"Have you been giving him this?" she asked, holding the bowl toward the guard.
He shrugged. "Linea mix."
"Is this--" Ciara took another sniff. "It smells like bluewort and thistle milk. You can't mix those. You're lucky you didn't kill him."
"Not much."
"No more of this." Ciara dumped the contents out. "Water or sweet wine only."
"You stay 'til fever breaks," the guard said when Ciara stood and headed toward him.
"It will break if you do as I say," she said.
"You healer. You stay."
"I want to see Berk."
The guard spit at her feet. "You bed that dog?"
"He's not a dog, and that's none of your business."
He took a menacing step forward. "Right, worse than dog. Something dog leaves behind. First time we bed, you forget all about revisse."
"I will never bed you."
The grin returned, and he leaned back, arms across his chest. "Never till tomorrow."
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Bolin paced beside the long dead fire pit. Marauders were experts at moving their camps swiftly, and this one had likely been deserted well before the raiding party had come for them. The rain had kept up steadily all night, doing a thorough job of washing away any tracks. Even Sully couldn't find anything. Still, the Lieutenant insisted on going out again, once he had the morning light, and now they waited.
"We'll get them back," Nialyne said.
Garek looked over at them, thought better of whatever he had been about to say and walked away. He went to where Duff and Salek stood with the horses and talked quietly to them for a moment before going to lean against a tree and stare off in the direction Sully had gone.
"We need to pray Berk's dead," Bolin said. Nialyne gave him a hard, shocked look. "Marauders are skilled at inflicting pain and prolonging death. It's not something a man wants to live through."
"And what of Ciara?"
Bolin's jaw ticked. "They'll bid for her. One of the warriors will claim her as a concubine--or try."
"Is Donovan behind this?"
"He has to be. But how he convinced marauders to do his bidding is something I can't fathom."
Garek shifted off the tree drawing Bolin's attention. His hand dropped to his weapon until he recognized the lone figure jogging toward them as Sully.
"I found something," the Lieutenant said as he joined them, sounding winded. He put a hand to his side and took a couple short breaths, his face drawn. Nialyne had wrapped his ribs after the fight on the road, but he'd get no relief until he could spend some time immobile. "It's not much, and it's about a league northwest of here. They tried to sour the tracks, but there's enough I think we can find them."
"Good man," Garek said. He swung around to signal Duff to bring the horses.
Bolin put a hand on Sully's arm as he passed. "You need rest first?"
The Lieutenant shook his head. "We're already too far behind."
"You won't do them any favors falling on your face."
"I'll let you know if that's about to happen," Sully said. He started toward the horses then stopped and stood for a moment with his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. He turned back, his gaze sliding away before locking resolutely with Bolin's. "I've known him since he was fourteen. He's like a brother to me. If we can't get him out of there, I'll be the one to end it for him."
***
It took only four strides for Ciara to pace the confines of the small tent. Linea's brother had regained consciousness, his fever abating by early evening, and Ciara had been moved to new quarters. She still had the same leering guard who watched her every move with his small, pig-like eyes and a grin on his face. The grin faded when the tent flap pushed inward, and Linea strode in looking like a well satisfied cat. Two men followed, with Berk hanging unconscious between them, naked, with blood covering his chest and an ugly bruise across his stomach. They dropped him on the floor and left. When Ciara would have gone to him, her personal guard intercepted her. She twisted as his fingers closed painfully around her elbow.
"Let go of me," she demanded through clenched teeth.
Linea said something in their language. Whatever he said in return made her laugh. "Seems Orn figures he'll win the bidding for you tomorrow and doesn't want his woman getting fleas."
"I'm not his woman."
"Lucky for you, I'm feeling generous tonight because of what you've done for my brother." Linea shouldered Orn out of the way. He gave her a dark scowl at her next words, then turned and stormed from the tent, spitting on Berk on his way. "I'm going to give you two lovers one last night together. Tomorrow, I'll decide what to do with you. You may get yourself a new husband if I decide to keep you."
Ciara dropped down beside Berk, hardly listening to Linea. He groaned when she eased him onto his back. The blood came from a shallow cut across his chest and what appeared to be a knife wound in his left shoulder. Neither of which explained the ashy pallor of his skin or the unfocused, feverish sheen to his eyes when he blinked them open.
"What did you give him?" she asked Linea.
"More pleasure than he's likely had his entire life," she said. "More pain as well. I suggest you take advantage of him before the Ilth Gyre Drinuum totally wears off. Orn may outsize him, but I've bedded both now, and your soldier boy knows how to please."
Ciara lurched to her feet and put herself toe to toe with Linea, fists clenched at her sides. "What did you do to him?"
The chieftain raised a brow. "To? Or with?" She licked her lips. "It's really a shame he's chosen the blue of the Imperial cesspit, otherwise I'd be tempted to stud this boy. As it is, I may keep him one more day. He's got a gentle touch. Not like the rest of these louts around here."
Ciara's stomach knotted.
Linea turned away but paused with the tent flap partway open. "In case you get any foolish ideas, there are guards everywhere. And it looks like Orn will be manhandling himself on your stoop all night. Good sleep, healer."
Ciara grit her teeth. Linea could put as many guards around them as she pleased, Ciara had come up with a plan to get them free of the marauders. First, though, she needed Berk to be lucid. She hunkered down next to him. He jerked upright when she brushed her fingers against his cheek.
"It's alright, Berk," she said. "It's just me. I need to get you to the bed. Can you get up?"
"Don't touch me," he said, his voice hard and full of fury. He backed away, and anger blazed through the dullness in his eyes. Then he blinked, his brow furrowing as he looked around the small tent. The anger left, replaced by remorse and embarrassment when he finally focused on Ciara. "I'm sorry. I thought…Where is she?"
He spit the last word out, twisting it from his mouth like something he wanted to crush under his foot.
"She's not here." Ciara went to his side, approaching him as she would a skittish colt, and slid an arm around his waist. She wedged her shoulder in his armpit and grunted as she hefted him to his feet. "Let's get you to the bed so I can see what I can do about those wounds."
"My clothes." He sounded mortified to realize he was naked. He staggered away from her and collapsed on the pile of furs, hastily covering himself. "Goddess's blood."
"I'm a healer, Berk. You're not the first naked man I've seen."
He didn't appear to find any comfort in that.
Ciara fetched a basin of water. She had no other supplies so ripped a piece of cloth from the bottom of her tunic, wishing she had something cleaner. Berk settled himself more comfortably into the bedding, and Ciara knelt beside him. She began to gently wash the wounds, the lean muscles across his chest and stomach contracting as she did so. He didn't take his eyes off her face the whole while she worked.
She opened her awareness, letting her earth magic flow from her fingers to get a better idea of his injuries so she felt the wave of pain sweep through him an instant before Berk's body went rigid. He arched upwards off the furs, and clenched his jaw with such force Ciara heard his
teeth grind together. His face twisted in agony. A gasp escaped him as he hung, poised on the edge of a scream, body quivering, for what seemed an eternity before blowing out a breath and collapsing. His chest heaved, his pulse pounding in his neck. He blinked sweat from his eyes.
"It's...actually...getting better," he whispered, the faintest ghost of dimples appearing in his cheeks as he forced a wry smile. "Used to...make me...scream."
"I heard," Ciara said. She pursed her lips. "Do you know what she gave you?"
***
On the heels of the pain had always come the desire. Insatiable, until the next wave crashed into him. Berk could feel it starting to grow, and he reached for Ciara, panic welling in him. "Tie me up."
"What?" Ciara's brow furrowed. "Don't be ridiculous."
"You have to." But already the pain began to ebb. Warmth spread through his limbs. That odd blend of euphoria and desire that only parts of his brain could fight. That, too, was an improvement. In the beginning, the alchemist's blend had been too potent to fight at all. The pain of the knife wound had been nothing compared to the agony of that mix hitting his bloodstream. He'd screamed until his throat became too raw to make a sound, pushing him to the very edge, yet he never begged her to end it. He'd pleaded with the Goddess, silently, over and over until the pain slid away, as it did now, to be replaced by desire.
And Ciara sat too close. She leaned over him slightly, one hand resting warmly on his chest. Even with her hair a matted mess of mud and twigs, and scratches on her face, she was still beautiful. But he'd thought so since the first time he saw her gathering herbs. Her eyes were so deep and clear, like pools he could drown in.
A groan rose from his chest. "Tie me up." Part plea. Part order.
Too late. The wave burst.
Ciara gasped as Berk grabbed her and flipped her onto her back. He straddled her, and held her there with her wrists pinned on either side of her head, only her clothes and a tangle of blanket between them. Her eyes were wide, confusion in those hazel depths, along with a twinge of fear, and a glimmer of…what? Horror?
"Berk, don't," she said.
He wet his lips. He didn't want her like this. Not scared and hurt, hating him, despising his touch. But he couldn't stop himself. His mouth claimed hers, his tongue forcing her lips apart. She tasted as sweet as he'd imagined. He moaned, and deepened the kiss. She tensed beneath him but didn't struggle. Why didn't she fight him? Why didn't she try to stop him? Goddess's light, she'd better stop him because he certainly couldn't stop himself.
He moved his mouth down the side of her neck. "I'm sorry." He breathed the words into her ear and felt a tremor run through her. He'd rather it be from longing, but only part of him cared.
Pain trickled seductively along with the pleasure, and he shuddered. The sensations had been more intense early on when the drug had been stronger. But all the while he'd been with Linea he'd been holding Ciara's image in his head because bedding the marauder chieftain sickened him. He inhaled as he slid his tongue along the line of Ciara's neck to where her pulse hammered in the hollow at the base of her throat. She tasted salty, and this close the scent of spice and green grass in the sun overrode the stench of sweat and wet horse. Oh, love of the Goddess, he wanted her. She wouldn't hate him. He'd be as gentle as a kitten, and patient--
He cried out, twisting up and back, the air ripping from his lungs as though wrenched out by a giant hand.
She stabbed me, he thought. Good for her.
But she couldn't have because he still held her wrists captive, his fingers digging into her flesh.
Another sharp stab.
Unholy mothers. He fell to the side, curling in on himself, gasping. If he had a knife he'd drive it through his own heart just to stop the torrent of needle sharp sensations that pierced every part of his body, driving through sinew and bone alike.
Then Ciara had him again. Her hands cradled his face, cool and soothing. She should run, not be peering at him with concern distorting the soft curves of her features.
He tried to push her away. "Go." The word came out strangled. "I...I can't...I don't wa...want to hurt you."
"Shh. It's not your fault." Her fingers smoothed the hair out of his eyes, massaged his temples. "Now just be quiet and let me do this."
"Do...? What? No. No...just...just go. Please, Ciara. You have to go. Leave me."
"Quiet."
A new sensation began to wrap around him like a soothing blanket of warmth that numbed both the pain and the desire. He stared into Ciara's eyes, watching as they became unfocused, turning inward, drawing him with them. He must have lost consciousness then and slipped into a dream, because he found himself standing beside her in the midst of soft, grey world.
"Where are we?"
"The veil," she said absently, not looking at him.
"Did I die?"
"No."
A puff of breath escaped him, and he sank to his haunches, head bowed, fingers laced behind his neck. "Goddess's blood, I want to."
Ciara didn't reply so Berk glanced up to make sure she hadn't abandoned him here. Though he wouldn't have blamed her. She still stood beside him, but something in the distance had her full attention. He followed her gaze to where two hazy shapes flitted back and forth like swarms of gnats. One seemed to glitter with reflected light. The other looked black as a starless night.
"What is that?"
She frowned, her face a mask of concentration. "I think that's the drug Linea gave you. I've never seen anything like it."
"She said it was an alchemist's mix." Berk stood slowly. "What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to get rid of it."
"Ciara." He reached for her, but drew back before touching her. "Don't bother. You can keep healing me, and she'll just come up with new ways to torment me. The only thing I have to look forward to here is a slow death. Please, just let me go. It would be a blessing. I don't want to die begging for it at their hands."
"I'm not going to let you die at all," she said, still watching the swarming shapes. "I have a plan to get us out of here, but I have to take care of this first. Now just be quiet."
He opened his mouth to object, but her sidelong glare silenced him, so he swallowed the comment and watched in growing fascination as a white glow began to build around her. She worked it with her hands, molding and forming it, then sent it out toward the swarms. They tried to dodge away as it neared. Ciara pursed her lips, and flicked her hand, muttering something under her breath. A section of the black swarm snuck past the light and streaked toward her. Berk moved without thinking, darting in front of Ciara to shield her from the assault.
"Berk, no!"
The swarm hit him like a blast of nails, and Berk immediately recognized the pain that shattered through him. He sucked in a shocked breath and dropped to his knees. Ciara gave a frustrated growl. She squeezed his shoulder and said something he didn't catch. Her words were garbled and distant compared to the roaring of his pulse. His vision started to fade, the mist of the veil growing dark, and Berk hoped this time he actually died.
***
"Berk."
His eyes were open but not seeing. Ciara shook him gently. They were going to run out of time.
"Berk, I need you to come back now. Please."
His chest rose and fell in even, steady breaths, and his skin felt cool beneath her hand with no touch of fever. She'd led him out of the veil after containing the poison Linea had used on him--twice, since he had been foolish enough to jump in front of her the first time.
No, not foolish. Brave. Trying to protect her. Not knowing she hadn't been in any danger.
She sat back on her heels and chewed at her lower lip. She had nothing to give him. The last of the sweet wine had gone with Linea's brother, and she'd used the only water she had to cleanse his wounds. She couldn't go wandering the veil hoping to find him again because she'd be too exhausted to carry out her plan. Unlike many of the others she'd concocted, this one stood a good possibility of actu
ally working.
Ciara leaned in and patted his cheeks, calling his name again. Without any other recourse, she bit her lip and slapped him. Hard. His head rocked to the side, and a red welt blossomed across his cheek. The noise sounded loud enough to be heard to Guldarech, and Ciara looked over her shoulder, praying Orn didn't come barging in. When she turned back to Berk his eyes, watering but lucid, were trained on her.
"Guess I deserved that," he said, his voice raw and just above a whisper.
Ciara let out a breath. "I'm sorry. I needed you to wake up and you weren't. I have a plan to get us out of here. How do you feel?"
His gaze narrowed, and the look reminded her of Bolin. "What kind of plan?"
"A good one." She bit her lower lip. "Only...I'm not sure how well it will work, and I'm hoping it won't affect you because I don't think I can carry you. But I will have to find you some clothes."
"No." Berk shook his head. "Whatever it is, no. You're going to get yourself killed. Or worse."
Ciara grabbed his hands. "I can do this. Trust me. It's really just a simple sleeping spell. By now, everyone except the guards are probably already asleep anyhow. The spell will knock them out, and keep them that way until we're gone. Then hopefully nobody will bother checking on us until morning."
Berk glanced down, and extracted his hands from hers. "I don't know much about magic. No one in my family has any. What you did for me just now was amazing. I feel much better. But I can't let you risk it."
"It's simple healing magic," Ciara assured him. Simple, though she had never used it on more than one person at a time, and never without laying hands on them. She only hoped she had the strength to hold it until they were well away.
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