Gail Martin - The summoner

Vahanian and Soterius pounded up as Tris and Carina reached the open air, and Vahanian caught Carina's shoulders as she turned back toward the burning building.

"Stay out here," he shouted. "We'll get the rest."

"My patients, my risk," Carina snapped back, shaking free. "There are still more in there." Before any of them could stop her, Carina shouldered past and headed at a dead run back for the smoking building. Soterius charged through the doorway, only to retreat gasping for breath. Ripping the cloak from the injured man, Vahanian plunged the cloth into a nearby bucket and ran with the soaked rags to the doorway.

"Here, use this," Vahanian said, as he the tore the sopping cloth in broad strips. Tris and Soterius snatched them from his hands.

"We're only going to get one chance," Soterius said, muffled through the rag.

"Let's go," Tris agreed, pressing the soaking cloth against his face.

The three men charged into the smoke together then dropped to their knees, nearly blinded. Soterius crawled toward the back corner, where the outline of a patient was barely visible. Not far inside the opening, Vahanian's hand connected with a pant leg. Tris saw Vahanian feel for the man's shoulders and heft the injured man onto his back. Gasping for breath, his eyes stinging with the smoke, Vahanian crawled as fast as he could, trying to balance the helpless man. Heaving his burden just beyond the doorway, Vahanian turned back into the smoke as Tris crawled on, and in the near darkness, he could see Carina struggling with her patient. A crack like thunder sounded overhead, and Tris turned in horror.

"Carina!" Vahanian shouted, diving toward the healer as the beam above Carina's head gave way in a shower of sparks. Tris saw the beam begin to break, felt Carina's shock and terror, and reacted as power and fear filled him.

"No!" The rasped command tore from his throat as Tris struggled to his knees, one hand outstretched toward the beam. Tris felt his power rise, felt it strike from his hand to throw the beam aside.

"Run!" Vahanian panted as he pushed Carina toward the doorway, dragging the last patient toward the door. Tris started toward them and fell forward, gasping for breath in the searing heat. Just as Tris felt the world around him begin to darken, strong hands gripped his shoulders and half carried, half-dragged him, pulling him out onto the grass. Behind him, the building's timbers groaned like a dying man, and then collapsed with a burst of flame and sparks.

Someone pitched a bucket of water onto him. Slowly, Tris roused, his lungs aching, hacking and gasping. He was dimly aware of the burns on his arms and calves. He struggled to see, blinded by the ash and smoke.

The hospital building lay in ruins, burning fast. Along the perimeter of the camp, the screams of horses and the clash of blades rang in the night air. But the fight was further away, no longer in the heart of the camp, and as Tris gasped for breath, he saw Vahanian nod.

"They've pushed the bandits back. Good thing. I can't breathe, let alone fight," Vahanian rasped.

At Tris's elbow, the old grannywitch emerged from the smoke bearing a rough-hewn cup. "Drink this," she said, pressing a mug into his hands. Tris drank it gratefully, feeling the liquid burn down his raw throat. Whatever the potion was, it began to work immediately, clearing his head and fortifying him enough to stand.

Carina dragged herself to her knees and bent over one of the patients they had pulled from the burning building. She hammered on his chest with all her strength. "By the Lady, breathe, damn it, breathe!" she sobbed.

Vahanian made his way over to where she knelt. "Carina-"

"He was breathing fine just before the fire," Carina argued with no one in particular. Her soot-covered robes were scorched and her arms were dotted with burns from falling embers. Tears streaked through the ashes on her face, and her hair fell limply into her eyes as she bent across her charge. "Breathe, dammit!"

Vahanian reached down to take her by the shoulders, but she struggled free. "No!" she cried, reaching toward her patient. "I have to help him."

"He's gone," Vahanian said gently. "Look at him. It's too late."

Carina sat back on her haunches and buried her face in her hands. "It's not your fault," Vahanian said quietly. "Look at where his wound was, right through his ribs. Would have been hard for him to breathe anyway, even with healing, but then the smoke…"

She lifted her head enough to glare at him. "You don't understand what it is to lose a patient."

"No," he conceded quietly. "Just soldiers under my command."

"You must have the eye of the Lady on you, to have made it out alive," the grannywitch observed, taking the cup from Tris. She filled it once more and offered it to Soterius, who accepted it gratefully. Tris could see the burns that peppered Soterius's arms and face, and imagined he was in no better shape himself.

"Thanks for dragging me out of there," Tris said.

Soterius looked at him for a moment without saying anything, and Tris knew his friend saw him use magic to hurl aside the beam. "Glad to do it," Soterius said, and while his tone was sincere, he looked away. He doesn't know what to think of me any more, Tris thought, still feeling the witch's potion burning in his throat. He never bargained to be liegeman to a mage.

The old crone took back the cup and offered it to Vahanian, who waved it away, gesturing for her to attend to Carina. The crone knelt beside Carina and took her in her arms, letting the healer sob against her shoulder like a brokenhearted child.

Vahanian was looking at Tris. Ashen and shaking, Tris met his eyes. They both knew the beam had changed its course at Tris's command. He hates magic even more than Soterius does, Tris thought at the look in Vahanian's eyes. His outlaw prince is an untrained mageling. One more thing to worry about.

"If you'd have taken my advice, none of this would have happened," a voice cut caustically through the smoke. Tris looked up to see Kaine dogging Maynard Linton as the caravan master picked his way through the ruins.

"Where's the healer?" Kaine demanded, stopping where they rested. "I've been wounded."

"The lady's busy. Go away," Vahanian said, interposing himself between Kaine and Carina.

Kaine moved to shoulder past him. "She's a healer, let her heal," Kaine snapped. This time, Vahanian's blade blocked Kaine's path.

"I said, the lady's busy," Vahanian rasped. He looked as if he were beginning to feel the day's battle in every aching muscle and was considering taking it out on Kaine. "Go away."

"You're a fine protector, Jonmarc Vahanian," Kaine shot back. "Like as not 'twas bandit friends of yours what did this," Kaine sneered, but he backed up a step from the glinting blade. "I told Linton that taking you on would mean trouble. None of this would have happened if we hadn't taken on your thieving hide."

Vahanian took a step toward Kaine, his blade raised higher. "I still have the strength to run you through, Kaine, and I'll do it if you're here by the time I count to five. One…"

"See what I mean?" Kaine whined, taking another step back. "Cut me down in cold blood, he would-"

"Two…" Vahanian growled, advancing.

"I've no desire to be run through, Vahanian," Kaine retorted, licking the blood from his split lip. "But mark my words," he said, looking to Tris and the others, "we won't be rid of bad luck until we're rid of him."

"Three…"

With an uncertain glance at the mercenary and his sword, Kaine raised his hands in surrender and backed away, disappearing in the throng as the caravaners returned to their ruined camp.

"I wouldn't have minded seeing that troublemaker run through," Soterius remarked darkly as Vahanian sheathed his sword.

"Not worth the effort," Vahanian replied. Tris glanced back at Carina, who still sobbed in the crone's arms.