Han grinned. "I like them. They seem a colorful folk."
Creyshaw returned with a massive bull. Its muscles quivered under the gleaming black coat, and its curled horns gleamed in the firelight, but it seemed placid enough as it chewed almost thoughtfully and eyed the newcomers.
"Have you gathered us for a fresh meal, Shama?" Fregeror hooked his thumbs in his belt and looked at the bull ravenously. "My ax be nearby, let us be done with this."
Nyori placed her hand on the bull's thick neck. "This animal is not for eating, Fregeror."
"Not for eating? May as well say my ax be not for splitting skulls. Why do we have to be tormented by this seductive view of prime beef, then?"
Nyori smiled. "For healing, of course. Take my hand. The rest of you, place a hand upon the next person."
Han placed his hand on Fregeror's massive shoulder. The Norlander rolled his eyes and muttered something about 'milk sipping lowlanders.'
Meshella threw an arm around Han's shoulders with a smile. The rest of the surviving band joined in as well, as all bore wounds of one kind or another. Shiru did not appear injured, but he joined in the circle to add strength. Nyori closed her eyes and stroked the bull's thick neck to calm it. Her Inner Eye opened, and the world transformed.
She gently siphoned from the bull's healthy khara. The bull trembled from the tingling sensation but did not panic. Nyori heard the sighs from the others as she directed the flow from one to the next, mending the most grievous wounds. After a moment, the bull snorted and dropped to its knees. Nyori immediately severed the link, taking her hand away. The tingle vanished.
Rhoma attendants immediately brought fresh hay and water for the animal, which appeared blown but none the worse for the wear. It helped that the Rhoma were thoroughly familiar with the work of the Sha. Anywhere else Nyori might have gotten fearful looks or accusations of sorcery, but the Sha often traveled with the Rhoma from place to place. Rhoma were known in civilized places for their superstitions, but it was they who had the better understanding of the old ways.
Meshella flexed her arms. "Amazing. My wounds have nearly vanished. I feel as though I've rested for days."
Even Fregeror grudgingly admitted that he'd never felt better as he examined the faint scars that had only moments ago been still bloody. "The Shama may have done too well. It is known that the wenches in Norland crave a man with many scars. I do be practically pretty now."
Han pressed fingers against his side. "That was incredible. You have my thanks, Shama."
Nyori patted the bull on its massive head. "Thank the animal. He has loaned much of his strength to aid me."
Han hesitated. "How…is this thing done, Shama?"
She gazed at him, unsure if he was serious. "How? It is complicated to explain. I have to see with my Other eye. The one that only opens when I shift to my Inner mind. I can see the ailments of the body in a completely different way. The healing is done through a link from a healthy host. I harnessed the additional strength from the bull to pass on to each of you, one by one. Your bodies used this boost to heal much faster than you normally would."
Han appeared oddly hesitant. "Yes…but can this craft be learned? Could you teach me how to do it?"
Nyori smiled. "I am not sure. Learning to Shift to your Inner mind is the first thing. Many try to learn, but few can master it."
"As far as I know, I have only one mind, Shama. But, there is something the Shao speak of. It is called Chigung. A special focus of mind and body combined with Yijing, the Words of Change. Together they allow the Shao to perform what is considered impossible."
"It sounds very much like the Shift I spoke of. Why don't you ask Shiru, Han? He is more skilled than I in the Disciplines."
Shiru caught the tail end of the conversation as he walked up. "Not so, Shama. Your skill in healing far exceeds mine. I watched as you worked, and learned much. I would have you show me again in the future."
"Hopefully there will be no need." Nyori's flush of satisfaction was sobered by the thought of those that did not get a chance to be healed. It pained her to realize she was getting used to the violence that seemed to have followed her ever since leaving Halladen.
"How did you get such mastery over your arts, Shiru? The Sha do not teach much in the way of combat, but to you it seems second nature."
"I suppose it is," Shiru said. "In my homeland, children are tested vigorously to see if they are receptive to the secret arts. Those who are responsive receive special training to hone their talents. They are considered valued commodities to their people and territories. The most skilled go on to become Shao Warriors, in service to the Sage-King and the council of Sovereign Ones."
"I think that's much better than the fear and superstition most people in these lands have toward the Sha. Even the names are similar. Sha and Shao." Nyori smiled. "Perhaps the origins are the same."
"I would not doubt that, Shama. Long ago those with your talents were revered and looked at for leadership. Those days may come again." Shiru turned to where the survivors huddled together. "We will all have to pull together if we are to survive."
THE HUNTSMEN GATHERED at the center of the camp after refreshing themselves. Night had fallen, and fires were lit throughout the camp for meals and warming. The story of Marcellus' transformation had already spread. The Rhoma were abuzz with the tale and spoke of it in excited groups. The mood of the survivors was much more subdued around the fire where they warmed themselves.
"We have never heard the like." Creyshaw was taller than any other man in the camp, with brown skin and a shaved head. The wind shifted the golden tassels on his robe-like coat. It turned out he had been a pirate in his younger days, and actually fought against Kaerleon soldiers led by Marcellus Admorran. That battle convinced him to retire from his wayward lifestyle, as he put it. He chose a life of peace with the Rhoma instead.
"The legends of old come alive again. It is an amazing tale to be caught up in."
"Aye, a story for the minstrels." Fregeror glowered at the flames. "But not so great for those of us who did live it, eh? A good many of my comrades died today, Basha. Can stories and words bring them back?" He hefted his heavy ax and strode away from the fire.
Creyshaw stared after him. "I did not mean to offend him. We Rhoma believe strongly in the power of storytelling. Truths live on in stories, and the dead survive far beyond their passing. We honor their memories by relating their tales. Even myths and legends retain some kernels of truth for us to glean and learn from."
"It is all right," Nyori said. "Fregeror is upset, that is all. We all feel pain when we lose those we care for." She had sat quietly; her staff crooked in her arms as she sat with the others. Healing sessions were always draining, as some of her vitality was added to the link. Fortunately, she would recover with some rest.
"As you say, Shama." Creyshaw stood and dipped his head. "I have duties to attend to. There will be tents set up for all those with you. It is our honor to have you as our guests."
Nyori returned his nod. "We are in your debt, Creyshaw."
Nando joined them as Creyshaw strode away. He crouched beside her. "I am glad that you are unhurt, Nyori. Ayna has told me about your friend, Marcellus. It is a frightful thing you are involved in."
"I suppose he must be frightened deep inside. He keeps his feelings locked away, so it is hard to tell."
Nando gazed at her with golden eyes so much like his sister's. He looked more like her than ever. His brashness had been tempered, it seemed, his gaze more thoughtful. "I was talking about you, Nyori. You have endured much since the Dragonspine."