Set in Stone (37 page)

Something clicked in Connor's mind and he again remembered the odd conversation he'd had with Marcas after the battle with the pedras. He'd said it was rare to show a secondary affinity without training. Secondary affinities were established with sedimentary stones, either for healing or light. He'd also been terribly interested in Connor's sandstone pendant gifted to him from Aunt Ailsa.

It could not hurt to explore the connection, so he focused hard. With agonizing slowness, he inched his right hand up to his throat and weakly clutched the pendant, an intricately carved image of a bear. Its rear legs were looking worn. He wasn't surprised. He'd tumbled and fallen enough to have broken the little pendant in half.

Connor focused on the pendant. Although not a powdered igneous stone like granite or basalt, there must be a way to use its power. Sandstone healed and he needed healing, so he closed his eyes and focused, although he could barely feel the pendant in his numb fingers.

For long minutes, nothing happened, but it wasn't like he had anything better to do, so he stubbornly kept at it. As his concentration deepened, the constant aching of his muscles faded, as did the sounds of men moving nearby or screaming as shattered bones were set. Eventually Connor reached a place of deep meditation he'd rarely found even while sitting atop barren mountain tops.

In that moment, gentle warmth began flowing into his hand from the sandstone pendant. Like the rising of the sun melting the early morning frost, the fragile warmth eased his pains and revitalized his limbs. The dead numbness faded, and he breathed deep for the first time since his Curse struck him down.

Connor lay like that for several minutes, drinking in the wonder of the magical healing. The flow increased as his affinity with sandstone grew. Then it changed to a flood, as if some hidden door sprang open in his soul.

Connor gasped and sat up in one convulsive move. He dropped the sandstone pendant and stared in awe at his hand. It still tingled with the healing warmth that spread throughout his body. He'd never felt so good.

Grinning like a fool, Connor leaped to his feet. The rear legs of the pendant looked much more worn than before, so he carefully tucked it into his jacket.

He'd done it!

He'd proven Marcas right. He really did have an affinity for sandstone. This had to help his chances of confirming Patronage.

He found Marcas just as the old Healer set a soldier's badly broken leg, drawing the bone smoothly back into the torn flesh. The man screamed and writhed in Marcas' assistant's strong grasp.

Marcas glanced at Connor, then looked again. "I thought you were hurt, boy."

"I was."

"I'm glad someone found the time to tend you."

"They didn't. I tended myself."

Marcas gave Connor his full attention. "You did now, did you?"

He held out the sandstone pendant. "You were right. I can reach this."

Marcas gestured at the injured man lying on the cot.

"Show me."

Chapter 38

"I don't know how," Connor said.

"I will guide you," Marcas assured him.

"Can't it wait?"

Marcas shook his head. "This is a rare opportunity, boy. No one heals so quick without training. Your pendant there is a wondrous gift, and I believe it's unlocked talent you might never have known."

Connor hesitantly moved to Marcas' side. The soldier lying on the cot moaned, "Stop jabbering, and just fix my leg!"

"Shush," Marcas said, "and we might just get you healed faster."

The soldier's trousers were cut away to reveal a deep gash in his thigh where the bone had burst through the skin. He looked pale from loss of blood, and pain lines etched his face.

"Grasp the leg here beside the wound," Marcas directed, and moved Connor's left hand to the soldier's leg. He placed his own right hand on the opposite side and pressed inward. "Hold it closed."

The soldier gasped, and Marcas shushed him. "Now, focus."

"On what?"

"Spirits preserve me. On the pendant, of course."

Connor did so, although he was deeply aware of Marcas' intense stare, the soldier's distrustful one, and Marcas' assistant's curious one. He tried to return to the solitary, quiet place in his mind, but found it all but impossible.

The soldier's skin burned fever hot under his hand, and warm blood trickled between his fingers. Every pained breath of the man only heightened his tension.

He tried to reach past that, to will the healing magic into his hand from the pendant. He'd done it for himself, he could do it again.

After half a minute that seemed to take an eternity, a gentle whisper of warmth flowed through his fingers. He grinned and drew upon that tiny trickle.

Suddenly he connected with the pendant, and the flood gates opened again. Warm healing power burst in upon his soul and filled him to capacity. It washed away his tension and fear.

"I feel it."

"Good. Now, focus on the wound. Feel that."

Connor closed his eyes and concentrated. Somehow, filled with the gentle power of sandstone, he could feel the soldier's wound, as if he could see with his fingers. Hopefully it wouldn't prove to be a permanent effect because there were lots of things he did with his fingers he really didn't want to see that clearly.

Marcas spoke gently, and explained what Connor saw through his hands. Together, they explored the jagged gash in the skin until Connor understood it to a degree he'd never have imagined. He saw how the bone had ripped the skin, how the muscle had swollen from the wound, and how the pieces needed to connect back together.

Carried on the current of the old man's voice and whispers of healing magic that flowed from his hand into the soldier's leg, Connor's mind probed deeper. There he found the bone, snapped in half, with the pieces now re-aligned under the Healer's hand. He noted the torn tendons and ripped muscles.

He'd field dressed many kills, but had never seen the pieces of a body so clearly. To do so while the patient's skin still remained intact and he still breathed was a wonder unimaginable even moments before.

Marcas continued speaking, and under his direction, Connor focused the healing power into the wounded soldier. He molded it with his will like clay inside the man's leg, binding it to the broken leg, the rent flesh, and mending it together like his mother might mend a ripped shirt.

Some time later, Connor stepped away from the soldier, and almost fell as he returned to his normal senses. He stared in wonder at the new flesh that replaced what had been broken and torn.

"Wow."

Marcas laughed softly and clapped Connor on the back. "Wow indeed, boy. I've never seen such a gift, nor such a grasp of the concepts."

"You showed me."

"A guide can show a path, but you walked it."

The soldier looked up at them, "So, I don't feel so bad any more. I hear sometimes that's a bad sign."

"Not this time." Marcas grabbed the soldier's hand and hauled him upright. The man shouted in delight as he stood on his own feet. "I can't believe it," he laughed and gave Marcas a bear hug. "Thank you!"

"Thank the boy. He did the work."

The soldier stared at Connor and then glanced back at Marcas, as if expecting some kind of joke before laughing again and pumping Connor's hand. "I am in your debt, lad."

Then he ran along the line of injured soldiers, exclaiming that he'd been completely healed. That triggered an avalanche of questions and pleas for help.

Marcas faced him. "Looks like we have a busy day ahead of us."

"Us?"

"Would you let people suffer when you can help?"

"Of course not."

"Then come. I'll teach you how to check for internal bleeding."

Chapter 39

The day passed in a blur for Connor who got lost in a wide new world of tiny proportions. He set more bones than he could count, learned the major organs and where to find them, and how to identify damage, then to repair it.

Without the constant gentle guidance of Marcas, Connor would have been hopelessly lost. He learned to trust the magic, to send it through a patient like feelers. Areas of hurt drew the healing power, and even led him to wounds Marcas had not expected. It did most of the work of healing. All Connor had to do was focus it and bind it to the wound.

"How is it possible?" he asked Marcas after one particularly delicate case, a soldier whose insides had been all but crushed by a tree, and who even Marcas doubted would survive.

Marcas stared after the soldier, who still called loud thanks to them as men bore him to a quiet recovery spot. He might have been able to stand, but he'd suffered such trauma, Marcas insisted he rest until the next day.

"You have a wonderful gift," Marcas said.

"I'm not that special. The sandstone does most of the work."

"Aye, in this case it does. That pendant of yours is a marvel."

"You keep saying that. What do you mean?"

Marcas drew him aside and gestured to his assistant to fetch them food. Connor only then realized noon had already long passed, and he was famished.

While they ate a thick stew, Marcas said, "Know this, Connor, that pendant you wear around your neck is probably worth more than your entire village."

Connor choked, "How?"

"It's affinity-sculpted."

"What's sculpted?"

They both turned as Shona joined them. She looked healthy and whole, although she hadn't managed to wash her blood-matted hair. She sat beside Connor, "You have a lot of explaining to do."

"I do?"

She barked a laugh. "Oh, come on, Connor. I'm no cracked Linn. This morning, you were comatose with full-on double-tap sickness, and now I hear you're some kind of miracle worker."

"The boy's had a busy day," Marcas said with a wide smile.

"So you just woke up this morning and decided being a normal Guardian wasn't enough for you?" She spoke irritably, as if somehow he'd offended her. He couldn't imagine how, so he decided to pretend he didn't notice.

"Looks like I have a sandstone affinity."

"Clearly," Shona said with a shake of her head, as if that was the dumbest thing he could have said. "But no one who just 'figures out' they have a sandstone affinity heals like the Tallan's own guardian."

"I'm just trying to help," Connor shot back. "It's not my fault I'm good at it."

"He's had some help," Marcas interjected as Shona gave Connor an angry glare.

"I know, old man, you've been his shoulder angel all day."

"That's not the half of it, Lady Shona. He has an affinity-sculpted pendant." He gestured at the sandstone bear hanging around Connor's neck. The lower legs were worn completely away, and the front legs looked like they'd soon follow. It pained Connor to see it disintegrating as he drew upon its power, but he could not refuse it to the brave men who were hurt today trying to free his home.

Shona gasped and snatched at the pendant, but Connor caught her hand. They shared a startled look, and Connor quickly let her go.