39. Faylinn
Chapter 39
Faylinn
I was absolutely livid, my body quaking from anger and pent-up frustration, and I was certain that my emotions were worn on my face, if the flinch from the man with emeralds for eyes and hair black as night was anything to go by.
But I no longer cared about anyone else’s opinion of me.
The village I called home for as long as I had memories was decimated.
The people I knew, healed, and protected were scattered and hurting, their families torn apart, their livelihoods taken.
The man I grew to love was dead or dying in a foreign city.
The woman I trusted, my mentor, deceived me and fled.
The only man to take me in as a child, the one who cared for me, and showed me the love of a parent, was dead.
My heart stuttered at that thought.
Don’t think about . . . him.
I pushed down the pain and the sadness, allowing only anger to fill me. Anger I could operate on. I’d find time to mourn my old life and the people in it later.
The sun was just cresting the horizon and it bathed the street in a soft golden glow. It would’ve been beautiful, if not for the wreckage of our town and the dozens of dead bodies in various states of decay it illuminated .
The air was hot and muggy, promising another scorching late spring day, and I knew that wasn’t going to bode well for the cleanup that would have to start today.
“What?” The question came from the man who had locked eyes with me during the battle earlier. His tone wasn’t accusatory, just curious, but I turned my furious gaze toward him anyway.
“I said, it’s about time you showed up. Are you deaf?” I crossed my arms in front of my body, partially to protect my broken heart and partially because I needed something to do with my hands that wouldn’t betray their shaking.
With the mayor and Holt dead, our little village was leaderless. I had tried to convince Sharol to take the mantle, but she simply shook her head and said it “had to be me” before disappearing. I looked everywhere for her, but something in my blood—in the runes etched on my skin—told me she was gone. Left me without so much as a goodbye. Left me alone to grieve and, apparently, lead these people. My anger with her was a palpable thing.
The Mages behind the man stiffened, a few calling magic to their palms, though it was weak and wispy. They were operating on reserves, if they had any magic left at all.
“Load of good that’ll do you,” I said, nodding with my chin toward the magic pooling. “The wards are impenetrable. It’s how we lasted so long without help.”
My words did nothing to assuage the fears of the Mages, though, until the green-eyed man gave a curt nod and the magic abruptly faded. The Mages kept wary eyes trained on me and the emerald-eyed man, still assessing for threats.
So, he’s the leader, then.
The thought didn’t surprise me. He carried himself with an air of authority and confidence that I had only ever seen in people in positions of power. Though this man wore it better than I had ever seen—there was a quiet strength about him, almost as if he knew he was the most powerful person in the room but didn’t want to lord it over anyone else.
I cocked my head as I observed him, his eyes bored into my own as he did the same.
“What’s your name?” he tried, ignoring my barbs from earlier.
“Faylinn.” I didn’t want to give him my name, but something compelled me to do so. Probably the fact that I needed to be at least cordial with these Mages, they did come to save us, after all, and we had some families and people who were still badly injured.
The man gave me a small smile before responding, even though I didn’t ask for his name in return. “I am Rohak d’Alvey, General of the Northern Allied Army. A man came on horseback a few nights ago, alerting us to the rebel occupation in Isrun. I’m sorry we weren’t here sooner.” I searched his face for signs of deception and found none.
“Ben . . . made it to you?” My voice wavered and I cleared it quickly.
“He did. It’s the only reason we even knew about your village. He’s a hero.”
“Is he . . . okay?” I hated how hesitant yet earnest I sounded. Undoubtedly this man would find a way to use my weakness against me.
Rohak offered a tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
Shit .
“He’s receiving the best care we can give him in Vespera. He came to us with the beginning of Mage Sickness,” he said, voice full of sympathy, and my stomach dropped out completely. “We’re doing what we can to make him comfortable.”
Meaning, he’s going to die and we’re just helping to ease his passing .
I cleared my throat and blinked hard before giving Rohak a curt nod.
“If you don’t mind, I have some badly injured Mages. Do you have a Healer that could see to them?” Rohak was cajoling, but expertly switching the topic away from something that obviously caused me pain.
I gave another curt nod. “That’s me. The only problem is I have no more salves, tonics, or clean dressings available. We used our limited supplies first when your Mages attacked, then when the rebels came.”
I was angry again and the General looked completely taken aback.
“My Mages attacked?”
“Yes. You see those bodies down the way?” I gestured to the location of Holt’s store. “They set a building on fire and then killed any who exited before coming to this shop”—I angrily pointed at The Curious and Rohak’s gaze followed— “and murdering an innocent man in broad daylight.”
The Librarian’s and Holt’s bodies were removed at some point, though I could still see the stains on the street from where Holt’s blood was drained.
Don’t think about that . . .
Rohak’s brow furrowed and he rubbed his hands over his face before crossing his arms and meeting my gaze again. “That shouldn’t have happened. I would like to . . . debrief with you and any others who saw what happened at some point. But first, we need medical care and to refill our reserves. Is there any other place where we can get you salves? Or the ingredients for them?”
I wasn’t happy that he brushed over the topic of the murdered villagers, but I understood the need to heal first and ask questions later. Priorities and all of that.
“Yes. I have a cottage by the edge of the woods. My personal stores should still be intact. And, if you have the men available, you can search through what is left of the General Store. That is where I sold my salves and tonics for the town. Though, I’m not sure what remains.” My voice was devoid of emotion, my head and heart slipping easily into the role of Healer.
Good. I can deal with everything else later .
The General barked a few orders, the Mages and Vessels who weren’t too badly injured taking off at a jog in the direction of the General Store and my cottage. It would be a bit before the latter returned, so I’d have to make do with what I had left.
“Can I show you my most injured?” The General turned back to me, waiting for me to make the next move.
I took a breath and stepped past the wards. When no one made a move to attack me, I relaxed my shoulders a bit and uncrossed my arms. “Lead the way, General,” I said, gesturing ahead of me.
He spun on his heel and moved briskly toward the alley that connected Market Street to one of the sections that held various homes.
“She’s this way. Her Vessel is still with her, but her injuries are . . . extensive.”
As we approached, I could see a large hulking man, skin a deeper brown than even Holt’s, cradling the body of a smaller woman. Her grey-flecked black hair had fallen from her braid and tendrils stuck to her sweaty, pale face. His eyes flicked to us, a question in them for Rohak, before he set her body down gently. Her head rolled to the side, her arm flopping bonelessly.
She looked dead, and I wasn’t certain my healing could do anything to help, but I knelt next to her anyway and felt for a pulse. To my shock, there was a weak flutter in her neck, but her skin was too clammy and cold. She would die from blood loss and the shock of trauma if I didn’t move quickly.
I scanned her body for injuries and sucked in a breath when I saw her chest.
There was a gaping hole over her heart, exposing bone and muscle. Blood leaked out of the wound with every slow beat of her heart.
“What happened to her?” I hissed.
“Pain Mage. Burrowed Pain inside her heart. She tried to claw it out.” Rohak said it factually, but I could hear the undercurrent of pain in his words.
He cared for her .
“I . . . I don’t know how much I can do for her,” I admitted.
The Vessel’s hand shot out and captured the wrist of my hand that was lying loosely on her stomach, just below the wound. He didn’t speak, but his eyes said everything his voice couldn’t. I understood in that look alone that this man would die without her, his soul tightly tied to hers as if they were one instead of separate entities.
He loves her. Deeply .
And I understood. I felt like my heart and a piece of my soul were ripped from my body when I watched Holt die. I couldn’t imagine tying yourself to another and loving them wholly, only to have half of your soul ripped from you without warning.
It would destroy him.
I placed my other hand on top of his and squeezed.
“I will try,” I whispered. “But this is beyond my salves. I will have to use, uhm, something else.”
The Vessel cocked his head at me.
“What is something else?” Rohak’s words were as tight as his body.
“B-Blood Magic,” I managed to eke out. “Runes. I cannot guarantee they will work or that she will be the same as she was if she wakes, but it’s the only thing I can do at this point. Unless you’d like me to ease her passing?” The Vessel’s nails dug into my skin, hard, and I gave him a grim smile.
“I thought not.” We released each other’s hands at the same time and I started stripping the woman’s top from her body. Rohak turned away from her nakedness and I laughed internally.
“It’s just flesh, Rohak,” I said as the woman’s Vessel helped me work.
“Yes, well, I’d rather not,” he said somewhere above my head.
“Suit yourself,” I said as I finished stripping her bare. “What’s your name?” I asked the Vessel as I hastily cleaned her skin with the now torn shirt.
The Vessel grunted and gestured to his throat.
“He cannot speak,” Rohak grunted. “His name is Thandi, at least that’s what Sol told us when they first Bonded.”
“Thandi, I will need your blood for a few of the runes. Her healing and power will need to be connected to another’s. Since you are already Bonded, I figured this wouldn’t be a big ask.”
Thandi nodded, rolling up his sleeves to his elbows.
I copied his movements and removed my dagger from the sleeve in my boot, quickly cutting his palm.
“Hold your palm over the street, don’t let any wayward blood drip on her while I work, please,” I said as I pushed his hand back on his side of Sol. Then, I blocked out all the outside noise and distractions until I heard nothing but a faint hum in my ears.
I needed to concentrate for this type of rune work. I’d seen the runes before in one of Sharol’s books that I stole one day, but I had never seen the magic performed, let alone done it myself.
I dipped a finger in Thandi’s blood and quickly moved to Sol’s chest, drawing runes around the wound itself and down her sternum.
Runes for healing and growth around her heart.
Runes for power and blood down her sternum.
A rune for love under her breastbone.
A Communication Rune on her temple.
The last two were not intended, but something in Thandi’s blood spoke to me, and I knew once I drew them that they were right.
Once I was done, I pushed a cloth at Thandi and he wrapped his hand. I cut my own palms, squeezing until blood dripped from my hands onto the runes I drew on Sol’s skin. As I squeezed, I muttered words of power. I never knew which words to say until I was in the act of drawing and activating the runes, and these felt right.
As soon as I was done, the runes on Sol’s skin flared brightly, and I felt the innate magic in my blood heat and drain until I was left panting and sweaty on the ground next to Sol. I was dizzy and suddenly exhausted, clearly having over-pulled from my innate magic.
I heard a gasp from behind me and raised my head from the ground to watch as Sol’s skin knitted back together in front of our eyes. As it closed, the runes I drew in Thandi’s blood turned black, permanently etching themselves into her flesh.
As the runes settled into her skin, I could see the easier rise and fall of Sol’s chest, her pulse steady and strong in her neck. Content that the Mage was going to live, I laid my head back on the ground.
The world grew fuzzy, and voices seemed far away.
“What happened to her?”
“What do we do? Is she okay?”
The voices were panicked, and I felt my body lifting from the ground until I was encased in strong arms, my nose pressed against a surprisingly soft tunic that smelled like bitter smoke and a hint of sweetgrass.
“Mmmfine,” I mumbled into the chest holding me. My body started jostling, and I realized whoever was holding me was moving. “Jusoverdrew.” My words sounded drunk even to my own ears, my eyes were closed, and I clutched tightly at the tunic pressed against my face.
“Sleep,” the deep voice commanded again.
I tried to tell that voice exactly what they could do with their commands, but the world went blissfully black and silent as I slipped into slumber.