Chapter 30
For days, we don’t see many others on our route.
Every so often, a tradesperson crosses our path with a wagon of goods.
The sun is sinking in the sky as we trek through Diadun.
A woman with a knotted mess of chocolate brown hair runs out of a nearby house, waving her arms frantically above her head.
Ava looks back at us and says something. Tiernan relays the words into my mind. “She’s asking us to help her ill child.”
There’s hesitation within our group; an unscheduled stop is risky. But what is the point of having the ability to help if we don’t use it?
What if the rebels hadn’t gone out of their way to rescue Taig?
We all seem to come to the same conclusion—that we cannot just walk away and leave someone in need. Especially a child.
We dismount in the small front garden among limp flowers and bushes, a wheelbarrow, and a toy pull wagon made of wood.
Sloan, Isobel, Osheen, and Chiyo stand watch while the rest of us trail the frantic mother into her home.
On a bed of quilts in the center of the modest room, a child lies shivering.
She looks to be no older than twelve. A lean young man with unruly dark brown hair and a square jaw stands from where he’d been perched beside the child.
“You’ve come to help …?” I don’t quite make out the name he uses for the child or Ava’s response to him. I miss being able to easily communicate and understand what’s happening around me.
I feel Tiernan’s magic nudge against my mind, and I let my walls sink. “The child’s name is Nuala. She’s eleven years old. The lad is Cahel, and his mother is Jacinta.”
“Thank you,” I mentally respond as Cahel leaves the room.
“She’s been feverish for days,” Jacinta says as we step closer. Numerous candles burn around the room, leaving a greasy scent in the air and making it harder to read Jacinta’s lips. I find myself having to focus intently on her words.
“I’ve tried giving her teas and herbs. I’ve even—” She stops speaking abruptly.
Tiernan’s gaze is on the child, his shoulders tense. I glance at him, a question lifting my brows.
“What is it?” I throw my words toward his mind.
“She’s a Wielder … Waterweaver.”
“Oh!”
Alys is already walking toward Nuala. Ava stands nearby, her arms folded over her lean torso as she stares at the woman she’s been avoiding speaking with.
Alys kneels beside Nuala and places her hand on her shoulder.
A heartbeat later, she flinches back and looks to Jacinta, then us.
She signs as she speaks, “I sense dark magic.”
My heart jolts—partially because of Alys’s words, partially because of the delivery of them. Signing publicly is dangerous, but I suppose since the child is a Waterweaver, they’re in the same boat.
Jacinta’s eyes widen. She shakes her head sharply, sending her wild brown hair flying every which way. “I haven’t used any magic! Certainly not dark magic. I swear by all the gods!”
Ava steps in, calm as ever. “No one is accusing you of using magic. At least not willingly.”
Jacinta waves her hands around, uttering too much at once for me to catch. Tears stream down her face as she looks back and forth between Nuala and Ava. With a gentle hand on the woman’s shoulder, Ava leads her out of the room. It gives Alys a chance to work without the extra distraction.
I’m entranced by her healing light and the serene, focused look on her face. It’s fascinating. Slowly, Nuala stops trembling.
When Alys’s gaze settles on us, I sign, “Will she be alright? What dark magic do you sense?”
“I’m not sure, but the child has magic of her own.”
“Waterweaving,” Tiernan says.
“Ah.” Alys glances briefly at Nuala. “It will be extremely difficult to heal her of whatever dark magic is inflicting her body. I’m not certain if it’s even possible to fully cure her. Especially in so little time. It feels very similar to the poison I battled.”
“What if this is the work of Purists?” I silently motion. “Osheen may know something. Unfortunately.”
Tiernan swears, likely under his breath.
I volunteer to collect Osheen rather than risk Tiernan giving in to his harsh feelings toward the betrayer.
As I step out of the cozy house and into the blustery night air, I gain everyone’s attention.
Osheen’s blue gaze focuses on me, sadness and regret aging him.
Without a word, I wave him over, and though he seems surprised, he doesn’t question me.
When he’s standing close, I fight the urge to step away. The coolness of my shadows prickles my fingertips, but I control myself as well as the urge to shake him. “You’re needed inside,” I say.
Without another word, I open the door and step inside. Alys is still crouched, watching the rise and fall of the blankets over Nuala’s chest.
“What exactly do you know about that cure against magic you mentioned?” I ask Osheen. “The Poison? Can you tell Alys a bit more about it?”
He frowns in confusion. “The Cleanse?”
I shrug my shoulder and gesture to Alys, perhaps a little sharper than I mean to. My muscles are tense, as if merely being in Osheen’s presence is changing my body’s harmony.
Tiernan’s arm wraps around my upper back, his hand squeezing my shoulder.
I will my muscles to unclench as I watch the fluent words on Osheen’s hands.
“It’s been given to Wielders mainly, I believe.
But that’s only for those who want to get rid of their magic.
They have a poison that targets magical blood.
It’s more potent—a few rare herbs imbued with what sounds like old dark magic.
Like from that book of fairytales Durvla used to love so much.
” He glances sidelong at me before his eyes shift back to Alys.
He’s heard me read that book to Taig countless times.
He used to playfully tease me for my love of those stories.
It’s difficult to believe so much of it turned out to be true.
A despairing laugh almost leaves my lips.
Tiernan squeezes my shoulder again, his warmth keeping me from bursting into tears.
“It’s not the first time this has been attempted,” Alys motions. “Widespread poison was the first attempt at the Purge, before the violent massacres began. Too many survived the poison, so they started to use more … aggressive methods.”
Osheen flinches, as do I.
“They’re planning to fully weaponize the poison, but they’re mostly focused on the Cleanse. I’ve heard it’s gruesome. Those who take it rarely survive, but they don’t care about the casualties.”
Gods …
“It could be the weaponized poison, but I’m not sure how they’ve been testing it.”
As much as I hate to admit it, Osheen’s knowledge on this journey is indeed useful.
Alys glances at Nuala then runs her hand over her salt-and-pepper hair. “Thank you, Osheen. The poison seems likely. I sense magic within her, but it’s tainted.”
Tiernan releases me to sign. “If I help with the healing, can we reverse the effects so that she’s at least stable long enough for a rescue?
We can send word to the Verge now and, in the meantime, heal her as best as we can.
Maybe we can leave them with a few tonics to keep the fever down and the pain at bay. ”
Alys nods in agreement. “We can try.”
Tiernan turns to Osheen before signing a tad too forcefully. “Have one of the others send word to Dayfyd. Sloan has done rescue missions before; they know what to do.”
Osheen nods and gets out of the house quickly. The door hardly has time to close before the child’s mother steps into the room, a tray of teacups in her hand. Ava walks behind her with a steaming kettle.
“Durvla, would you mind catching them up while Alys and I get started?” Tiernan asks.
I nod, and he gives me a tense smile before he and Alys take their places beside the child.
Jacinta is wide-eyed and haggard as she places the tray down on the small, low table, and Ava places the kettle on a thin stone slab beside it.
I catch them up with all that was discussed, including Alys and Tiernan’s healing and the rescue attempt.
For a couple hours more, we remain in the house, taking turns refreshing ourselves, munching on stale bread and bland broth. I stand guard with Ava for a while as the others head inside. Cahel waters and grooms our horses before leaving them to get some rest.
I lean against the house, my head pounding and my legs growing weaker. When Chiyo steps back outside, she’s washed the kohl away and pulled her hair back into a simple ponytail. “Your beau is sleeping off the healing sessions. We leave in under an hour. Perhaps you should get some rest too?”
I shake my head and white spots dance in the darkness, a ghost of nausea lightly nudging me. What I need to do is take a tincture before I faint or vomit. Or both.
“Rest,” Chiyo says with a firm gesture. She holds my gaze for so long that I feel like I’ll fall asleep where I stand.
“Fine,” I concede.
When I get inside, Alys and Tiernan are asleep in each of the raggedy armchairs.
Jacinta smiles crookedly at me from where she sits on the floor beside Nuala.
As she refocuses on the girl, I cautiously squeeze in beside Tiernan.
His shoulder makes the perfect pillow for my head, his chest a welcome place to drape my arm.
To my surprise, his hand slides over my back, but he doesn’t stir beyond that.
I wish I could get a better idea of what happened to Nuala. Beyond the inferences that were made based on Alys’s healing senses and Osheen’s knowledge, that is.
Then again … can’t I?
Taking a steady breath, I close my eyes and focus on Nuala, lowering my shields tentatively until I feel her presence. There’s an innocence to it—something that feels like a gentle summer breeze. My body seems to drift, a vivid image of a garden materializing in my mind.
A small, fair hand plucks a lily from the garden and tucks it into a bouquet of wildflowers.
They droop, but the child seems unbothered.
Her blond hair is like spun gold in the sunlight.
I remain a small distance from her, observing silently until her honey brown eyes find me.
She hardly startles, a toothy smile lighting up her face.
“Hello there!” she chirps. “Who are you?”
“Hi.” I step closer to her. “My name is Durvla.”
She tilts her head at me, her lower lip bitten in thought. “Your voice sounds familiar. Like I’ve heard you before. A moment ago. But …” Her eyes wander, and the beautiful garden wavers around us, the dreamscape threatening to collapse.
“My friends have been working hard trying to make you feel better.”
Her lips tug down. “I was fine until I found an arrow in the stable. I wanted to bring it home to Cahel because he has a bow, but it cut my hand.” Her gaze wanders to the distance.
My heart contracts. Poison indeed. Perhaps exactly the kind that had struck Alys.
“For you,” she says, her eyes on me again. She extends the flowers to me, but as I reach for them, I tumble back into my body, awake again.
I flinch so hard that Tiernan’s arm tightens around me.
I feel the slightest nudge of his magic against my mental barrier, but I don’t let him in.
He needs to rest. I reposition myself, my bottom wedged between the arm of the chair and his body, my legs draped over his lap.
I lower my head to his chest and his arm relaxes, his breathing deepening again.
I must doze off for a moment, because the next thing I know, I’m being shaken. I startle, sitting up. It takes quite a bit of blinking before my vision clears well enough for me to make out Chiyo’s face. “Cahel says he spotted Forayers riding this way,” she signs. “We have to go!”
She runs off to wake Alys and I jostle Tiernan’s shoulder before stumbling off his lap. “Forayers are coming,” I tell him. His obsidian gaze is bleary, but he’s on his feet, his swords in his hands in no time.
He sheathes the swords on his back and tightens the straps across his chest. We race outside, and as my eyes meet Osheen’s, I’m reminded of the many times we’ve had to hide Taig during an impending raid.
I’m even reminded of when we all fled Dubh Carrig during the Festival of Damarlach, leaving the entire village in flames.
Tiernan helps me onto Ghendor as Cahel and Jacinta rush out of the house. They hand us satchels of food for the road, thanking us for the potions and for helping Nuala. Then we’re off, riding into the night … again.
I hope that Nuala will make it. That she can be rescued.
That by some divine intervention, we can stop running all the time.