Authors: J. Leigh Bralick
Tags: #fantasy, #parallel world, #mythology, #atlantis, #portal
“
Oh, Merelin,” he murmured.
“Can you move at all?”
It took all my effort to choke out a voice.
“I don’t know. Everything…hurts.”
Enhyla appeared beside him, bending over me.
He reached out a calm hand, running it over my back until I winced.
Then he pushed a little harder, and I bit my lip to keep from
crying out in pain.
“
Nothing is broken. Not
that I can feel. I’m not sure about her arm.”
Yatol slid his arms around me, carefully and
gently pulling me away from my crushed position against the tree.
He held me while Enhyla examined my arm, prodding the bruised skin
to see if it was broken. I thought I was going to be sick.
“
Stop, stop,” Yatol said,
pushing Enhyla’s hand away.
“
I don’t believe it’s
broken. Just badly injured. The healer at Syarat’s camp can see to
it, if we can just get her there.”
“
I can try to walk,” I
said.
I watched Enhyla move away, going to join
Tyhlaur and Kurtis where they stood worried nearby. When he had
gone I glanced back up at Yatol, but he was staring at something in
the distance, jaw set.
“
Yatol, what
happened?”
He lowered his gaze, looking me in the eyes
until I blushed and turned away. After a moment he supported me
into a sitting position, keeping hold of me while I adjusted to
being upright. That’s when I saw Verin. I froze. I knew he was dead
without anyone telling me. I couldn’t tell how at first, until I
saw his head, twisted strangely, unnaturally. Just like his
knee.
My good hand shot up to my mouth. I’d never
seen a corpse before. His face like a mask. Glazed eyes staring
blankly in my direction. He couldn’t see me. He wasn’t there. I
didn’t realize I was shaking until I felt Yatol’s arm tighten
around my shoulder. He hugged me gently against his chest, his face
close to mine, shielding me so that I couldn’t see the body.
“
Don’t look, Merelin. You
don’t need to see that.”
“
Who did it?”
The question blurted out before I could stop
it. I didn’t want to know. Or I already knew the answer, and I
didn’t want to hear Yatol say it. For once I was glad of his
silence. I couldn’t process the idea, not just now. I needed to
think.
Yatol helped me to stand up, still staying
between the dead body and me. The world tottered a little when I
gained my feet, but Yatol didn’t let go of me. Every nerve in my
back flared with pain, making my legs wobble weakly, and I was
still shaking all over. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or some deep
residual fear. I tried drawing a breath to calm my racing pulse,
but it hurt too badly.
Idiot
.
“
Lohka! How far to the
camp?”
The redhead only half-turned to glance in
our direction, shame written all over his face.
“
Kurtis,” Yatol said,
gesturing to him. “Come help me.”
Kurtis came over and wrapped an arm around
me to help me stand. As soon as Yatol saw me steady he strode over
to Lohka.
“
Is she all right, Yatol?”
I heard Lohka murmur. “I never wanted that to happen. I didn’t know
that Verin would…”
“
Are you all right?” Kurtis
asked me. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t even realize what was
happening.”
“
I think so. I don’t
know.”
He nodded. “Can you walk?”
I tried a few tentative steps, forcing back
the grimace as I hugged my hurt arm to my chest. “I’ll manage.”
“
The camp isn’t far,” Yatol
said, coming back to us. “Apparently they were just there, trying
to steal rations. Merelin, if Kurtis and I help you, can you make
it?”
“
I’ll try.”
“
Do you really think Rim
will take the message to the city?” Kurtis asked.
“
I hope so,” Yatol said,
sighing. “They’re misguided fools, but they do have some
honor.”
“
Honor! They were stealing
rations.”
“
Kurtis!” I cried, staring
up at him. “You…you understood that.”
“
Understood
what?”
Suddenly I wanted to laugh, but I choked it
back – it hurt too much. Kurtis turned his gaze from me to Yatol,
the confusion on his face just priceless.
“
Maybe you were always
meant to come here, too,” I said.
A brief smile flashed across Yatol’s face.
“Come on, let’s go. It’s getting late.”
Chapter 16 – Camp
We left Lohka and the other rebel with
Verin’s body. Yatol asked them to come with us to the camp, but
couldn’t get any agreement out of either of them. Eventually we
just told them goodbye and set off. I have never been in so much
pain. Every step felt like my back would crumple, and every time I
flailed out my arm for balance the world shuddered in grey shadows.
Yatol never left my side. Kurtis, ecstatic about his new ability,
walked ahead with Tyhlaur and Enhyla, talking about God knows what.
For all that had just happened, he seemed remarkably happy.
Yatol wouldn’t say a word. I kept glancing
at him, torn between wishing he’d speak and hoping he wouldn’t. He
just kept his head down, his arm tight around me, his steps as slow
as I needed them to be. After a while even that snail’s pace got to
be unbearable.
“
Yatol, I need to
rest.”
“
It’ll hurt a lot worse if
you stop now. It’s just a little further.”
And he still wouldn’t look at me. Whatever
tangle of emotions was weighing on him seemed to seep right through
his hand into me. Confusion, grief, anger. I wished I could
understand. I wished I could make everything better. I couldn’t
even figure out what I felt. I tried to force away that image of
Verin, his head twisted, eyes blank and unseeing. He tried to kill
me. He tried to kill Yatol.
I closed my eyes. Stumbled at a sudden
searing shaft of pain. Didn’t even realize I was falling until
Yatol caught me. The next thing I knew, he was carrying me.
“
Damian,” I whispered.
“Yatol, they’re doing something to him. It’s like I can feel
it.”
He didn’t answer.
“
Where’s Akhmar? Why can’t
Akhmar come?”
“
We’re here.”
I craned my neck back to look, saw the tents
and fires and a buzz of activity near the center of the camp.
Tyhlaur, Kurtis and Enhyla made straight for the large pavilion,
and I made a noise of surprise when Yatol turned suddenly aside. He
carried me toward a small tent nearby, identical to all the others
except for the pole planted outside the entry. Ten carved gourds
dangled from it, knocking dully against each other in the mild
breeze.
“
Shan!” Yatol called as we
approached. He bent over me as he ducked into the hazy dark.
“Shan?”
When no answer came, Yatol dropped carefully
to the ground and deposited me on a soft bed of furs. I grimaced,
as much from feeling like a useless lump as from the searing
pain.
“
I can walk, Yatol,” I
said, snatching his hand. “Let’s just go to the pavilion. I’m all
right.”
He hesitated, then suddenly knelt beside me,
holding my left hand in both his own. “You’re in no condition to go
after Damian, Merelin. If you want to come with me, then let Shan
treat you.”
That shut me up. I watched him go, cringing
at the numb clawing ache in my back. And that other pain, the one I
knew wasn’t mine, burning and stinging all across my back and
arms.
“
Hold on, Damian,” I
whispered into the emptiness. “God, please don’t let them kill
him…”
Moments later Yatol returned with Shan, and
I actually gave a small gasp of surprise. The healer contradicted
all my expectations. I was sure he would be a wild-haired, wrinkled
old man, the kind with a staff and voluminous robes. But Shan was
no older than Yatol. He was wiry and totally bald, bare-chested and
covered with tattoos. Literally
covered
. The broad
reddish-brown swirls and dots laced all down his arms and across
his torso. I could even see the strange symbols wreathing his
calves beneath the knee-length hem of his black pants.
He lit a fire as soon as he entered,
striking the flint with a quick economy of motion. One sure strike
and the flame caught the tinder, and the tent erupted in light.
Then he was back on his feet, gripping Yatol’s arm as though in
belated greeting.
“
Verin and Lohka?” he said,
continuing some earlier conversation. “Saw them prowling about.
Wretches. Looked half-starved. Where are they now?”
“
We left Lohka.” A pause.
“Verin’s dead.”
Shan fixed Yatol with an intense stare, then
nodded once and without a word turned to me. I wondered if I should
try to sit up, but as if he read my mind he held out his hand and
shook his head.
“
Don’t move. What
happened?”
“
Um,” I said.
Great start, Merelin
. Now that we had
some light in the tent, I could actually see Shan’s face. Brown
dotted tattoos followed the lines of his cheeks and brows. They
framed the most crystalline blue eyes I have ever seen, even more
striking because his skin was so tanned. His mouth was set in an
unsmiling line, but I never thought for a moment that he was
unfriendly or unhappy. He had the sort of energetic joy that just
bubbled out of his whole being, even when his face was still as
stone.
I cast an uncertain glance at Yatol, but he
just met my gaze in silence, his face almost as expressionless as
Shan’s. I surveyed Shan one more time. Half of me expected him to
have suddenly morphed into a more appropriate-looking figure.
“
You’re a healer?” I
finally blurted. “You’re not old enough to be a healer!”
Shan did smile then, a broad grin that lit
up his whole face. Then as quickly as it had come it was gone.
“
But this isn’t about me.
Tell me what happened.”
I blushed and mumbled, “I hit a tree.”
He arched a brow.
“
I don’t know how it
happened! It was too fast.”
“
Verin,” Yatol said, very
quietly.
Shan glanced up at him. “Threw her into a
tree?”
Yatol nodded. Shan sighed and turned back to
me, looking me up and down once. “All right. Your arm got pinned.
Bruising, shallow cuts. Abrasion on your cheek. Hold still.”
I froze, and with one motion Shan rolled me
away from him, onto my good arm. I felt him tug briefly at the
tunic. My face burned as he pulled the cloth up to reveal my back,
but he was all business. His hand ran down my spine with steady
pressure, pausing when I winced suddenly in pain. I waited while he
prodded the area more carefully, just like Enhyla had, then
continued checking the rest of my back. Then he took my arm,
pushing back the sleeve as high as it would go, and felt over my
shoulder.
“
Stop!” I cried, cringing
and gritting my teeth.
Shan dropped his hands and stood up. “That’s
good news.”
“
What?”
“
Nothing is broken. Back is
bruised fairly severely. The swelling will be painful, cause some
weakness for a time. You stretched some of the sinews in your
shoulder, but nothing is out of place or fractured.”
“
I thought I hurt my
elbow.”
He nodded twice, cradling his chin on his
hand and thrumming his forefinger against his cheek. “Naturally.
The pain from the shoulder would spread down the arm.”
He moved away, rummaging through some clay
jars at the back of the tent. A smell like camphor and fresh cut
grass filtered into the air as he pried off one of the lids. With
the jar cradled in the crook of one arm, he kicked open a small
chest and pulled out two long pieces of cloth.
“
Help her sit up,” he said
without turning.
Yatol stooped wordlessly and helped me into
an upright position.
“
All right. This will ease
the pain a bit and bring down the swelling,” Shan said behind me,
rubbing some kind of cool salve onto my back.
He put the same stuff on my shoulder, and my
eyes and nose started watering with the smell. My skin tingled and
went numb, masking the pain. Shan wrapped my arm into a sort of
sling, then with the other strip of cloth bound it to my chest to
keep it still.
“
If you’re anything like
Yatol, I know you won’t listen to me. Just try to keep the bandage
on for at least a day. And don’t use that arm too much for at least
a week.” He poured some liquid into a shallow cup and handed it to
me. “Drink. This will help the pain and the healing.”