Lynn Flewelling - The Oracle's Queen

“Of course!” the young Gedre exclaimed.

“Then stay.” She rose to go to Ki but noticed that Arkoniel had lingered behind.

“The others can deal with Niryn’s people if you’d rather I stay?”

“There’s no one I trust more than you,” she told him, and saw the color come to his cheeks. “I know that you will do what is best and protect her for me, no matter what. You understand better than anyone else why I will not have innocent blood spilled in my name.”

“That means more to me than I can say,” he replied, his voice rough with emotion. “I will keep an eye on you here and return at once if you need me.”

“I’ll be fine. Go on now.” With that, she ducked through the low doorway of the tent and pulled the flap down.

The air inside was heavy with the smell of the drysians’ herbs. Kaulin was sitting with Ki.

Ki’s arm had been set and wrapped securely in rags and a cut-down boot top. His chest and head were wrapped in ragged bandages. His face was still and white under the streaks of mud and blood.

“Has he woken yet?”

“No,” Kaulin replied. “The sword thrust missed his lung. It’s the blow to his head that’s bad.”

“I’d like to be alone with him.”

“As you wish, Majesty.”

Sitting down beside Ki, she took his left hand in hers. His breathing was almost imperceptible. Leaning over him, she whispered, “It’s all over, Ki. We won. But I don’t know what I’ll do if you die!” Thunder rumbled in the distance as she pressed his cold fingers to her cheek. “Even if you never want to be my consort—” The blessed numbness she’d clung to was slipping away and the tears came.

“Please, Ki! Don’t go!”

Ki was lost, and chilled to the bone.

Scattered images flashed behind his eyes. She’s in danger! I’m not going to get there in time .

A starlit window and flailing legs—

Tamír unarmed, under Korin’s shining blade—

Too far! Can’t reach—

No!

The blackness took him before he could reach her, and the pain. So much pain.

Drifting, alone in the darkness, he thought he heard distant voices calling to him. Tamír?

No, she’s dead—I failed and she’s dead—

Then let me die, too .

Such pain.

Am I dead?

No, not yet, child .

Lhel? Where are you? I can’t see!

You must be strong. She needs you .

Lhel? I’ve missed you!

I’ve missed you, too, child. But you must think of Tamír, now .

Panic shot through him. I’m sorry. I let her die!

A small, rough hand closed hard around his. Open your eyes, child .

Suddenly Ki could see. He was standing beside Lhel in the tent. Rain was drumming down on the canvas and dripping through all around them. And Tamír was there, asleep on the ground next to a pallet, where someone else lay.

She’s alive! But she looks so sad. Did we lose the battle?

No, you won. Look closer .

Tamír, we won! he cried, trying to touch her shoulder. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t feel his hand at all. As he bent closer to her, he saw dried tears on her cheeks, and the face of the person she was sleeping beside.

That’s me . He could see his own pale face, and the thin crescents of white under his parted lashes. I am dead!

No, but you aren’t alive either , Lhel replied.

You’re waiting . Brother appeared beside Tamír, gazing up at Ki with less hostility than usual. You’re waiting as I wait, between life and death. We’re both still bound .

Look closer , Lhel whispered. Look at her heart, and yours .

Squinting, Ki could just make out something that looked like a thin, gnarled black root stretching from Brother’s chest to Tamír’s. No, not a root, but a wizened birthing cord.

Looking down, he saw another cord between him and his own body, and one that stretched from his body to Tamír, but these were silvery and bright. Other strands, less bright, radiated out and disappeared in all directions. One dark one stretched from Tamír’s chest across the tent to the open flap. Korin stood out there, gazing in with a lost expression.

What’s he doing here?

She killed me , Korin whispered, and Ki felt fear as that empty dark gaze turned to him. False friend!

Don’t let him trouble you, child. He has no claim on you . Lhel touched the silver cord joining Ki to Tamír. This one is very strong, stronger than your own life cord .

I can’t die! I can’t leave her! She needs me .

You saved her life today. I foresaw that the first time we met, and more. She will be very sad if you die. Her belly may never swell. Your people need the children you and she will give them. If I help you live, will you love her?

Looking down at his own still face, Ki saw tears well out from under his lashes and trickle slowly down his cheeks. I do love her! Help me, please!

But even as he said it, he felt the cord joining his spirit to his body pull painfully at his chest and grow thin. He was floating above himself, looking down at Tamír. Even in sleep she held his hand tightly, as if she could hold him back from death.

Please , he whispered. I want to stay!

Hold on , Lhel whispered.

“Keesa, wake up.”

“Lhel?” Tamír sat up, startled.

It was still dark in the tent, and rain was pounding on the canvas. A sudden flash of lightning turned the darkness grey. It was Mahti leaning over her, not Lhel. A clap of thunder shook the ground. Something struck her cheek; water was dripping from the witch’s hair. He had just come in from the storm.

“Mahti? You came back!”

“Hush, keesa.” The witch pointed to Ki. “He very weak. You must let me play healing for him. His mari try to go.”

Tamír tightened her hold on Ki’s cold hand and nodded. “Do whatever you can.”

Another flash of lightning lit the tent and thunder shook the ground, as if the world were falling down around them.

Mahti sat as far from Ki as the cramped quarters allowed, back pressed to the sodden canvas behind him. He put the oo’lu to his lips, resting the mouth of it next to Ki’s side, and began the spell song.

The boy’s spirit was already out of the body. Mahti could sense it hovering nearby. He could see Lhel and Brother, and the sad spirit lurking outside in the rain; but Ki was caught between life and death, so Mahti could not see him clearly. There was no need for the lifting out song, but he knew he must work quickly to heal the body enough to hold the spirit in before it was lost.

Sojourn’s deep voice filled Mahti’s head and chest as he played, gathering the necessary power. When it was strong enough, he sent the song out to the floating spirit, wrapping him in binding song to keep him from flying away. Then he wove the voices of night herons and frogs to wash the dark blood away from inside the boy’s head. It was a bad wound, that one, but Mahti had wrestled with them before. It took time, but he finally felt some of the pain flow away.

He played into the body next, leaving the arm bones to knit on their own and concentrating on the deep sword wound in his side. He used the song of bears to take the heat from it; there was good magic at work already, from the other healers. Mahti touched it with his song and approved. This would heal well if Ki lived.

He played through the rest of the body, finding little that needed his attention. Ki was young and strong and wanted to live.

The head wound was still fighting him, though, so Mahti increased the power of the song to drive the dark threat from it. It took a long time, but when he finished the heron song a third time, the pain was nearly gone and Ki’s face was more peaceful. Mahti blinked the sweat from his eyes and gently coaxed the spirit back into the flesh. It went willingly, like a loon diving under the water after a fish.