And Dallen didn’t know what to do . . . but had the power to do it anyway, under guidance?
Mags started to feel dizzy, but he fought it back. He opened his eyes a moment to snatch a glance at Jakyr. The Herald wasn’t quite so pale, and the worst of the bleeding had stopped. The wound under his hands in Jakyr’s back stopped making that strange sucking sound, and the Herald wasn’t struggling to breathe anymore.
But he could only spare that moment. When he took his attention off it, the bridge between Bear and Dallen wavered, the wall that held all three, Jakyr, Bear and Dallen, began to fade, and he had to get himself centered on it again. He closed his eyes and concentrated hard on holding, as if he were climbing a wall and fighting for every handhold.
Then, just when he thought he was going to pass out himself, Dallen said,
:Enough.:
Mags let go of both ends of his bridge, dropped the containment that held them all, sagged back on his heels, and caught himself with one hand on the floor as he started to fall over sideways.
But as he opened his eyes, he realized with a sob of relief that Jakyr was going to live.
He was—perhaps—half-healed. Nothing like what a fully Gifted Healer could do under the same circumstances. Actually, half-healed was being generous. Bear—who did not seem to have suffered the same sort of exhaustion that Mags had—was cleaning out the punctures, tamping in powder of some sort, and moving on while Amily and Lita applied clean bandages. But the punctures themselves had stopped bleeding, the wounds into the lungs weren’t making that sucking noise, and . . . somehow Jakyr had gotten—some blood back? He certainly didn’t look as pale and waxen.
Dallen slowly sank to his knees and then started to lay himself down on the floor of the cave. Amily scrambled to her feet.
“Don’t do that!”
she snapped at the Companion, who looked up at her in startled weariness. “The rock will just suck heat out of you! That’s the last thing you need, as exhausted as you are! Come on, get up!” She urged Dallen back to his feet and slowly walked him over to the area where the Companions normally slept. There, she allowed him to sink down onto the thick layer of straw that served them as a bed, got his blankets, and bundled him up.
“What—happened?” Mags asked thickly.
“You told me to think of what I’d do if I had a Gift, so I did. It was daft, but I did it. Then everything started healing. Like I had a Gift, only it wasn’t coming from me. I know what it was supposed to feel like if I was the one doing the Healing, the gods know my father drummed it into me for a year or more, thinking if he just told me enough times, I’d somehow sprout a Gift.” Bear finished the last of the wounds and sat back on his heels. “I can’t figure it out. It wasn’t
me.”
“It—was Dallen,” Mags replied, and sagged a little more. “An’ me too, I guess. I kinda bridged you two t’gether. Smushed you an’ Dallen an’ Jakyr into a big ball, and Dallen was able to fix some things.”
“From the look of you, you did more than that,” Bear said skeptically.
“Heralds with Mindspeech can feed energy to Healers so they can do more,” Amily said, as she led Jermayan, limping, to the straw. She came back as soon as she had him settled. “Father’s done it once or twice, when the Healer started to fail. It happens more often in the Field, I suppose, especially if there’s only one Healer and a lot of sick or wounded. Dallen must have been able to take what Bear knew, and energy from himself and Mags, and somehow make it all work. I guess among the three of you, Bear, Mags, and Dallen, you make half a real Healer. Which is pretty amazing if you ask me. We need to get Jakyr off the floor too.”
“Right.” Bear got to his feet, and so did Lena. Jakyr was starting to come around again. He opened his eyes and realized his head was in Lita’s lap. Face down.
“I’m dead,” he said, voice muffled in her leg. “Because if I’m here, she’s going to kill me.”
“Shut up, you idiot. Or I’ll tell your village where to find you.” She leaned down and kissed his cheek. “Can you stand?”
“Not without a lot of help.” He made an effort to move. “Not without somebody else hauling me to my feet.”
Together they managed to get him up and get his arms draped around Bear’s neck and Lita’s. Bear and Lita more or less carried him that way, as he could barely set one foot in front of the other. They got him to Lita’s bed, which was the nearest, and put him in it, with a couple of hot stones. He passed out.
Amily helped Mags get up, and he slumped over to the firepit and half collapsed there on the rugs. Lena bustled about, getting food warmed and making tea with plenty of honey in it. Mags felt as drained as could be.
“How did we do that?” he wondered aloud.
“Your Gift,” Amily repeated. “I told you already. It’s very strong. I suppose Dallen can Heal, but can’t see how to do it. Bear knows what to do, but can’t Heal. You bridged them and made up the difference in energy.”
That’s what I thought. But it still don’t seem possible.
He thought he should feel triumphant, but instead he only felt horrible. This wouldn’t have happened if it hadn’t been for him. They wouldn’t even
be
here if it weren’t for him. . . .
He was pretty darn sure of at least one thing. This wasn’t Bey’s doing. Bey hadn’t been up there with the others. Bey probably didn’t even realize the other Sleepgivers were there; he’d gotten the feeling that Bey hadn’t left the caves in the entire time that he’d been here, so he wouldn’t necessarily know when his countrymen turned up. Or even
that
they had turned up.
Well, he knows now.
Maliciously, Mags wished that another storm would come and turn them all into frozen lumps, but if the last one hadn’t, they’d probably survive another.
There must be some sort of shelter up there,
he thought.
Maybe other caves, ones that don’t connect with the ones down here.
That last storm might have done them an actual favor, scouring most of the snow from the heights so they could move around. Damn them!
How long had
they
been following him? Probably since his return to Haven. He thought that if they’d been following earlier, Bey would certainly have noticed and would probably have joined with them.
Or maybe not; Bey seemed to want to handle this himself. He did have a lot of contempt for the second-rankers. Some of them, at least.
His thoughts circled around and around, restlessly, and he knew what he was trying to avoid. The obvious. He had to give himself up. There was no other answer. He couldn’t allow his friends to be cut down, and he couldn’t allow innocent villagers to be murdered. And this time there would be no reprieve—
Would Dallen come with him?
:I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth,:
came the exhausted reply.
:Do what you must, Chosen. You will still be a Herald of Valdemar no matter where you go or what else you are. If you must turn yourself over to them, tell them at once that you are Bey’s prisoner and that he said not to meddle with you. So long as we can keep those spirits out of your head, you will remain yourself, and this will be somewhat on your own terms.:
Somewhat,
Dallen said. And Dallen was right, he could never do this completely on his own terms, even at the best interpretation. All Bey had to do was make a veiled threat about what the Sleepgivers would do to people he cared about, back in Haven, and Mags would give in and do whatever he asked. Really, all he had to do was threaten
anyone
in Valdemar, and Mags would yield. Mags liked Bey and trusted what he said, and he believed that, on his own terms and in his own way, he was honest. But Bey was also a ruthless killer and saw no reason why threatened death could not be used as a lever to move Mags.
He looked over at Amily and dreaded telling her. She couldn’t come with him; that was impossible. Bey wouldn’t allow it, and neither would her father. Or if Bey allowed it, it would only be so he had another hold over Mags. Sure, they would be together, but they would be miserable, what with him knowing Bey just had to hint he’d hurt her to get his way, and her knowing that she was the reason he’d be doing things that weren’t right. She sipped tea and smiled tremulously at him. Did she guess?
“I’m gonna check on Jakyr,” he said, lurching to his feet. He trudged toward Lita’s sleeping nook; Amily seemed to understand he needed to be alone and remained where she was.
Or maybe she realized what he had to do, and she was wrestling with the implications, too. Maybe he had made her sad that he hadn’t asked her to come with him, and she hadn’t yet figured out she would be the weapon against Mags in Bey’s hands. Or maybe she
had
realized that, and that was making her sad. In any case, what could he say to her? He seemed to be fumbling everything at the moment.
Lita had left a lantern burning on the hook she had made above the bed area. Jakyr was awake and staring at the ceiling of the nook when Mags peeked around the canvas curtain. Before Mags could say anything, he spoke. “This was why I fought with Lita and drove her away from me, you know,” he said quietly, as if he and Mags were resuming some conversation that Mags had somehow forgotten. “This was why I decided that I didn’t have the right to have any close ties with anyone.”
“What was?” Mags asked, sitting heavily on the rock lip of the bedding area.
“There was an ambush,” Jakyr said, still staring at the ceiling. “Karsites, of course, it always seems to be Karsites and those damned demons of theirs. A nighttime ambush, and I was the only one to get out. Some people in the Guard we both knew, another Herald, my former mentor, and his new Trainee—all dead, and me mauled and left for dead. That was when I knew. Lita and I were—well, everyone thought it was going to happen, we were going to settle down together. But I knew then, a Herald’s life isn’t his own. That I was going to end up the same as my mentor one day. And meanwhile, everyone knew that Lita was going to be a great Bard, an important Bard, that if she stayed at Haven for just a little while longer, she’d be made an instructor and resident performer at the Palace. Except she wouldn’t do that if she spent all her time worrying whether I was going to be the cause for the Death Bell every time I went out. So she’d try to follow me, and that might get her killed, and it certainly would cost her the chance at greatness. I couldn’t do that to Lita. I couldn’t let her waste her life, and all that talent.”
He sighed heavily. And Mags thought of Amily. What would she do if he gave himself up? Cry for a long while, surely—but eventually she would get over him, she’d find something wonderful to do with her life, or someone else, or both. She was a Herald’s daughter, and if anyone knew the risks, she did. She’d know better than anyone not to look back, but forward.
“So?” Mags asked.
“So she wouldn’t listen. Kept trying to tell me ways we could make it all work. That’s when I fought with her. Said unforgivable things. Deliberately set out to make her hate me.” He closed his eyes. “I guess it didn’t work as well as I thought.”
Mags thought that Jakyr was asleep, but a few moments later the Herald sighed. “Don’t fight with Amily; obviously I proved that doesn’t work. She’s her father’s daughter. She knows what you have to do as well as you do, and she’s probably laying it all out in her own head right this minute. She might want to be alone to cry about it; leave her alone. The sooner you can make a clean break with her, the better. Go in the morning before she wakes up. Goodbyes won’t do anything but make both of you sick and sorry.”
That seemed to take all of the little energy that the Herald had. Jakyr closed his eyes, looking utterly spent. A moment later, and Jakyr was asleep. Mags shuffled back out to the firepit, but Amily was already gone.
So were Lita, Lena, and Bear.
He felt too heavy with sorrow to sleep—and Jakyr was right; if he went to Amily now, they’d both cry, and try to make love, and it would ruin all the good times they’d had together; and in the end, nothing would be accomplished except to make more misery. He resolved to stay out by the firepit, wait out this last night alone, and go out in the dawn and give himself up. At least this time he knew he wouldn’t have his
self
crushed and swallowed up, or distorted beyond recognition, by the evil spirits in those talismans. Bey could protect him from that much.
And Dallen would follow him; he wouldn’t be all alone in a strange land. When Bey tried to get him to do things, Dallen would help him find ways to give Bey what he wanted without compromising himself too much. Dallen was right, no matter where he was, he would still be a Herald of Valdemar. Nothing that the Sleepgivers could do would take that away from him. Bey wouldn’t force him to do anything he really didn’t want to do; Bey needed his Gift too much, and he probably knew enough about Mind-magic to know that if you forced someone to do things against their will too often, the Gift often died within them.
If only it all didn’t hurt so much . . .
He curled up around the aching in his heart and the opening wound in his soul and wept silently until he ran out of tears.
• • •
“Wake up, cousin. That looks like a painful way to sleep.” The soft voice jolted through his dreams.
Mags came awake all at once, thinking that the voice he had just heard was
surely
part of the dark dream he had been struggling through. But when he glanced up through gummy eyes, a handsome set of gleaming white teeth smiled down at him out of the shadow-shape looming over him.
There was no mistaking those teeth.
An irrelevant thought intruded through all his unhappiness.
Why does he have to be handsomer than me?
“Bey!” he exclaimed, trying to scramble to his feet and nearly falling down because his left hand and leg had gone numb.
“Ehu! Not so fast, cousin!” the Sleepgiver laughed softly, catching him before he fell and steadying him. “There, sit yourself back down again. We have a great deal to discuss.”
The cavern was almost completely dark; the fire had burned down to low flames over coals. Bey tossed a couple of logs on the coals; the bark caught and flared, giving a little more light. Mags could see Dallen and Jermayan, heads up, watching them. No one else seemed to have awakened.