Gabe’s arse hit the ground with a hard, involuntary impact. He stared at the mutilated body before him.
“He’s alive,” he whispered.
“And in a day or two, he’ll be whole again, walking and talking.”
“How... how did you know it was him?”
“Captain Meraz worked it out when she spoke with him yesterday.”
“But...” Gabe gave up trying to understand. “I still don’t understand how he’s alive. Magic can only do so much. I mean, his heart isn’t beating.”
But perhaps it was. There were drugs that could slow a heart until it seemed like it had stopped. Gabe took off his glove with more than a little bit of trepidation. His memories of his training were fresh in his mind, making him hesitate. It was as if he could still feel the deep, empty, dark pit that could swallow everything he could give it and never be filled. That was what death was to Gabe. Not restful Shadows, but a big fat nothing, a bottomless pit. Falling into that pit and never getting out was what made him hesitate, but he was certain... fairly certain this man was still alive. There would be something there to touch, something to hold him up from the endless darkness.
Gabe touched the stretched, bruised skin of the Immortal Soldier’s ruined chest.
Pain. Lots of it. It twisted through his body in wave after wave, raw nerve ends screaming. Cold biting in deep to places it should never touch. Fire sizzling on the torn edges of flesh like each wound was fresh. Everything was open and wet. Alive.
Gabe fought through the impossibility of it and went down, into the chest, past the torn lungs and found the heart. It was damaged, a broken rib jabbing into the top left cavity. But, so slow Gabe barely felt it, it beat.
Pulling back, Gabe frowned. What made it beat?
“We have to move him to the surgery,” Gabe said.
They managed to get the stretcher and its body out of the hut and around to the front of the hospital. Back to the doors, Gabe banged on them with his foot.
“Open up, got an injured man here!”
The doors opened and Dina stared at their cargo. “That’s the dead man.”
“Apparently not.” Gabe backed in. “Get the surgery ready.”
Dina moved out of their way then stood and stared at him as if he’d finally lost his mind.
“Sacerdio Dina,” Ismael said as Gabe’s determination dragged him past her, “please do as he says. We have to help this man recover.”
“But he’s dead.”
“Just do it, Dina,” Gabe shouted.
She jumped at the command, then with a look of hurt confusion, rushed past him to the surgery. Excellent. Now he’d upset her. Oh well. One impossible situation at a time. Her hurt feelings could wait.
Dina had the table cleared when Gabe and Ismael got to the room but that was all. Putting the stretcher down, Gabe brushed past her, gathering up a scalpel and forceps. “I asked you to get the room ready.”
“For what? An autopsy? I don’t understand what’s going on.”
“Join the queue. Get the chest cracker.”
Ismael began to back out of the room.
“You,” Gabe snapped at him, “stay.”
“I don’t think I can help you with cracking chests.”
“No, but you can observe. I need someone to tell me what I’m seeing is real.”
Gabe faced Dina across the body. She stood stiff and angry, the bone saw held in both hands.
“I need to see his heart,” he explained.
“Of course,” she said, solicitous and cold.
Knowing he was in trouble, Gabe sliced through her work from the night before, peeling back layers of ragged flesh to expose the sternum. Though most of the ribs were already broken, he needed to crack open the rest of the ribcage. In the back of his head was the memory of the pain he’d felt and he knew everything he was doing, Nothing would feel, but at this point, there was no other option.
He set the teeth of the cracker against the exposed sternum and sawed through it. Ismael winced and turned away. When the bone was split, Gabe reached in and pulled apart the man’s chest.
Blood seeped through the gaping wound, fresh and brightly red. Nestled amongst its veins and arteries, the heart sat, still and seemingly lifeless. Dina shook her head.
“Wait,” Gabe whispered.
It moved. Slow and steady, a single compression and blood pulsed from sliced opened vessels.
“Dear Luz,” Dina gasped.
“But why?” Gabe reached in with both hands, sliding fingers around the organ. “It shouldn’t be doing that.”
He felt something under the heart. It was hard and smooth, long and slender. Feeling around, he felt several more of them, the realisation of what it was coming to him in a rush.
“Fuck.” Gabe pulled his hands free, trembling all over.
“What is it?” Dina asked.
Gabe went to run his hands through his hair, stopping when he saw the blood streaked across them. “Um... it’s a...” He went to the sink and washed his hands.
“It’s a what?” Ismael asked gently.
“It’s a... and it’s...” He turned back to the body. “It’s something I don’t understand. Magic beyond my knowledge, beyond anyone’s.”
“What is it?” Dina asked.
“No. I... I don’t understand it and until I do, I’m not going to say anything. It’s... nothing I’ve ever... Look, just stop asking and I won’t have to not answer.”
Ismael clasped his hands together as if about to pray. “Can you heal him?”
“What’s the point? If he is who you reckon he is he doesn’t need healing. Give him a day or two and he’ll be fine.”
Dina looked from Gabe to Ismael. “Is he truly the Immortal Soldier?”
At Ismael’s grave nod, her face drained of colour as she looked at the man on the table.
Ismael turned to Gabe. “If the Duke of Ibarra has sent this man here, then it is for no small task. The Immortal Soldier isn’t just an errand boy. Whatever he’s doing here will be of vital importance to Ibarra. I believe we should do everything we can to help him fulfil his task.”
Pale, Dina nodded in complete agreement.
Gabe carefully didn’t say the first thing that came to mind. He knew they didn’t want to hear about how a de Roque mage wasn’t responsible for anything Ibarra did, just as he knew no one wanted to hear about how draining such a healing would be. They already knew and still they insisted.
He looked at Nothing. Not really Nothing anymore, but the Immortal Soldier. A myth suddenly come to life right in front of him, bound in magic Gabe had no knowledge of. And the thing in his chest, around his heart... Gabe shivered. He recalled the pain he’d felt in the man, the all-encompassing nature of it, so like that Gabe felt after a long day in surgery. The man might eventually heal by himself, but he would be in pain the entire time. Healing him would exhaust Gabe, but at least Nothing wouldn’t be hurting anymore.
“Dina,” Gabe murmured, “I’m going to need everything you can give me. We’re going to heal him.”
Gabe did a lot of work with his hands first, keeping his magic in reserve for the harder parts coming up. He set the sternum back together and let Dina seal it with a small burst of her magic, then set about finding ribs and repositioning them. These Dina mended as well and already she was flagging. Ismael wanted to fetch another Sacerdio but Gabe wouldn’t let him.
“The less who know about this the better.”
“But everyone will know when he’s up and about again,” Dina said.
“Who said we’re letting anyone see him. Can you seal this one?”
Dina put her hand between his and her weak magic flowed into the bones he held. It was slow, but the jagged ends blended together, a faint white line showing the healed break.
It was long and tedious, gradually moving through the ruined body, repairing what they could. Dina had to leave the table before they’d finished in his torso, dripping sweat and all but falling to the floor
. Ismael tended her while Gabe continued alone. He used a needle and thread where he could and small bursts of magic where he couldn’t, but eventually there was nothing more he could do with what was actually in front of him.
Dina came to his side as he contemplated what would come next. “Are you sure you want to do this? If he really is the Immortal Soldier, he will do the rest by himself.”
“Everything I do is nothing nature can’t.” He shrugged. “But this bastard is as far from natural as you can get. I have to do this.”
Dina nodded and went to Ismael. “We’ll leave now.”
“Why?”
“The mage needs to do this alone. Anyone close to him will only interfere.”
“What’s he going to do?” Ismael asked as they left.
“He’s going to rebuild the parts that aren’t there.”
The door closed and Gabe wondered why he felt he had to do this. This wasn’t Evellia, whom he’d loved like he’d never loved anyone else. For her, there had been no doubts, no questions and what he’d done for her hadn’t been this. What he planned to do now was bigger, much more strenuous. Much more likely to kill him.
Somewhere in the back of his head, a small voice said he was only going to attempt this because he wanted to upset the balance once more. He wanted to prove he wasn’t giving in to their preaching about distance. But he squashed that voice under the knowledge he’d saved Evellia and he could help Nothing.
Gabe got up on to the table. He straddled Nothing’s thighs and settled back on his heels.
“If you can hear me, you bastard,” he said, taking off his glove, “you better fucking appreciate this.”
Closing his eyes, he turned inward, going deep within himself to where his magic pooled, gathered like water dripping from a stalactite. It took longer to accumulate than it did to expend it, and working as constantly as he had been these past months had strained his reserves, so each morsel that dropped into him was smaller and slower to come. But still, he reached for that mysterious place where the magic came from and curled his hands around it. He squeezed and squeezed and a torrent of magic flooded him, coursing through his bones and blood, more magic than he usually called for all at once. He’d done this with Evellia, her mended but lifeless body still on the dirty stable floor. Then, he’d simply released the magic in a single, massive jolt, straight into her body. The recoil had flung him backwards like a cannon on a track. He’d hit the wall and fallen unconscious without even knowing if it had worked.
This time, he didn’t want a single, powerful release. It had to be measured, precise. His body thrumming with magic, Gabe opened his eyes. A silver glow lit the room, emanating from him. He lifted his hand and saw his flesh was transparent, his bones stark white inside the swirling silver of his magic.
If only Duke Ibarra could see him now.
Gabe focused on the messy remains in front of him. So much still missing. So much to do.
Sliding his glowing hands into the gaping cavity, Gabe began to work.
Chapter 15
“Thank you.”
At least, that’s what David tried to say, but his mouth was dry and his throat constricted around the words. He coughed, head banging against the hard surface he lay on. Everything hurt. Especially his... no. Especially nothing. It all hurt the same. A stinging, itching pain that couldn’t be ignored. He’d never felt anything like this before, like a thousand insects crawling all over his skin, or sand trapped in his muscles, gritching and grinding with every movement.
Working his mouth, David got some saliva over his tongue and down his throat. He tried to speak again and managed a croaking grunt. No one answered, though he could have sworn someone had spoken about appreciating something. His head throbbed and his teeth ached. Thinking was a little bit beyond him at the moment.
When thinking failed, action usually worked.
It was like lifting a dead horse; heavy and uncooperative. But he managed to move his arm and turn his hand so he could feel the fabric of the stretcher under him. With that small victory, his body seemed to remember what it was for and woke up rapidly. As he began to move, the itching pain receded, leaving him sore and a touch giddy. Eventually, he could open his eyes. The room was dim, but it was clearly not the death-hut.
Lifting his head showed him benches of knives, forceps and syringes. The Bone Mage’s surgery. What was he doing back here? At best, they should have left him in the death-hut; at worst, buried him. Why bring a dead body back to the hospital?
They knew. Somehow they’d discovered who he was. And the Bone Mage had healed him.
Now the general pain was fading, David became aware of a weight on his lower body. Getting up on his elbows, he found the Bone Mage. Castillo was slumped over his legs and stomach, unmoving. His body was cold against David’s exposed skin.
“Shit.” David tried to slide out from under the man. Castillo better not have killed himself to heal him.
All David succeeded in doing was toppling them both off the table. Castillo went one way and David went the other, both crashing to the floor in graceless heaps. The door burst open and the Sacerdio rushed in, followed by a man in the robes of a Dean of Ciro.
Dina stalled in mid step, staring from David to Castillo and back again. The Dean stopped beside her, hands pressed together in a silent prayer.
“Check him,” David rasped, nodding to Castillo. “He’s cold.”
Dina shuddered hard, but went to Castillo, falling down beside him. She rolled him over and checked his pulse, holding her breath. After a torturous moment, she let out an explosive gasp and clutched the mage to her chest.
“He’s alive,” she whispered. “Ismael, get some warmed blankets. We need to warm him up.”
David relaxed, sprawling across the floor, uncaring of the cold paving that bit into his skin. For the next half hour, the Sacerdio and Dean seemed to forget him, fussing about Castillo until Dina was convinced he had shifted from unconsciousness into sleep. Between them, they moved him to a bed in the ward, leaving David alone. He didn’t mind, taking the time to try to work out how he would get out of not only the hospital, but the entire camp. His body was whole and quickly working back up to strength, which meant the pull of the Duke’s task was tugging on him once more. He had to get back to the front, find the boy and get him back to Ibarra.
The only thing stopping him from running out of the hospital was the complete lack of clothes. His bare arse rested on the cold floor. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d run away naked, but it was never a pleasant thing to do and if he could avoid it, so much better. Besides, without clothes, he had nowhere to carry a weapon.
“Hello?” The little Dean hovered in the doorway, holding a blanket. “I thought you might need something warm as well.”
David snorted and hauled himself to his feet. He wobbled as his legs remembered what they were for, then steadied. The Dean held out the blanket and David staggered over, taking it and wrapping it around his shoulders.
“Thank you.”
The Dean nodded, looking anywhere but at David’s face. “You’re really him, aren’t you. The Immortal Soldier.”
“Apparently. Could you perhaps find me some clothes? I need to be moving on and I’d rather not do that with my bits swinging in the wind.”
“I can certainly get you something to wear, but I don’t think you should leave. Not until Mage Castillo or Sacerdio Dina has checked you over. There might still be parts... missing.”
David patted down his body. “All there. Please get me those clothes, or I’ll leave without them.”
“I’ll get you some clothes, but I beg you, wait for the mage or Sacerdio to see you before leaving.”
“All right. Please go.”
The Dean left and David rearranged his blanket before following him out. Dina sat beside Castillo, tucking a warmed blanket around his shoulders. She brushed hair off his forehead with aching tenderness.
“Excuse me,” David said softly.
; She gasped, hand pressed to her chest.
“Sorry,” he said. “The Dean seems to think I need to be looked over before leaving.”
“You should be. Just to be sure everything is...”
“Present? Trust me, if it isn’t here now, it will be by tomorrow so can I just go?”
“No, no. Sit.” She pointed to the next bed. “The magic Mage Castillo used on you was very powerful and not often utilised in such great quantities. We don’t know how that might affect you. You might be fine, or you might walk out of here and... and fall apart.”
His lack of experience with bone magic made him believe her, so he sat. Dina came to him, her hands shaking as she lifted them to his temples. Her cool, soft fingers touched his skin.
It had been so long since anyone had touched him without violence or aggression, to heal, not to harm or punish. It felt very nice, even this small gesture, the tips of her fingers only, pressing ever so gently. She smelt divine, like honey and vanilla, her skin so soft and smooth. The shaping of her robe revealed a slender waist and swelling hips. Her breasts heaved under the black material, most probably from fear of him, but it was tantalising all the same. Something moved inside him and he didn’t think it was the mage’s magic falling apart. David closed his eyes, battling between the urge to pull away and the desire to never move from her touch.
Warmth flooded from Dina and into him, rolling down his cheeks and neck, into his chest, causing his heart to thump harder and his ribs to shiver. It moved further down, through his stomach and abdomen until it settled into his groin.
“I think you’re all right,” Dina said, removing her fingers. “But you should wait for the mage to check as well. I could have missed something.”
David swallowed hard and shifted so his response to her touch wasn’t so noticeable. “I’ll wait.”
“Thank you.” Then she went back to Castillo.
It was an awkward wait but when his erection subsided, he gathered his blanket and moved about, not quite willing to stay still just yet. The sensation of a solid, working body was immeasurably good after the endless hours lying in the death-hut, wondering how long it would take to heal. The pull of his task was there, but it wasn’t becoming any more insistent now he was mobile. He could resist it for a while longer.
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