Priestess of the White

At the thought of Leiard she felt a stab of pain and was glad she was no longer closely linked with the other White. She straightened her back. He was a mistake of the past. A lesson in the perils of love. Now, after the battle, her infatuation seemed childish and foolish. It was time to think of more important things: the recovery of her people - and of the Siyee.

A lone mounted rider galloped back to the White. Auraya watched him, welcoming the distraction. The advisers had reported that King Guire and Moderator Meeran had returned a few hours after fleeing the vorns’ attack. King Berro, however, had not been seen.

The rider reined in before Juran. “No sign of him yet, Juran of the White. We could send a second group of trackers.”

“Yes,” Juran replied. “Do that.”

The man hurried away. The White continued down the slope toward the camp. When they had nearly reached it, Auraya heard a familiar high-pitched voice call her name.

She heard Danjin let out a relieved sigh as Mischief leapt down from the roof of a tarn and bounced over the muddy ground toward her. Two more veez followed him, one black, one orange. As Mischief ran up Auraya’s robe onto her shoulders, the other veez raced to Mairae and Dyara.

“Little escapee,” Dyara said, scratching the bright orange head of her pet. She looked at Mischief suspiciously. “Is he teaching Luck bad habits?”

Auraya smiled. “Probably. Does he—?”

Hearing the sound of wings, Auraya felt her heart skip. She looked up eagerly, and sighed with relief to see Speaker Sirri and two other Siyee circling down. As they landed, Juran stepped forward to meet them.

“Speaker Sirri. We are indebted to you and your people. You have been invaluable to us today.”

Sirri’s smile was grim. “It was our first experience of war. We have learned much today, at great cost, although our losses are nothing to yours. When the vorns attacked our non-fighters, they were able to escape.”

“All losses are equally terrible,” Juran replied. “Our healer priests will tend to Siyee wounded as well as landwalker.”

Sirri looked bemused, and Auraya saw images of the hundreds of Dreamweavers that had descended upon the battlefield in the woman’s thoughts.

“Then I will send the non-fighters of my people, who are fresh and able to carry small loads quickly, to help them.”

Juran nodded. “Their help would be most welcome. Is there anything else you need?”

“No. I just learned something that you may be interested to hear. One of my people noticed a man sitting in a tree to the northwest of here. My hunter said she was attracted by his shouting, but dared not land as she could hear one of those large predatory creatures of the enemy nearby.”

Juran’s eyebrows rose. “That is interesting. Could you send this hunter to us so that we may locate this man?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you, Speaker Sirri.”

She nodded, then stepped away. “I will gather my people and send as many helpers as I can to you.”

Her companions followed as she ran down the hill, leapt into the air and glided away. Juran turned to Auraya.

“I think it would be best if you accompanied this hunter.”

:Just... don’t rub it in too much, he added. There’s a fine line between earning gratitude and resentment.

:I imagine that for King Berro the line is fine indeed. I will be careful.

“This poor man will need a mount to carry him back,” she said aloud.

Juran smiled. “Yes, and familiar faces to ease the shock of his situation.”

She nearly laughed aloud. With a few landwalkers present to witness the rescue, everyone would know the Toren king owed the Siyee his life.

And that couldn’t be a bad thing.

48

Areas of depleted magic were everywhere, but that was normal for a battlefield. To compensate, Leiard only had to concentrate on the sense of magic around him and draw from less depleted patches.

He channelled magic through himself into the injured man, shifting bone and flesh until a sense of rightness began to form. Liquids returned to their correct channels. Hashes of energy shot up and down repaired pathways. He heard the man gasp with pain and quickly blocked the nerve thread again, this time in a way that could be easily reversed.

Working along the leg, Leiard repaired the rest of the damage. He passed a hand over the man’s skin, feeling a deep satisfaction at the scar-free result, then unblocked the man’s nerve pathways and went in search of another patient.

He had only to open his mind and any lingering thought of the wounded or dying would guide him. Befuddled, dim thoughts drew him to a Pentadrian sorcerer. The woman had been dealt a blow to the head that had left a bloody crater.

I can’t save this one, he thought Her mind will be damaged.

Yes, you can, Mirar whispered. I will help you.

Leiard crouched beside the woman and placed his hand over the wound. He let Mirar guide him. The work was so fine he scarcely dared to breathe. Mirar’s will blended with his as it had so many times this night, so that he almost began to feel he was losing himself. That brought a sense of panic, but he held it back. For the woman’s sake.

Leiard felt the crater in the woman’s skull expand under his hand. Bone knitted. Liquids and swelling within the brain drained away. Damaged areas were repaired.

Will she return completely to normal? Leiard asked.

No, she will have some memory loss, Mirar replied. Not necessarily a slice of her past. More likely she will have to relearn something, like how to talk, or dance - or see.

I did not know that was possible.

You did. You have just forgotten.

The woman was healed. She opened her eyes and stared at Leiard in surprise. Then she rose to her feet and looked around the battlefield. Leiard turned her to face the Pentadrian side of the valley, then pointed. She nodded, then started walking.

Leiard turned away. Pain and grief drew him to a young Siyee man, his legs and arms bent in places and directions that they would not naturally go. A young female Siyee kneeled beside him, sobbing.

Another victim of a fall, Mirar observed. His back may be broken, too.

This would take a lot of magic and concentration. Leiard ignored the crying girl, kneeled beside the Siyee and began to draw in magic.

Danjin woke with a start. He was lying beside a fire. Flames licked at a fresh piece of wood. From the shape he guessed it was a piece of broken shaft from a war platten.

How long have I been asleep?

He sat up. A servant was walking away from him, probably the man who had brought the wood. He looked around at the camp. Fewer lamps burned now. A handful of people still moved about, but quietly. There was a stillness to everything. No wind. Little sound.

Then he looked beyond. The sky was glowing faintly in the east.