I flinched, but her words were hard to argue. Plus, we had more pressing matters to deal with.
I pointed to a bolt sticking out of Adyar Lah’s chest. “You gonna help me out with this?”
She grabbed it without a word and looked at me with expectation.
“On three,” I said, preparing the clay. “One, two, three.”
Dalyn Kia yanked the bolt out, wringing a painful groan out of vessár’s mouth, and almost at the same moment I crammed a handful of clay into the wound. I hovered my palm above it as I whispered the healing spell. Doing it always made me uneasy. I had an instinctive fear of magic, so I never really got good at it. Most of the spells we performed on duty were simple and unobtrusive, but healing was a different matter. Especially healing someone else. I should probably ask Dalyn Kia to do this, I realized too late.
Despite my concerns, when I removed my hand, there was no trace of the wound. The clay melted and fused seamlessly with the surrounding tissue.
Maybe I wasn’t so bad after all. Or maybe I had screwed up, and in a few cycles, Adyar Lah would grow a malignant tumor. One of the two. After all, it’s much easier to kill a man than patch him up.
For now, he stopped wheezing, his breathing became regular, and it seemed like he lost consciousness. There was nothing else I could do for him. I turned toward the exit. The flap was open and Dalyn Kia was already peeking outside with a wand in her hand. I followed her gaze. Mespanians were running around and if I squinted, I could make out tall, dark silhouettes standing in the distance, releasing series after series of crossbow bolts.
“Tarvissi,” hissed Dalyn Kia.
I rolled my eyes. Who else could it be?
Yet I hesitated. Healing a fallen colleague was an automatic response, acquired after cycles of training. But now that I had time to think… What should I do? Go out and fight? For what? A country that considered me a pariah? People for whom I was a traitor?
I should just stay here. With all the shit going on outside, no one would blame me. Well, they blamed me for everything anyway, so what difference did it make?
Worst case, Tarvissi would come first and see me cowering…
Ah, fuck it.
I took out my wand, but it was an empty gesture: the enemies were too far for spells. I needed to get closer. Preferably without getting myself killed. I considered putting up a magical shield, but then I looked at the bolt we removed from Adyar Lah. The head was made of iron; no magic would stop it.
Someone grabbed my arm, and I yanked it automatically. My eyes met Dalyn Kia’s.
“Look, I’m not such a bitch to keep you stranded in the middle of the fight. But getting yourself killed is a shitty way of clearing your name.”
I had no intention of getting myself killed. Without a word, I cloaked myself with another blurring spell and crawled out of the tent.
“Yeah, sure, keep acting like an asshole,” she grumbled after me, “I’ll stay behind and make sure our vessár stays alive.”
By now most Dahlsi managed to find cover. All I had to do was move from one piece of machinery to the next, from one fallen body to another. Some I recognized, but I didn’t stop. Soon, ash filled my mouth and nose, making me regret shunning the breathing masks the true Dahlsi carried at all times. I could scavenge one from one of the bodies. But when I thought of it, I was already at the edge of the camp, crouching behind a hitched bike. I paused to catch my breath, but had to jerk away as another bolt pierced the machine inches from my head. I cursed. Damn nubithium was as good as paper. Well, at least it was shielding me from the Tarvissi’s view.
Carefully, I peeked over the seat and tried to estimate the distance. The bastards were just outside my wand’s range. Chewing on another curse, I squatted back and weighed my options. I could charge and get myself killed. Or sit there and wait for them to come and kill me. Choices, choices…
Before I made my decision, the familiar tingling ran down my neck. A moment later, a surge of air threw ash into my face. I coughed and spurted, screwed my eyes shut in a vain effort to protect them… Then it was gone and I opened my eyes to see again.
It was Tayrel Kan. He walked right past me, surrounded by whirls of ash and flames. A few bolts were sticking out of his body, but he didn’t seem to care. Apparently, aging wasn’t the only thing he was immune to.
Stopping at the edge of the camp, he waved his hand dismissively and the crossbowmen fell like toys swatted by an unruly child. He raised both arms and the tent on his left was ripped from the ground, torn to shreds, and set ablaze. The cloud of fire shot at the enemy like a pack of hungry dryaks.
But one whirl tore from the pack and rushed towards me. It snapped its flaming jaw, exploding in the last moment on a hastily conjured shield. Tarvissi had no such means and their shrieks filled the air. I doubted any of them survived.
I waited till the screams died out before daring to peek out again. Tayrel Kan stood a few paces away, still spurting the fiery demons, as if unaware the battle was over. One of his pupils spotted me, but I banished it before it could get near.
“Tayrel Kan, stop!” I screamed.
He ignored me. Haven’t we done that before?
Another demon jumped at me and I barely managed to expel it, its breath burning my face. The screams started again, this time closer.
Cursing, I looked around, searching for something to throw at him—I didn’t
