“A shame,” Kian breathed, closing his eyes against a wave of misery that left his tattered flesh trembling. After a moment, he added weakly, “A shame I did not kill that wretched bastard at the palace. The chance was there, but mercy clouded my judgment.”
Ellonlef’s wan grin froze on her face. Suddenly she was not there anymore, not in Hya’s shop, not in Ammathor, but many leagues distant, back at the cleft under the rocks as the Tears of Pa’amadin were raining down. The recollection spun and twisted, becoming a memory of flashing lightning made brighter by the absolute darkness under a hill of weathered stone. Her flesh was afire like it had been then, as if touched by that lightning, tingling and alive!
At Kian’s touch, images and memories clashed inside her skull, things she should have taken note of at the time, but had not. Or had she pushed them away, fearful of what they might reveal? She had taken injuries during the Bashye attack, many bruises and scrapes, her ribs had been scored by an arrow, her knee had been the size of a melon. Yet after Kian had taken her from the cleft, those pains had troubled her no longer.
How often have I wondered at the tiny, pale scar on my side, she thought, alwayswithout considering the how of it? It was as if some part of her had refused to see or regard what had been right before her eyes. As well, there had been the blood coating her after Hazad had taken her from the cleft. She thought it had been Kian’s, from the abrasion on his brow….
More memories filtered through the murk of her mind, clarifying, solidifying….
There had been an explosion of light, the sound of the very earth rupturing-and pain, sharp and bright as a sword slamming into her head … and then, for a time, nothing. The images began to fade from her mind, replaced by dreadful understanding. I died.Something smashed into me, a stone, and I died … and Kian brought me back. Somehow, using the powers of creation, he made me whole.
The queer tingling she had felt when she lay down with Kian in the wagonbed surged over her skin once more, strong enough to steal her breath. She had the urge to clutch Kian to her breast, to hold him tight, to give back what he had given to her. Ellonlef had no idea if what she was feeling and thinking was an illusion of hope, or was truth. Nor did she understand how to do what her very soul seemed to be telling her to do.
Kian had fallen back into unconsciousness, and she knew she did not have time to reason or plan. She let instinct, insubstantial as a morning mist, guide her hands to his chest, just over his heart. All thought faded, leaving behind a serene emptiness-
The jolt of energy that coursed through her fingers and sank into her bones at the sensation of his cold, bloody skin was like a hammer crashing through her spirit. She managed to bite back a startled gasp, but only because awed wonder closed her throat. In that moment, she and Kian were one flesh, and she felt that whatever happened to Kian at the temple in the swamp, it had made him more than merely a man, more than flesh, blood, and bone.
Some unknown part of herself opened, releasing a power or force that she had not known was inside her. Through eyes slitted in rapturous ecstasy, she looked on the savaged man before, a man she knew she could not live without, who she loved with all her heart.
At that thought, her eyes flew wide, and then wider still as a faint, blue shimmer spread from her hands over Kian’s chest. Startled gasps erupted from herself and those hovering over her shoulder. She paid them no heed. The gleaming luminescence spread until it covered the whole of Kian’s body like a translucent, azure cocoon. By heartbeats, that soothing glow grew brighter and brighter, forcing her to squint.
Her breath failed her when Kian’s torn skin began closing … healing. Kian’s back arched violently, and his coverings were thrown aside, fully exposing the extent of his injuries. The raw, weeping wounds in his arms swiftly mended from the inside out, becoming whole in the span of two deep breaths. Where ribs had shown through deep slashes, the muscles knitted together, followed by whole skin.
Kian seemed to be struggling for breath. He looked this way and that, panicked, almost as much as Ellonlef was herself. Without warning, the blue shimmer dimmed, then winked out, the last of it soaking into Kian. Ellonlef reeled backward and would have toppled, save for Hazad’s strong hand on her shoulder.
Kian still had not drawn a breath, and Azuri slid in front of Ellonlef, stunned, but showing not a little hint of mirth. His gray eyes searched Kian’s face a moment, then he laughed. “As I told you once before, you great oaf, you must breathe if you do not wish to suffocate.”
Kian’s struggles ceased at once and he sucked in a great, gasping breath, followed by an explosive coughing fit. All stared as his breathing rapidly took on a regular rhythm. His hand floundered about until finding Ellonlef’s. His pulse thudded in his now warm grip, but that was a distant thing. As her gaze locked with his, it was as if the world had been swept away, leaving only the two of them looking into each other’s eyes. In that moment, it dawned on her that she knew him as she never had before. In truth, she had never known anyone, save herself, with such intimacy. It was both wonderful and frightening.
Pain and loss were at the center of him, something from his youth-no doubt from the loss of his homelands and his family during the war between Falseth and Izutar. As well, she felt a sense of nobility and dedication so vast in him that it startled her. The carefully guarded kindness in his heart, something she had once believed to be all but nonexistent, was rivaled by an iron core that demanded fairness and justice. Over all of this, she also sensed a secret, something she felt sure even he was unaware of, something of light and life, a living, indefinable thing … a presence.
The powers of creation, she understood with profound astonishment.
He released her hand and relaxed his head against a pile of dusty sacks serving as a pillow. “I must sleep … just a moment,” he whispered, the last word trailing off to a peaceful sigh.
Ellonlef glanced at Hazad and Azuri, and they shared a moment of warmth and joy, savoring that Kian was alive.
Hya cleared her throat, questions in her milky eyes. Whatever she was thinking, she kept to herself in the face of burning urgency. “He cannot sleep long,” she advised. “Hya, Sister of Najihar, is not unknown to the Ivory Throne, nor to any who sit upon it. No doubt word will reach Varis of Kian’s escape, and more importantly,” she added with a pointed look at Ellonlef, “word of those who aided him.”
Ellonlef nodded slowly, the full truth of what had just happened beginning to settle over her. That she had held within her the powers of creation, without ever knowing, was astounding to be sure, but more so was that Kian lay whole before her, and that he would live … but only so long as they escaped Ammathor and, more importantly, Varis.
“What do you suggest?” Ellonlef asked.
“There is one man I trust who will give aid, if the price is right. Come, we must prepare while Kian gets what rest he can.”
“Hazad and I will stand watch outside,” Azuri advised. “If we return with haste, then we must leave with haste.”
After the two men left, Ellonlef busied herself with getting together supplies for a journey, which was little enough, given that they would soon be running for their very lives.
Chapter 44
Ruin him, a disembodied voice rasped. Bulging white eyes that should have been blind, yet were not, observed and approved of his pain.
Kian’s eyes flew open, the memory of his riven flesh a searing brand in his consciousness. He remained perfectly still, the dream-pain fading. Those dead white eyes, though, the hatred they expressed, remained etched in his mind. No matter that Varis had changed, to Kian he was still and would always be the skeletal abomination that had come forth from the temple in the Qaharadin. And Varis, he had no doubt, would be coming for him.