Laurell Hamilton - Death of a Darklord

The elf blinked up at the mage. His smile softened, and Elaine felt him straighten under her hands. "Then it is what I am risking. And it is my choice, freely made, freely given."

"You don't understand. You can't understand."

"Leave him, wizard," Jonathan said. "He has made his choice."

"If you like, mage-finder, but a few moments in Kartakass cannot prepare you for a lifetime here."

The elf pulled his arm, gently, from Elaine's grasp. "Thank you for your aid."

She gave a slight nod.

He placed his good hand over the man's chest. There was no armor here to hide what was to happen. Nothing would have drawn Elaine from her place at the elf's side.

His head slumped forward, shining hair like a curtain over his face. She fought the urge to brush the hair aside. She wanted to see his face, to watch his features as he performed this miracle. For it was nothing less. She had grown up listening to Thordin's stories of healers, but she had not truly understood. Now she did, and she hungered after this. magic was too small a word.

It was a growing thing, like the earth itself waking to the sun's warmth. A slow filling up from some unknown source; outside power met and mingled with a spark of magic inside the elf. Elaine felt it as if it were her own body. There was simple magic to this, but it was much more.

The deadman drew a painful breath, spine bowing upward as if a string pulled him. He blinked wide brown eyes and sat up like a startled sleeper. He looked around wildly.

"Where am I?"

The elf gave a second beatific smile and slowly toppled forward onto the legs of the man he'd just resurrected.

Elaine wasn't sure, but she thought she heard Gersalius mutter, "I told you so."

The tent walls flapped and struggled in the wind. The two men that had so recently been dead lay on piles of furs and blankets. The elf, Silvanus, was curled in a corner, quite unconscious. He had not moved so much as a finger when they carried him to the campsite. The two deadmen had been much more lively.

The larger man, Fredric Vladislav, hugged the furs to his bare chest. "It is not right that a woman should see me like this. Especially an unmarried one." The skin of his shoulders was milk-white. Many a lady would have been proud of such skin. The jagged white scar that traced the collarbone spoiled the effect somewhat, as did his strong hand clutching desperately at the fur. His eyes were the color of storm clouds, a soft, wooly gray. The sweeping white mustache went well with his impossibly broad shoulders.

Elaine had always thought Thordin a large man, but the paladin, for that was what he called himself, made Thordin seem small. One sword-callused palm could have covered Elaine's entire face. His feet pressed perilously close to the tent walls.

"I would not have disrobed if the healer had told me a young woman was going to enter."

"She's a … nurse. Isn't that what you called her?" Randwulf asked.

Konrad spoke from the back of the tent. He was laying out his salves and bandages on a clean cloth near the unconscious elf. "Yes, she's helped me tend the wounded many times." He never looked up, all attention for his medicines.

Once Elaine had thought that commendable. Now it was vaguely irritating, just another sign that she was of no real importance to him. She was just another tool, like a medicinal herb.

"I have seen a bare chest before, Master Vladislav," Elaine said, tugging on the fur. His strong hands held on. Short of cutting his grip free, she couldn't budge him.

"You have not seen my chest. Besides, girl, that is not the only thing bare under these covers." A rush of color crept up his neck, tinting him pink from upper chest to forehead.

Elaine smiled; she couldn't help it.

"Are you so brazen as to think that is funny? Are you a healer's aid or a camp follower?"

"I don't know what a camp follower is," she said.

"I would be happy to show you," the other man said. His voice had a happy lilt that made Elaine blush.

"Oh, you mean a woman of loose morals," she said softly. Her face was scarlet, and she looked away from the large man. She had tended the wounded, but it had mostly been her own family group. Truthfully, she'd never seen a complete stranger undressed. Konrad didn't seem to remember that, or perhaps he didn't care.

"Now, girl, I did not mean to embarrass. I would not do that for anything."

"I thought you'd tended the wounded," Randwulf said.

"Mostly my own family." She glanced at him. He was naked to the waist, arms behind his head as if he were posing for effect. His well-muscled chest was crisscrossed with scars. He half sat up, causing the furs to slide alarmingly. Elaine turned away.

"Have a care, you young idiot. She's not a camp follower to be impressed with your scars," the paladin said.

"Maybe a healer would be impressed with my scars, too."

Fredric made a sound halfway between a snort and a sigh. "Perhaps, but she is no healer. She is a young woman, and you are embarrassing her."

"If you do not let Elaine look at your wounds, then I will have to do it myself," Konrad said flatly. "That will mean leaving your unconscious friend's wounds until after I see to you. After what he did for you out there, I would think you'd cooperate."

Fredric raised up on one elbow, the other hand still clutching the furs. "Is he truly hurt?"

"He lost an arm and performed such magic as I've never seen. He is at least profoundly exhausted, if not worse."

The paladin frowned. "Do not leave his side if he is truly hurt. I will allow your. nurse to tend me, but perhaps she would prefer someone else to tend our wounds. She seems uncomfortable confronted with two nearly naked strangers, wounded or not."

"Elaine's all right," Konrad said. He never turned around. His voice was vaguely irritated, but nothing more. He treated her like a faithful dog.

It must have shown on her face because Fredric said, "If you want to send in one of the men, we will understand. I do not think your friend is aware of how uncomfortable you are."

She shook her head. "If Konrad says I will be all right, I will be all right." Her voice held a warm touch of anger she could not control.

"Ah," Fredric said. He lay down again, hands loose on the furs. "Some people are more oblivious than others to those they see every day."

That a perfect stranger could so quickly see how she felt, and how Konrad ignored her, wounded Elaine. She would rather the paladin had stabbed her with a dagger than looked at her with kind, pitying eyes.

"Will you let me see your wounds?" She would not meet his eyes. It was too painful to see how clearly he saw everything. Let him think it modesty, though Elaine feared this paladin knew exactly why she would not meet his eyes.

"I will." Those two words held a quiet dignity. She glanced at his face. It was neutral, careful. He would not purposefully embarrass her; she knew that as if he had spoken it aloud.

Elaine touched the edge of white fur. Fredric raised his hands slightly to allow her to pull the covers down. She drew them off slowly, a knuckle's length of pale flesh coming to light at a time. His left arm bore a bite mark that still leaked blood. It would leave a nasty scar, but it was not serious unless it became infected. Infection took many a warrior when the wound itself wasn't a killing blow.

There was a patch of scar tissue near the center of his chest. Elaine touched it gently with her fingertips. The skin was rough and thickened like any scar. She ran fingers over his chest, as if to test that the rest of his skin was soft and unblemished, then back to the scar. It was white with age, an old scar, right over the heart. Something large had speared him there, long ago.

"This was a killing blow," she said.