David Gemmel - Midnight Falcon

Orrin's labouring heart suddenly gave out. Vorna sent a burst of energy into it. It flickered, then began to beat once more.

Vorna honed her concentration, flowing yet deeper into the bloodstream. Now she could feel the vital elements within the flow. Still she could detect no sign of disease. The liver began to fail, and Vorna strengthened it. Then the kidneys weakened once more, and she boosted them with fresh energy. She was tiring now, and still there was no clue to what was killing the child.

Vorna withdrew from the boy. His colour was a little better, his breathing easier. Gwen returned to the room, carrying mugs of tisane. Vorna saw her spirit soar as she looked down upon her son.

'Do not get your hopes up, Gwen,' said Vorna sternly. 'I cannot yet identify the source of his sickness. Sit quietly by and do not in any circumstances speak to me unless I ask you to. You understand?'

'Yes,' said Gwen meekly.

Vorna gazed at the child's waxen skin. Think, she told herself. Whatever is causing this is powerful indeed, and yet why had he not succumbed earlier? If it was a sickness, surely he should have caught it from Ruathain far sooner than this. As should the mother, and any others with close contact to the boy. Therefore it was not like the plague or any contact-borne sickness. Yet there had to be a link.

The boy's heart stopped again. Vorna's spirit eased once more through the skin, sending a bolt of energy to the stricken organ. Orrin's body convulsed, then the heart began again. Vorna withdrew and turned to Gwen. 'You say the sickness began only today? No indications before this?'

'None. He has always been healthy. Aren't you going to do something?'

'I am doing something, Gwen. Stay calm.'

Vorna returned her attention to the child. The surface of his skin was hot, his body battling to bring down the fever temperature. Vorna flowed deeper, once more repairing the liver and kidneys. She had never come across anything like this before. It was as if the disease was continually invading the child.

For another hour she fought on, but she was now tiring rapidly. Pulling back from his body she slumped in her chair and sipped her cold tisane. Whatever had killed Ruathain was now destroying his brother. Again she turned to Gwen. 'How long was Ruathain sick?'

'Almost a year now. At first he just felt weak, and had no appetite. He would sleep all the time. Then, as the months passed, he grew weaker and weaker. He rallied when Banouin tended him – but only for a while. Why has it struck Orrin so savagely? He looks now like my Ru at the end.'

'Orrin is younger. Perhaps that is the key. Perhaps a strapping lad can fight off this… this malady with more strength than a child. But there is a link here that we must find. Otherwise he will not last the night.'

Closing her eyes she entered his body again, but this time, instead of joining the bloodstream, she floated just below the surface of his skin, helping to ease out the fever. When she reached the area of his chest she felt a sudden burning that caused her to flee to the sanctuary of her body. Rising from her chair she moved to a tall chest under the window, upon which lay some balls of thread and a long pair of scissors. Returning to the bedside she cut open the little boy's tunic.

Upon his chest lay a ring of white gold, with a moonstone at the centre. Orrin had hung it round his neck with a long leather thong.

'What is this?' asked Vorna, cutting the thong and lifting the ring clear.

'It is Ruathain's ring. Orrin must have taken it as a keepsake, to remind him of his brother.'

Vorna laid the ring upon the floor, then returned to the child. Now, as she flowed through him, healing the tortured tissue, there was no secondary attack. Orrin's heartbeat grew stronger, his fever abating.

Vorna covered him with a blanket. 'He looks a little better,' said Gwen.

'He is well,' Vorna told her. 'The evil is gone from him.' Lifting the ring on the end of her scissors she examined it. It was beautifully crafted. 'Where did Ruathain acquire this?' she asked.

'Meria gave it to him. It was originally a gift for Connavar from a Stone merchant, but the king does not wear rings. So Meria gave it to Ru. Why do you ask?'

Vorna walked to the kitchen, returning with a flat length of black slate which she laid on the chest by the window. Lifting a lantern from a bracket on the wall she placed it alongside the slate, then dropped the ring onto the gleaming black surface. As Gwen watched, Vorna held her hand over the ring and whispered a Word of Power. The temperature in the room plummeted, and upon the slate ice formed instantly. The moonstone glowed bright, then cracked open. Grey fluid oozed from the stone, spreading out across the slate. Vorna snapped her fingers, and the temperature rose once more. Gwen stared at the ruined ring.

'It is poison,' said Vorna, 'distilled by a mistress of the craft. She split the stone, hollowed out the centre, and made many imperceptible holes through the surface. Then she filled the centre with poison, remade the stone, and set it within this ring of white gold. Once the moonstone touched human skin it would slowly seep its poison into the blood. It was obviously meant to kill Connavar.'

'Then all I had to do to save Ru was remove the ring?' said Gwen. 'Oh, sweet heaven!'

'Do not blame yourself, Gwen. You could not know. The fault is not yours.'

'Yes, it is,' said Gwen. 'I wanted to come to you and ask you to tend my son. But I did not. Had I done so my Ru would still be alive.'

'Mam!' said Orrin. 'Mam!'

Gwen went to the bedside. 'Hello, my little one,' she said, wiping the tears from her eyes. 'Are you all right?'

'Yes, Mam. I was sitting with Ruathain, and there was this bright light. And I woke up.' He looked around. 'Where are we, Mam?'

'You have been sick, little one, but Vorna healed you. This is Vorna. Say thank you.'

'Thank you, Vorna,' he said obediently.

'It was my pleasure, young man.'

Orrin's eyes closed and he fell asleep. Gwen brushed the hair back from his brow and kissed him tenderly. 'I don't have the words to express my gratitude,' she said. 'What can I do to thank you?'

'Leave here tomorrow with those heading west,' said Vorna. 'For death is coming to Three Streams, and my powers can do nothing to prevent it.'

It was more than four hours after Bane had seen the vision before the first of the outlaws walked from the forest. In that time Bane ordered a steer slaughtered and a fire pit dug, and as the men made their way towards the farmhouse the smell of roasting beef filled the air.

The first to arrive was the slender, round-shouldered Wik, and with him were some forty men, mostly armed with longbows and daggers. Bane greeted them, and Iswain began to cut meat for them. There were not enough plates, but Iswain had gathered sections of broken black slate, which she had stacked on a long trestle table. 'How many still to come?' asked Bane.

Wik shrugged. 'Valian is scouring the other small camps. Maybe another sixty. Maybe less. What is this about?'

'Let's talk inside,' said Bane.

The two men wandered into the farmhouse. Bane did not know Wik well, but his impression was not a good one. Wik was a man who lacked the appetite for work of any kind. Lazy and untrustworthy, he would sooner live in squalor and semi-starvation for months in the hope of one good robbery than labour for his daily food. What he possessed, in Bane's opinion, was an animal cunning, and an ability to gather to him like-minded souls. The man was not unintelligent, but nor was he as bright as he believed. Bane watched as Wik's dirty fingers tore at the rich meat. 'Well?' asked the outlaw leader, juices flowing to his wispy brown beard.

'I want to hire you and your men,' said Bane. 'For five days.'