Touched By Magic (The King's Wolf Saga)

by Doranna Durgin

  "No, I see not," the older man muttered to himself. He took a firm hold of Reandn's burning arm, ignoring Reandn's unfettered yelp. "Sorry, son," Farren said absently, frowning as he peered at the wound. "What made this?"

  Reandn cursed him soundly, a long string of Wolf-worthy phrases and "—burning Hells—!"

  "Tanager, bring the waterskin," Farren called over his shoulder. He left Reandn curled around himself, rummaging in the battered underbrush around the battleground.

  He returned with a grim expression, kneeling to put one hand on Reandn's shoulder in a gesture which was oddly comforting. The other held a lumpy rock on a thong, which he set aside as Tanager thundered up beside him, breathless and without caution. "What happened?"

  "Someone has been looking for our friend," Farren said, prying Reandn's fingers away from the wound and liberally splashing it with water. Reandn groaned with the cold relief, though deep inside it still clawed at him, a fiery burning that belonged inside no one's body.

  "Better?" Farren asked.

  Not even close. "How the Hells did you stop that horse?" Reandn rolled to get his knees beneath him; with a helping hand from Farren he managed to sit back on his heels, rocking slightly against the pain, his breath coming in short gasps.

  "He stopped on his own when I headed him for a tree," Farren said, a twitch at the side of his mouth. He nodded his head at the final attacker, who had a short, curved blade sticking out the back of his neck. "There seemed to be plenty of weapons lying around."

  "You shoulda' seen him!" Tanager crowed. "Pa-Farren went right after—"

  "If you'd stayed where you were told, you wouldn't have seen me," Farren said sharply. "This is no game, Tanager. Someone used magic to find Reandn." He nodded at the stone.

  "But...magic? And they didn't even get him," Tanager said, obviously as much objection as he dared.

  "Not yet." But the look Farren sent Reandn was grim enough. "How do you feel now?"

  Magic. "You couldn't do it," Reandn said fuzzily, staring at the older man. "You tried to use magic before I spooked Sky, and it didn't work."

  Farren said gently, "I've told you all along that I couldn't. It was a reaction of habit." He frowned at the bodies scattered around them and said, "I wish we'd been able to save at least one. We need to know who sent them."

  "I know who sent them," Reandn said, squeezing his eyes shut, concentrating, trying to drive the pain deep into the back of his mind where it couldn't make him so stupid.

  "Tanager, help him up," Farren said abruptly. "There's a village half a day's walk from here. If we're lucky, Teayo still doctors there."

  "Do you want me to wrap it?" Tanager asked. Almost against his will, Reandn found himself on his feet, suddenly viewing the world from a strange, detached point of view. His fingers tingled numbly.

  "Let it bleed," Farren said grimly. "It's the best chance to get the poison out."

  Caustic and poison. Bergren had warned him.

  His legs mutinied, or maybe they now belonged to someone else. As he set one clumsy foot in front of the other, only the unwanted support kept him upright. The first time his knees gave way, he sparked into a semblance of his usual vigor. "Magic," he said, making it a gasping curse as Tanager, taken unaware, also went down. The second time he went down, it no longer seemed to matter. Then Sky loomed in his vision and with much pushing and grunting he was suddenly atop the horse, who moved apprehensively beneath his unsteady load.

  Farren's words came to him from a distance, slow and distinct; the wizard put a hand on his wrist and squeezed to get Reandn's attention.

  "Hang on, Reandn. I think I can get you to good help. But you've got to do your part."

  "It doesn't matter," Reandn said, speaking in that same distinct manner past a tongue that seemed...fuzzy? "Dela's waiting for me." In fact, there she was, moving at Sky's head—although the horse was walking and she was not. She wore a thin summer dress, a boughten dress he'd once given her simply because the color reflected her eyes. She smiled at him, and her lips said I love you, and she was waiting for him.

  Then pain lanced through his entire left side, and he grunted at the shock of it, shattering the vision. He lurched, snarling at the trespass of the hands that saved him from falling.

  "It'll be all right, son." Did he know that voice? "Tanager, help me up behind him. We'll never make it this way—I've got to go ahead. Take the first left-hand turn. If you go too far you'll run into Little Wisdom, and someone there will know the way."

  "Yes, Pa-Farren." The other voice sounded uncertain but unprotesting. In a moment, a weight settled behind Reandn and two arms encircled him, straightening him as he listed.

  "The first left-hand turn," the voice behind him repeated. "Teayo's surgery. Got it?"

  If there was an answer, Reandn did not hear it, too enveloped in his own little world of oddly echoing hoofbeats, Adela's sweet voice, and the occasional groan that seemed to fill his head until it oozed into the outside world as well. Beat beat beat...beat, the even stepping rack marred only by the scarred hock of a studdy bay who for once went calmly and steadily with someone else's cautious hand on the reins.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  Touched By Magic

  Chapter 14

  Kacey wiped her hands on well-rounded hips and pushed her brown curls from her face, catching her breath beside the well. After the sickroom windows were washed, she would relax. Maybe. Or maybe she'd find Rethia and help with the herb-gathering, or—

  Finish this chore first. She cranked up a sloshing bucket of water and hauled it to the stone side of the deep well, splashing her trousers—and hesitated there, suddenly aware of the unusual pattern of hoofbeats traveling the long wooded lane to the house.

  She spotted the horse while it was still well down their lane. The sweat-darkened bay carried double, and the extent and duration of his run was written in every move—the lather dripping from his chest and flanks, the rapid huff of air from his pinked, extended nostrils. He finally stumbled to a stop directly beside her, and his head immediately dropped almost to the ground.

  The man in back, smaller, older, struggled to keep his companion upright as they shifted with the bay's halt; his voice brusque and demanding, he said, "I must see Teayo."

  "He isn't here. I'll have to do." Kacey balanced the bucket on the well's edge, eyeing his companion. The wound on his jaw was ugly, but well on its way to healing—but his arm glistened with blood. Shaggy, dark blond hair hung over pale, even features—the nose not quite straight, the line of cheek and jaw strong. Handsome.

  She set the bucket aside. "Get him in the house," she said, falling into her well-worn role—strong, stolid, and sensible. "And then you can see to that poor animal."

  "I hoped to find Teayo." The man cast a glance around the yard, as if Kacey's father might suddenly appear.

  "What you've found is me. You don't have to stay."

  The man poked his beard out at her and his brows drew down, but more in puzzlement than anger. "Good Goddess, Kacey, is that you? Surely there aren't two women in the world given such a tongue."

  She nodded an impatient yes. "It would be a shame if your friend died right there after you nearly killed that horse to get here. Do you want my help, or not?" Strong words, but they startled the man out of his hesitation. He headed the animal for the huge, timber-beamed dwelling that held both Teayo's home and his infirmary.

  Kacey left the bucket and walked swiftly in front of them, pushing through the door at the end of the house, turning to hold it open. "Here you go—whoops!" For as the silver-bearded stranger slid down the horse's rump, his friend tumbled off the side. Kacey grabbed him halfway out of the saddle; the horse grunted and braced his tired legs. Together, gracelessly, Kacey and the stranger hauled the injured man into the house and dropped him bonelessly to the closest cot.

  "Heavier than he looks," Kacey panted. Solid. She immediately pulled out supplies—for boiled water and cloths were never far away in this room—and went to w
ork on the injury. Almost as quickly, she sat back to look the man over again—glancing from the swollen, red hole in his arm to his sweaty face. "This isn't a bad wound," she said carefully, her stubby fingers touching the arm. "Not enough to put down a healthy fellow like this."

  "It was an arrow," his friend said, looking suddenly older than Kacey had first thought. She motioned for him to sit on the next cot. " I'm certain it had been dipped in something."

  Kacey sighed, dropping the cloth back into its bowl. She snaked an ankle back to hook the ever-present wooden stool and sat heavily.

  "Unless you know..." she started, but trailed off and shook her head. There wasn't much they could do about poison even if they did know which one it was.

  Her patient stirred. She bent over him, finding his eyes half open, dull and vague—but only until they snapped into sudden focus, revealing a clear dark grey that made her blink. He gave a feral, challenging grin; Heavens knew what he thought he was looking at.

  Only years of experience got Kacey to the sheathed knife at his side before he did; she tossed it to the floor with one hand and held his shoulder down with the other, but the surge of aggression left as quickly as it had come. He subsided with a groan and she raised a wry, inquiring eyebrow at the older man. "Used to some action, isn't he."

  "He's very good at watching out for himself," the man said, then added dryly, "Usually."

  Kacey balanced her words carefully, striving to sound matter-of-fact. "There's not much I can do for snake venom but try to keep him comfortable. Looks like they used caustic, too, but that's just a distraction in case the first arrow doesn't slow him down enough." He did, in fact, look like he was good at taking care of himself—he was solid and lean and muscled in the way of a highly active man. There was an old blood stain on his leather vest beneath the healing wound on his neck and jaw, cementing her impression of him. Rough and full of trouble. "Someone must have wanted him very dead. Most the time, these roadmen just use the caustics. That way, even a nick creates enough distraction for them to do their job and run."

  "Not distraction enough. He killed three of those who came for us," said the companion, almost absently.

  Her eyebrows went up again. "So? Well, then, maybe he'll have enough fight left in him to beat what's in his system, especially if the arrow came out quickly. Maybe if Rethia gets back soon...." Until then, she'd apply some drawing poultices—and somehow get an infusion of snakeroot into him. She stood, already choosing poultice herbs in her mind. Definitely some hopvine, for that inflammation. And for the snake venom symptoms...pink yarrow tea, to combat the lethargy and depression of body; bluemint would help that, too. Sometimes snakebite victims fell into convulsions—bluemint would do for that, with some ghost flower added in.

  Not that it would taste good, mind you, or guarantee survival. But it would help.

  She suddenly realized the older man was looking at her, and his expression was just as...demanding as it had been like when he rode up. As if he expected things to happen because he thought they should. "And who is Rethia? Surely Teayo hasn't managed another daughter, without the benefit of a wife?"

  Her eyes narrowed. "It's time for me to ask the questions, I think."

  The man blinked. "You haven't recognized me, yet," he said. "It's true you were only fourteen or so, and that there was more blond than grey in my hair—"

  "That was a long time ago," Kacey interrupted. "Surely you won't hold me to a child's memory."

  He shook his head. "I was a wizard in those days, Kacey, and your father and I occasionally worked together. My name is Farren. Then, I spent most of my time in Solace. Now I live in Maurant."

  Kacey searched her memory, and was rewarded with very little. At that age she had been growing into womanhood, and realizing that she wasn't going to grow out of plain features and less than lithesome body. It had made her rebellious...and preoccupied. She shrugged at him. "Rethia wasn't with us then."

  "And you said...she might be able to help Reandn?"

  Reandn. She looked thoughtfully at the light spot on his vest and wondered what the missing crest had said about him. "It's just Rethia's way," she said. "She's...good with the sick. Your friend's best chance is that she returns—and soon."

  "And what are the chances of that?" Farren asked dryly.

  Kacey shook her head. "Rethia is...Rethia. She doesn't always notice the passing of time. She's probably gone to the village school to watch the children. If he's—" she nodded to Reandn, "—lucky, she'll be back when school's out."

  "She teaches?"

  "No," Kacey smiled. "She just watches them. They fascinate her."

  Farren shook his head. "I look forward to meeting her. Until then...."

  "I'll do what I can," Kacey said firmly—and then winced as her patient groaned. The snake venom wasn't particularly painful, but the caustic... "Also...I can dose him for the pain, but that can be risky on top of the poison."

  Farren closed his tired eyes. "I've watched him go through too much already."

  She didn't think he was referring to the current injury; she didn't ask. She rose to the the worktable in the front inside corner, where she dribbled a viscous syrup into a small wooden bowl, added a dollop of honey, and mixed it well. Now to hope he had a sweet tooth....

  It was not, however, too difficult to get him to swallow a spoonful. By the time she'd prepared the poultice and left the other herbs simmering for an infusion, the tension around his eyes had relaxed into relief. She sat with him a while, then, with Farren watching from the cot on the other side.

  Eventually, her patient cracked open drowsy eyes, his pupils huge. "You came back," he said, and the look on his face made her want to cry, even if she had no idea why.

  Kacey wasn't in the habit of crying.

  But she was used to playing along with such delusions, and she shot Farren a silencing look. "Of course I came back," she said, closing her fingers reassuringly around his. She wasn't expecting his strength—was too astonished to react when he pulled her closer, right down into a kiss. Not just a kiss. A lingering connection of intimacy and passion.

  Not just a kiss at all.

  ~~~~~

  Rethia appeared in the sickroom doorway while Farren was out at the barn. There she paused, silently taking in their new patient from beneath the fringe of thick, fair bangs, absently standing on one leg to scratch her calf with the other foot beneath her lightweight summer frock, taking her time.

  Kacey, knowing her ways after so many years with them, waited until Rethia walked to the foot of the bed. "An old friend of Father's brought him. He needs your help, Rethia—it was a poisoned arrow. But be careful—he was violent when he first got here."

  "Sweet syrup?" murmured her foster sister, moving alongside the bed to sit down opposite Kacey and consider the man.

  "As much as was safe. I wish it could have been more. He's also had infusions of bluemint, ghost flower, and snakeroot."

  Rethia reached to touch the wounded arm but abruptly drew back. "Kacey."

  Kacey leaned forward on the stool, suddenly seeing what her sister had so quickly sensed—his lethargy was more than just the syrup, much more. Kacey grabbed both his shoulders. "Don't you dare! I thought you were a fighter!"

  "No," Rethia said. "He's not even trying." She reached past Kacey's grasp to touch the wounded arm, her touch light and always healing.

  Reandn erupted in fury.

  Kacey hit the floor, gasping for breath, her cheekbone smarting from his fist. She had enough presence of mind to kick the yet nearby knife skittering away before she lunged to her feet and rejoined the fray, just in time to see him hurl Rethia to the end of the bed. Who'd have thought he had such strength left? A second ago she'd been convinced he was but moments away from death.

  "Good Goddess!" Farren cried from the doorway.

  "Which one?" Kacey asked grimly, aiming for heaving shoulders and settling for a death grip on one arm. With all her weight attached, he could no longer swing it ar
ound with such force, and the other arm wasn't working properly despite his efforts.

  "Whichever one I can get!" Farren plunged into action; he grabbed the shoulders she'd missed and looked helplessly at the legs which were about to carry them all away.

  At the foot of the bed, Rethia got to her feet, her face distressed, her gaze pinned to Reandn. "Oh, no wonder!" she cried, and slid between Kacey and Farren to briefly cup his head in her hands. "There, there," she said soothingly. "It's all right. Easy, now."

  Just like you'd talk to a horse.

  But Kacey was not the least surprised at its effectiveness. Reandn lay back, his chest heaving in exaggerated exertion— the snakebite, affecting his lungs. In a moment she was able to release her grip; she sat back to rub the shoulder she'd landed on.

  "What did you do?" Farren demanded breathlessly, not confident enough to relinquish his own grip.

  "Spoke to him.... " Rethia said distantly, gentle fingers traveling over the wounded arm. "Felt for him. His ears went peculiar, you see."

  Farren looked at Kacey as if she could or would explain the enigma of Rethia. Kacey only shrugged. For years she'd watched her foster sister find and ease other people's pains. She couldn't—and didn't have to—understand how it happened, nor did the family discuss it. It was a fact of their life, and when it bordered on the miraculous, they were careful to downplay it for the sake of Rethia's quiet soul.

  So Farren's look went unanswered, and neither sister concerned herself about it. "I'll stay with him tonight," Rethia announced, unaware of Farren's scrutiny. "He's so upset...I think he could use the company."

  "You think he'll be all right, then," Farren said, disbelief evident.

  Rethia lifted her head to meet his eyes. Kacey watched, seeing once more a stranger's reaction to Rethia's exotic and wonderful eyes, large eyes of the brightest, clearest blue rimmed with deep brown—eyes that had once been only blue. "I don't know," she said, as oblivious to Farren's reaction as Kacey was aware of it. She put a comforting hand flat on Reandn's chest, her fingers rising and falling with his breath. Then she frowned, taking her gaze from Farren and settling it on Reandn's face. "If only...." she said, completing the phrase only in her head, immersed in her patient.