by Jena Rey
“Now, here we have a Priestess without others of her faith or ability to really teach her about what she’s doing. It seems many of her actions are instinct. So she’s been instinctively gathering power her whole life, but her home in the mountains would have given her a lot of protection from picking up too much magic. She probably didn’t see many people on any given day, and the magic castings off of a deer aren’t going to be hard to deal with.
“But you brought her to a city, and not just one but through several more. She’s been building up a magical store, and only bleeding it off when actively healing someone, or when it naturally bleeds off on its own, which isn’t quick enough. And then tonight, something happened, a connection with deity from the look of it, but she’s got too much stored magic and there’s ambient magic messing with the process.”
“Ambient magic?”
Adamana shrugged. “Well, this is a major Temple to the Dark One. Osephetin has many Priests and acolytes in residence here. Between them and all you lovely Knights running around all over the place, his influence is everywhere. All those major sources of magic can’t make it good for one lone Daughter to try to commune with her Goddess. She’s just overwhelmed. To bring her back we’re going to have to drain off some of that power. In a perfect world, we would have seen it coming and taken her to a healing house to help people. Healing is a really good focus for the excess, and probably why she didn’t notice before given she was watching after three Knights. So, we’ll have to do it the hard way. Clear as mud?”
“The hard way.” Darian frowned. “What exactly is the hard way?”
The priest answered with a tight grin. “We’re going to bleed it off through you. Me too, a little, but mostly you. She probably won’t kill you. She might kill me.”
“She?”
“Ephema, or the Goddess through her. The line between the two is a little strained right now. She wants help. She keeps asking for it. But she doesn’t know the extent of the power she carries, so it’s going to lash out until she brings it under control.”
“Ah.” Darian swallowed past the lump of concern in his throat, looked down at Ephema, and then back at Adaman. “Very well. What do I do?”
Adaman gestured at Ephema. “Just take her hands.” He shifted his stool and put his hands on Darian’s shoulders. “And hold on for the ride.”
“That’s it, huh?” Darian shook his head. “You make it sound as easy as one of Ianel’s afternoon excursions.” He held his hands near Ephema’s, hearing a crackle of static as he did. The hairs on his hands and arms stood on end, sending a shiver through his body. Darian glanced at Adaman who nodded.
Darian hesitated a moment more, then grabbed Ephema’s hands. It wasn’t as gentle as he wanted, but if he was slow, he knew he would falter. His heart pounded with uncertainty, and he tensed, prepared for pain. There was an instant where nothing happened, her hands warm and soft in his. Then an odd, earthy scent filled his nose, like grass after a summer rain, followed by a bolt of light and pain. He’d felt pain when he’d taken his oaths, but this was a different kind of punishment, raw and aching and there was nothing he could do to make it ease.
“Osephetin’s blood!” Gritting his teeth, Darian nearly let go. His hands burned, the sensation riding through his body and straight through his back where Adaman held on. He heard an echoed hiss of pain from the Adaman, who tightened his grip. Darian grimaced and closed his eyes, trying to focus on the experience, to ignore everything other than not crushing Ephema’s hands and to wait for the pain to stop.
Light flashed around their hands, so intense he could see other colors in it, and it left him all but blind. He heard screaming and it took Darian a moment to realize it wasn’t in his ears, but something he heard in his mind. Ephema’s fingers spasmed, but he didn’t let go. The stench of burning flesh followed, and Darian realized it came from their joined hands. How long could this go on?
He closed his eyes and sent up a silent, fervent prayer to Osephetin, though he didn’t pray for his own safety, but Ephema’s and Adaman’s. The light flashed again and again, and when he thought he’d never see again, the room went dark. He heard a soft clunk and clatter as the blank globe fell to the floor and rolled to the far wall.
Adaman’s head rested against Darian’s back, the priest breathing heavily, but at least he was breathing. Darian blinked, but it took several minutes before he could see clearly again. Ephema was still, her features finally calm though marked by her long struggle. Darian tried to speak, but his voice came out as a croak. He coughed, cleared his throat, then managed. “Is it over? Is she going to be okay?”
The dark silence drew out before Adaman responded. He pushed himself upright and released Darian’s shoulders so he could hold his own head in his hands. “Yes. It’s over. She’s out of immediate danger, though more is to come. I must speak to the High Priest. I must…” Adaman half-rose from his stool and then sat back down, missed the stool and ended up on the floor. “Or this…this floor is nice.”
Darian tried to help him and nearly fell over as well. His arms and back ached and burned, and even now the smell of burnt flesh and hair hung over the room. “Oh dammit. Just stay still, Adaman. I can’t help you yet. I don’t think…” He blinked as his vision swam. “Whoa. I don’t think I should move either.”
Ephema gasped softly, coming awake all at once and coughing. She rolled onto her side, her eyes finally open. Once the fit passed, she stared up at Darian. Her eyes shone with a silver light that pierced him to the core, then she blinked and the woman he knew peered out of her gaze. When she managed to speak it was barely more than a whisper. “Darian, you’re hurt!”
Darian smiled weakly. He really wanted to fall down onto the bed face first, but Ephema was already there and moving sounded like it would hurt. “Yeah. I am, but it’s not just me. Adaman is hurt as well. Help him first, if you can. He needs to go speak to the High Priest. I can wait.”
Ephema frowned, sitting up slowly and then nearly falling off the cot to kneel between the men. She laid one hand on Darian’s leg and the other on Adaman’s shoulder, closing her eyes and whispering a prayer.
Nothing happened.
She clenched her fingers and tried again. And again. Slowly her hands fell away from the men, and she stared at them. “I can’t. I don’t feel any power.”
Adaman lay back on the floor, his arm over his eyes. He laughed, a hoarse, thready sound. “Course not. We had to take it from you to get through to the Goddess and make the communion stop. I think you’ll be fine in a few days, but until then we’re on our own.” He groaned. “I could really use that wine now.”
Ephema attempted to scramble to her feet and nearly fell back over, her steps as unstable as a new colt even though she was still in better shape than Darian or Adaman. She half crawled, half stumbled to the door and pulled it open to Tabor and Sian’s anxious expressions. “Help.”
Chapter Eighteen
Darian grimaced as he waited for Fressin and Kadama to finish puttering around in the makeshift infirmary. He wasn’t sure why everyone in the Temple agreed that he and Ephema should stay here instead of going to the hospital, and why Fressin and Kadama were the go-to people to care for them. His brother had never been the type to give much concern for the physical well-being of his fellow man.
“Since when did you become a physician, Fressin?” Darian did what he could to relax, but it was difficult. Burns began at his fingertips and spread up his arms and across his back and shoulders, with particular spikes of pain at his elbows, wrists, and the joints of his hands. It was difficult to do much of anything, his thoughts clouded with pain.
“What? You’re the only one allowed to be humanitarian? The function of the human body is fascinating.” Fressin tossed a bandage to Kadama, who caught it easily. “And there are records of ways to increase healing that no one at the hospital wants to consider. This is a golden opportunity.” He nodded to Kadama. “Take that one to the Daughter, then see if there ar
e any more in the cabinet over there.”
“Of course.” Kadama placed a few bundles of herbs she had been carrying on the table in front of Darian, carefully juggling the herbs and the armload of dressings.
“It’s just a new side to you, that’s all. It’s not a bad thing.” Darian winced as he shifted, not sure he liked the sound of being Fressin’s golden opportunity. Shouldn’t his brother have been more focused on the scroll than on healing methods? And why was it only Ephema and himself? Where was Adaman? “So what are you going to do?”
“We’re going to start with Ephema.” Fressin glanced at her. “You were only burned on your hands and wrists, correct?”
Ephema blinked as he spoke to her. It seemed to take her a moment to process what was being said, her gaze not moving much from her hands which bore the same burns and blisters Darian’s did. “Yes. Only here.”
“Good. That’ll be easier to apply and monitor.” Fressin snapped his fingers to get Kadama’s attention, but the woman was already in motion, bringing him a bowl of greenish liquid. Fressin took up a second bowl and pestle and crushed herbs in it as he joined Ephema. He put the bowl down and accepted the liquid from Priestess Kadama then sat down on a chair. He produced a small brush from a pocket in his shirt. “I want you to turn your hands upward as best you can, and I’m going to brush this on it. I’ll warn you now, it’s going to be cold and sting, but that will go away very quickly. Do not get any of it in your mouth; it’s poisonous.”
Ephema frowned slightly, glancing at Darian before looking back to his brother. The globe necklace hung in place again, though it was dark now, the usually white stone reflecting grey. “I will not eat it.” She agreed, holding her hands out.
Fressin dabbed the viscous concoction onto her hands, using the brush to spread an even coating of the liquid on her savaged skin. True to his word, Ephema gasped when the remedy touched her wounds, and she jerked her hands away. If she felt anything like he did, Darian wondered how she could feel any more pain. But, after a couple of moments, she relaxed and Fressin was able to finish the work. When he was done, he set the liquid aside and picked up the crushed herbs, sprinkling them liberally onto the goo on her hands. He turned her fingers this way and that to be sure the coverage was complete before he wrapped her hands loosely in clean bandages.
Darian watched with interest, though he wasn’t looking forward to the process. “What is that stuff?”
“Which, the herbs or the poultice?” Kadama returned with more bandages and herb bundles, setting them up near Darian.
“Both. Though I’m more concerned about the goo.”
Kadama snickered as she peeled herb leaves from their stalks. “I bet you are. The poultice is a mixture Fressin and I came up with after working with some of the locals and analyzing a herbology book. They needed something to dull the pain of injuries until they could be moved to the hospital. We found that a mixture of stinging nettle, a bit of poisonous mushroom, and some jellyfish stinger venom will dull pain for about three to four hours. It’s not dangerous as long as you don’t eat it.”
Darian blinked, pulled from the painful haze he slipped into all too easily. “You’re putting that on an open wound? Are you insane?”
Ephema closed her eyes, her fingers twitching as Fressin finished the bandaging. “It helps.” She admitted softly. “Though it hurts a lot first. Now, it’s numb.”
“What about Adamana?” Darian protested. “He’ll need this too. Where’s he?”
“Nervous, little brother?” Fressin smirked as he gathered up the remnants of his work and moved everything to the table Kadama had set near Darian. “Adaman’s wounds are nowhere as severe as yours and Ephema’s. His can be healed with rest, time, and in his words, wine. Tabor has him under good care. He will be fine until the Daughter here has regained her magic.” He peered at Darian’s shoulders. “In the meantime, it’s your turn.”
Darian sighed. “Let’s get this over with.”
Ephema tugged at the bandages covering her hands, working at the complex knots. Two days of enduring Fressin’s ministrations had been more than enough for her. She understood that he meant well, but he didn’t seem to care that his cures hurt. His work on the scroll had been temporarily assigned to Sian, so he’d decided this was a chance for experimenting with his mixture and bothered both she and Darian multiple times a day to change their bandages and try something new. After the last time she had flat refused to allow him near her again, no matter how well meant his efforts were.
She put the stained bandages to the side, holding her hands up in front of her face. While Fressin’s brew helped with pain, it did not truly heal. She needed her hands, and this morning as the dawn had come, she’d felt the warmth of healing power within her again. She’d never been able to heal her own wounds before, but no one else could do it for her, and she was determined to try again.
Ephema closed her eyes, feeling for the divine magic inside of her like a tiny, cool star. She’d been using her gifts almost continually since Darian had come to her doorstep, and with each healing she felt stronger and more confident in her abilities. The Goddess had blessed her with this gift, and her faith grew each time. Healing herself shouldn’t be so difficult, unless the Goddess specifically didn’t allow it, and she didn’t know any way to find that out. It wasn’t like the Goddess answered her prayers with words.
Brushing those thoughts aside, Ephema concentrated and prayed, focusing on turning her healing inward instead of outward. The magic inside of her resisted the new direction, and Ephema doubled her efforts, silently pleading with the Goddess to help her. Her hands throbbed in time with her heartbeat. “Please. Please.” She felt like she was pushing with all her might against a stone wall, and just as her strength began to fail something popped inside of her. Cooling, healing power rushed through her body and over her skin, stealing her breath away.
She felt her hands healing, the new skin growing up under the ruined flesh and sloughing it off. It was like a puzzle where everything was wrong and the pulse of life slid the pieces around until they were right again. This time it was her own body that was the puzzle. The minutes stretched forth and finally the sensation eased. She opened her eyes, staring at her hands which were perfect and whole. Her fingers wrapped around the globe; the stone again warm to her touch. “Thank you.”
She pushed to her feet, joy bubbling through her at the new turn of her abilities and the thought she could help Darian now. Then she paused, pondering that thought more deeply. She and Darian hadn’t really spoken since the incident. He’d been mostly confined to the makeshift infirmary, where Fressin and Kadama fussed over him day and night. For as much as she hated her bandage changes, he had to hate them ten times more. Did he blame her for his pain? Would he even want her to heal him?
Ephema gave herself a shake. Of course he would want to be healed, that would be much better than enduring Fressin’s concoction, but would he want her around after this? After he’d seen how dangerous she could be? She hadn’t meant for any of this to happen, but good intentions weren’t a very strong argument. It shouldn’t matter if he told her to leave him alone, but it mattered to her. He was her friend, and she couldn’t imagine going a day without seeing him. He had to understand that she would never do him harm on purpose.
She flexed her hands, the newly healed skin still feeling tight, but she thought that would ease. She needed to heal Darian. Whatever happened after that she would face when it came. So decided, she made her way to the infirmary and knocked softly on the door.
It opened to Fressin’s scowl, and Ephema did her best not to duck away from him. Behind him, Kadama poured more of the numbing agent into a container. “We’re about to change his bandages again. It would be better if you come back later. Unless you need more.”
Ephema shook her head. She acknowledged there was a nicer side to Fressin, but she still didn’t like him very much. She held up her hands. “No more bandaging. I can help him now.”
&n
bsp; “Oh. Well, I guess that’s encouraging. So, your magic’s back then?” At her nod, he sighed. “No more testing, I guess. Very well. I want to take another look at how much progress he’s made before you heal him. Not everyone, okay, almost no one, has your capabilities just within arms’ reach, and it’s imperative we get this mixture as potent and effective as we can.” His voice dropped, and she almost didn’t hear his mutter. “At least it would be something useful I can do.”
She glanced at the room beyond before answering. “That would be up to Darian. He…I…we both appreciate your efforts.”
Fressin checked to see where Kadama was before he spoke again, his voice still low. “Just bring him back, all right? It’s obvious he’s not just going to stay safe, so wherever it is you two are directed next, or however many are going, I don’t know…just, bring him back.” He held the door open for her and stepped aside to allow her entry. “It’ll be just as well to be done here. I need to go back to the scroll.”
Ephema paused, the desperation in his voice catching her, making her dislike of him seem petty and small. She touched Fressin’s shoulder, magic teasing her skin. “I promise. He’ll come back.” She wasn’t sure if it was good to make such promises, but she did it anyway. If she had any say in it, Fressin wouldn’t lose any more family.
“I’ll hold you do that.” Fressin cleared his throat. “Hey, lunkhead. You have a visitor.”
Darian tried to turn around to see who had entered, but his back was to the door, and he was unable to move quickly due to the mass of bandages. “Well, all right. Come on in visitor. Just please don’t bring stinging nettle with you. I don’t think I can take any more of that today.”