evening hours.
'You're awake,' Druz said from her place sitting beside his father.
She had her strung bow across her knees and her long sword standing against the back of the overhang beside her.
Haarn crossed the shelter to his father's side.
'He's slept well,' Druz said.
Tenderly, Haarn lifted the poultices from his father's wounds and examined them. Blackened, crusty scabs covered all of the burned areas, and with the extra healing Haarn provided through his magic there probably wouldn't even be any scars left. The healing potion had done remarkable work on Ettrian, possibly even saving his life, though Haarn believed Silvanus was more responsible for that.
After getting Ettrian settled as comfortably as possible a day and a half before, satisfied that his father's life wasn't in any immediate danger, Haarn had seen to arranging the shelter. Druz had helped, and she'd tried to get him to rest, but he couldn't. Borran Kiosk's name kept echoing through his head.
Satisfied with the progress Ettrian was making, Haarn sat down beside him. He gazed at his father's stern face and felt the old confusion gnaw his empty stomach. There were pleasant memories from when he'd been small, from those times his mother had stayed with them deep in the forest, but those had quickly passed when his mother rode away. Haarn had been no older than four or five. After that, his mother's visits had come less and less frequently, lasting only days instead of tendays, then finally-the last time nearly fifteen years past-only hours. His father had grown sadder and angrier, and with his mother's absence Haarn had grown aware of his father's turning away from him as well, as if he was to blame for her leaving.
Haarn reached out and slapped Broadfoot on the haunch. Covered in herbal poultices that made the animal stench even stronger in the lean-to's enclosed space, the bear snuffled irritably, raised his wide head for a moment, then put his head back down and slept.
Sleep would be best, Haarn knew, but nervous energy and the need to be up and moving around filled him. He'd always felt that way around his father as a young man, and even more so since he'd become increasingly independent.
'Borran Kiosk is a fable,' Druz said. 'Why is your father here really?'
Haarn looked at her and said, 'After you saw that skeleton claw up from the ground, after you saw that red jewel in its chest and the damage it did to all of us, you want to believe that Borran Kiosk is some kind of old wives' tale?'
A thoughtful expression filled Druz's face. She sucked in one cheek as she regarded him.
'My father,' Haarn said, glancing at him, 'is not a man to pass on gossip. He sought me out to bring me the news the Emerald Enclave had sent him.'
'From Ilighon? That's a long way to send a message.'
'My father is an important man,' Haarn said. 'He's not one of the Elder Circle but his voice carries weight in the Enclave.'
'Is… is he going to be all right?'
The pounding rain outside the lean-to echoed in the silence that hung between them. Ettrian chose that moment to take a sonorous breath that lifted his chest beneath the traveling cloaks that served as blankets.
'In time,' Haarn answered, feeling proud of his father, proud of the way he fought to get better in spite of the injuries that plagued him. There had always, in spite of the other confusing feelings, been a respect between them. 'I've seen my father recover from far worse than this.'
A moment of silence passed between them, broken only by the crackling sputter of the campfire.
'There's a sadness in your voice when you speak of him,' Druz said.
Haarn said nothing, wanting his private feelings to be his own. People who dwelt in cities, especially humans, seemed to think it a crime for a person to possess a private thought. Still, he'd gotten to know her at least a little over the few days they'd been traveling together. He looked at her, feeling the hot smoke sting his eyes, and wondered what his father must think about him traveling with a human woman obviously of mating age. It had to have reminded him of the woman who'd left them.
'I don't mean to pry,' Druz said.
He knew that was false. Whatever other shortcomings she had in the wilderness, Druz Talimsir had certain gifts regarding the paths and trails men's minds took.
Ettrian stirred within the pile of cloaks.
'Haarn,' he whispered.
The elf turned his head and gazed about with fevered eyes.
'I'm here, Father,' Haarn said.
Stretching out his hand, Ettrian said, 'I'm cold and… I'm thirsty.'
With the rain falling in great abundance, acquiring fresh water was no problem. Haarn started to push himself up.
'I'll get it,' Druz offered. She got to her feet and went to the lean-to's edge to retrieve a waterskin. 'I just filled this.'
She handed the waterskin to Haarn.
Cupping his father's head, Haarn lifted him up and helped him drink, taking his time and not quitting until his father had slaked his thirst.
Ettrian glared up at him with his fevered eyes and said, 'I've been dreaming of your mother again, Haarn, remembering how she left us.'
Maybe, Haarn thought, they'd been sharing nightmares.
'Do you remember how she left us, Haarn?'
'Yes, Father.'
'She was wrong, and she was selfish,' Ettrian croaked, trying to make his voice fierce.
Looking at his father, Haarn remembered how strong he'd thought the man had been. He was a skilled druid, master of the quarterstaff and learned in his spells. The Elder Circle of the Emerald Enclave respected his opinion and sometimes sought his advice regarding events going on in lands under or near his custodianship, but there was a weakness in him. Haarn had seen that, too.
'Yes, Father,' Haarn whispered, feeling the hot flash of tears claw at the back of his eyes.
He wished he thought better of the woman who'd birthed him. If she had only betrayed him, Haarn didn't think he'd have held her actions so much against her-if it hadn't been for the way it all but robbed him of a father as well.
'She was so pretty,' the elf whispered.
Haarn took his father's hot hand and squeezed gently. He wished Druz wasn't there to see his father in this moment of weakness.
Ettrian held his hand weakly, but the grip was still there, stronger than the day before. A moment passed, and the rhythm of Ettrian's breathing told Haarn that his father slept. He released his father's hand then used the waterskin to make a poultice for Ettrian's forehead.
Haarn prayed to Silvanus, put his hands on his father's body, and released the magic. The power flowed from his heart, through his arms, and out his palms. An incandescent blue light flowed along his father's body, though Haarn was sure no one else could see it. His magic was for his eyes alone, and so the experience had been but for things that affected the physical world, but anyone could see how Ettrian's wounds healed so much in just that brief contact, how the scabs dried and started to turn loose of their moorings in his father's flesh.
Haarn sat back against the rock wall and took deep breaths. His body shook, but he gave thanks to Silvanus for providing him the power to heal. When he opened his eyes, Druz was looking at him.
'Are you all right?' she asked.
Haarn resented the question. She always seemed to be prying, trying to find the weak and uncertain parts of him.
'Why would I not be all right?'
A hard look flashed through her eyes and she said, 'Gods, but you're a stubborn man, Haarn Brightoak. I was only asking because I'm worried about you. You were injured as well, and you've spent every waking moment taking care of us-your father, Broadfoot, and me-though I can take care of myself.'
Anger flickered in Haarn's stomach and he considered reminding her how he'd had to show her where to find
