Chapter 16 Half Formed Plans and Uncertain Outcomes #4
“I was just watching the tent,” he admitted, the veins in his neck popping out with the effort. “I would never have come in, or anything, it’s just…you only had Corric and Sehleh with you and I wanted to be sure you were safe.”
Ridan was frozen. His scent had that much of an effect on Brune? And he was worried about him. Good alpha, his omega all but purred.
It’s not like Ridan was surprised Brune was a good alpha. He’d known from the beginning. But seeing him standing in front of his tent, holding himself back and looking insecure? It brought back a lot of the fantasies Ridan had dreamt up while in the throes of his heat.
Fighting back a smile, he said, “Clearly, you’ve never tried to get into a kitchen when Sehleh was cooking. She’d leave a pan shaped hole in your head.”
Huffing a laugh, Brune ducked his head. “I won’t make that mistake.”
“Tell me, how have things been while I was away?”
Thankful for the awkwardness to pass, Brune launched into a well-meaning rant about the comings and goings of the camp while Ridan was in heat.
Everything from sparring with Jonen for hours, to Halm being harassed by Iylah for reorganizing her herbs on a shelf that was too high, to the rumors about who was planning to court who.
Most of it was nonsense, but Ridan appreciated hearing about it all the same.
And the way Brune spoke of them as if they were their people.
“And our visitors?” Ridan asked cagily, wary to break the uplifting mood between them.
Brune shrugged. “Schok remains drugged. He occasionally…flares up but Corric and Buzzard have been taking turns with him and they’ve got a system.
Halm and Buzzard have been looking through some of Halm’s books, discussing potential cures.
” He turned to look at the tent in question, squinting into the early morning sun.
“If they can’t cure him, I don’t know—no one should live like that. ”
Ridan was inclined to agree, but he wasn’t the man’s friend or brother. What he wanted was to go back into the tent and eat more of Sehleh’s biscuits, but he steeled himself, following Brune towards the tent of problems.
He stepped into the tent only to be greeted by Halm yelping, hiding behind one of the books she was reading. Ridan lifted a brow.
“Artrax’s teeth,” she grumbled, running fingers through her ratty hair, leaving smudges of ink behind. “I thought you were Iylah.”
Jonen snickered behind him; arms crossed as he leaned against one of the support posts. “She’s been swatting her for days.”
Ridan wasn’t going to touch that, so he turned his attention to the others in the tent. Schok was, as expected, still laying in his grave. Buzzard was sitting beside it, looking a little better than when he’d last seen him. His color was better, and someone had given him a proper bath.
Corric was beside Halm, peering through the books strewn across the floor.
He hid it well, but Ridan knew he must be exhausted.
Their eyes met, and an understanding flickered between them.
As much as Ridan would hate to admit it, Corric saved him.
Bringing Brune’s shirt ended much of his suffering and made the rest of his heat pass in relative peace.
As he stared into the eyes that had provided him with so much safety and love, in and out of his heats, he knew could never end Schok’s life.
Not even if he thought it was best. For Corric, he would do what it took to save his brother.
Not out of thanks, but because Corric didn’t deserve to feel that pain.
“Well?” he asked the room. “Have you managed to do anything besides piss off my healer?”
Halm colored as Jonen and Buzzard chuckled. “Actually, I think…I think I have an idea.”
That caught their attention. Ridan gestured for her to continue.
“With what Buzzard has told me about Schok’s…
captivity, I think I know why he’s burning himself.
” Halm fingered at some of the scattered papers.
“Theoretically, magic users should be protected from their own magic. Otherwise, well…” she didn’t look at Schok but they all knew what she meant.
“And from what I’ve read, elemental magic is the most basic—ice being the easiest and fire the most difficult.
Something about causing the ignition whereas water is in the air itself and can be easily—never mind, you don’t care—Schok is known to have mastered many natural elements, but he appears to only use fire. At least in his thrall form.”
“Because the magic that is left is old. It's rotting. Magic is not meant to be reused over and over without being replenished. I believe Schok has used too much magic, and it’s poisoning him. That’s why his magic hurts him.”
Brune scratched at his cheek, nails scraping through his neat beard. “But why does he only use fire?”
Halm looked a little less sure. “I…I don’t know. I think it could be that he spent so much time perfecting it that, in his thrall state, he uses it because it’s the one he worked with the most. Like a dominant hand. It’s instinctual.”
Ridan supposed that made sense. As much as any of it did. “And this poisoned magic is somehow keeping him in this state?”
“Uh, no,” Halm said sheepishly. “Actually, I think it might help us. Because the magic is unstable, I think it might be easier to break.”
“Can you break it?”
Smudging ink on her full cheek, she nodded. “I think so.” Halm gathered her collected materials as she got to her feet. “Let me preface this by saying I do not know what I’m doing.”
“Love the confidence,” Buzzard scoffed.
“The thing about thralls is that no one has ever tried to…uh, un-thrall them. It’s always been a one and done kind of thing, and those who have attempted it have always done so from the outside.”
Brune stepped up beside Ridan. “Outside? What do you mean?”
Shuffling through her papers, Halm finally gave up on what she was looking for and sighed.
“Right. Say you were treating someone who was stabbed. If all you did was stitch it up, you might miss something critical. Like internal bleeding or infection.” Halm blinked dry eyes as she stared down at her ink stained fingers. Ridan nodded for her to continue.
“That’s what they’ve done with thralls. Just kind of…threw spells and medicine at them and hoped it worked. No one has ever tried to treat them from the inside.”
“The inside?” Corric asked, his voice quiet. “You intend to cut my brother open?”
“Yes! Not actually, of course, but um…” she ran his fingers through her hair. “There won’t be any cutting.”
Buzzard’s golden eyes were bright in the tent's gloom, narrowed on Halm like he understood something the rest of them hadn’t quite caught up on yet. “You want to use magic?”
Jonen inhaled sharply, his hand instinctively dropping to his sword.
Halm noticed but held her ground. “Yes.”
“You don’t have magic,” Brune pointed out, far less squeamish around the subject than anyone else.
“No, but Buzzard does. I found some information that—I won’t bore you with the details, but essentially, I think I can manipulate Buzzard’s magic.
” Halm looked between them all, knowing full well this is the kind of talk that nearly saw her clanless.
“That’s all human magic wielders do, anyway.
They just manipulate magic that already exists.
As a harpy, Buzzard can theoretically create as much magic as we need. ”
“To what end?” Ridan asked, trying to keep his pre-existing bias from rearing its ugly head. He may not like magic, but he might not have a choice.
“That’s what I meant by treating the inside,” Halm elaborated, looking a little more relaxed now that she hadn’t been run through yet. “If we can somehow speak to Schok’s consciousness, I might be able to get him to fix himself.”
The room went quiet as they each processed just what she was saying. It was Corric who spoke first. “You want to try to reach Schok? Not thrall Schok, but whatever remains of him?”
“If anything remains, yes. He might be the only one capable of severing whatever connection the magic has on him.” Halm barreled on.
“I’ve helped with a lot of healers, and the one thing I’ve learned is that medicine has its uses, but it’s limited.
There comes a point where it’s up to the patient themselves.
Medicines are like a sword. They help with the fight, but it’s the strength in an arm that makes all the difference. ”
Ridan had seen it happen. Warriors who looked to be on the brink of death, yet the next day, they were awake. He’d seen it happen the other way around. Still, it made sense. He can’t exactly say he was used to thinking like this—but he could admit that Halm’s logic was sound.
And they had no other options.
He glanced over at Buzzard. Of all of them, he would be the only one who would know if this had a chance of working. His face was solemn, eyes trained on Halm like a predator. Perhaps he was just thinking, or maybe he was studying the woman. Looking for any signs of deceit.
“How are you going to do it?” Ridan asked, surprising the room.
“I’m not,” Halm admitted weakly. “I mean, I am. I’ll be doing the whole…” she waved her hands around his head. “But someone else is going to have to go in.”
“Go in? Like…physically.”
Halm shrugged. “Yes? Like I said, I don’t really know what I’m doing here.
I’m working on half guesses and limited knowledge.
It's not like there’s an abundance of magical books around to give me guidance.
Buzzard has some knowledge, but he was never properly educated.
Just…used.” she looked over at Buzzard apologetically, but the harpy just shrugged.
“So you have to send someone into his mind?” Ridan asked slowly.
“More like…send their consciousness?”
Ridan pinched his nose. It was one thing to do this with the outcome uncertain, but the procedure largely understood. He had planned enough battles to know that no matter how much knowledge and tact you had; the result was never guaranteed. But to not know either?
“I’ll do it,” Corric spoke up, answering a question no one asked.
Jonen jerked to his feet. “Absolutely not.”
Corric ignored him. “I’m the best person for the job. He knows me.”
“He knows Buzzard too!” Jonen shouted, glaring down at Corric, who refused to return the look.
“Buzzard is too weak,” Halm said. “Besides, I need him here for the magic.”
Jonen was hovering over Corric like someone was going to snatch him out from under him. His scent was turning ugly—fear and anger coiling together to be so overpowering Ridan didn’t know if he wanted to plug his nose or punch Jonen in the face.
“Is it dangerous?” he asked, ignoring Jonen’s posturing.
Halm threw her hands up. “Most likely.”
Corric looked resolute, his face blank, but hands curled into fists. Ridan knew that look. He’d been on the receiving end of that look so many times he could almost feel it. It usually preceded a punch.
“Then I’ll go.” Not that he wanted to dive headfirst into someone else’s consciousness, but he wasn’t about to let his packmate go.
He felt Brune stiffen beside him.
“Ridan, no.” he rarely heard Corric so firm, so it drew his attention. His packmate stood and approached him. “This isn’t your fight. I know that’s never stopped you before, but this time you must stand back. You are too important here.”
Ridan clicked his teeth. “What kind of chief would I be if I let you—”
“The chief.” Corric cut him off. “You are chief to more than just me, Ridan. The clan needs you. Now more than ever.” He took Ridan’s hand, rubbing their wrist glands together. “This is my fight. Be confident that you’ve made me strong enough to succeed.”
Ridan hated that he couldn’t argue with him. Perhaps years, maybe even months ago, he would have. But that was before he was Chief of the Stone Blade. Before he was beholden to the camp. Before Kaldonea was breathing down their necks, looking to uproot everything they’ve ever known.
How could he justify sacrificing the war for a single battle? Restrina always told him to surround himself with those whose strength he could lean on.
Gritting his teeth, he nodded tersely. “I’ve never doubted your strength, Corric.”
Jonen growled behind them; eyes nearly black with anger. Corric sighed and turned to him, stepping closer until their noses were nearly smashed together.
“You’ve always said I was my own person, and that no alpha had any dominion over me. I’ll be damned if I let one do it now.” His eyes were flinty, lips pale where he pressed them together.
Jonen whined softly. “Cor—”
“As long as my neck is bare, then your opinion doesn’t matter,” Corric snapped, turning away from him to speak to a Halm.
Ridan couldn’t hear what they said over Buzzard’s cackling.