by Cas Peace
“It’s not ... natural ... is it?” he whispered.
She stared up at his pinched, grey face, her horror matching his. She felt sick.
“Dear gods, Robin. No, it’s not.”
* * * * *
The door opened, admitting a waft of icy air, and the others came in, smelling of horse sweat, grain, and hay. Rienne turned and beckoned to Cal, who dumped his pack on the table. She was using cloths to stem the worst of the bleeding, muttering as she worked. Sullyan’s injuries had clearly been aggravated by the roughness of their ride. She heard Cal’s exclamation as he saw what she was doing. The others glanced over but stayed out of the way, giving her room to work. They could surely tell by the look on Robin’s face that the news wasn’t good.
“Cal, I need to do some stitching. Will you be able to assist me?” He had helped her back at the Manor and was the nearest she had to a trained assistant. He nodded a tad reluctantly and started to lay out what she would need.
She turned to the Captain, but he seemed lost in his grief and she had to speak his name twice. He started and glanced at her. The pain in his eyes nearly overset her professional calm and she had to breathe deeply. “I want you to stay alert,” she said. “Sullyan needs our help right now. We can deal with our grief and anger later. Alright?”
For a moment, she thought he might snap at her, but then he nodded. Looking over her shoulder, she spoke to the Count. He was sitting by himself with his head in his hands. Like a kicked dog, he startled at hearing his title.
“Count. Do you still have the jailor’s keys? Is there one for these manacles?”
He searched his jacket. Producing the bunch, he indicated a small silver key. “I think it’s this one.”
Covering Sullyan once more, Rienne said, “Robin, can you turn her without disturbing those cloths?”
Robin helped her bring Sullyan’s arms out from under the cloak, exposing the silver manacles. She took the keys from Marik, using another cloth to hold the one he had shown her. Without touching the spelled metal cuffs, she managed to insert the key in each and release them. They fell to the floor. Marik kicked them viciously, sending them tumbling toward the door.
Rienne clicked her tongue in dismay when she saw the burns inflicted by the spellsilver. The injuries were bad but not life threatening. They could wait. Turning her attention to the collar, she was about to try the key in its lock when Marik suddenly grabbed her arm. Panic showed on his face.
Robin frowned. “What is it, man?”
The Count’s eyes shifted warily.
“Tell us,” urged Rienne.
He pulled back and his voice was hoarse. “Do you remember me saying she wasn’t completely sane the last time I spoke with her? She’d lost all hope of rescue by then and knew she couldn’t hold out against Rykan any longer. She said ... she told me that ... when he came to her again”—there was a catch in his voice and Robin’s eyes narrowed—“she was going to feign surrender. If Rykan wanted access to her metaforce, he’d have to remove the spellsilver. She told me that when she felt it go ... as soon as she felt him in her mind ....” He stopped and licked his lips.
Robin glared. “What?”
The Count closed his eyes. “She said she’d destroy herself and take him with her.”
Robin gasped. “No!”
The Count flung up his hands as if to ward off Robin’s fury. “It was her one last defense. She had nothing left!”
Bull lowered his head to his hands and groaned. Rienne stared at the frightened Count. “Are you saying that when I remove this collar, she’ll kill herself?”
Marik nodded miserably. Rienne rounded on Robin. “Can she do that?”
The Captain had his eyes closed, his face pressed to Sullyan’s hair. Rienne only just heard his whisper.
“Masters have that power.”
“Then what can we do?” she cried. “How can we tell her she’s safe? There has to be something!”
Bull rose from his seat by the fire. He put out a hand, tenderly stroking the matted, tawny hair. “We can try preventing her.” He cocked his head at Robin. “I know we’re all tired, but if you can reach her, lad, she’ll recognize you. I’m sure of it. Even like this. We have to try. We can’t leave that thing on her. It’s killing her anyway.”
Robin nodded and blinked his tears away. “I’ll need help,” he said hoarsely. “Even then I’m not sure we’ll have the strength to stop her. I might not be able to reach her in time ....”
“You will,” said Bull. “You have to.”
“What can I do?” said Rienne.
Bull patted her arm. “Just leave this to us, dear heart. She’ll need your strength in other ways, and so will we. This will be very draining. Taran, Cal, can you gather round? If we all sit close together, it’ll be easier on Robin. Marik, what about you?”
The Count looked startled, frightened even. He backed up a pace. “Don’t think I don’t want to, but I’d better not.” He ducked his head, hiding his expression. “She might associate me with that place, with pain. I don’t think it would be helpful.”
His manner and his refusal gave birth to a dreadful suspicion in Rienne. She was about to speak, but Robin cut her off.
“You saw it, didn’t you? You watched him!”
Horror spread over the Count’s face. He began to perspire. “He forced me. There were two guards with swords at my back. What could I do?”
Robin’s body shook. There was murder in his eyes. “You stood there? You stood and watched him rape her, and you did nothing?”
Everyone stared at the Count except Rienne. She dropped her face to her hands, sobs burning her throat.
The Count was shouting. “There was nothing I could do! I couldn’t stop him! I swear I wanted to, but I’d have been killed out of hand, and what use would I have been to her then?”
“Use?” Robin yelled the word. “You’ve been no bloody use all along! It was your stupid, spineless behavior that let all this happen. If you’d only warned us at that bloody banquet, we never would have left her there. I can’t believe she looked on you as a friend! You’re nothing but a bloody traitor!”
The Count gasped. Rienne looked up through her tears, seeing his shocked, white face.
“Get out of here!” Robin sounded dangerously close to hysteria. “Go on, before I run you through. Haven’t you done enough damage? GET OUT!”
Marik bolted from the hut, the door slamming shut behind him. Robin buried his face in Sullyan’s hair, sobs wracking his body.
There was shocked silence, broken only by the sound of Robin’s grief.
Bull sighed and placed his hand on the Captain’s shoulder. “Come on, lad, we need you. You can’t let go now. Sullyan needs you. Don’t let her down.”
Robin raised his face, his indigo eyes deep pools of guilt. “I’ve already done that, Bull. I should never have left her at the mansion. I knew it was wrong.”
Rienne wiped her tears and took a deep breath, her healing skills and practical good sense coming to the fore. “Done is done and can’t be undone. We have to concentrate on now. Sullyan’s still alive, Robin. She needs you to flight for her. We all need to flight for her. There’ll be time for recriminations later.”
With a visible effort, Robin composed himself. “You’re right, of course, we have to try. Cal, Taran, bring three stools over, will you? Right, if you’ll all lay a hand on me and open your minds, I won’t have to reach for the power. Ready?”
Unable to participate, Rienne watched as the three men each laid a hand on Robin’s arm or shoulder and closed their eyes. She didn’t feel anything when they linked, but her skin tingled into gooseflesh as Robin formed what she presumed was a Powersink. The air seemed to hum, and she vaguely felt him take hold of the power and weave it around himself and Sullyan. Fascinated, she sensed his revulsion as he met the vast blankness of the spellsilver field that encased Sullyan’s mind. Rienne knew she couldn’t experience its full effects, but even so, a revolting metallic taste
had entered her mouth. She couldn’t begin to imagine how it was affecting Sullyan.
Robin’s eyes were vacant as he murmured, “The shield is in place. Rienne, I want you to unlock the collar, but don’t remove it until I tell you. Hold it so that just one end is touching her skin. Maybe then I can slip past it to reach her. When I say, you can take it off, but not before. Alright?”
Rienne grabbed a cloth and wrapped it tightly around the collar. With her other hand, she placed the key in the lock. “I’m ready.”
“Go ahead.”
She turned the key and removed it. Holding the awful collar by the cloth in one hand, she lifted it, letting just the very end of the silver arc touch the raw skin of Sullyan’s throat.
Immediately, a blinding flash of pure metaphysical energy pulsed into the room as Sullyan’s powerful but tormented mind made a frantic leap for freedom. Rienne gasped. She had never felt such pain and desperation. She was caught in Sullyan’s turmoil, whirled and buffeted by a cyclone of tortured emotions. Confused, wracked by pain, she nearly released the collar. She caught herself just in time.
A moan escaped her as she sensed Robin rushing to block Sullyan’s escape. He was calling her name, over and over. The other three men gripped his arm and held onto each other, steeling themselves against the drain of their powers as Robin wrestled with Sullyan’s insane desire to die.
Rienne was shocked, afraid, realizing they hadn’t reckoned on the depths of the Major’s despair. Robin’s hold was failing, she could feel it. He was an Adept-elite, but despite the energies contained in the Powersink, he couldn’t possibly hope to breach the impenetrable defenses Sullyan had raised against the agony and violation she had suffered. She was two full levels above his skill and had walled herself away behind an unbreakable shield. Rienne sensed his fear as he realized he could never breach it. Sullyan’s puissance overwhelmed him, and his soul despaired.
She felt his flash of insight as he understood why he was doomed to failure. Rienne nodded sadly. He was a man, and although Sullyan loved him intensely, a man had betrayed her, abused her trust and her love. A man had brutally violated her body. She would never submit to a man in this extremity, no matter how deeply she loved him.
Robin knew it too, Rienne could feel it. Despite his frantic care, his deep and abiding love and desire, he knew he couldn’t put Sullyan through any more pain, not even to bring her back to him. She was too damaged for him to heal, and what she needed, he couldn’t give. His soul was an aching well of grief and pain as Rienne sensed him preparing to let her go.
He pulled back, and even Rienne could feel the others’ frantic resistance. She thought she heard Bull shouting. The Powersink was failing, fading, and Sullyan’s screaming psyche barreled through it. Rienne felt the tortured spirit brush past Robin and sensed Sullyan’s recognition, her loving, anguished farewell. Robin called her name, his throat raw with grief and desperation, but Sullyan didn’t slow. She was intent on annihilation.
Rienne felt her heart would burst and pressure built behind her eyes. She couldn’t bear it, couldn’t stand the thought that Sullyan would die despite being surrounded by friends who could save her. A savage feeling of injustice surged through her soul, the emotion too powerful to contain. She wanted to scream her rage and desperation, but before she could open her mouth, Sullyan’s escaping psyche exploded through her mind.
Rage met rage in a maelstrom of emotion. Robin was flung violently out of the Powersink, and Rienne heard his cry of loss and pain. His heartbroken torment burst something within her. The incredible pressure behind her eyes disappeared, replaced by warmth. Strength and power flooded the substrate around her, capturing Sullyan’s psyche, calming the frantic whirl of violent emotion. She watched it in wonderment. It felt so different, almost alien. It had a color and vibrancy all its own, although Rienne could never have described it. It was insubstantial, even capricious, but it spoke to Sullyan’s essence as if to a kindred spirit and drew a response from her that Robin could not.
Tentatively, almost fearfully, the healer gathered this new power to her. Gentle in her hands, it obeyed her slightest whim. Still not quite believing what was happening, Rienne directed it to envelop Sullyan’s damaged soul, tenderly but firmly drawing it back from the abyss. The annealing power was soft, unobtrusive, yet immensely strong. It surrounded the Major’s tortured psyche like a mother’s womb, sealing Sullyan away from harm.
Rienne had forgotten the others around her, and so the moment of the collar’s removal came as a physical shock. Within the substrate, she saw Robin start toward the place where Sullyan’s essence now slept, peaceful at last and at rest. There was no leap for freedom now. All was quiet and still. Yet he couldn’t reach through that warm and gentle barrier any more than he could through the spellsilver field, and she saw him draw back, puzzled, amazed, even hurt.
As they each emerged from the metalink, Rienne looked round at their faces, seeing the same exhausted astonishment in everyone. Then Bull beamed a huge smile and gathered her into a warm, enveloping hug.
“Well done, lass,” he breathed, “you did it!”
Robin gaped at her, dumbfounded. “That was you? But how ...?”
She glanced up at him. Her whole body was trembling, both from the effects of her emotions and also the shock of what had just happened.
“I don’t really know, Robin. I could feel your despair and I knew we were going to lose her. I got so angry I just had to do something, so I did. But please don’t ask me how!”
Chapter Two
Robin helped Rienne wash Sullyan’s wasted body, using warm water steeped with herbs. At the Captain’s insistence, Rienne also washed Sullyan’s hair. He was adamant that no dirt should be left to infect any of the open wounds.
She understood. Dirt was inimical to her healing instincts anyway, but during her time in the Manor’s infirmary she had learned how vital cleanliness was beyond the Veils. She used a salve on Sullyan’s wounds, pleased to see there was no obvious sign of infection. Most of the injuries were not life threatening; loss of blood and shock were her main concerns.
A couple of the deeper whip cuts on Sullyan’s back needed stitching, and Rienne closed them neatly. There was nothing she could do about the broken ribs except to salve the bruised area and apply a supporting bandage. She also cleaned and wrapped the raw sores around Sullyan’s throat and wrists where the skin had been burned by the spellsilver.
She left the worst job until last. The torn and bloodied flesh where Rykan’s brutality had left its most obvious mark needed a delicate touch. Robin turned white when he finally summoned the courage to look, but he made no comment. Cal assisted Rienne by handing her the implements she needed, but he avoided looking at Sullyan. The wounds were still weeping, re-opened by the roughness of their ride, but when Rienne began cleaning she found that the damage was not quite as bad as she had feared. Cal handed her the needle and suture thread and Rienne took a stitch.
She heard the sound first in the back of her mind and wasn’t at all sure it was real. Shaking her head, she put it down to the effects of exhaustion. Their daring rescue and panicked flight had taken its toll on everyone. Focusing her weary eyes on her work, she passed the needle through the torn flesh once more.
This time there was no mistaking it. Her head snapped up. “Can’t you hear it?”
Robin frowned uneasily. “Hear what?”
She studied Sullyan’s unresponsive face. “I’m sure I heard her voice. As if she was crying out in pain.”
Robin shook his head. Rienne began her work again, and this time the noise in her mind was so loud that she dropped the needle. Clamping her hands to her ears, she tried to block out the screams of terror and pain.
“Robin, surely you can hear her? You have to help her, deaden the pain or something. I have to do this, but with all the abuse she’s suffered, she just can’t bear it.”
Robin closed his eyes, still shaken by his inability to prevent Sullyan’s rush to suicide. His
failure to sense what Rienne could hear only sapped his confidence further.
“I don’t think I can reach her, Rienne. I couldn’t before.”
“Try again. I think you’ll find you can now.”
Somehow, Rienne knew this would work. She didn’t fully understand it, but it felt right, and Robin’s power slipped easily through the annealing cocoon she had wrapped around the Major. She knew it when he touched the familiar, strong presence of Sullyan’s spirit, stilled the panic he found there, and flooded the half-aware consciousness with soothing sleep. They both watched Sullyan sink into blessed oblivion.
Robin nodded briefly at Rienne. “Go ahead. She won’t feel you now.”
Her work was delicate and took some time. Afterwards, Rienne straightened her aching back and wearily rubbed her eyes. Lack of sleep, too much adrenaline, and hours of concentration had left her feeling worn. Exhausted, she watched Cal pack her things, leaving some of the implements still in the boiling water.
She moved aside as Bull helped Robin wrap Sullyan in the clean, warm blankets. They laid stones heated in the fire alongside her. Once the unconscious woman was resting peacefully on the bed, they made a quick meal. Rienne thought it must be noon, judging by the light outside. They had been awake now for around thirty hours, most of it spent either in fear or in fight.
Once they had eaten, Robin lay down alongside Sullyan and wrapped his arms around her. He fell almost instantly asleep. Taran cleared away the remnants of their meal and rolled himself in his blanket. Cal did the same, beckoning Rienne to join him. She glanced at Bull, who was also showing signs of the strain and emotion of the last few days. They all had dark rings under their eyes and unhealthily pale skin.
“Is it safe for us all to sleep?”
He nodded. “I think so. I’ve had a brief scout round. There’s no one for miles, so we should be safe enough. Get some rest.”