Twenty-Six
Kyrundar
“Hold it steady!” Rouven shouted above Zidra’s horrifying scream.
She jerked, and I had to press down harder on her arm to keep my hands in position. Gritting my teeth, I tried to ignore the pain prickling from my hands up my arms into my whole body—the sensation of malicious ice crystals skittering through my veins. That wasn’t what was happening, but fighting against the ice curse as it tried to escape Rouven’s and my magic felt like that. I couldn’t imagine how Zidra felt.
Her arm moved as if she were trying to tug free, and she screamed again, the sound echoing in the small cabin and leaving my ears ringing. Sajen slammed his forearm across Zidra’s shoulders and grabbed her left wrist, stopping her from reaching over to grab at her arm. Or perhaps to pry Rouven’s and my hands away.
I squeezed my eyes closed, unable to watch her twisted expression. Losing focus wouldn’t help her. Hold it steady. Iskyr!
Hold. Help! Steady. Iskyr. Iskyr, please—hold!
My thoughts devolved into incoherent pleas as hot tears slipped past my eyelids. The ice curse raged against Rouven’s efforts, and I sent more power into restraining it. Was my barrier keeping enough of the cold away from Zidra’s flesh? Was I doing enough? Sweat trickled down my temple, and my knees trembled with the intensity of the power flowing through me while my arms burned from the exertion of keeping Zidra’s arm still.
A strange sound undercut Zidra’s cries, and it took me a moment to realize it was Rouven, whimpering with pain. His hands trembled between mine.
Then Sajen’s voice added to the chaos, but his words were low and calm. “May Iskyr the creator hold you, may Iskyr the guardian heal you, may Iskyr the comforter give you strength.” He repeated the words, reciting the benediction over and over at a soothing pace.
I let the cadence of Sajen’s prayer run through me like cooling water. My breathing stabilized, and my exhaustion eased. Zidra’s screams lessened to groans, and Rouven’s hands steadied. I redoubled my efforts and confirmed that neither Rouven’s magic nor the curse had escaped my containment.
We can do this. Thank Iskyr, we can do this!
A strange tugging sensation came from Zidra’s wound. It felt like a sudden sinkhole, something and then nothing. Or like the tide rushing out, dragging everything on the beach out to sea. I clenched my teeth and strained to keep my magic from collapsing in on itself.
The magic churned, tumultuous, then stilled. I could no longer detect the malevolent, biting cold of the curse. Then Rouven’s hands drew back, and the sensation of his magic vanished.
“Kyrundar,” Rouven said hoarsely. He cleared his throat. “You may slowly and carefully withdraw your magic from Zidra. Be sure you leave none of it behind, for her safety. You saved her life, but people aren’t meant to have ice magic of any kind embedded in their skin.”
I opened my eyes to find Zidra gazing up at me. A shaky smile curved her lips. A broken half-laugh, half-sob wrenched from my chest. She was going to be all right.
“Almost done,” I promised. “Just have to get this last bit of magic out.”
“Well, then I do need to cut away the necrosis and stitch you up,” Rouven said.
Zidra winced. “At least that won’t hurt as badly.”
“Does that mean I can go?” Sajen ran a hand through his hair, not quite hiding his trembling. “I need some fresh air.”
“You can go,” Zidra confirmed. “Thank you. I’m sorry for punching you.”
Sajen rubbed his chest. “Yes, remember that you escaped my grip and bruised my chest bone the next time you doubt whether you’re strong in your di’ora.”
She chuckled, although I felt her quiver .
After I removed my barrier, I sent my magic carefully over Zidra’s body, checking that I’d left nothing behind. Satisfied, I drew my power back into myself and released her arm. The door creaked and clicked closed as Sajen made his escape.
Zidra started to sit up, but Rouven held out his hand.
“No, stay like that. This may make you woozy. Kyrundar, bring that chair from my desk over here. This old man needs to sit.”
While I did as asked, I subtly sought out the heartbond.
It was still there.
Bent over the chair with my back to Zidra, I allowed myself a grin. But I smoothed my expression before turning around and left the heartbond alone. I’d wait for Zidra to react to its continued existence before I said anything.
Rouven started by using his magic to lightly chill Zidra’s skin, just to dull the pain. I tried to watch, but the moment the scalpel cut into the skin outside the ring of blackened flesh, I spun away. Zidra whimpered. My stomach lurched, and the cabin tilted around me worse than the ship had at sea.
Rouven sniggered. “Warriors always think they can handle surgery. But it isn’t the same as blood in the heat of battle, especially when the patient is someone you care for.”
After what felt like an eternity of listening to Rouven’s reassuring murmurs and Zidra’s muffled cries, Rouven declared he was done. I turned around to find the physician wrapping a clean bandage around Zidra’s arm and giving her instructions for wound care, including reiterating his strong recommendation to find a fleshmage.
The moment she sat up, I rushed to her side. “How do you feel?”
“Like I almost died.” Her weak laugh only added to the twisting in my stomach. “But I didn’t. Thanks to you.” Her soft, breathy tone toyed with my heart, as did the way she watched me, her golden-brown eyes smoldering like coals. But then she abruptly looked to Rouven, who had moved to his desk and was washing his hands. “And thanks to you, of course. Truly, I am inexpressibly grateful.”
“Thank Iskyr. I wasn’t even certain that would work.” Rouven dried his hands and turned toward us. “How did that happen, anyway? Is the responsible ice elf dead?”
“I believe so,” I said. “The ice elf who struck her is dead, although I can’t be certain he crafted the curse.”
“Good. Most likely he did. They’re difficult to keep stable and respond best to the same magic that created them.” He sank into the armchair in the middle of the room. “But why would anyone create such a curse and then use it on a rengir?”
“Actually…” Zidra took a deep breath. “We were hoping you might have an idea. Have you ever heard of a league that believes the rengiri are corrupt? And that might want you dead?”
Color drained from Rouven’s cheeks, and he went still as a frozen lake. Then he shoved to his feet and pointed at the door. “Out. Get out! I let my magical defenses down to let you in, and that healing was exhausting! If they’ve followed you— ”
“Who is they ?” I crossed my arms. “Why do you think they’d follow us?”
“I didn’t move out here for pleasure. I’m hiding! I knew I’d be found eventually, though,” he muttered. “But if they’re hunting you, you might have brought them to my door when I’m unprepared—”
“Then we’ll help you!” Zidra buckled on her pauldron. “But who are they? What do they want? If you can tell us anything to identify them—”
“Ha!” Rouven shook his head. “Anyone who can identify them, who knows too much, who gets too close and doesn’t join them, ends up dead or missing or both. If they’re targeting you, they must think you know too much.”
“What if a lot of people know too much?” she pressed. “I know they consider themselves a league and have some kind of religious motivation, as they call their leader an archon, but they don’t honor Iskyr. I know they have assassins, including a night elf. I know they’re stationed in Laedresh. And I know they have ties to the murder of a magistrate, and that my investigation into his death started all of this. And everything I know, Kyrundar and Sajen know, and as soon as my letters get to her, Archon Aekyrdra will also know, and then the entire Order of the Rengir and the imperial palace will know.”
Rouven studied her for a moment. “Clever. If they start taking out that many people, they’ll only confirm their existence and draw more attention, which is the last thing they want.” He worked his jaw, then sat back down, far stiffer than before. “What do you want to know?” ’
“Anything you do,” Zidra said.
She sat back down on the edge of the bed. I almost sat next to her, but not wanting to push her, I chose the wood chair next to the bed instead.
“It started a few years ago, with a human stonemage who came into Merael’s seeking treatment for a wound. She tried to claim it was a run-in with a wolf, but the claw marks were too big. Had to be a wolvus. Finally she admitted it was a ‘training exercise,’ but she wouldn’t say training for what or where. I looked into her, and she wasn’t a student at Harcos or a rengir or a member of the city or imperial guard. But she didn’t seem frightened and said she was safe, so I didn’t report it to the guard.”
Rouven sighed and slumped a little. “I should have. My silence told them I was trustworthy. I started getting more patients with strange wounds and no clear accounting of how they got them, and not just at Merael’s, but at my home. Shifters, elves, humans. Then a man came to see me. A human firemage. He said the Ascendant League had deemed me worthy. He wanted to recruit me to their cause.”
“Their cause?” I asked.
“He was vague, but I got the impression he believes that the Order of the Rengir are hoarding some secret source of power that is related to Ascadrion the Earth-Shaker. I suspect they want to bring Ascadrion back, but I didn’t ask. I said I wasn’t interested. He didn’t like that,” Rouven said darkly.
“He said he was the archon of the Laedresh conclave, and that the ‘sovereign’ of the League would be disappointed. He implied that they have bases all over the continent and that one day they will take control of the empire, and he said I should join them while I had the chance to do so willingly. I said I’d think about it, just to get him out of my office. I thought he was insane.”
“They started threatening you?” Zidra guessed.
The physician nodded, his expression sagging into deeper wrinkles. “I started finding notes implying I was being watched and claiming that bad things would happen to me and my wife if I said anything about the League.”
“You’re married?” Zidra gasped.
“Indeed, although it doesn’t feel like it when I haven’t seen her in over eight months.” Rouven’s sigh was mournful. “I sent my wife away to be with her family in southern Glacori. The ‘archon’ of the Laedresh conclave visited me and told me he’d asked the archon of another conclave to keep an eye on her.”
My fingers tensed, digging into my thigh as I imagined the fear and fury Rouven must have felt.
“So I asked an acquaintance to secretly send word to my wife, telling her to change her name and move to a secret location. I hoped the league only wanted me for my power as the head of Merael’s, so I retired. That didn’t stop them, and they were angry they had lost track of Winni. They made it quite clear that I knew too much to walk away.” He stared out the window. “So I came here. Far away from my Winni, and far from any major towns where the Ascendant League might have conclaves. ”
Silence fell over the cabin, heavy and uncomfortable.
“Do you have names?” Zidra asked quietly. “Descriptions?”
Rouven scowled. “And make myself more of a target? They’re difficult to hide from. Even if you can take down one of their conclaves, there’s all the others to worry about.”
“If we can take them alive—”
“They’re fanatics,” he scoffed. “They aren’t rational. I doubt they’d give up any information they might have. Besides, that large of a society doesn’t stay a secret unless they keep secrets from their own members.”
That made sense, but we couldn’t pretend this Ascendant League wasn’t a threat, no matter how ridiculously grandiose their name was.
“Telling you would only put me and my family in more danger.” Rouven shook his head. “I’m—” He cut off with a gasp, and his head snapped toward the door. “They’ve found us.”
The door slammed inward and crashed against the wall. Breathless, Sajen stuck his head inside. “Three people approaching! Human, shifter, and an elf, and they don’t look friendly.”