by Cas Peace
“Hold me, Hal.”
There was such need, such desperation in her voice that Rienne felt her heart clench. There was an answering catch in Bull’s breath, and Rienne felt like an intruder, watching such an intimate reunion. Neither of them had noticed her, and she didn’t want to disturb them. Clearly, Sullyan was recovering. That was Rienne’s main concern.
Gently moving Robin’s arm without waking him, Bull stood and bent to gather Sullyan up. He hesitated, probably remembering her injuries. “I don’t want to hurt you, love.”
As the Major looked up at him, Rienne saw her naked, damaged soul plain in her eyes. “You could never hurt me,” she whispered, and the depth of love and trust in her tone ripped at Rienne’s heart.
Bull put his strong arms around her. She hadn’t weighed much before, but her days of deprivation had so reduced her that Rienne doubted she was a burden to Bull. He moved back to the fire and lowered himself down, cradling Sullyan in his lap. As he did so, Rienne felt a faint brush of cold air and turned toward the door. The Count’s stool was vacant. He had taken himself off again.
When Rienne turned back to the pair by the fire, Sullyan’s head rested on Bull’s chest while he gently stroked her hair. Rienne thought she knew what was coming, and it only took a few moments. Sullyan’s whole body began to shudder violently as she gave way to her terror, shock, and pain. Bull sat silently, letting the storm of grief run its course, and Rienne was glad. This release was essential. It was the first step toward recovery.
Soon—sooner than Rienne would have thought—she heard Sullyan give a vast, shuddering sigh. Bull raised her chin with a tender hand.
“Better, love?”
She gave a wan smile and swallowed awkwardly. “I could really use that fellan.”
Her voice was a rasp, and Rienne grieved for her lilting tones. Bull said, “Then you shall have it,” and reached toward the kettle Taran had left hanging over the fire. Rienne was about to rise, thinking he might need help, but it soon became apparent that Bull had done this before. Using his free hand, he made a pot of steaming brew. He put a little honey in Sullyan’s mug, even though Rienne knew she normally took her fellan strong and bitter. Bull was right, though, and Rienne approved. Sullyan’s body would need the energy. The Major made no comment.
Bull passed her the mug, but when she brought her hands up for it, they were so weak and shaking so badly that she just couldn’t hold it.
“I am sorry, Hal,” she whispered.
He frowned. “You’ve nothing to be sorry for, dear heart. We’ve been here before. We know how to do this. Remember that time in Rothrick when you took that slash that became infected? You were ill with wound fever for days, despite your powers. I did everything for you then, and a lot worse tasks than holding a cup for you!”
Rienne saw Sullyan’s gentle smile, and her heart lurched. There was clearly a deep bond of love between these two, even deeper, she thought, than the one Sullyan shared with Robin.
Still unnoticed, Rienne watched while Sullyan drank three mugs of fellan. She would have preferred the Major to have taken water, but was happy for the moment to allow Sullyan her preference. It wouldn’t hurt, and she could have water later. Once the fellan was gone, the Major and Bull sat together staring into the fire. Rienne thought Sullyan had fallen asleep again, but then she stirred. “Where are we, Bull? Is Robin here? Is Marik safe?”
In a low voice, so as not to disturb the others, Bull told her the story of her rescue. She listened in silence until he had finished. Then she drew a shaky breath.
“Did Rykan”—she stumbled over the name—“issue his challenge to the Hierarch?”
Rienne gave a small start and Bull frowned. “You don’t have to worry about any of that now.”
Desperation was plain in Sullyan’s scratchy voice. “I have to know, it is important. Has he challenged the Hierarch or not?”
“We believe so,” said Bull. “Marik says he did.”
Rienne saw some of the tension leave the Major’s body. “Good. One more thing, Bull, and then I must sleep. I asked Marik to free Mandias for me. Did he do it? Did he get home safely?”
Rienne held her breath, willing Bull not to mention how injured the horse was, but she needn’t have worried. There was such a plaintive note to Sullyan’s voice that she knew Bull would have lied to her even if the horse hadn’t made it. As it was, he told the simple truth.
“Yes, he did as you asked. Mandias made it home, and that’s what brought us all running—as you knew it would!”
Sullyan’s relief was plain, and Rienne had a fleeting vision of them all dashing to her rescue. Had it come from Bull’s mind, or Sullyan’s? She didn’t know, but wherever it came from, it distracted Sullyan from asking after the horse’s condition. Sighing, the Major settled back into Bull’s arms. He sat unmoving while she fell asleep.
+ + + + +
Screaming—harsh, ragged screaming—ripped through Rienne’s mind, jolting her awake. There was movement all around her, men scrambling to their feet, drawing swords and swearing. She staggered upright and grabbed Cal’s arm. Taran bumped into her from behind. The fire was low. It was night outside, shadows dancing frantically over the walls. A sharp gasp caught Rienne’s attention. Robin was kneeling by Bull’s side, staring at Sullyan. The Major’s body was shuddering violently. Rienne rushed over.
“What on earth’s the matter?”
Robin didn’t reply. He was stunned by the appearance of Sullyan’s eyes, which were open but unseeing, once more huge and black. The sub-vocal screaming went on, forcing Rienne to cover her ears.
The Major was convulsing, and no amount of calling her name had any effect. Robin took her shoulders, shook her gently, and stroked her face, but there was no response. Rienne felt him probing for her psyche, hoping to calm her as he had done before, but the terrible screaming went on. Frustrated by this second failure, the Captain exchanged a despairing glance with Bull.
“She was alright when she woke a few hours ago,” the big man said. “She drank some fellan ….”
Robin glared at him. “She was awake? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Bull was about to reply when the door burst open. Marik ran in, staring wildly at Sullyan’s writhing form. “Dear gods,” he breathed. “Not again.”
“What do you mean?” said Rienne. “Has this happened before?”
The Count crossed the room and looked down at the Major, pity and fear in his eyes. “Yes, she had two attacks like this that I know of after Rykan started … abusing her.” He looked round at them. “Can’t any of you reach her?”
Robin refused to meet his gaze. “No. She won’t hear us.”
Marik glanced at Rienne then shuffled his feet, looking uncomfortable. “Would you … I mean … shall I try?”
He was clearly expecting a refusal, and Robin didn’t disappoint him. “What on earth makes you think you can help her when we can’t?”
His rough tone lashed at Marik and the Count’s shoulders slumped. He turned away. Rienne laid a hand on Robin’s arm. “Count,” she said, “were you able to help her before?”
Marik turned back, eyes moist with unshed tears. “I had to try. There was no one else. She did seem to respond ….”
Rienne turned to Robin. “Then you have no choice. What harm can it do to let him try?” Seeing the young Captain’s anguish, she squeezed his arm, trying to show her understanding. “She’s not hearing any of us, Robin. Don’t deny her this chance of comfort.”
Robin’s anger faded and he stepped slowly back. The Count came forward, holding out his arms. Bull lifted Sullyan to him and stood, stretching stiffly.
Marik sat on the bed, cradling Sullyan in his arms. With a hand to her cheek, he turned her unseeing gaze to his. He stared into her eyes, his own alien pupils wide, and Rienne vaguely sensed him trying to link with her psyche. Softly, he began crooning in a tongue she didn’t understand.
For a long while nothing changed, and the sharp, splintering scream continued to rin
g in Rienne’s mind. Gradually, Marik’s murmuring voice grew louder, and she realized the screams were abating. They finally ceased, and Rienne gave a sigh. Marik’s soothing voice continued as he removed his hand from Sullyan’s face. He held her close, rocking her like a child. Her shuddering slowly diminished until she was still again. Her eyes remained open and huge, unfocused. She seemed completely unaware.
Marik ceased murmuring and looked into her face. Satisfied by what he saw, he beckoned to Robin and the young Captain came forward.
“Take her,” whispered Marik. “It would be better if she sees you when she wakes rather than me.”
Rienne wondered if anyone else had caught his note of wistfulness.
Carefully, Robin took the Count’s place. Marik backed away, then turned and walked out of the hut. Rienne let him go. The Captain called Sullyan’s name softly. Eventually, she stirred, life returning to her eyes. The pupils contracted, transforming her face from something unrecognizable back to the familiar. She looked up at Robin and frowned, and a sudden fear gripped Rienne that maybe she wouldn’t know him. Then the frown became a weary smile.
She whispered, “Robin,” her cracked and husky voice completely strange.
He murmured back, “Oh, Sullyan.”
Sighing deeply, she said, “I missed you,” and then he let the tears fall, unable to hold his emotion.
Chapter Three
There was nothing more she could do for the moment, so Rienne left the hut. Taran and Cal were busy preparing food and Bull was brewing fresh fellan. The smells called to Rienne’s exhausted body and wrung-out nerves, but her professional curiosity was piqued and she wanted to talk to the Count.
Cloud rack kept veiling the moon and a chill wind blew from the east, carrying the faint tang of rain. Rienne’s eyes took a moment to adjust after the firelight and she could see no sign of the Count.
Once accustomed to the darkness, she walked round the end of the hut toward the barn and corral. She could hear the soft chewing of the horses and smell the grain and hay. Entering the barn, she saw a shadowy figure seated on a pile of straw.
The Count glanced at her but didn’t speak as she sat beside him. A moonbeam lanced into the barn, lighting his alien eyes. Rienne shuddered. If she ignored those catlike pupils she could deal with him as she would an Albian, but if she dwelled on them too long, his differences became an almost physical barrier.
He sensed her unease and ducked his head. “I’m sorry if my appearance frightens you.”
“Oh, it’s not that.” She was annoyed she had betrayed her discomfort. “It’s just that I’m not used to all this. I’m only a healer. I’m not gifted like the others, and I’ve never done anything like this before. I’m a bit out of my depth.”
He smiled. “I’d never have known.”
It was her turn to feel awkward. She picked at a piece of straw, wondering how to ask her question. “Have you ever been to Albia?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Once. That was when I first met Sullyan.”
“What happened? That is … I don’t mean to pry. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
The Count looked down at his hands. In the uncertain moonlight she could see they were strong and long-fingered, a swordsman’s hands, brown from the sun and nicked by old sword cuts.
He sighed. “It was six or seven years ago, just after I inherited my father’s lands. I was young, naïve, eager to begin my life as a noble. But my father wasn’t wealthy and my Artesan gift is weak, so the only options for improving my fortune or status were to either marry into a wealthy family or win power by conquest.
“The first was out of the question, because no noble Andaryan family would look at a lowly Count with such feeble Artesan talents.” He snorted. “Lords want to marry their daughters to men who will strengthen their bloodline, not weaken it. So I thought that if I could gain a reputation for good generalship by organizing successful raids beyond the Veils, some high-born noble might offer me a military position which would increase my status.”
He shook his head. “I should have known better. I should at least have chosen another realm to raid. But I was cocky then—before I realized how hopeless it all was—and I thought Albia was the best place to start. And so it might have been, had I not run straight into that unique young woman in there.”
Rienne was fascinated and smiled, encouraging him to continue. He stared out the barn door and she could almost taste the embarrassment and frustration of the younger man he had been, so keen to prove himself.
“It was sheer bad luck, really, because I don’t have anything like the power necessary to direct a portway. I only just managed to keep it open long enough to get all my men through. Of all the places we could have emerged, fate had to pick an area patrolled by Sullyan’s company. Later, I learned that it was her first time out as company leader, and that she’d just recently become a Master Artesan. Anyone else and I might have achieved the result I was after. Why did fate throw me into her path?
“Anyway, her scouts saw us and she gave chase, quickly blocking my way back through the Veils. I wasn’t too worried by that. I might not have much Artesan power, but I am a capable swordsman. Our numbers were about equal and her men were led by a woman. What did I have to fear?”
Seeing Rienne’s raised brows, he said, “You may have heard that Andaryan women don’t bear arms, and neither can they influence their metaforce. I’d never met anyone like Sullyan. What was I supposed to think? Naturally, I ordered my men to fight. None of them would engage her because she was only a girl, but she wasn’t interested in them. No, she came straight for me. All I saw was a slim young woman holding a ridiculously large sword and—as I thought—an ego to match. My men thought I was mad accepting her challenge, but I intended to disarm her, show off my skill, and teach her the price of her folly. Hah, folly!”
He pursed his lips. “The folly was mine. I barely had time to raise my sword before she sent it spinning from my hand. She even had the gall to offer it back again, saying it wasn’t a fair duel as I obviously wasn’t ready. But there was no point me trying again. I’d already lost face with my men. It was clearly hopeless, so I surrendered.”
Staring at the ground, he sighed again. “Another company had arrived by then, drawn by the noise of combat. Their commander wanted to kill us all for breaking the Pact, but Sullyan said we were free to return. I was bound by the terms of my surrender, and she plainly knew our customs. She knew I couldn’t challenge her again. She spared our lives, but I was forced to endure the laughter of my men for being defeated by a woman.
“A few days after, I received a message requesting safe passage for the Albian King’s ambassador. To my amazement, it was Sullyan who arrived at my door, and that was the beginning of our friendship.”
He fell silent. Rienne said nothing, digesting the story, thinking what an extraordinary life Sullyan had led. She only belatedly remembered the younger woman’s earlier pain and panic. “So what was all that about in there, just now?”
Marik started as if he had forgotten she was there. “Oh. I … I don’t really know.”
The lie was plain. “Come now, Count. I’m not stupid, but I am a healer, remember? It’s something Rykan has done to her, isn’t it? Tell me. I really need to know if I’m going to be able to help her.”
He shook his head. “You can’t—”
Cal’s voice cut across the Count’s and Rienne jumped. She heard the note of fear as Cal called her name again, and hurried out of the barn. “I’m here.”
“There you are,” he said. “Sullyan’s asking for you. You too, Count.”
“Me?” Marik frowned. “What does she want me for?”
Cal shrugged. “You’d better come and see.”
Rienne entered the hut, followed by Marik. As she blinked in the firelight, the smells of food and fellan hit her like a delicious wave, making her abruptly aware of how hungry she was. The fear and exertion of the last two days had thrown her body rhyt
hms completely out. It must have been getting on for midnight, but she was ravenous.
The others had already started on the food. Bull passed her a mug of fellan and she sipped the scalding liquid gratefully. He also passed one to Marik, who seemed startled at being included. From his place on the bed, Sullyan cradled against him, Robin watched the Count suspiciously.
Rienne approached the bed and kneeled on the floor. Placing her mug beside her, she took one of Sullyan’s cold hands. The Major stirred and glanced at her, smiling faintly.
“Ah, Rienne, there you are. I wanted to thank you for what you have done. You put your life at risk to save me.”
Rienne shook her head. “I don’t need your thanks. I’m just relieved you’re still with us. I don’t think I’d have survived what you’ve been through.”
A brief flicker of pain crossed Sullyan’s face. “You have done so much already. I hesitate to ask more of you. I know how tired you must be.”
Rienne squeezed her hand. “What do you need? Is it to do with what afflicted you earlier? You were in such pain ….”
Sullyan shook her head, her tumbled hair rippling over Robin’s arms. “Rienne, I have to be able to ride. We cannot stay here much longer. We are too vulnerable this close to Rykan’s palace. But it will take me too long to recover my strength naturally. I am far too weak.”
Robin interrupted. “We just need to get you strong enough to cross the Veils. Once we get you home, you can rest and recover properly.”
The anguish that filled Sullyan’s face dismayed Rienne. Tears welled in her eyes, and she was about to say something when the Major glanced warningly at her. Then Sullyan took a deep breath.
“Robin, I need you to take control of a Powersink. Everyone is drained and exhausted, so you must take over my powers too.”
Robin gasped and Bull sucked in a sharp breath. Rienne saw his amazed expression.
Sullyan ignored both. “Will you be strong enough?” she asked.
Robin seemed stunned and answered haltingly. “I’ll be strong enough, trust me.”