; Pod reached out with her Healing magic. It fought her, recognizing that this was no creature of fur or feather. She bit her lip and “ordered” it to heal Fiarin.

  It was one of the hardest things she’d ever done. Pod could feel that some healing was taking place, but the battle for every tiny bit of progress took a toll on her. Her stomach threatened to rebel; she clenched her jaw against it. Her last meal stayed down, though it was a close thing.

  But when the world turned grey and swam before her eyes, she knew she had to stop. If she fainted, Kaeliss would have to keep both her head and Fiarin’s above water. And a Healer—for beast or human—who pushed too hard might lie in a swoon for candlemarks.

  Pod withdrew from the Healing. Her blood pounded in her ears. The haze that surrounded her hands lingered for a few moments; swirls of dark green twisted angrily in it, a thing she’d never seen before. A dazed voice in the back of her mind blathered that she’d have to ask Conor about it when next she saw him. She rubbed her face, then peeked under the poultice.

  The edges of the two puncture marks looked less red and angry; she was sure of it. And the mottling of the surrounding skin did look better—if only a little. She shook her head to banish her fatigue. It didn’t work.

  “We’ve got to get him to dry land,” she managed to say at last.

  Kaeliss looked long and hard at her. “You take his legs,” she said. “They’re lighter.”

  It was a long, slow, torturous journey. And if it hadn’t been for Kiga, they would not have made it. At Pod’s command, the woods dog led them not back along the path they’d taken, but to the nearest dry land. By the time they reached it, Pod trembled like one palsied. And although she carried the lighter half of the load, by the time they pulled themselves out of the thick mud that dragged at their feet with every step, Fiarin felt as heavy as if he were made of lead.

  At last they could lay Fiarin down. Kaeliss pulled the senior Wort Hunter’s pack off and tossed it aside. It landed with a soggy squish.

  “We need to keep him warm,” Kaeliss said, letting her own pack slip off her back.

  Pod nodded as she fumbled her pack off and pulled her blanket roll free. Kaeliss did the same. Soon they had stripped Fiarin of his wet clothes and settled him on Kaeliss’s blankets with Pod’s on top.

  “I’m going to make a new poultice to try to draw out the poison,” said Kaeliss. “As for you—get into dry clothes and get in with him. You need to rest and he needs the extra warmth.”

  Though a part of her felt she was somehow shirking her duty, Pod knew that Kaeliss was right. She peeled out of her wet tunic and breeches, then rolled them up and slipped them under Fiarin’s leg. “I seem to remember hearing that you should elevate a snakebitten limb,” she said to Kaeliss’s puzzled frown. “And shouldn’t we try to suck the venom from the wound? I thought I’d heard that as well.”

  “No—that’s an old wives’ tale. A Healer who stayed the night at my chapterhouse told us that the teachers at their college weren’t advising it anymore. Seems one of their herbalists did that when he had a cut in his mouth. Both he and his patient died from that one snakebite.”

  Pod digested that as she slipped under the blankets and arranged herself along Fiarin’s uninjured side. “Gods, that’s a scary thought. When Kiga’s dry, I’ll have him lie down on Fiarin’s other side.”

  “Good idea. Now try to sleep.”

  Pod didn’t think she could; she was listening, waiting, for each breath of the man who lay so frighteningly still beside her. But between one raspy breath and the next, her body surrendered to the fatigue that she’d held off. Pod sank into the welcoming blackness like a stone in a lake.

  She woke late in the night. At first she thought she was back at the chapterhouse. Why was her bed so hard, her pillow so lumpy and made of leather to boot?

  Then came the realization that there was somebody in the bed with her. Panic gripped her. Who—

  Memory flooded back and with it came a different fear, for she no longer heard the raspy breaths that had filled her ears as she’d fallen asleep. She fumbled her way to rest a hand on Fiarin’s chest. After an eternity she felt the slow, shallow rise of his chest. Weak with relief, she closed her eyes for a moment, then sat up and looked around.

  On the other side of Fiarin was a small fire, barely more than embers, and beyond it a lumpy shadow against the darker blackness of a tree.

  “Kaeliss?” Pod whispered. Kiga’s head appeared for a moment on the other side of Fiarin. “Stay. Keep him warm,” she said.

  Kiga’s head dropped. The shadow beyond the fire stirred. “Unh?” a tired voice said. Then Kaeliss sat up, pushing back the hood of her cloak from her face. “Oh dear gods—I fell asleep, didn’t I? I didn’t mean to…” She knuckled her eyes. “Fiarin!” she gasped.

  “Still alive,” Pod said. Then, because she was honest, “Barely.”

  Kaeliss tried to rise but fell back, groaning. Pod scooted out from under the blankets. She wasn’t fully recovered—she still felt light-headed—but she was fit enough to stand a watch. Kaeliss, on the other hand, was clearly done in.

  “Take my place and get some sleep,” she ordered crisply. “And I won’t take no for an answer. Hurry before the blankets get cold.”

  The other girl hesitated, then gave in. From the sound of her breathing, Pod thought that she fell asleep as soon as her head touched the pack pillow. Pod knelt before the fire, Kaeliss’s cloak wrapped around her, feeding it
a few twigs from a little pile of wood by it.

  As soon as it gets light I’ll have to look for more wood. I want to make broth with some of our dried meat. She hoped they could get some of it down Fiarin; they couldn’t let him get weak from hunger.

  She sat through the rest of the night, feeding the fire an occasional twig or bit of branch, arranging rocks she found into a makeshift fireplace, making a thousand plans and finding fault with each one. Through the long, dark candlemarks her thoughts danced around what she knew had to be done. The sky was shading into pearly grey when at last she made herself face it.

  She had to try to Heal Fiarin again. That he was still alive meant that her attempt hadn’t been a complete waste. She didn’t know how many candlemarks had passed since they’d reached this spot—for all she knew she’d slept straight through a full day—but from all she’d heard about the bite of a crowned viper, Fiarin should have been dead long ago.

  But would she survive it? It was possible for either kind of Healer to spend so much of her own life force in a Healing that she died of exhaustion. And that was before adding the wrong kind of Healing into it.

  Oh gods. Two of the earliest lessons drummed into the heads of all fledgling Healers: Heal those the gods meant you to heal. And just as important: Know when to stop. You can’t save everyone.

  By breaking the first, she’d broken both. And she was planning to do it again. If she and Kaeliss could keep Fiarin alive long enough, perhaps his body could throw off the poison. No doubt she was a fool, but she had to try.

  Pod pushed herself to her feet. Her head spun; she hugged a tree to save herself from falling into the fire. Yes, she’d have to try another Healing. But not now; if she tried now, she would kill herself.

  She emptied her waterskin into the small cook pot, crumbled a few slices of dried meat into it, and set it across the fire. “Kiga,” she said softly.

  The woods dog’s broad head came up. Dark eyes regarded her steadily.

  “Water. Find water, boy.”

  The woods dog scrambled free of the blankets and turned slowly, nose held high, snuffling the clean, sweet air of dawn. Pod held her breath. Suddenly the woods dog grunted and set off at a lope. She followed as best she could.

  The gods had mercy—finally. Kiga found a spring only a few hundred ells away. Still, Pod’s legs were shaking by the time she pushed her way through the thick underbrush.

  She knelt by the small stone-lined pool before the spring and splashed the cold, clear water on her face again and again. Then she drank long and deep before filling the waterskin.

  It wasn’t until she was back in the makeshift camp that she realized that nature had not set the stones in that pool. Only the hand of man—or of the Children of the Forest, though Pod shuddered at the thought—could have done that.

  Pod stared at the gently simmering pot and wondered why would anyone take the trouble to do so much work on a spring in the middle of nowhere? There were no trails to it. Even the forest dwellers would leave a trail over time, wouldn’t they?

  So what had once been here?

  She suddenly remembered that Fiarin had seemed not to hear when Kaeliss had dared ask him the name of these woods—and how he’d hesitated before leading them over the rocky esker that separated the first forest they’d traveled through from this one. Why? What did he know about this forest that neither she nor Kaeliss did?

  Pod racked her tired brain for what she knew about this part of Kelneth and found precious little. She’d been content to follow Fiarin blindly. Hellfire—she hadn’t even noticed which hand the sun had been on when they crossed the esker.

  She glared angrily at Fiarin, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest as if she might find the answer there, and prayed that if he died, she and Kaeliss could find their way out again.

  As if the thought of her had been a summons, Kaeliss sat up. She sniffed the air. “Stew?”

  “Of sorts. Give me Fiarin’s bowl—I want to put his share aside to cool while we eat.”

  Kiga sniffed at Fiarin’s bowl as Pod set it down. He looked up at her and whined.

  For a moment Pod couldn’t think what was wrong. Then, “Oh gods, boy—I’m sorry. Go hunt, Kiga. Go.”

  The woods dog shook himself and loped off. Pod watched him disappear into the dappled light, the dark-and-buff stripes of his fur melting into the shadows.

  Still staring at the last place she’d seen Kiga, she said, “Do you know where we are? Or—or how to get back?” She couldn’t look at the other young woman; she knew she couldn’t hide her fear—and she didn’t want to see Kaeliss’s. That path led to despair.

  There was a long silence before Kaeliss answered. “No,” she whispered at last. “I don’t. What … what do we do now?”

  Pod swung around. “Pray. I don’t know which god or goddess you look to, but pray to him or her as you’ve never done before. Now let’s see if we can get that broth into Fiarin.”

  * * *

  Dawn was breaking again when something woke Pod. She lay against Fiarin, trying to figure out what the sound had been.

  She didn’t have long to wait. An agonized moan broke the silence. Frightened, she scrambled out from the blankets as Fiarin twitched violently; she saw Kaeliss hastily rise on the other side of him.

  Pod cursed as tremor after tremor racked the senior Wort Hunter’s body and his limbs jerked this way and that. All the while his moans grew more terrifying. Pod wanted to flee the terrible sounds.

  Instead, she forced herself to undo the latest poultice from Fiarin’s leg. Kaeliss, crying softly, looked over her shoulder. As the wrappings fell from Pod’s shaking hands, they both gasped in horror.

  While the small puncture wounds had not shown any signs of healing, neither had they looked worse last night when they’d changed the dressing. But now the flesh around the bite marks was blackened and withered; lurid red streaks ran from the twin holes.

  But it was the stench that made them fall back retching. “Oh gods,” Kaeliss moaned over and over again. Tears ran down her cheeks.

  Oh gods indeed. Pod buried her face in her hands and breathed as shallowly as she could. She wasn’t ready; she hadn’t fully recovered, she knew that deep in her soul.

  But she also knew she had to try. Screwing her eyes shut, Pod stretched her shaking hands out over Fiarin’s leg and reached down inside herself, calling up the Healing energy.

  At first it wouldn’t answer, though she felt it hiding deep within, felt it trembling like a fawn. She insisted and it uncoiled, filling her with the familiar warmth. Pod opened her eyes enough to see the familiar haze forming around her hands.

  Relief flooded her. But then came a shock that flung her back like a rag doll.

  Pod picked herself up from the ground. Every bone, every muscle, every joint ached. Tears stung her eyes.

  She had failed. Fiarin was dying—and dying in agony. Every rasping breath, every spasm and moan told her so.

  Grant us this one grace, she begged the gods as she dragged herself back to his side.

  For one long, terrible moment she thought they would turn a deaf ear to her plea. Then Pod felt her power flow once more, at first tentatively, then with growing strength. She cradled Fiarin’s grey-hued face in her hands and willed the Sleep upon him.

  At once the spasms ceased; his breathing came easier as he rested quietly. A little color even came back into his sunken cheeks.

  Pod slumped back on her heels, exhausted yet at peace.

  Kaeliss crawled to kneel by her. “Did you Heal him?” she asked in awe.

  Pod shook her head.

  “Then why does— Oh. It’s the Sleep, isn’t it?”

  Pod just nodded; she didn’t trust her voice.

  “He’s dying, isn’t he?”

  “Yes.”

  Then, so softly that Pod almost couldn’t hear the words, “Thank you for easing his way.”

  They sat together, holding hands, keeping vigil through the long, hot morning. All
around them the forest came awake: birds calling to each other, insects humming, squirrels rattling the leaves overhead as they jumped from tree to tree. Once a rabbit paused at the edge of their little clearing and sat up to watch them. It fled as Kiga pushed his way through the underbrush and lay down with his head on Pod’s knee. She twined the fingers of her free hand in his thick, coarse fur.

  Pod knew the moment Fiarin died. In the space of a heartbeat an undefinable something went out of his face. She bowed her head. Beside her Kaeliss broke into soft weeping.

  We’ll need to bury him soon in this heat, Pod thought, even as she realized that they had no shovel, not even a hoe to dig with. They would have to find rocks for a cairn or leave Fiarin to the animals. And that she would not do.

  She let Kaeliss grieve for a while longer. Then she stood up. “We must build a cairn,” she told Kaeliss gently. “Then I think we should find another place to camp. But first we need to eat.”

  Kaeliss wiped her eyes and nodded. They gulped down a few strips of dried meat and a handful of dried fruit each, washing down the paltry meal with water. They then separated to search for rocks, calling to each other so that they might not wander too far apart and blazing the trees with their knives.

  Just as Pod feared they would have to leave Fiarin after all, she heard Kaeliss calling excitedly to her. With Kiga leading the way, she pushed through the underbrush.

  “Look! I walked and walked but found nothing useful. I was just about to give up—then I found this!” Kaeliss said with a sweep of her hand.

  “This” proved to be a long, jumbled pile of stones perhaps an ell wide that stretched off into the woods in both directions. The stones were the right size, too; not too big for two strong young women, yet heavy enough that with enough of them, nothing would be able to get at Fiarin. Yet something about the pile made Pod uneasy; there was something familiar about it.…

  The work was long and hard. Nor did it feel right, stacking rocks on top of Fiarin. Pod kept expecting him to open his eyes and demand angrily just what they thought they were doing. But a final look at the waxen pallor of his face before they drew his cloak over it convinced her. Only the dead had that look, she knew, as if the skin had turned to tallow.