heart of an emerald.
He felt the Power flood into him, strong and sweet, intoxicating, and he lost himself in it, forgetting everything, simply being, and knowing that beneath his hands, the wounds were closing, blood ceasing to leak from the damaged veins, flesh knitting.
And from somewhere within him there came a voice:
You will know what you must do when the time comes.
Then, all at once, as suddenly as it had come, the sense of Presence was gone. Kellen fell out of the spell- trance, so suddenly that he felt giddy and chilled, and was a little surprised not to feel himself thudding down onto the ground beside his mentor.
Huh. He opened his eyes and shook his head a little. The dome of protection was gone—but then, it had done its work and there was no more need of it.
Cautiously, Kellen lifted the cloth covering Jermayan's wound. The ugly oozing gash was gone. Only faint bruises remained, and a few dull silvery marks, as if the injury were sennights, even moonturns, in the past.
Well, I know it worked, anyway.
'That was—peculiar,' Kellen muttered aloud, breathing a shaky sigh of relief. He certainly didn't recall Idalia mentioning anything of the sort happening to her during a healing. He felt almost as if he'd been forgiven, though he wasn't quite sure for what.
And he was suddenly bone-weary, having paid an immediate price of his own strength for the healing and the protective circle.
Even Jermayan's color was better, the Elven Knight having gone from a swoon into a natural sleep. He was breathing easier as well.
So the healing was more than just cosmetic, it had worked as well as Kellen could ever have asked if he'd dared—even though Kellen had no notion of what his greater price might be for the spell he had worked here today. So I'll know what to do when the time comes, will I? That's useful, I don't think.
Kellen sat back on his heels, able to stop and take a deep breath himself for the first time since the fight had begun. He crushed out the little fire he'd built, reaching for his gloves and gauntlets and putting them on again before getting stiffly to his feet. As soon as Shalkan got back, he'd wake Jermayan and they'd move. He forced himself to try to think and plan, though at the moment his head felt as if it were stuffed full of feathers.
How had those bandits—or whatever they were—managed to appear out of nowhere without any of them— even Shalkan—noticing them? Had they had magic? Had they been sent by the enemy? If someone had sent them, more might be on the way.
And if they'd only been bandits and nothing worse, then at the very least, a valley full of dead men wasn't going to be a pleasant place to camp, and where there were some bandits, there would probably be others, even in Kellen's admittedly limited experience.
And on top of everything else, Idalia had warned him to move on quickly from anyplace where he used his magic, as it was likely to draw unwelcome attention. So whether the bandits had been sent by the enemy or not, he probably had the enemy's attention now—or at least, would have it soon, if he was still here.
Steeling himself against the sight, Kellen went back among the corpses to reclaim the rest of Jermayan's armor and sword. The blood hadn't bothered him while he was fighting—not after Jermayan had been hit—but it was different now. Now the sight of the bodies made him sick, and knowing that he was responsible for killing a good half of them, well…
For the first time, he was able to count the enemy numbers. Six men and two Centaurs, all looking pretty much like what Kellen imagined hill-bandits would look like; dirty, unshaven, and under their armor, their ill-fitting clothing was clearly stolen from their victims. He took the best of the round shields that the bandits had been carrying for himself—after today, he thought it might be a pretty good idea for Jermayan to teach him to fight with one.
Once he'd done that, he led Valdien and the mule over to where Jermayan was. That took even more coaxing; Valdien was excited by the scent of blood and kept dancing away when Kellen reached for his bridle, and Lily was plain and fancy spooked. But Kellen managed that task as well—it helped that he was far too tired to lose his temper with either of them.
He hoped Shalkan would get back soon; if he didn't, he'd have to find some way to go on without him and meet him on the way. It was already midafternoon, and as soon as the sun got much farther over the canyon wall, it would be dark down here, and Kellen didn't want to chance trying to lead either Valdien or Lily down an unfamiliar trail in the dark.
By the time Kellen was able to lead the animals back to where Jermayan lay—making a wide circuit around the actual battlefield—the Elven Knight was awake and trying to sit up.
'I wouldn't move if I were you,' Kellen said. 'I'm not sure how badly you're still hurt.'
