“When there isn’t a good chance the Sachakans will eat them before they grow old enough to talk,” Avaria retorted.
“Well,” the woman said, her eyebrows rising.
“I thought that was only a rumour,” the other murmured to her.
Tessia didn’t hear what they said next. Lord Werrin’s servant had rounded the end of a storehouse and was hurrying towards her. Perhaps Avaria would ask for news as he passed. But as he came closer she realised he was looking at her.
“Apprentice Tessia,” he called.
She rose. “Yes?”
“Your services are required.”
Picking up her father’s bag, she hurried forward. He led her back towards the end of the storehouse.
“What happened?” she asked.
“Sachakans attacked,” he said, breathing heavily. “Only three, but gone now. They sneaked up on a group of apprentices exploring the estate.” As she followed him round the corner she nearly stopped in shock. One of the huge buildings had collapsed, and the remains were burning.
“Anyone hurt?” she asked. But of course someone is. Why else summon me? Unless... unless I know them. She felt her insides clench with fear and dread. Jayan? No. Surely not Jayan. He’s too annoying to have been killed. Besides, this one said my “services” were needed. That can only mean healing.
“The apprentices lured them inside,” the servant continued. “The storehouse was filled with whitewater. Apprentice Jayan set it alight.” He glanced back, grinning. “Must’ve cost them a bit of power shielding from that.”
“But they survived.”
The servant nodded. “Ran off into the night. Some magicians have gone off after them.”
She’d meant the apprentices, but was glad he’d told her that bit of news anyway. He was leading her towards a group of magicians and servants standing around something. Recognising the two guild healers, she felt her stomach sink. Someone saw her approaching and all turned to stare at her. Then she saw Lord Dakon and Jayan.
Jayan looks unharmed. The relief she felt was stronger than she’d have thought warranted. So who are they... ah. Refan.
The young man was lying on the ground, face down. He was groaning with pain. As she reached the magicians, Lord Dakon moved to her side.
“It’s his back,” he told her quietly. “Hit by forcestrike. He can’t feel his legs. The healers say the paths to those parts of his body have been broken. He’ll live for a while, in pain, before those parts die and poison the rest of him.”
She nodded. A broken back was a terrible injury. The healers were right, though it depended on where the break was, and whether the patient had constant, specific care. They could live for a few years, if they were lucky.
But even if Refan was so lucky, he couldn’t ride. He probably couldn’t travel in a cart, either. The jostling would worsen the injury. If he stayed, the Sachakans would kill him. She looked at Lord Dakon.
“Why call for me?”
He smiled faintly. “Jayan suggested it. He says you’ve found a way to use magic to stop the pain.”
“Ah.” She looked at the magicians and healers. They wore expressions of curiosity, mostly. Some looked doubtful. “I can’t promise anything, but it’s always worth trying.”
Moving to Refan’s side, she knelt beside him and placed a hand on the side of his neck. His skin was hot. She closed her eyes and for a moment struggled to put the thought of all the eyes watching her out of her mind.
Concentrate. Look inward. Inside. An awareness of Refan’s body came to her. She gently probed beyond the skin, letting the signals and rhythms guide her. Spreading her awareness down his spine she found the source of the body’s alarm.
The bones had been knocked out of alignment. Swelling around them radiated heat and pain. And once she became aware of that pain, it swamped her senses. She felt herself go rigid to match Refan’s own agony-tensed muscles, and the same desperate need for the pain to stop that Refan must be feeling. But her need was not desperate. She could do something to stop it. Searching for the right place, she exerted her will and pinched.
The pain ended.
Relieved, she paused to rest and regain a sense of herself. As she did, she noticed something about the injury. The areas of swelling were acting as blockages. They were compressing the cord that threaded the bones, and some of the pathways that sprouted from it.
Then she realised that none of those pathways had been severed. Looking closer, she saw that none of the bones were broken or cracked, either.
It must have been a weak or glancing blow. Forcestrike should have made a much worse mess than this. Still, if the Sachakans had wanted to prolong his agony, they couldn’t have chosen a better way to do it other than to stay and torture him. And the pain...
Abruptly she realised the pain was returning. Returning to the pathway she had pinched, she saw that it was recovering.
He’s healing.
For a moment she marvelled at the futile but persistent efforts his body was going to in order to try to fix itself. Then she felt her skin prickle. I’ve never noticed this before. I’ve never seen a body healing so fast I could sense it. Curious, she looked closer, trying to understand the mechanism that was driving this unnaturally fast healing.
And she sensed magic.
The meaning of this came to her in a jolt. Dakon had told her that magicians were more robust than people who had no or little latent ability. Even those people with magical talents who never learned magic tended to heal faster and resist disease better. It made sense, then, that magic was, literally, the reason.
Am I the first person to watch this process? she wondered.
Unfortunately, it was acting against her intentions. The pain of the injury was returning as the pinched pathway recovered, and when she concentrated on the injury itself she saw that the speedy healing wasn’t going to succeed. The bones would remain in the position they’d been forced into. Refan would not be able to walk, and it was even possible his internal organs might not work properly.
But I can fix that, she realised.
Taking a deep breath, she thought her way through the task. First she must pinch the pain pathway again. Then she would have to gently encourage excess moisture to leave the swollen areas. Finally, when she had enough space, she must nudge the bones slowly and carefully back into their correct positions. All the interconnecting tissues should then return with them.
When she had thought her way through the process a few times, deciding what to move first, she set to work.
It was a slow process. As she pinched and squeezed and nudged, she wondered what the magicians and healers watching her were thinking. Did they think she was taking a long time, for the simple task of blocking pain? Could they see any of the change she was making? Or had they grown bored and left? After all, the much anticipated and very late meal they were all waiting for must be cooked by now.
Finally everything was back in place. She noticed that Refan’s body was now applying magic to healing him in much more effective ways. He’s going to survive, she realised. He might not even be crippled. A thrill of pride ran through her, and she immediately suppressed it. This still may not work. It’s the first time I’ve done it – maybe the first time anyone has – and I can’t know the full outcome. And besides, it will still take days or weeks for him to heal properly and he’s still going to be a burden to the army.
After one last check, and pinching the pain pathway one more time to delay what would be an unpleasant revival despite her efforts, she drew her consciousness back into herself and opened her eyes.
Looking around, she saw that all the magicians were still there. And the healers. They were staring at her, some frowning in puzzlement. Then Refan groaned and all attention returned to him.
“What...what happened?” he said. “Pain’s gone... but I still can’t feel my legs.”
“You will soon,” Tessia told him. “And you’re not going to like it.” She looked up at Lord Dakon. “His back wasn’t broken, but it was all out of place and the pathways were being squashed.”
He smiled, his eyes shining. “Will he recover?”
“If he has the time to.” She grimaced. “If he has the time to, he’ll even walk again.”
His expression became grim, and his eyes shifted to Lord Werrin. The king’s magician frowned and nodded. “I’ll see what I can arrange.”