Death of a Darklord (ravenloft)

by Laurell K. Hamilton

  "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?"

  "Mo, 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?

 
; She stared at the blood spreading into the snow. "I'm killing him," she said softly.

  "Yes," Silvanus said.

  EIGHTEEN

  "You must close the wounds, now," repeated Sil-vanus.

  Elaine pulled her fingers together almost like making a fist. The skin smoothed behind her movement. She drew her thumbs over the flesh, leveling the last few imperfections.

  "Let me see what you've done, Elaine." Silvanus's voice was careful, gentle, the way you'd talk to a frightened child.

  "He's fine," she said.

  Thordin encircled her wrists and lifted her hands from the man's neck. The blood ran onto his hands. He knelt, holding Elaine's hands.

  "You can let go of me, Thordin."

  He looked at Silvanus. The elf had wiped away the blood and was examining Randwulf's neck. "It's perfect." He looked up as if just realizing that Thordin was holding on. "Release her, it is her first major healing. She got carried away. It happens."

  Thordin released her. He wiped the blood onto clean snow until his hands were clean.

  Elaine knelt, holding her bloody hands in front of her. Blood trickled down her wrists into her sleeves and cooled quickly in the cold air. She rubbed her fingertips together. The sensation of congealing blood squeezing between her fingers was. interesting. She rubbed her hands together, slowly, studying the feel of it.

  "Stop it, stop it!"

  She looked up, startled. Jonathan was standing over her, face mottled with anger.

  "You are corrupt."

  "Jonathan, it is often difficult to control such powers at first. She will do better with practice."

  "Practice? She nearly killed the boy."

  Silvanus nodded. "But she didn't kill him."

  "I saw her face. We all did. She enjoyed it. Look at her, smearing blood on her hands." His face mirrored the disgust in his voice.

  Elaine lowered her bloody hands to her lap. Tears tightened her throat. It was hard after all these years. Once, only days ago, Jonathan's opinion had meant more to her than anyone's, even Blaine's. Her brother could be foolish, leading with his heart rather than his head. She'd depended on Jonathan to help her think clearly, to see all sides of a subject. Now she knew there were some sides the great mage-finder didn't want to understand. And one of them, sadly, was her own.

  "She has done nothing wrong, Master Ambrose," the wizard said. He was still kneeling on the ground near the elf. The smile was gone from his face. His blue eyes looked harsh and distant as a winter sky.

  "I did not say she had."

  "Your face said more than your words."

  Jonathan turned away, anger making his movements abrupt. Tereza had come up sometime during the healing. Elaine hadn't seen her come. Tereza touched his shoulder, but he pulled away from her. "I cannot change what I am. I cannot."

  "Jonathan, please …"

  Elaine stood up, leaving both the wizard and her brother's comforting touches behind. "Why do you protest, Tereza? You fear me, too. I saw it in your eyes."

  "Elaine, we love you," Tereza said.

  "But you still fear me." Tears threatened to close her throat tight. No, no more crying. Blast it all, she was an adult. She didn't need their approval. She wanted it, but didn't need it.

  "I know you would never hurt us," Tereza said.

  "Do you? Do you really?" She searched the older woman's face, trying to judge the words. Elaine couldn't read her thoughts at that moment and didn't try to. Not out of fear of what she would find out, but out of politeness. If it was rude to eavesdrop, it had to be doubly rude to read another's thoughts without permission.

  "The evil is not in the girl," the elf said.

  Tereza looked down at him. "We don't think she's evil."

  "That's a lie," Elaine said. The tears trailed silently down her cheeks. Tereza's mind had opened to her like a window. She thought that Elaine's burgeoning powers had harmed the man. Tereza knew Elaine hadn't meant to do it, but she had so little control. Images swam in Tereza's mind of the night in the shed over the corpse of the murdered man.

  Elaine looked at Jonathan. She riffled his mind like the pages of a book. Distrust, hatred, fear, prejudice. He loved Elaine, but his loathing of all things magic was deeply ingrained. How could he just abandon a lifetime of habit? A habit that had kept him alive and whole.

  "I did not harm Randwulf, not on purpose. I have never harmed anyone. I would never harm anyone. I don't even know how to use magic to harm someone." With each word she spoke, she felt the hopelessness of it. They did not believe her. They no longer trusted her. They thought she had tried to kill Randwulf, deliberately. Both of them, it had been their first thought.

  "When we go … back," she had almost said home, "from Cortton, I'll leave."

  "Mo," Tereza said. She stepped forward, reaching for Elaine.

  Elaine held up her hands as if to ward off a blow. "I can read your thoughts. I know what you think of me."

  Tereza grabbed her into a fierce hug. "I cannot control my thoughts, Elaine, but do not leave, not like this. Jonathan and I will learn to … It will be all right."

  Elaine pushed her to arm's length. "Jonathan and you will learn to what? Tolerate me? Not hate what I'm becoming? Not fear me?" She shook her head and stepped back, out of reach. She turned to the wizard. "If it's all right with you, Gersalius, we could go back to your home. I could live there while you teach me. If that's all right."

  She realized for the first time that she should have asked the wizard in private. What if he said no? What if he didn't want her either? She shook her head, fighting not to cry again.

  Gersalius stood up, taking her hand in his. "You are most welcome in my house, Elaine Claim, always."

  Blaine gripped her shoulder. "Will you have me, as well, Gersalius?"

  The wizard raised an eyebrow. "You have some natural calling to animals and plants, but you are no mage."

  "I don't come to learn magic. I come to keep you company."

  "You are welcome in my home." He glanced at Jonathan and Tereza. "Remember this, that it was not magic that drove them away, but prejudice."

  Tereza turned away and walked very fast toward the tents. Jonathan just stood there. He didn't seem to know what to say or even what to do. Elaine had never seen him at such a loss.

  "You have commitments, Blaine," Jonathan said at last. Elaine knew what he meant. The brotherhood. She had asked to join, but Jonathan had talked her out of it. She had no knowledge of weaponry, no real way of defending herself. Her visions, though useful, left her sick and bedridden for hours or days. But that had changed.

  "If Thordin wants another partner, he can pair with Konrad," Blaine said.

  "Konrad's all right, but I don't want another partner," Thordin said. The fighter stood up, half between the three of them, as if he could stop what was about to happen.

  "I'm sorry, Thordin," Blaine said.

  "And who will be your new partner?" Jonathan asked.

  "I will be," Elaine said.

  Jonathan turned to her, frowning. "We've discussed this before, Elaine. You are not suited …"

  "I had a vision yesterday. I was not bedridden. Gersalius is teaching me to control my powers."

  "You still have no way to defend yourself. What if Blaine is not with you? Who will protect you?"

  Gersalius gave a small chuckle.

  "What is it, wizard?"

  "Elaine is powerful, mage-finder. She will be able to take care of herself once she is trained."

  "You see, Jonathan, all your objections are gone just like that," Elaine said. There was a large, hot stab of satisfaction at that. She wasn't helpless anymore.

  "This is not the time or place to discuss this," Jonathan said. He was right. They were talking nearly openly about a supposed secret organization. But she wanted to finish this conversation. She wanted Jonathan to feel her anger. Elaine wanted him to hear her anger.

  The thought was enough. I will be Blame's new partner.

  Jonathan paled, his breat
h coming in a sharp jab of panic. Thordin grabbed his arm to steady him. "What's wrong, Jonathan?"

  He shook his head, not trusting himself to speak.

  You are hearing my words, Jonathan, nothing more. It won't hurt you. Think something, and I will hear it. Let us finish this between us, here and now.

  His skin looked gray. Elaine could feel his stomach knot with fear at her presence in his mind. She didn't care anymore. "Answer me, Jonathan," she said out loud.

  "Are you doing this?" Thordin asked.

  "He can read my thoughts as I can read his, that is all. It doesn't hurt. It is his own fear that is harming him."

  "Elaine, don't do this," Blaine said.

  "I have to."

  Jonathan swallowed hard, Fighting nausea. Finally, he thought, very carefully, The brotherhood would never accept such as you as one of their agents.

  They have used wizards before.

  He shook his head as if he could block out the sound, but he couldn't. Elaine suddenly knew that he couldn't keep her out of his mind, not if she wanted to be there. They will not use you.

  Blaine will speak for me.

  And I will speak against you.

  So be it, Jonathan.

  He had regained his color and his temper. "I will do everything I can to see that people know you for the corruption you are." He turned stiffly and walked slowly, deliberately away.

  "You shouldn't have entered his mind," Gersalius said.

  Elaine watched Jonathan's stiff back march away. "No more games, Gersalius. I am what I am. Jonathan could never accept that."

  "He might have, in time, but now …" he let the thought trail off. His eyes watched her, concerned, worried.

  "Now, I've made sure he thinks me evil."

  "Yes, why?"

  She shook her head, not sure she could explain. "I grew tired of the glances, of having to guess what they thought. Oh, I don't know what made me do it, but it's done. He'll never forgive me." Stupidly, tears stung her eyes. It had been her choice; why was she crying about it?

  "You have indeed burned your proverbial bridges," Gersalius said. He smiled and clapped her shoulder. "You'll find my home less grand than your old one, but it will serve until you are master over your magic."