She created the shape of the BodyCast, a spell of tremendous
versatility but so difficult to control. It was heat-driven, it covered her hands in a beautiful warmth and, as she probed The Unknown's hip again, tendrils snaked away to soothe infected flesh at her bidding while she concentrated on the main problem.
Using the mana to free each splinter in turn, she moved them back towards the top of the thigh bone, arranged in front of her as pieces in a child's puzzle. She used the spell to examine them, define their edges and divine where they had come from. And any that were too small, she teased out to drop on to the bloodied sheet, hoping the bone would grow again in time.
But time was something in short supply. She was keenly aware that there was more fighting to come. Dordovans would soon find their way to Herendeneth and she needed The Unknown to be standing with The Raven when they did.
She bent to her task, the BodyCast forging, reforming, knitting and healing. It was slow, painstaking and desperately draining, using die hair-thin filaments of mana to guide shards and splinters back into position, to encase the cracks in his joint and to bring nerve endings and muscles back to bond.
It wouldn't be perfect, that much was obvious. Perhaps if she'd been there immediately after he'd been struck it would have been different but now, too much time had passed and the body had its own imperfect ways of rebuilding itself. And some of those she could not undo. Too much of the bone was crushed useless to make her BodyCast anything more than a best fit. Some things magic could not reverse.
The Unknown would never be quite the same again. How he adapted would be up to him.
Hirad joined Ren, Ilkar and Jevin on the wheel deck well after the sun had passed its zenith on the next day. He could still feel the pain of the bolt but Denser had done a good job with a low strength WarmHeal and the elves had soothing balms that caressed the flesh and numbed the pain. He'd be all right by the time they landed.
The ferocity of the storm the night before had diminished and the pitching and yawing of the Catalan Sun was calm by comparison. Above them, the cloud had thinned, allowing occasional watery sunlight between squally showers of rain.
Jevin had ordered full sail and they were moving well across the ocean, trailing the Ocean Elm by several hours though Hirad could still make out its shape on the southern horizon.
'Why is he still going south?' asked Hirad.
'Because he's showing us the way,' said Ren. 'And when we can't sail any further in, he'll let us know if he can and we'll have to take to the boats.'
'And if he doesn't let us know?' asked Hirad.
'I won't let this ship run aground,' said Ren.
'And neither will I,' growled Jevin.
'How long do we have to go?' asked Ilkar.
'Three days, maybe a little more. We lost time last night,' said Ren.
'Think I might sleep the rest of the way, then,' said Hirad, smiling.
'You deserve to,' said Ilkar.
'You too, Ilks. Good fun, though, wasn't it?'
Ilkar stared at him for a moment. 'No, it wasn't. Unless you consider searching black, heavy seas for a fool in the dead of night, after a scrap on a ship miles from nowhere, good fun. What the hell were you doing in the water anyway? I almost had you and you sank, messing about with your scabbard.'
T was sheathing my sword.'
'Oh, how stupid of me not to realise. Why didn't you just drop the bloody thing? You could have drowned,' said Ilkar. His voice softened and he punched Hirad on the arm. T thought you had. Don't take that sort of risk. I don't want to lose you like that.'
'I'm not losing that sword until I've driven it through Selik,' said Hirad.
'Think you'll get the chance?' asked Ren.
T know it,' said Hirad.
The window in the bedroom blew in and Aviana screamed, her anguish echoing through the minds of all the Al-Drechar. Myriell had been dressing, preparing to take over as the dawn broke but now they were all awake, thrust to consciousness by a cry for help that went on and on. Myriell called for her helpers and they ran into her room.
'Get me there now. Carry me and run. Bring the others.'
'Yes, Myriell,' said one. The two picked her up in an armchair lift and hurried from the room, calling others from their beds.
The wind howled along the passages, driven by Lyanna's mind, blasting into their faces. To their right an enormous crashing resounded in the air and across the orchard the west wing of the house shuddered and dropped, the roof Caving in, wooden beams splitting, brickwork shattering and tumbling, the vibrations rocking the ground beneath their feet.
'Dear Gods, she's broken free. Faster, faster!' urged Myriell.
The Guild elves ran on though the ballroom and into the dining room, not pausing on their way to Lyanna's makeshift bedroom. They set Myriell down and opened the door into a howling gale. Aviana lay on the ground, Lyanna was upright, her hair twisting about her head, her doll clutched in her outstretched hands and her eyes open but seeing nothing.
'Get the others here!' shouted Myriell.
She moved into the room, sat on the edge of the bed and clutched the little girl to her, attuning her mind and eyes to the mana spectrum and seeing the horror laid out for her there.
Surrounding Aviana was a mass of dark grey, pulsing over her mind, attacking relentlessly, pushed there by what force Myriell couldn't begin to guess. Something malevolent lurked deep in Lyanna and it had to be found and destroyed. The girl's mind was encased in orange, flecked with dark brown. She appeared to be channelling perfectly, dragging in the random fuel of magic, creating vortex shapes and casting them out in a stream of destruction.
Myriell formed a light mind net and moved it gingerly towards Lyanna, hoping to separate her from the force attacking the helpless Aviana. She dimly heard movement behind her, knew her sister was helping, and pushed on. She got nowhere near. The moment Lyanna sensed her, coils of orange mana lashed out from the whole, slapping away the mind net and dragging in its mana energy. Myriell dispersed it moments before the unravelling reached her own damaged mind and snapped out of the spectrum, her head thumping, her vision ragged at the edges.
Lyanna pushed against her and Myriell released her. The child was
looking at her intently, recognition in her eyes. Myriell almost shouted and then Lyanna spoke.
'Hello Myra. Why are you keeping me in the dark place?' It was the child's voice but it was laced with foreboding and echoed through the room on the back of the gale.
'Oh, Lyanna, we aren't keeping you there, your mind has taken you there and we are guarding it to stop you being hurt.'
'But I don't want to be in the dark any more,' said Lyanna, clutching her doll close and stroking its head.
Myriell frowned. Her Night wasn't over. There was no calmness in the mana. Her control only went as far as stopping hurt to her own mind. What she released she had no way of understanding or controlling. She should still be under, learning, modulating and accepting.
'But you know you can't stop the wind in your mind, don't you? I know being in the dark place is lonely but it will help you to be happy.'
But Lyanna shook her head. 'No. Ana wanted me to stay and I didn't and something from me hurt her.' Tears rolled down her cheeks. T don't want to hurt anyone. So I don't want you to be with me in my mind any more.'