Arrow's Flight Part 10

"Excellent job! I couldn't have done better myself," she applauded. "I've got some specific remedy with me, but it will take a little time to do any good, so we'll be doing more of the same with the ones not in immediate danger. I'll start with Healing the worst victims now. Have either of you ever a.s.sisted a Healer before?"

"I can't," Kris replied shaking his head, so that his lank hair fell onto his forehead. "The last Healer I spoke to said my Gifts were all wrong. I'm afraid I'll be of more use as a simple pair of hands."

Kerithwyn turned to look at Talia, her look oddly measuring.

She swallowed hard, but answered. "I've never tried, but my Gifts are Empathy and Mindhealing. My instructor said they were Healing types." If I'm going to be a.s.sisting, I can't have s.h.i.+elds up anyway, and this is going to take so much energy I won't be projecting either.

"Empathy in a Herald?" Kerithwyn raised one eyebrow. "Well, you ought to be a great deal of help, then. We'll try it, anyway; the worst that can happen is nothing. Herald, have you isolated the worst cases?"

"They're all in here," Kris pointed to a small house immediately next to the gate. "When it didn't seem to harm them to move them, I put all of the worst of them together."

"Excellent." Kerithwyn gave him about a pound of an herbal mixture, instructing him to make a cauldron of tea with it. He was to give every victim at least a cupful, and drink some himself. As Kris left to follow her instructions and care for Rolan, Kerithwyn entered the house with Talia.

The house was cramped and dark, with the windows kept shuttered against the cold air. Kris had moved as many beds and pallets into the three rooms of the house as he could fit. He had done his best to keep his patients clean and had herbal incense burning on the hearth against the miasma of sickness, but there was still a faint but noticeable odor of illness. So many people crowded together made Talia feel claustrophobic, and the smell made her faintly nauseous. She was only grateful that these people were apparently so deeply unconscious that there was nothing for her to have to try to s.h.i.+eld against. Kerithwyn appeared not to notice any of this.

The worst of the sick ones was a frail old woman whose bloated jaws looked grotesque on her thin face.

"Take a chair and sit next to me, Herald," the Healer instructed. "Make yourself comfortable, take my free hand, and drop your s.h.i.+elding*" Again that measuring look. "*and do whatever it is that you do when you prepare to Mindspeak. I'll take care of the rest."

Talia closed her eyes and forcibly ignored her surroundings and put her anxieties into abeyance by concentrating on an old breathing exercise.

It took her a long, considering moment to determine that she was still capable of going into deep-trance. With everything else going merrily to h.e.l.l, she wasn't entirely certain she'd be able to perform even such a rudimentary exercise as deep-trancing.

Tentative trial proved that fear, at least, was groundless.

Once she achieved the appropriate level of trance-state, the Healer appeared to her inner eyes as a nearly solid core of calming green-and-gold energy.

G.o.ds be thanked, she thought with detached grat.i.tude, Kerithwyn must be even more of an expert than she claimed.

It wasn't just that the Healer possessed a controlled power the equal of any of the teaching Healers Talia had dealt with*it was also that Talia herself had nothing to fear from the Healer's presence. Kerithwyn was allowing no negative emotions to ruffle the surface of her mind!

The patient seemed to be roiling with something dark, muddy-red. Talia observed with detached fascination as the Healer sent lances of light into these sullen eddies, cleaning and dispersing them, and feeding the tiny, flickering sparks she uncovered beneath them until they burned strongly again. As Kerithwyn worked, Talia could both see and feel energy draining from herself to the Healer, replacing what Kerithwyn spent.

Now that she understood what the Healer required, she opened the channel between them to its fullest possible extent and reached for Rolan's support. Energy flowed to the Healer in a steady, powerful stream from the two of them, and the work picked up in pace and sureness. It was all finished in a moment, and Talia felt the contact between them break. She sped up her own breathing, turned her concentration outward, and opened her eyes.

The Healer's gray eyes were filled with approval. "Very good, Herald; you grasped the concept quite quickly. Can you continue as well as you have begun?"

"I'll give you all I have."

"In that case, I think that the plague will claim no more victims. As you can see, we have done quite well with this one."

The old woman bore little resemblance to the sick creature she had been when they started. The swelling in her jaws was already more than half gone, and it was clear that her fever was nearly broken. Talia was immensely cheered by the sight. This was the first time in so long that she'd done something right....

They treated every person in the house before the Healer insisted that Talia rest. Talia sought out their packs, remembering that she had seen them when she had entered. Kris had left them all in a heap by the fire. She dug out some dried meat and fruit, but found she had so little appet.i.te that she couldn't even raise enough interest to bite into the rations. Instead of eating, she sagged cross-legged on the hearthstone with her back to the fire, soaking up the heat with her eyes closed, too exhausted to sense anything, and so grateful for the respite that all she wanted to do was enjoy the stillness in her mind.

"Foolish girl! Didn't you learn anything about Gifts at that Collegium of yours?"

Talia opened her eyes in surprise; Kerithwyn was standing over her with a steaming mug in one hand and a bar of something in the other.

"You should know perfectly well that if you don't replenish your energy reserves, you'll be of no use to anyone!" She thrust both articles into Talia's hands. "I know you aren't hungry*eat anyway! Finish these, then go find your partner and make him eat and sleep. He doesn't look like he's done either for a week. Don't worry, when I want you, I'll find you. And make sure your Companions are all right as well."

The block proved to be dried fruit and nuts pressed together with honey. Under other conditions Talia would probably have found it to be revoltingly sweet, but once she'd forced down the first bite, it seemed to gain enormously in appeal and the rest followed rather quickly. She recognized the liquid for the tea Kris had been feeding the plague victims, and saved one bite of the bar to take the nasty taste out of her mouth.

She looked first for Rolan; Kris had removed his tack, thrown several blankets over him, and led him to the stabling area of the inn. Kris had left food and water within reach, but that was all he'd had time to do.

She groomed and cleaned him, grateful that Companions were intelligent creatures that could be trusted to walk themselves cool. He was obviously tired for the first time in her experience, and equally obviously hungry, but otherwise none the worse for the run. She blanketed him warmly against chill and hunted until she found the grain storage area. She added dried fruit to the sweet-feed and put plenty within easy reach, then made a pot of hot gruel, which Rolan slurped up greedily as soon as it had cooled enought to eat.

It occurred to her, tired as she was, that she ought to check on Tantris. Kris' Companion whickered a welcome and rattled his grain bucket entreatingly. She laughed*how long it had been since the last time she'd laughed!*he had hay, he wasn't about to starve, but he obviously wanted some of the same treatment Rolan was getting. She obliged him as he nuzzled her in thanks. The chirras, loose in a large enclosure that gave them access to the outside and which contained enough fodder for them for a week, were in fine fettle. She changed their water, and went to look for Kris.

It didn't take much persuasion on her part to get him into the bedroll she had laid out on the hearth. He actually fell asleep before he'd finished the rations she'd given him; she gently removed the half-finished meal from his hands and placed it where he would see it when he woke, then took up the task she'd pulled him away from.

All three of them worked like slaves far into the night, s.n.a.t.c.hing food and sleep in stolen moments when no one seemed to need aid too urgently. Oddly enough, the frail-seeming Kerithwyn exhibited the least amount of wear. She showed incredible stamina and tirelessness; she frequently scolded them into taking a rest when she herself had taken fewer breaks than either of them.

All three of them were worn and wan when the longed-for sound of hooves pounding on the gate signaled the arrival of the other two Healers and their Herald-escorts.

The two new Healers*a great, hairy bear of a man, and a round-faced girl who seemed scarcly old enough to have attained full Greens*quickly a.s.sumed control from Kerithwyn, who found a flat s.p.a.ce, a few blankets, and promptly went to sleep. Both Heralds were experienced in a.s.sisting Healers, and sent Talia and Kris to their bedrolls for their first steady night of sleep since they'd arrived here.

All of them were on their feet the next day, and back to the job at hand. They took it in turn to eat and sleep, and by the end of the week several of their former patients were in good enough shape to begin helping them care for their fellow victims. At that point Kerithwyn told Kris gently but firmly to be on their way.

"We don't need you anymore*no, not even for the usual," she insisted. "Our own Heralds can take care of any disputes; we get the laws and news at least once every month, and we're perfectly capable of relaying reports. I want you two out of here before you catch this plague yourselves."

"But*" Kris protested.

"Out!" she replied. "I've had this sort of thing happen to me six times already; this is the seventh. You are not s.h.i.+rking your duty. Loris and Herald Pelsin are going to be staying here until Midwinter; these people are not going to need you! Now go!"

Kris gathered his belongings, acquired some fresh food to supplement the dried*it would stay perfectly sound in the cold*left their reports with the Heralds who had brought the Healers, as well as giving them the written reports on the villages they had already visited to be sent back to the capital.

But Talia did not escape so easily. While Kris was conferring with the other two Heralds, Kerithwyn took her aside just before she was ready to mount Rolan. "Child," she said bluntly, "Your s.h.i.+elds are as full of holes as last week's target, and if you weren't exhausted, you'd be projecting everything under the sun! You're in such a state that if I had any time, I wouldn't let you leave this place. But I don't have either the time or the energy to spare. I don't know what you've been doing, or what you think you're doing, but whatever it is, it's dead wrong. You'd better get yourself in hand, girl, and quickly, or you'll be affecting even the unGifted. Now go*and start working on that control."

With those blunt words she turned on her heel and left; leaving Talia torn between running after her and begging her help, and slitting her wrists on the spot.

In the end, though, she gathered the ragged bits of her courage around her, and headed out the gate after Kris.

Kris consulted the map; Kerithwyn had ordered him to find a layover point where the two of them could take a long rest. He told Talia that he thought he'd found a particularly good Waystation for them to use as their resting-place. Talia nodded, sunk in her own misery; Kris was preoccupied with making certain of their current location, and hadn't noticed anything*or at least, he hadn't said anything to her about it. But after what Kerithwyn said ...

Well, she was going to have to be twice as careful as before, that was all.

They were a full half-day from the village now, and well into the Forest of Sorrows itself. Kris had called a halt around midday, so that they could all get a bite to eat while he checked his bearings. There were several narrow roads through Sorrows, and if they had missed theirs, or mistaken the road for a herd-track, they could get into trouble before nightfall.

But they were on the right road, and the Waystation was within easy striking distance.

It was fortunate that it was not too far distant, for just after they had dismounted and taken rations from their packs, the chirras began whuffing, and dancing uneasily.

"Talia, chirras don't misbehave unless there's a good reason," Kris said with a frown of worry, as his jerked the lead rope from his hands for the third time. "Can you tell what's wrong?"

"I don't know ..." she said doubtfully, still shaking from her confrontation with the Healer, and never having done a great deal of work with animals. "I'll give it a try, though."

She braced herself, and sent herself into the deep-trance in which she had been able to touch animals' minds before. The image of what was causing their unhappiness was clear and sharp*and enough to send her flying back to consciousness with speed. "Snow," she said succinctly, for the image had been crystal clear and highly sharpened by fear. "Lots of it*a big blizzard coming down out of the north. It'll hit us before dusk."

Kris swore. "Then we haven't much time. Let's get moving."

Seven.

The chirras resumed their good behavior, as if they understood that Talia had learned what was troubling them. They all pushed on as quickly as they could, but the icy road made it hard for both chirras and Companions to keep their footing, and the clouds piling up from the north were making it as dark as if it were already dusk. Then a bitter wind began, cutting through the trees with an eerie moan. The road they were following had taken a turn to the north about a furlong back, which put the wind right in their faces. Kris and Talia dismounted and fought against it alongside the Companions and chirras. When the first fat flakes began falling, they were already in difficulty.

Within moments it was no longer possible for either Herald to see more than a few feet ahead, and the wind was strong enough to whip the edges of their cloaks out of their benumbed hands. It howled among the tree branches, and ravened on the ground, shrieking like the d.a.m.ned. The trees groaned and creaked in protest, the thinner branches whipping wildly above their heads. It was so hard to be heard above the storm that neither of them bothered to speak, using only hand signals when there was something that had to be communicated. This was like no storm Talia had ever seen before, and she hoped (when she had any thoughts at all through the numbing cold) that it wasn't typical for this Sector.

The snow piled up with frightening speed; ankle-deep, then knee-deep. They completely lost track of distance and time in the simple struggle to place one foot in front of the other. Kris and Tantris found the lane that led to the Waystation more by accident than anything else, literally stumbling into it as they probed the bushes at the side of the road.

The lane soon plunged down between two shallow ridges where they were sheltered from the worst of the wind. They let go of the girths they'd clung to and stumbled along in their Companions' wake, trusting to their mounts' better senses to guide them all to the Station. By the time they achieved it, they could hardly see the path ahead of them. The bulk of the Station loomed up before them out of the gray-white wall of snow only when they were practically on top of it.

The Station probably hadn't been visited since the resupply team had last inspected and stocked it during the summer. A quick survey of the woodpile told them that there wasn't enough stockpiled there to last for as long as they were likely to be snowed in. In frantic haste, they left the chirras tied to the building, removed everything from the packs on their Companions, fastened lead ropes from their own belts to the snaffles on the saddles and went out with axes to look for deadfall.

It was grueling work, especially coming on top of the previous crisis. Talia's arms and shoulders ached with the unaccustomed work; what didn't ache, was nearly numb with cold. Her cloak was caked with snow to the point where it creaked and bits of snow fell off when she moved. Her world narrowed to the pain, the axe in her hands, and the deadfall in front of her. More than anything else, she longed to be able to lie down in the soft snow and rest, but she knew that this was the very last thing she should do. Instead, she continued to struggle against pain and the driving snow, using the numbing cold and the ache of overtaxed muscles as a bulwark against despair*the despair that Healer Kerithwyn had evoked with her brusque warning. She drove herself in the gathering gloom until she became aware that she could barely see where her axe was falling. It was nearly night now*true night.

It was time to give up. As Talia and Rolan hauled in the last load while full darkness fell, it was all she could do to cling to his girth as he dragged her and the wood back toward the station. The wind had picked up*something she wouldn't have believed possible*and it was all but tearing her cloak from her body. Her breath was sobbing in her lungs, sending needles of ice and pain through her throat and chest.

She opened the door of the Station, only to blink in surprise*for there was nothing before her but a gloom-shrouded little room with a door on the opposite wall. After a moment, her fatigue-fogged mind managed to grasp the fact that this Station, unlike any other she had seen previously, had an entranceway to buffer the effect of the outside chill.

She fumbled the second door open, Rolan crowding into the entrance after her. Kris had beaten her to the Station with his final load shortly before, and had fumigated it and started a fire in the fireplace. He unfastened her from Rolan; she stumbled thankfully toward the yellow beacon of the fire with half-frozen limbs. He led Rolan into the shelter of the Station itself, and as she collapsed next to the warmth of the flames she saw that he had brought in Tantris and the chirras as well. It made things a bit crowded until he got them all settled, but Talia knew that there was no way anything could live long in the howling winds outside.

She peeled off her snow-caked garments and hung them beside Kris' on pegs above the fireplace. Kris was already taking care of meal preparations, so after she slipped into her woolen s.h.i.+ft and old breeches (feeling far too exhausted for a complete change of clothing) she made a nest of the dun-colored blankets from both their bedrolls on top of dry straw in front of the fire. This way they could warm their aching, s.h.i.+vering bodies in comfort while waiting for whatever it was to cook.

She blinked stupidly at the fire, mind and body alike still numb and cold. She held to that numbness, stubbornly, not wanting to face the alternative to numbness. She succeeded; she remained sunk in exhausted apathy long after she normally would have begun to show some signs of life. Kris was standing over her for several minutes before she realized he was there.

"Talia ..." he began awkwardly, "I know this isn't the time or the place, but there isn't likely to be a better one. I have to talk to you."

Without really realizing it, she rose slowly to her still-benumbed feet, feeling a cold that had nothing to do with the blizzard outside. "Ab-b-b-out what?" she stuttered, fearing the worst.

"Kerithwyn had some words with me before we left," he said, as the despair she'd been holding off with the last of her strength came down on her with the same overwhelming power as storm*and with it, oddly enough, a hopeless kind of rage. "h.e.l.l, Talia*she told me you've been holding back on me; that your Gift is totally out of control!"

Something within her shattered, letting loose the storm she'd held pent up for so long.

Kris was expecting anger, denial*but not this! He was battered by alternating waves of suicidal despair, and killing rage; the shock of it literally sent him to his knees. His eyes filmed with a red mist. There was a roaring in his ears, behind which he could dimly hear the squeal of an angry horse and the clatter of hooves on stone.

That was what brought him out, before he grabbed a weapon and killed himself, her, or both of them. He built up the strongest s.h.i.+eld he could, fought his way to his feet, and rushed her, literally slamming her into the wall behind her with enough force to make his own teeth rattle.

"Stop it!" he shouted at the wild, inhuman thing struggling beneath his hands. "d.a.m.n you, stop it! Look what you're doing to us!" He wrenched her around violently, so that she could see for herself the unbelievable sight of Rolan backing Tantris into a corner, teeth bared and eyes wild and red-rimmed. "Look what you're doing to them!"

She stared*and collapsed so suddenly he didn't even have time to catch her, for she fell right through his hands. She fell and curled into a limp ball on the cold stone floor of the Station, sobbing as if she had lost everything she ever held dear.

And the storm within the Station walls faded away to nothing.

He went to his knees beside her, and gathered her against his shoulder. She didn't resist*didn't even seem to know he was there. He held her while she cried, horrible, tearing sobs that seemed to be ripping her apart inside, while the fire he'd started burned lower and lower, and the storm outside echoed her heartbroken weeping.

Finally, when it seemed possible that the fire might die altogether, he picked her up and put her in the nest of blankets and hay. She curled up, facing away from him and still crying, while he built up the fire, finished the tasks he'd left undone, and returned to her.

He got in beside her, chilled to the bone, and took her equally cold body into his arms again. The violence of her grief seemed to have worm itself out; he shook her a little. "Come on*" he said, feeling more than awkward. "Talk to me, lady*"

"I*I*" she sobbed "I want to die!"

"Why? Because your Gift got out of control? What kind of att.i.tude is that for a Herald?"

"I'm no kind of Herald."

"Like b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l!" he interrupted. "Who says?"

"Everyone*you told me*"

"Oh, h.e.l.l. ..." Now he realized what it was that triggered this whole mess in the first place*himself, telling her the rumors about her. G.o.ds*he knew she hadn't a high level of self-esteem*what he'd said back at the start of this trip must have hit her like a punch in the kidneys. He must have started her on a round of self-examination and self-doubt that turned into a downturning spiral she hadn't the power to stop. Her Gift was the sort of thing that would feed on doubt and make it reality*which in turn would feed her doubts, reinforcing them as her loss of control turned rumor into truth.

And this was the result. A fully developed Gift without any controls on it whatsoever, and a young woman ready to kill herself the minute he turned his back.

"Listen to me*dammit Talia, listen!" He shook her again. "If things were that bad, Rolan would have left you. He'd have repudiated anybody not worthy of her Whites. Has he made any move like that at all?"

"N-n-n-no ..."

"Has he even warned you?"

The sobs were fading. "N-n-no."

"He's helped you, hasn't he? He's kept your d.a.m.ned secret. He thinks you're still a Herald. So act like one, dammit! Stop emoting and start thinking. You're in a mess; now how can we get you out of it?"

She looked up at him for the first time, eyes swollen and red. "We?"

"We," he repeated. "I'm as much to blame for this as you are. I should never have told you those d.a.m.ned stories*should have believed you when you told me they weren't true. I'd be willing to bet it was my doubt that made all this worse. Hmm?"

She shook her head, then hid her face against his chest. He pulled her closer, and began stroking her hair and rocking her a little. "Poor baby*" he murmured, "*poor scared, lonely baby*here*try this." He reached out and seized a small leather bottle from the top of his pile of belongings beside them, and pa.s.sed it to her. "One of the standard cures for sensitivity is wine. This ought to blunt your edges good!"

Talia accepted the bottle, took a gulp and almost choked. The stuff was like drinking sweet, liquid fire!

"What*is*that?" she asked when she'd stopped gasping for breath.

"Something the Healers make*spirits of wine, they call it. They make it by freezing the wine they make from honey, and throwing away the ice; that's what's left. The one that looks like a bear gave it to me before we left."

Talia took another drink, just a sip this time, and with more caution. It didn't burn the way the first mouthful had, and left behind a very pleasant sensation in her mouth and stomach. And it certainly did blunt the edges of both her sensitivity and her raw nerves. That was the best thing that had happened to her all day, so she took a third swallow.

"Easy there, little one," Kris laughed, sounding relieved. "That stuffs potent!"

"I can tell," she said, feeling a bit giddy. "But I feel a lot better. Not so raw."

"That was what I hoped," he replied, appropriating the bottle and drinking from it himself. "I suppose we shouldn't be drinking it on an empty stomach, but I figure you need it. h.e.l.l, after what I've been through, so do I!"