The Sage's Consort (The Scholars of Elandria Book 1)
Page 16
The man slowed, unsure why Amarice stood still. He was wary, and took his steps carefully to avoid snapping his leg in any more earthquake cracks. Amarice stood between the trees, her arms raised, pointed at the tree nearest the man, and magic streamed from her hands again. He stopped completely, and looked up.
As he did, a branch dropped toward him. From the branch, a vine wrapped itself around the man’s neck. He screamed. Amarice raised her arms to the sky. The branch snapped back to its heightened position. She heard a crack.
The evil man’s neck had snapped. He dangled in the air, the vine a noose.
Amarice collapsed onto the forest floor.
***
“Wait!” Quinn called. Raymond stopped, signaling the others to stop, as well. He pulled his horse back toward Quinn, who pointed off into the distance. They had ridden for hours, ever since the horseman in the last town had reported four different men seeking to trade horses.
Maybe ten miles away, they could see a small grey storm surrounded by clear blue skies. “Looks like magic to me,” Raymond said. “Can she create a storm?” Quinn shrugged. He was unsure what exactly the Sage could do in her immense power. “We will investigate.” He took off at a gallop and the rest of the party followed.
Quinn felt a light of hope for the first time since they had set off from the palace. If the random storm was a result of Amarice’s magic, that meant she was still alive. He urged the horse to go faster. After a few minutes, he heard Raymond yell, “HALT!” He pulled his horse forward, wondering what on earth would cause Raymond to stop this close to finding the Sage.
A young man ran toward them. “Help me! Help!” He appeared unarmed. Raymond dismounted, and Quinn followed suit. The man seemed grateful to see an armed mount of palace guards, but Quinn felt wary. Raymond placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. “Can you help me?” the man panted.
“With what?” Raymond barked at him.
The man doubled over, out of breath. “We—my friends and I—we’ve been attacked. One of them is dead.” The man pointed at the storm area.
“By who?” the Prince asked.
“By…by her.”
Quinn stepped closer to the man. “By the Sage?” The man looked up at him, shaking.
“She’s evil! A sorceress!”
Smack. Quinn’s fist met the man’s face, and he crumpled to the ground, unconscious. Raymond looked at him, mouth agape. He heard several of the men behind him laugh. “Nice hit,” the Prince said. “But we could have gotten more information from him.”
“Sorry,” Quinn muttered.
“Don’t be. I wish I had done it myself.” He gestured to a guard. “Tie him up. Someone’s going to have to carry him on their horse.” Raymond galloped on, and most followed, except for two guardsmen who stayed behind to take care of the kidnapper.
***
In the woods, Amarice struggled not to give into the pain. She feared the gruff man’s kicks had caused internal bleeding. She touched her stomach lightly, and a bolt of pain shot through her. In addition to her head wound and bleeding arm, a gash on her leg dripped blood.
She forced herself to sit up and triage her wounds. She was determined to get out of here alive. If she could slow the bleeding, she could rest and then find her way to the nearest village. She tore off two strips of her urine- and blood-soaked dress. She tied one tightly around her shin and the other around her arm to stop the bleeding. She touched her head. It had begun to scab. Good.
Water, she thought. She sat and listened, trying to hear any sign of running water. She heard drips behind her. A tree dripped rainwater from her storm onto a stone below. It was not much, but it would do. She searched the floor of the woods, looking for some useful plant. Melaleuca! She gathered several leaves and chewed them in her mouth.
She crawled toward the natural stone bowl of rainwater, and spit the leaves in the water. She took two wads of the chewed leaves and placed them on her wounds to stave off infection. Then she cupped her hands and drank the pitiful excuse of melaleuca tea she had made. She was beyond thirsty and swore she had never tasted anything that delicious.
Doing all she could do to save herself for the moment, she found a soft bed of leaves and curled up to sleep. As she closed her eyes, she pictured Quinn’s face. She hoped she could see him one more time.
***
The search party reached the storm in minutes. A few men drew their swords, ready to meet combat. But the area was silent. There was no one there. Raymond and Quinn slowed their horses into a walk and went further to investigate. “Oh, my…” The Prince’s voice trailed.
They first saw the man who had fallen into the crack in the earth. They drew nearer on the horse. The man’s leg twisted unnaturally, and his femur protruded from his thigh. The rest of his body had fallen forward. They studied the red scars on his face. “He’s been struck by lightning,” Quinn observed.
“Can she do that?”
Quinn shrugged. “It appears so.” He led his horse to what appeared to be another body covered in grass. “Damn. Raymond! Come here.” He stared down in disbelief. Somehow, Amarice had grown grass so rapidly she had suffocated him. Raymond said nothing, his eyes wide in shock. Behind them, the other guardsmen had entered the area, and Quinn heard mutters of incredulity. “Where is she?” Quinn asked the Prince.
Raymond looked around. “The woods.” They trotted their horses to the treeline. In front of them, a man dangled from a tree at least ten feet off the ground, his neck wrapped in a vine. Amarice had managed to hang this man. Raymond turned to look at Quinn. “Did you know she could do this?”
Quinn shook his head. “I never knew what ‘most powerful Sage’ meant. I guess she did not need us to fight her enemies.”
Raymond just stared at the man swaying in the breeze. “She may be hurt, though.” He dismounted and tied his horse to a tree. Quinn did the same, and they walked into the woods. It did not take them long to find her, curled up on a pile of leaves.
“Amarice!” Quinn cried and ran toward her. Please be alive. “Amarice!” He knelt next to her and touched her face. She opened her eyes.
“Quinn,” she gasped. And she began to cry.
He took her in his arms. “You’re all right now. I’m here. You’re safe.” He rocked her on the ground until her sobs subsided, enveloping her in the peace of his pale blue light . He studied her, trying to determine her wounds. She had a large scab on her head, and he noticed she had made herself two tourniquets from her dress. He smiled to himself. Of course she did, he thought. Only Amarice could use an incredible amount of magic to kill her attackers while wounded, then try to treat her wounds. He touched the chewed leaves on her arm. She was trying to prevent infection. Amazing.
“I’m bleeding internally,” she murmured, voice thick with pain.
“Get the Healer’s kit and my water,” Quinn told Raymond. Raymond left and returned quickly. “Here, my love, drink this.” He gave her the water canteen, and she drank as if she had never drunk before. “Not all of it. I need to give you some poppy tea.” He opened the Healer’s kit and found the bottle labeled poppy. He poured several drops of the extract in the canteen and gave it back to Amarice. He opened a few other vials to pour onto her wounds, some to soothe, others to fight infection.
“I want to go home, Quinn,” Amarice said, tears running down her face.
“I know. We will get you home. We will get you well.” She nodded, and he picked her up and carried her to his horse. He lifted her onto the saddle and climbed on behind her. She leaned against his chest. Raymond mounted his horse as well. “We need to get her to the Healer in the nearest town. I don’t know how severe her hemorrhaging is yet.”
Raymond nodded. He gave orders to his men to bury the bodies and not speak of the magic the Sage had done. With a growing suspicion of earth magic in Elandria, stories of the Sage’s magic would do nothing to improve the situation. Then he, Quinn, and Marcus galloped to the nearest town to see the Healer.
&n
bsp; The poppy tea lulled Amarice into a painless sleep as Quinn held her close while he led the horse. He worried her hemorrhaging had spread, and she would be unable to be saved. He hoped they had arrived in enough time.
“Please don’t die,” he whispered into her blood-stained hair. “Please don’t leave me.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Amarice stayed in a poppy-induced sleep until they arrived in the small town. The Healer, a middle-aged female Scholar with kind dark eyes to match her skin, had plenty of experience with internal hemorrhaging. “Farm town—lots of horse kicks,” she told Quinn. She and her assistant took Amarice into a back room. Raymond left briefly to send word to the palace. Quinn paced the front room of the Healer’s small home nervously.
After an hour or so, the Healer came to update Quinn. “She will be fine. She needs to stay on poppy tea for at least a week.” The Healer had let out some of the bleeding to relieve the pressure, but it appeared to be localized and would cease on its own. They had bathed her, cleaned her wounds, and put her in a fresh gown. “She’s sleeping. You can go see her. She will be stable enough to ride in a carriage to the capital tomorrow.”
Quinn entered the room. Amarice lay on the single bed, sleeping peacefully under a handmade quilt. He smiled, relieved. The poppy tea would keep her stable so her body could heal on its own. He sat on the bed and stroked her hair. The prospect of losing her had hit Quinn hard, harder even than losing Rafe. He knew without a doubt that he could not live without her. Or, if he did, it would be a shell of an existence. He loved her with every ounce of his being. Even if she did not return his love, he would have to stay near her.
Prince Raymond entered the room quietly. His eyes were red. He, too, had almost lost someone so dear to him. “She’ll be all right?” he asked, as if he did not believe the Healer. Quinn nodded and continued to stroke her hair. “Good. I hired a carriage to take us back tomorrow. She can rest at the palace until she’s well.”
“Did you send word to the Villa? I know they must be worried.”
Raymond shook his head. “No, I will do that soon.”
The Healer entered the room with two bowls of stew. “Eat, my dears. Nothing better for emotional trauma than a full belly of warm food.” She handed them each a bowl and left them alone again. Raymond said no more. He finished his stew and left the room. Quinn sat on the floor next to Amarice and ate a few bites, but he was exhausted. He lay his head on the mattress and fell asleep.
***
The palace Healer kept Amarice asleep on poppy tea for a week until the signs of internal bleeding had stopped and the gashes on her body had turned a healthy shade of pink. Though Quinn was relieved she was well, he missed the sound of her voice, her smile.
He thought back over the last week. They had left the small town in a hired carriage. Amarice had slept the entire journey back to the palace, her head placed on Quinn’s lap. She woke briefly upon arrival. The King himself had rushed out to see for himself that she was alive. He looked as if he had not slept in days; indeed, he probably had not.
They had laid the Sage in her normal guest room, and both the palace Healer and the Chief Healer of Teleah had attended to her. Quinn stayed by her side the entire time, leaving only to visit the baths or when the Healers bathed Amarice. Whenever she stirred, they gave her more tea to drink and a bite of food, and then she would fall back into a healing slumber. The King ordered a lounger to be placed next to her bed so Quinn could get some sleep.
Raymond had brought Quinn updates and taken many of his meals in the room with Quinn. The young man they had captured, Blake, had proven a reticent prisoner. He swore only that the Sage and all magic practitioners were evil and must answer for their sins. To whom they must answer, he would not say. The prison guards reported hearing him pray to several gods they had never heard of for protection and forgiveness for his failure. The kidnapper had night terrors from watching Amarice strangle his friend with grass; he woke every night screaming about her evil power.
***
Amarice finally woke mid-morning on a particularly bright, sunny day. Quinn reclined on the chaise, reading. “Quinn,” he heard Amarice murmur in a thick, groggy voice. He leapt up and kneelt at her bedside.
“I’m here, I’m right here.” He took her hand. Her eyes were still closed, but a smile spread over her face. She slowly opened her eyes to look at Quinn.
“G’morning,” she mumbled. Quinn laughed. She squeezed her eyes closed again, then opened them wide, trying to gain her bearings. “Izzit morning?” she asked, voice still thick from the poppy.
“Barely. You are at the palace. You have been asleep for a week, but you appear to be well.” He squeezed her hand, unsure how long he would be able to stay affectionate with her now that she was awake.
Her sleepy eyes widened. “A week?” She pulled herself up to sitting, and groaned. “No wonder I’m achy.” Quinn updated her on what had transpired over the last week. She nodded, taking in all the information. All she could say was, “My magic is drained. I need to take a walk in the gardens.”
He nodded. “I will get the Healer. She can help you get dressed and make sure you are well.” He paused. “Amarice…your earth magic. We had no idea—”
A single tear ran down her face. “Do you think less of me? I did not use my Gift for good.”
“Oh, my lady Sage.” He wiped away her tear with his thumb. “I could never think less of you. And you used your Gift to protect yourself. What purpose does the Gift serve if not to keep you safe?” He smiled at her and handed her a cup of water. “I will fetch the Healer. Don’t get up.”
Quinn smiled at her and left the room. Amarice raised her gown to examine her wounds. The gash on her leg had healed nicely, although she felt certain she would have a lifelong scar. Her abdomen had barely any bruising left, just a small scar where the first Healer had drained some of the blood. She touched it, and felt no pain, and tried to remember that Healer. Everything after Quinn found her felt like a distant memory, clouded by a week’s worth of poppy tea. She certainly had no recollection of arriving at the palace.
Quinn. What did it say about her that the first words she uttered in a week were his name? She had not even been sure he was there; she had not been sure where he was. But she said his name, and he answered. She would have to think about this later; for now, she needed to replenish her magic and find out what information the King had about her kidnappers. She stretched and stood, despite Quinn telling her to stay in bed until the Healer arrived. She was surprised to find she felt fine, just a bit weak.
The palace Healer, an older woman named Francis, knocked and entered the room. “My lady Sage, I’m so happy to see you awake.” Amarice smiled and allowed Francis to assess her health. “You look well. I imagine you would love a bath.”
“More than anything at this moment,” Amarice replied. She allowed the Healer to help her to the baths and plunged herself into the warm, perfumed water, relishing its cleansing and pulling some magic from the element. She washed her hair, flinching slightly at the wound on the top of her head. Francis sat, waiting, while Amarice enjoyed scrubbing herself clean. It was not just the wounds and the poppy-induced tea she washed away; it was the feelings of fear and anger, the longing she had to return to Quinn, the memory of her impending death.
Amarice rose from the waters, and Francis handed her a warm towel. “My lady, may I speak to you of something personal?”
Amarice laughed. “Francis, you have known me too long to address me so formally, and too well to ask if you can be personal with me. What is on your mind?”
Francis smiled. “The lad, Quinn. He did not leave your side for a week. I saw the fear in his eyes when you arrived at the palace, heard it in his voice. He did not fear losing the Sage. He feared losing you.” She paused, looking for some sign of emotion on Amarice’s face; but Amarice was far too good at hiding her thoughts. “Amarice, that boy loves you with a rare sort of love. I just thought you should know.”
***
Quinn stood outside her room when Amarice returned from the baths. “Feel better?” he asked her with a grin, pure happiness shining in his eyes. A flood of emotions rushed over Amarice, but she forced herself to reveal nothing. She smiled back, cautious not to reveal too much to the man who sat at her bedside constantly for the last week. Now was not the time.
“Infinitely. I’d like to take a walk in the gardens, though. My magic is drained.” Quinn offered to escort her. “No, I need to be alone with my thoughts. I’ll be fine,” she added, addressing the concern that spread over his face.
When she returned from her walk, magic once again flowing through her veins, Quinn was still standing outside her door. “The King wants to see you, if you are up for it.” Amarice agreed, and together they walked to the King’s study. Quinn walked two steps behind her, and the air hung heavy between them with unsaid words.
King Roland greeted her with a warm, fatherly embrace. “Oh, Amarice. I have barely slept with worry. You look well.” He hugged her again, as if convincing himself she really stood before him, alive and healthy. “How do you feel?”
“Tired, but I have no pain. The Healers did their work well.”
The King nodded. “And Quinn. From what Raymond said, he performed excellent triage when he found you.” Amarice turned to smile at her apprentice and noticed for the first time how heavy with worry and exhaustion his eyes were. He returned her smile.
Quinn brushed aside the comment with humility. “I don’t think we’re giving the Sage enough credit, your highness. When I arrived, she had already begun to treat her wounds with melaleuca. I’m sure few people in that condition would have been able to do what she did to stay alive.”