The Quest for the Lost Shards of Power

by F M Andrews

  “Look out!” Instinctively everyone ducked as a large rock slammed into the ground next to Dissan.

  “Quick, move to the centre of Nyssan’s field. As far from the edges as you can,” Dissan shouted above the constant roar. Several people had minor injuries, some from the battle, some from flying debris and Errin’s help was in high demand. It was so surreal, sitting in the middle of a raging storm calmly lighting a fire and making poultices and potions. A procession of faces passed through her hands and time slipped by.

  “Hold still! I can’t clean this if you keep jumping around like a jack rabbit,” she exclaimed, trying to pick out a piece of rock from a knight’s forehead. Several onlookers laughed and the knight looked sheepish. Nyssan stopped laughing suddenly and held up his hand for quiet. He had the look of someone concentrating very hard to hear something.

  “Holy shit!” he blurted. “I think I can hear a guardian calling.” He looked up, grinning from ear to ear. This was amazing news. Renewed hope leapt into weary eyes. Nyssan clamped his hands over his ears in a vain attempt to block out the howling storm.

  “He must be coming out to meet us if Nyssan can hear him,” Errin whispered to Hexrick. No doubt those left behind the boundary had seen the storm – it would be hard to miss – and had decided to come and help.

  “Yes! Yes, it is Temrill and he can hear me,” Nyssan yelled, punching the air. Help was on its way.

  #

  Zail looked up, concentrating hard on a disturbance he felt, the still beating heart paused halfway to his mouth.

  The pulse of magic that had caught his attention had been brief but nevertheless it had left ripples to read. He had worked tirelessly to eradicate any talent that might manifest itself. Simple extermination of anyone who showed the least bit of talent was the easiest but he had also sown a culture of absolute intolerance and fear for magic workers across the worlds. Most talented people were killed by their own before they could grow into their full power. This disturbance was unusual but it had come and gone before he could get a fix on it and he knew that it would be pointless to try and search it out.

  He sighed, returning to the job at hand. It wasn't as if he particularly enjoyed eating live, raw hearts but the pure terror this act elicited was so tantalizing it made the chewy morsel worth it. In the guise of a vengeful volcano god he had descended on the town, chosen a comely maiden, one with lots of adoring family, and proceeded to demand a sacrifice. This always caused a tasty mix of desperation, self-loathing, anger, hatred and fear. He licked his lips savouring this juicy offering, focusing on that instead of the rather unappetizing flesh he was now chewing, warm blood dripping off his chin.

  The disturbance had bothered him and he was still pondering it when he caught the faint whiff of more talent being used and this time it had something familiar about it, something he had not felt in a long time. It was almost like that bitch’s, but so much weaker and more subtle. A shiver of trepidation and excitement tingled down his spine. Could he really have found her at last? Had she finally made a mistake? He could not ignore this and, wiping his chin with the back of his hand, he gave a god-like roar and disappeared in a ball of fire.

  It was time to go investigating.

  #

  Errin rubbed tired eyes and yawned.

  Dawn was not far away but this knowledge gave her no solace as this was the time when souls are most likely to flee the body and Hezrill was clinging to life by a fine thread, a thread that could snap at any moment. It had been a relief to finally ride into camp – never had tents pitched in the snow looked so good – but the euphoria had not lasted long. It had soon become obvious that Hezrill was too weak for surgery and, now that Errin had had a chance to have a good look at the injury, she was not certain that she could extract the arrow head without causing irreparable damage. She leaned back in her chair, tilting her head to look up at the peaked roof of the tent, sighed and then brought her gaze down again to Anssan sleeping in the chair beside Hezrill’s cot. Even sleeping he looked haggard. This has taken a huge toll on him. She had tried to shoo him away to get some proper rest but he had insisted on staying. Errin gave him a small, sad smile. Love was never predictable and it often chose the worse time to arrive.

  She stood and stretched, groaning as her poor body protested. Anssan stirred, waking, his blue eyes looking even more intense than usual in his pale, drawn face. He didn’t say anything, there was nothing to say, but he did raise an enquiring eyebrow. Errin sighed and sat down again, leaning forward, her elbows on her thighs and her hands cupping her chin.

  “Sadly, there is nothing to report, there has been no change,” she said looking down at Hezrill. “She is not responding to anything I can do here.” She waved her hand to indicate Feld. “I think our only chance is to take her back into the wilderness so I can help her with magic.”

  Anssan struggled to sit up straight. “But won’t Zail hear you?” he asked, scrubbing his hands through his hair.

  “No, not if I am very quiet,” Errin replied. “If I operate as I would normally and only use a minute amount of talent to help stem the bleeding and shield her spine I will only make a tiny noise and, hopefully, I won’t be noticed.”

  “I will come with you,” Anssan stated flatly, brooking no denial. Errin just nodded.

  “I would welcome your company but at the moment we are both too tired to do anything. We need a clear head and only sleep will provide that. We also need daylight. I will ask Dissan to come and sit with Hezrill so we can both get some rest. I will see you in the morning.” She rose to leave but stopped and turned, her hand on the tent flap. “You know she will fight this. She has so much to live for now,” she reassured him before slipping into the night.

  After Errin left, Anssan sat staring at Hezrill. Her inert body bore no resemblance to the Hezrill he knew. An image of her smiling face, vibrant and alive threatened to overwhelm him. He thought of the first time he met her and pictured her surrounded by her loving family, her sisters and her doting parents. How was he going to face them and tell them that the girl that they had intrusted into his care had died? Worse! She had died because he had been unable to save her. A sob threatened to unman him thoroughly.

  “Hello,” Dissan said softly, popping his head through the tent flap. “How is she?”

  Anssan gathered himself. He wanted to scream, “Can’t you see she is dying!” But he swallowed his words and managed to say, “She’s sleeping.”

  Dissan sat down in the chair Errin had so recently vacated and nodded. No more was said and inevitably, Anssan could no longer not fight the exhaustion that fell like a warm heavy blanket over his body and he dozed.

  He woke to find himself sitting on a grassy hill. The sky was a pale blue and a warm summer breeze sent ripples through the grass, up the hill, over the top to continue on down the other side. He didn’t question the fact he was here, it felt as if he belonged. He scanned the horizon but the landscape was empty, just grass and sky.

  “Beautiful isn’t it?” It was a voice he knew so well and longed to hear again. He turned and there she was, sitting next to him, a daisy chain headdress holding her hair off her beautiful face. “I always come here when I am frightened. It is my special place.” She smiled up at him. “I never thought I would get to share it with someone else. I am so glad you are here because there is something I have to tell you.” Anssan knew instinctively that he did not want to hear whatever she was going to say so he took her in his arms to postpone her news for as long as possible. She felt so warm, so real, he could even smell the flowers in her hair. “It is no good Anssan, we cannot hide from death.” She sighed, leaning into his chest but looking out across the windswept grass. “But before I go, I wanted to let you know how much you have meant to me. You see me, not a lady of the manor, not the little girl out in the big world, not the wizard in training, but me and I am so grateful for that. You are a good man, a lovely man and I am sure you will find love again. I only ask that you don’t forget me.”
She turned and looked pleadingly into his eyes. “Let me live on in your memory, because that is where I am the most real.” As if to contradict her last words she softly dissolved in his arms and became no more substantial than the wisp of cloud that was now passing overhead.

  “No! No, no, no you can’t leave me…. Please, please,” he screamed. But she had gone.

  Anssan woke with a jolt, nearly tipping over his chair as he stood. Something was terribly wrong. Dissan was standing just inside the door, hands on hips breathing heavily as if he had been running and Errin was kneeling next to Hezrill’s cot, feeling her pulse, concentrating hard. Finally she sat back on her heals. “I am so sorry Anssan,” she whispered. “There is nothing I can do.”

  Anssan shook his head in denial. “There has to be something,” he sobbed, falling to his knees. “She can’t ... She ….” He dropped his head into his hands as huge sobs wracked his body. “There must be something,” he breathed, staring at Hezrill’s still form.

  “Even I can’t bring people back from the dead,” Errin sighed. “I wish I could.”

  “But she isn’t dead yet, is she?” Dissan said, a thoughtful look on his face. “I am wondering if you can somehow slow her body down. I don’t know,” he opened his arms, hands up, as if waiting to catch any inspiration that might fall his way. “Maybe you could put her into hibernation until you have a chance to operate on her safely?” he finished lamely.

  Errin lifted her eyes towards him. “You have been spending too much time with young Turrin I think. That is something he would say.” It was amazing how much she missed the boy. Had he really only been gone for one day? But Dissan’s words had triggered a distant memory. It was elusive but she doggedly chased it down. “I think that there is something I once used a long time ago,” she mused. “It is very dangerous so I don’t usually carry it with me. You have to get the dosage exactly right, too much and she will die so it is only to be used as a last resort.” The tent fell silent as everyone digested all the ramifications of that statement. Errin took a deep breath, gathered herself and made a decision. “The good thing is that the plant grows at the edge of the forest in rotten logs so there should be some close by.” A new sense of purpose stirred within her. “Anssan, grab the lantern and come with me. Dissan boil some water.” Glad to be taking action at last, Anssan jumped to his feet and followed her out of the tent.

  Dawn was still only a pale line on the horizon as they set out. It was the coldest part of the night. Ice crystals formed almost immediately on his eyebrows and eyelashes, the only part of him exposed to the air. The cold was all encompassing, wrapping itself around him and immersing him completely until every part of him was shivering, but he hardly noticed it. Together they stomped through the icy snow towards the nearby trees. The lantern light seemed feeble in the vast darkness yet, for some reason, it offered a modicum of reassurance. After what seemed like a lifetime, Errin proclaimed, “Found it!” as she pounced on a scraggly looking specimen. Brushing away the snow she carefully dug the whole plant out and placed it in her satchel. “Don’t worry, you have to boil it to extract the toxin. You won’t die from just touching it,” Errin reassured Anssan after seeing his concerned look.

  They raced back with their prize and in no time Errin was squeezing carefully measured drops past Hezrill’s lips. Slowly a waxen sheen crept across her face, giving her the appearance of a porcelain doll. This was the only change that Anssan could see. “There, it is done!” Errin said sitting back, her brow furrowed in concern as she stared at Hezrill. “I cannot tell if it is for the better or the worse, but it is done and there is no turning back now. We need to act fast. I will prepare all my equipment if you can see to everything else we need?”

  The day had progressed to noon by the time everything was ready and they had ridden far enough away from the boundary that Errin could use her talent. They had set up a covered wagon with all Errin’s equipment and herbs as an operating room for Hezrill. A fire had been lit and water was boiling. If the ride had affected Hezrill she showed no sign of it. In fact, there had been absolutely no change in her at all. Errin donned a clean apron, washed her hands and, with a last look at surrounding anxious faces, she ducked under the wagons awning and disappeared.

  Once inside she steadied herself with a few quick mind calming exercises. It was going to be complicated. She needed every bit of nerve, skill and luck she could muster. “Piece of cake, girl, you've done this before,” she told herself, picking up the knife. First she cut open the skin around the arrow head to expose it. Blood seeped into the wound. She needed another hand to mop it up but with both Turrin and Myssan gone she had to use magic, just the smallest amount, just a whisper. Ah! There it was. A nasty looking object of crude cast iron and splintered wood. Very gently she began to remove it, all the time probing to ‘see’ what damage she was causing. “Steady, nice and smooth,” she whispered encouragement to herself.

  She knew that a major artery had pushed itself up against the arrow head. This was the main reason she had been reluctant to operate without magic as it would have meant certain death. Slowly, so slowly, she drew the metal upwards all the time ‘looking’ to see what damage it was causing. She was committed now. With a catch of her breath she sensed the ragged edge nick the artery wall. Carefully she concentrated all her energy and talent towards repairing the jagged rip, healing it as the arrow moved, stemming the blood flow that threatened to drown Hezrill. It was slow and took all her effort, both physically and mentally. It took all her concentration, all her focus but when the dark chill reached out to brush her soul it tore through them both in an instant. The feeling was so familiar that she knew with a paralyzing fear that he had found her. Desperately she shut everything down, hoping against hope that he was just passing, casting his net wide, waiting for something big to ring the alarm bells. Maybe he would overlook any small activity. She had forgotten how terrifyingly empty his touch made you feel. It was like being at the bottom of a dark pit that was beginning to fill with water. It was vital that she kept the tension on the arrow head and continued to pull it out. Any hesitation would only cause more damage. Slowly but smoothly she continued even though she was effectively ‘blind’ now, yet still, she held onto the last vision she had, which had shown the blade lying only a hair's breadth from Hezrill’s spinal cord. Any slight deviation, even a shaking hand would cause irreparable damage.

  It was all so unfair. She had been so close. She forced the feeling of injustice and frustration away and continued her gruesome task. With a horrible wet, sucking sound the blade finally released its grip and came free. Errin was surprised how small it was considering the huge amount of damage it had caused. She shook her head, mentally telling herself that there was no time for this now. They had to flee. She could not take the chance that he would not come and investigate her small use of magic.

  Quickly she placed a poultice on the wound and held it in place with strong bandages. Stitching would have to wait until they were safe again. Lifting the flap of the wagon she called to Dissan. “We need to ride…fast. Burn the wagon, we can’t leave any evidence behind.” Then she turned to Hexrick, the biggest and strongest of the knights. “Can you ride with her? She can be moved now that I have removed the arrow head but the less movement the better. Give her as smooth a ride as you can.” Hexrick nodded, nudging Tilda forward as Dissan began to issue orders.

  Once again they were racing towards the boundary. Errin could not help but think she was responsible. It had been her choice to take Hezrill into the waste lands, her choice to use her talent to save one life. Was it all because she could not bear Anssan’s piercingly sad eyes? Or was it more? Had she made the wrong choice? She still did not know if Hezrill would live, let alone recover. There was also a distinct possibility that she might never walk again. Was her choice to try and save Hezrill going to be the mistake that would cost Feld its freedom? She looked around at the grim faces of the determined knights riding next to her, the men who had given every
thing for the cause, and a slow smile crept across her face as the truth stole her concerns away. The truth was that everyone riding beside her had also been prepared to risk all for the life of a single person, for the sake of love, because it was the decent thing to do. That was the difference between this world and a world he ruled. This is what they were fighting for, the right to care about others. In the end she knew that the decision to try and save Hezrill was the only decision she could have possibly made.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Turrin collapsed.

  His feet hit the ground hard, and his knees gave way. He was winded, disorientated and had stars dancing before his eyes. There had been no warning. He couldn’t tell how long he had been floating in the complete nothingness of limbo but the sudden drop at the end, announced, painfully, that he had arrived somewhere. He blinked to get rid of the swirling stars and took a cautious look around.

  The first thing that struck him was the silence. The only sound was from a gentle breeze buffeting his ears. The second thing he noticed was the light. The sky was a turquoise green shading to pink on the horizon. Small wispy clouds could be seen high overhead but there was no sign of a sun. He spun around, scanning the sky for it and discovered that the light was stronger in one direction, suggesting a setting sun.

  Apart from a distant mountain range there was not much else to see really. The ground he stood on was devoid of plant life, just flat hard packed earth that seemed to extend in all directions. The only thing that broke up the monotony was a series of strange, dark lines that crisscrossed the landscape. It looked like a field he had seen back home once during a bad drought when the parched earth had shrunk creating islands of hard dirt surrounded by deep cracks but here the scale was so much bigger.