The undulating cries were almost upon them. Sorsha twisted around until she had a decent view of the path behind. The first of several Wardlen broke from the cover of the concealing mist. Her humming grew in volume as the first arrow flew true from her bow. The beast in the lead stumbled and went down, vanishing into the mists. With a near-deafening series of excited yelps and snarls, several of the Wardlen fell upon their downed leader. Others, perhaps not as tantalized by the flesh of their own kind, or caught up in the thrill of the chase, continued to run after Shadowdancer.
A savage smile stretched Sorsha’s lips into a grimace and her humming stopped. The next arrow flew swiftly through the air, but skidded off the tough hide of her intended target.
“Pox.” Sorsha cursed and adjusted her aim before beginning to hum the low throbbing tones of battle again. Her third arrow whizzed to its target with the deadly accuracy of the first. Another beast dropped with an arrow buried deep in its eye.
Her triumph was cut short when Shadowdancer twisted to the side to narrowly miss being gutted by another Wardlen running silently alongside. She didn’t take aim at this one, instead leaned closer to Shadowdancer’s mane and yelled encouragements until he lengthened his stride, putting distance between them and their enemies.
“That one almost got us. I didn’t even see it. Do you see more?” The stallion shook his head back and forth slightly, but she wasn’t sure if he was saying that there were no more ahead or no, he couldn’t tell.
A familiar shape rose out of the mist ahead, and she was relieved to see the first arch in many candlemarks. They might not be able to use it to return to the natural world, but at least they had found the path again. More dark shapes milled around its base. A quick glance over her shoulder showed only three arrows left in her quill. She notched the next with a laugh.
“Who wants to live forever anyway?”
“My son, I imagine.” The voice that invaded her mind was not one she recognized.
But Shadowdancer neighed in welcome and changed his bearing without a moment’s hesitation. Ahead, another dark mass materialized out of the mist. To Sorsha’s intense relief, this was not the slithering shapes of the Wardlen, but a group of Santhyrians carrying well-armed riders. The first fiery mage blast streaked by, a bare arm’s length from Sorsha’s shoulder. Continuing past, it collided with a deadly hissing snap deep in the ranks of the pursuing beasts. It was joined by more magic and soon the howls of Lupwyn, the raptor-like screams of Phoenix, and neighs of Santhyrian challenges drowned out the Wardlens’ hunting cries. The mass of Santhyrian bodies flowed around Shadowdancer. Sorsha exhaled a sigh of numb disbelief.
Their rescuers were furious and efficient, but she noticed none of them strayed far in any direction. When the Wardlen were firmly on the run, the Santhyrian who had first touched Sorsha’s mind spoke again as he matched his pace to Shadowdancer’s.
“I am Darkmoon, Shadowdancer’s sire, and I cannot say how pleased I am to find you both alive after the trials you have been put through.” The newcomer was similar in size and build to Shadowdancer, but to judge his coloring would take a truer light then what could be found in the Wild Path. As it was, he looked to be an inky shadow against the grey mist. “I know that you and my son are too weak to mind speak in return. But be strong a little while longer and the herd will get you to safety.”
Sorsha only nodded in wonder and relief. Uncontrolled shivers raced up and down her body. The cold of the Wild Path felt twice as intense as it had before. But a small bubble of happiness sprouted in her heart regardless. As unlikely as it had seemed mere moments ago, they might just live to see another day.
Chapter Fourteen
The archway was only a short distance away, and even that short trip seemed to use the last of Shadowdancer’s strength. Sorsha was sure only pure Santhyrian stubbornness kept him to his father’s pace. Finally the archway was upon them, and he dragged himself through. The light of day had never been so welcome. Sorsha was shamed to find her cheeks wet with tears. She wiped at them as she took in her surroundings.
They stood in the middle of an extensive settlement composed entirely of immense tents. Beyond the small town-sized cluster of tents, a vast grass plain stretched in all directions. They must be deep within the Santhyrian’s territories, far from the Elemental’s City, Sorsha realized. And far from the creatures who had captured Lamarra. Sorsha’s heart sank with the realization.
Shadowdancer took another half stumbling step and tripped. Sorsha found herself suddenly dumped onto the soft grass with enough force to knock the wind from her. Gasping, damp-green-earth scent filled her nose and she lay there and simply breathed in the rich scents of nature. She hadn’t realized how much she missed them in the arid lifelessness of the Wild Path. A heavy coppery smell overrode the gentle earthy fragrance, tainting it with blood scent.
She raised her face from the grass and came to all fours. Shadowdancer stood with head bowed, blood and foam dripping from his muzzle. More blood welled sluggishly from gashes on his belly and flanks. One ugly one looked almost severe enough to have eviscerated him had it only been slightly deeper. His heaving chest was covered with more bite marks and long furrows where claws had found their mark. Blood shone wetly on his dark hide. He looked far worse by the light of day then he had by the half light of the Wild Path.
Shadowdancer flicked an ear at her, and took a few more hobbling steps in her direction, dragging his right hind leg with each stride. He managed one more stumbling step forward before his knees folded under him. With a soft expulsion of air, he sank to the ground and rolled onto his side.
Sorsha gave a cry; one full of horror, but it didn’t equal even half of the agony she felt. Sobbing, she struggled over to him, crawling on her knees until she reached his side. With gentle care she lifted his great head into her lap, cradling him.
A Lupwyn was already on his opposite side, trying to stem the flow of blood from the deepest lacerations on his belly. The Lupwyn healer chanted low in her throat, her muzzle a mere hand span from the stallion’s heaving chest. Pale light flowed from her body onto the stallion, covering him in a fine, misty, green shroud.
The healer paused in her chant and looked up, staring directly into Sorsha’s eyes. “Only his Larnkin kept him alive this long by sacrificing itself. A Wardlen’s bite is both poisonous and magical in nature and Shadowdancer received a great many. Under normal circumstances they are not fatal to someone host to a Larnkin but his Larnkin is very weak from hemorrhaging power.” The Lupwyn healer glanced away, turning her attention to Darkmoon. “I know of no one surviving after being caught in the back wash of Grey Spires’ defensive magic. It should have been fatal to both of them, but I think he shielded the human Herd Mistress from the worse of it by sacrificing himself. His Larnkin has been eviscerated. I don’t have the power needed to heal it. For there to be any chance at all, I will need every healer you can get. Perhaps if Herd Mistress Neveyah arrives in time. But even then…”
“Please. Please help Shadowdancer,” Sorsha begged. Even as she spoke, Shadowdancer gave a deep shuddering cough. Blood seeped from his muzzle and nostrils. His eye rolled in her direction before he closed it. He still breathed, but it was growing more labored. Sorsha stroked his forelock out of his eyes. Tears of helplessness and rage slid down her cheeks. “You can’t die. I need you. I need you here to tell me when I’m stupid, stubborn and generally pig-headed. No one does it better than you.”
“I will do all in my power, child.” The bleakness of the healer’s tone scared Sorsha.
“Come away,” Darkmoon bumped Sorsha with his muzzle, gently pushing his bulk between her and his son, effectively forcing her in the direction he wanted her to go, “and let the healer try to share power with Shadowdancer’s Larnkin.”
“But the healer said she needed help.” Sorsha met Darkmoon’s gaze. “If it’s a question of raw power, I could try.”
“Yes, dear one, the healer needs help, but two other healers are coming. T
hey will be here presently.”
Sorsha stretched up on her toes, trying to see over Darkmoon’s high back. “But I’m here now…”
“And don’t look like you have the strength to so much as summon a mage globe.” Darkmoon turned his gaze onto the healer. “He is my blood. If my son requires a sacrifice, it shall be me who pays the debt. My Larnkin is old and powerful, use my strength to heal my son.”
“It is not that easy, my lord,” the healer replied.
“I don’t care. Do what you must to make it easy.”
“While you do have the close tie of shared blood, for his Larnkin to have any chance to do a direct feeding from another, it needs a well-established and powerful mental link. It has been many seasons since Shadowdancer last galloped at your side, my King.”
Sorsha jumped at her chance. “But it hasn’t been long since Shadowdancer and I last forged a potent bond. We’ve shared power before when we escaped from the city’s defenses into the Wild Path”
“You can’t mean…”
“I’m here now. I have power. And Shadowdancer and I have grown closer than I thought possible in so short a time—we complete each other. Please let me help.”
“You and my son are bondmates?” Hope colored Darkmoon’s thoughts.
“Perhaps. I’m not sure. There was something Shadowdancer didn’t want me to know. But he’s a terrible liar.”
Darkmoon looked her up and down. Perhaps seeing her in a new light. Sorsha didn’t really care so long as he moved his big, royal, hairy self out of her path.
“What you say may well be true, but you look like you have nothing left to spare for my son and he would not want to drag you into death with him.” The older stallion’s mind voice echoed with his grief. “And I cannot risk the life of a new Herd Mistress. Come away now.”
“But you said…”
“Come. The healer will try anyway. The Lupwyn is a fully trained Healer from Grey Spires. She may be able to help.” His words said one thing, his accompanying emotions said otherwise.
When she made to disobey Darkmoon and return to Shadowdancer’s side, another Elemental, a Phoenix guard by the look of him, ghosted up beside her and enfolded her in a gentle but firm embrace. At Darkmoon’s nod, the Phoenix drew Sorsha back a few steps, until she was nearly at a tent’s entrance. She baulked, refusing to be shoved inside.
With a growing sense of dread, she watched the healer work, whispering a healing chant. After long moments, the healer cast Darkmoon a somber expression. Then she tried one final time, leaning over the stallion with a look of determination.
She stayed like that for a long time, then finally, with a sad sounding sigh, she straightened and looked up at Darkmoon. She shook her head. Darkmoon snorted and lowered his muzzle until his softly whiskered chin was only a hand’s span above the ground. With a slow haltering stride, he returned to his son’s side and lipped at Shadowdancer’s cheek.
“No.” Sorsha’s anguish crested in a ravaging wave. Power welled up snapping along her skin, and with a surprised oath the guard holding her shoved her away. Taking advantage of her sudden freedom, she flung herself down next to Shadowdancer’s body.
“You didn’t abandon me to the Wild Path, I’ll not abandon you to death, my friend.”
“Stop her!”
Sorsha registered that the healer was yelling orders at the guard.
“She’ll kill herself if she tries anything in her condition.”
“Hold!” Darkmoon’s mental voice was sharp enough to shatter glass. “Healer, you will allow this human to at least try to heal my son. I can feel her power. If it is her wish to try to save her Stallion Mage, then it is her right.” Darkmoon stood shoulder to shoulder with Sorsha.
The healer loosed her own series of curses, but merely turned her piercing eyes upon Sorsha again. “You will have to link with him deeply if you are to supply his Larnkin with what it needs.”
“He saved me.” Sorsha’s voice was stark, stripped bare of all pride. “I’ll do anything. Just tell me what to do.”
The Lupwyn healer bobbed her head in reluctant agreement then came to stand on Sorsha’s other side. Without hesitation, the healer placed a hand on Sorsha’s shoulder and rested the other on the stallion’s neck. “There is no time for lengthy explanations. He’s dying. You must use your Larnkin’s magic to replace enough of what his Larnkin has lost in order for it to survive. Honestly, I don’t know how much it will take—a tremendous amount certainly. I just don’t know if it is more than you have to give. It will be a close thing though.”
“I don’t care. He’s saved me so many times. I’m returning the favor.”
“Very well, then. Close your eyes, concentrate on summoning your power.”
Without needing further encouragement, Sorsha closed her eyes and desperately reached into her core where she grabbed the magic and dragged it closer to the surface of her mind. She called more and more, until a river of it welled up.
The healer took what Sorsha offered and shaped it to the Larnkin’s needs without comment. With a small part of her mind not engaged in keeping the magic flowing, Sorsha noticed when two more healers arrived, carried to Shadowdancer’s side by very sweat lathered Santhyrians. The newcomers dismounted and rushed to aid the first healer. They spoke in quiet, subdued tones. One of the new healers was a Phoenix, but the other’s race was a mystery. He had the body shape and facial features of a Phoenix. Or, Sorsha supposed, a particularly tall, lithe human, but his long spiky hair was more like a Lupwyn’s shaggy ruffle, as were his upright, pointed ears with their furry tuffs. They joined in the chant, their voices both arresting and eerie.
Sorsha measured the passage of time by the flow of her power into Shadowdancer and her Larnkin’s growing weakness. She didn’t care how long they worked or how much power she sacrificed—none of it mattered so long as Shadowdancer survived.
Swaying with exhaustion, limbs achy, and eyelids heavy, she forged on, spinning out tendrils of power over Shadowdancer like a spider with its web. Her Larnkin continued feeding Shadowdancer while the healers cleaned and mended his physical injuries. A candlemark or more might have passed. Sorsha was certain of only one thing: she was losing her silent war against death. No matter how much power she fed Shadowdancer, his Larnkin still seemed unable to rally.
“I’m sorry, but it’s not enough. You must stop.”
Though Sorsha heard the healer’s words, she did not acknowledge them; she couldn’t.
“Enough.” The first healer shook Sorsha. When that didn’t yield the desired result, she tried to forcefully drag Sorsha away.
Sorsha wouldn’t be moved and swatted at the other woman. She’d intended to knock the healer off balance, but only managed to shake off the other’s grip.
“Let her try; she’s my son’s only hope.” Darkmoon shoved at the healer in turn, allowing Sorsha to focus on Shadowdancer’s needs again.
Darkmoon and the lead healer launched into a heated debate, but Sorsha couldn’t care less, as long as her Larnkin could continue her work.
“I will not allow the young Herd Mistress to kill herself. Not even for your son.”
“She is strong; let her finish.”
Her desperation fueled her Stonemantle stubbornness. Her Larnkin renewed its fight to save the other. Changing its tactics, no longer just feeding power, it began to connect itself to Shadowdancer’s Larnkin with thin, silvery bright strands of magic. Still, no matter how much power she gave up, it didn’t seem to be enough. Shadowdancer’s Larnkin fed upon greater and greater amounts of her Larnkin’s power until she felt numb and empty. It was not unlike one time, when she was still a child, and had swam in the salty ocean. The buoyant sensation was so real Sorsha imagined herself floating away on a warm ocean current.
“We’re losing them both!” A voice cried out in frustration, shattering the peace of oblivion. Sorsha thought it might have belonged to the healer but couldn’t be certain. Her hearing was beginning to fail; so too were her
other senses. She should be afraid, she supposed, but wasn’t. Her heart was full with the need to save Shadowdancer, to give more of herself. She wouldn’t lose another loved one.
Lamarra might be beyond her help, but Shadowdancer was right before her. His skin warm under her touch. She could save him. She would save him. There was no other outcome in her mind. And her Larnkin had one last plan.
“Together, do you understand, Shadowdancer? We live or die together. It’s your choice. I would prefer to live, though.”
“So would I, stubborn human.” Shadowdancer’s faint mind voice came as a welcome distraction from the feeling of having her life force siphoned away.
A Lupwyn’s voice drifted over Sorsha’s bowed head, momentarily drowning out Shadowdancer’s words. “It is out of my hands their fates are now tied together.”
Sorsha rejoiced. The Lupwyn couldn’t stop her.
“Shadowdancer,” Sorsha whispered into his mind. “My Larnkin says if you shapeshift you will heal physically, and that will take some of the strain off your Larnkin, perhaps enough to save itself.”
“A noble plan, little one. But my Larnkin doesn’t have the power required to shape shift. Let me go. I will only drag you along with me into death.”
“No. I can heal you. Just give me a little more time.”
“Sorry,” Shadowdancer spoke in a weakening mental voice. “…I fear I’ve lost this battle.”
“I’ll fight for both of us, then.” Sorsha wasn’t certain if she had thought that or if it was her Larnkin.
“What are you…?”
Time for one last frantic act. Perhaps the most foolhardy thing she’d ever done.
The magic she’d been directing to Shadowdancer now collected in a small pool of silver flames dancing above the plush spring grass. Magic snapped up through the air, its hissing power angry and primeval. A cool breeze blew. Wisps of Sorsha’s hair plastered against her sweaty cheeks as an archway to the Wild Path burst into being. Power flowed from the open gateway, across the space between them and swept into Sorsha. Her breath caught, cold power burned along her body, and her Larnkin drank deeply.
Herd Mistress (In Deception's Shadow Book 2) Page 11