"There's Truly no end to the people who've come," Carina exclaimed as she looked out at the courtyard of waiting patients. Old women, carried in carts or on the backs of men, women with difficult pregnancies, children with fevers, and wounds that would not heal. Despite her efforts, each new day lengthened the line of those who waited.
"They've come from several days' ride," Neirin observed. "Perhaps they fear that after the wedding next week, your priorities may shift to other concerns."
Carina smiled. "I doubt it. Jonmarc knew when he brought me here that healing was part of the bargain." A month had passed since Winterstide, and true to his oath, Jonmarc had set a date for a ritual wedding. After the disturbances at the holiday, Dark Haven had been quiet, falling into the slower rhythms of winter. Talk of the wedding captivated the gossips, and many of the people who came for healing wished Carina well or gave her a wedding blessing.
"It's the first time in a hundred years that the Lord of Dark Haven has taken a bride here at the manor," Neirin said, smiling. "Quite an honor for us. And an omen, perhaps, of brighter things to come."
"Right now, the only omen I want is to smell lunch cooking," Carina laughed. "It's just mid-morning, but I'm famished!"
"I'll have the kitchen send up something," Neirin promised. His attention was distracted by a noise near the doorway. A young man pushed through the crowd, still brushing snow from his heavy cloak. He made a low bow when he approached Carina.
"Greetings, Lady Vahanian."
Carina looked at the newcomer. He was slightly built, perhaps a few years younger than herself, with close-cropped reddish-blond hair and a patchy beard. His skin was reddened from the cold, and his cloak was wet with snow. "My name is Adon, from the village of Westormere. They sent me here to see if I could convince you to come back with me. There's a fever taken hold, a bad one. Our hedge witches tried, but they can't do nothing for it, and some of them took sick as well." He dropped to one knee and bowed his head. "Please, m'lady, I know it's a lot to ask, but I'm afraid for my village. There were three dead just this morning. There's no one else who can put it right."
"How far away is Westormere?"
Adon raised his head. "Not a candlemark distant, m'lady."
Carina looked at Neirin. "I could be back before sundown. If it's plague, there's no time to waste."
"I'd feel better if Lord Vahanian rode with you. He's out in the fields. Please, m'lady, wait until he gets back. Go in the morning."
Carina looked at Adon. "How many in your village are sick?"
"Almost all, m'lady. My farm's on the very edge, that's why I was well enough to ride. There are about sixty people in the town, m'lady. Might be about a handful that aren't feverish. Please, m'lady. They'll die if you don't come."
Carina looked back to Neirin. "I need to go," she said. "Please, make the people here as comfortable as you can while they wait. I'll be back before sundown."
"Please, Carina, you must take guards with you. Lord Jonmarc would never forgive me if I let you go without protection."
"Fine with me—sounds like I'll have work for them to do when we get there."
Less than a candlemark later, Carina, Adon, and ten of Jonmarc's guards were on the road for Westormere. Bundled in Carina's saddlebags were enough herbs and poultices to treat a wide range of maladies. The snow was deep as a tall man's knees, and even on the road, it was higher than the horses' hocks. Nothing moved in the forest except hares flushed from cover by the sound of their approach.
Though it was not quite midday, no one was about in the streets. Shops were closed and no guard met them at the village edge. Carina heard the bleating of sheep and lowing of cattle unused to remaining all day in their pens, their keepers too ill to take them afield.
"Come with me, m'lady," Adon said, helping Carina down from her horse. "I can take you to the houses of those who are the sickest. Then we can set you up in the tavern great room, and the rest can come to you there. No one's about, so I doubt the tavern keeper will mind."
Carina pressed two of her guards into service carrying her saddle bags of medicines. Four went to patrol the town, and the other four remained close to Carina, walking two ahead and two behind. In this small village, Carina felt embarrassed by the guards' presence, but she knew Jonmarc would angry if she were to go without protection. He would be upset enough when he learned about the trip, she thought resignedly.
Adon knocked at the front door of the first house, a wattle and daub home next to the bakery. A faint groan answered them as they pushed the door open. It was cold inside. The fire had died down to embers, and Carina sent a guard to fetch wood and build up the fire once more. Adon helped her light the only two lamps in the building, and Carina sent another guard in search of lanterns. Huddled in bed were a woman and her two children.
"I'm a healer," Carina said with a smile, hoping to win the woman's trust. "I'm here to help."
The woman and her children were hot with fever, their skin flushed, and their hair matted with sweat.
"It's grippe," Carina said, leaning back once her examination was complete. "Worse than what I've seen up at the manor, but I can help." She beckoned for Adon. "I can't do this alone. For this much healing, I'll need to draw energy from other people. It doesn't hurt and it won't harm you—you'll be a little tired, that's all. Will you permit me to draw from you?"
She saw a flicker of fear in the young man's eyes, then he set his jaw. "Do what you must, m'lady. Most of this village is kin to me. Whatever I have is yours."
Within another half a candlemark, Carina had reduced her patients' fever. The guards, many of whom had seen her heal at Dark Haven, willingly took turns with Adon lending her strength. Carina instructed Adon to warm broth on the fire, and to spoon what their patients could swallow into their mouths to build up their strength. After a time, she sat back on her haunches, grateful for a cup of kerif one of the guards pressed into her hands.
"I'll leave herbs with you," Carina said to Adon, part of the running narrative she kept up with the young man as she worked. "I'll show you how to make teas and poultices, so that you can keep the sickness from going down to their lungs. You've got to keep them warm—bring the sheep and goats into the houses if you need to. The cold will kill them."
In each of the village's small homes she found much the same—a family huddled in bed, wracked with fever, weakened from being unable to rise to get their own food. Fires burned nearly out, patients dehydrated from lack of water. Candlemarks passed and Carina, Adon, and the guards did everything they could to save those not already too far gone. It was not uncommon to find four or five people huddled in bed together, with some too sick to realize that one or more of their bedmates were dead. Carina had the guards wrap the bodies as best they could and carry them outside, storing them in a large woodshed until proper burial could be made.
"Here, eat this," Adon said, pressing a chunk of hard cheese into Carina's hands. She smiled gratefully, aware that the cold winter sun was already high in the sky and that she was beginning to feel lightheaded. "I've never seen a healer who could bring back someone from the arms of the Lady."
"I've had a lot of practice," Carina said, sipping the last of her kerif.
So many of the villagers were near death that the healing went slowly. Carina lost track of time in the dark, smokey houses.
"These are my mother and my two sisters," Adon introduced three haggard-looking women who joined them midday. Carina immediately set the women to work scavenging for root vegetables and dried meat to create a large cauldron of soup on the tavern hearth.
The winter sky glowed red, setting the bare trees in silhouette as Carina finished the last of her patients. Casson, captain of the guards, shook his head, hands on hips, looking at the sunset.
"It's late, m'lady. Too dangerous to ride back to Dark Haven tonight. Lord Jonmarc would have my head if I let you ride through the forest at night."
"You're very welcome to stay here," Adon said quickly. "The tavern keeper is my uncle. There's space enough for the men if they'll sleep two or three to a room, and a room for you, Lady Vahanian. It would be our honor." He grinned. "I shall be your host, minstrel, and servant."
"Bless you," Carina said, feeling her mood lighten for the first time all day. "I accept your hospitality with all my heart!"
True to his word, Adon found them enough in the tavern kitchen for a meal of bread, dried fruits, meats and fresh cheese. Carina was grateful for the hot tea, and cradled the mug in her hands. She was exhausted. And while she had healed the villagers for the moment, there was no guarantee that they would remain healthy unless they were able to stay warm and get enough food to build up their strength. She sighed. More than anything, she longed for the chance to stretch out and sleep.
A candlemark after sunset, the sound of distant wailing rose in the cold air. Carina exchanged glances with her guards, who ran to the tavern windows. The wailing grew louder, closer, and Carina shivered despite herself.
"M'lady, what is that?" Adon asked.
"I don't know," Carina replied. Her guards drew their swords and took positions around the great room, urging Adon's mother and sisters into the main room. The walls of the tavern shook, and a loud crash nearby made them'jump. Every window in the tavern shattered; a gust of bitter wind swept through the great room extinguishing all the candles except for a single shuttered lantern hanging on a chain from the ceiling in the middle of the room. The wind made the lantern swing violently, sending a dizzying pattern of light and shadow across the room. Adon's mother and sisters dived under one of the tables.
Carina grabbed a walking stick left behind by one of the inn's patrons. In the dim light of the lantern, she saw Adon's face, wide-eyed with fear. The young man drew a hunting knife from the sheath at his belt and stood braced for a fight. The main door exploded into the room, sending the guard behind it sprawling. Dark shapes swept into the room with the wind, and Carina felt a coldness that had nothing to do with the bitter winter air.
Vayash moru, she thought, sensing the presence of the undead. It has to be Uri's brood. Their war is beginning!
Black-clad shapes moved in a blur. One of the figures lifted Casson like a toy, bent his head against the soldier's neck and ripped open his throat in a single, fluid movement. In the dizzying light of the swinging lantern, a guard ran at the black clad figures with a battle cry, sword slashing. One of the vayasb moru stepped forward, easily blocking the sword with his bare forearm, moving his other hand to rip out the soldier's throat with his nails.
Carina heard tables being thrown aside and the women's screams reached a frantic pitch. There was silence, and then the sound of bodies falling to the floor. For a moment, Carina saw four black-garbed figures facing them in the weak light of the single candle. She could hear the breathing of the soldiers and, pressed together as they were, she could sense their fear. Beside her, Adon kept his grip steady on his knife.
The black figures moved as one, with no sound but the rush of air. Adon gave a strangled cry and stepped in front of Carina. "Adon, no!"
Half-mad with terror and rage, the young man dived at the nearest figure, landing a solid blow with his knife. Carina screamed as the figure casually reached out and grabbed Adon by the forearms, bending forward to press his mouth against the young man's neck. Adon gave a single scream and slumped in the figure's hold.
"She's mine."
Carina wheeled. There was just enough light to make out the figure that strode in through the kitchen door. Dressed in black but wearing no hood, Malesh was smiling. "Greetings, Lady Vahanian."
Carina held her ground. "The Blood Council won't let you get away with this."
"I don't recognize the Blood Council's authority." Malesh walked closer. "Nor do I recognize a mortal Lord of Dark Haven."
Carina swung her staff at him, connecting with full force across his shoulders. The staff snapped, and Malesh laughed. "Did you enjoy the show? After all, you're the reason I'm here." He moved toward her in a blur, grabbing Carina by the upper arms in a painfully tight grip. "You, m'lady, are the key to Dark Haven. Dark Haven must have an immortal lord. I'll make you my immortal lady."
"Why me?"
Malesh's smile broadened. "Because taking you destroys Vahanian."
Malesh drew her close against him in an unbreakable embrace and lowered his mouth against her neck. His lips were soft, seductive, and she fought revulsion as he kissed her throat.
Pain flared as his teeth pierced her skin. Carina gasped. Malesh wrapped his arms around her, crushing her against him so tightly that she could barely breathe. The room around her swam. Her healer's senses screamed a warning in her mind and she knew that she was losing blood fast. Her heart thudded as her body weakened. She felt a wave of vertigo and a growing coldness as her knees buckled. Pinpricks of light danced in her vision, and her sight blurred.
Malesh eased her to the floor, and slid up one sleeve of his coat, exposing his forearm. With a single slash of his nail, he opened a vein and pressed it against Carina's lips. He forced her jaws open, yanking her head back by the hair as drop after crimson drop fell into her mouth.
Jonmarc, forgive me.