Illumination by Terry Mcgarry

Author:Terry Mcgarry
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates
Published: 2011-03-22T00:00:00+00:00

Fever racked her. She thought they traveled, but she flew through a windy wheel of stars and snow, flew up over them into the disc of sun, burned in its searing light. She tried to pull the arrow out, anything to stop the pain, but the shaft was gone and her arm and shoulder were bound. “Don’t let him cast on me,” she babbled, until someone snapped at her, and someone else said to leave her alone, she was raving. She woke with no pain and a taste of bitter herbs on her tongue, and retched. She woke in agony to Heff’s big hand smoothing the hair from her brow, and slept again. Sometimes she thought she heard him humming, but it was only the wind. The winds had names, but no one remembered them anymore. Perhaps the Ennead did, but they hadn’t told her. Was this the wind of healing, or the deathwind? “Don’t let him heal me,” she begged, and Heff smoothed the hair from her brow, and she slept.

Up. They were going up. She sat a horse, with Heff’s arms around her. Its neck looked like patches of snow on ashy ground. The piebald. Heff leaned them forward, off its kidneys.

“Take this,” someone said. She sat up abruptly in a pile of scratchy blankets, knocking soup from a spoon. Benkana swore, then said, “All right, try again.” She looked around at a campsite. Jolia and Mirellin and Porick were casting. Gill was watching them. Kazhe stood near Torrin by a fire pouring smoke. His back was turned. There were unfamiliar trees all around them, strange pale trees, like bonewood but weeping like river willows. A rocky outcrop to one side was veined with gossan: a scored face that bled rust. Heff came out of the trees at its base, and smiled.

“Maybe you’ll have better luck,” Benkana said, handing bowl and spoon to Heff as he crouched down on his haunches beside them.

Heff gave them to Liath and said, Eat. You’ve been sick.

“We’re in the Druilors?”

The Blooded Mountains. Yes.

A bitter laugh tried to bubble up and came out a rasp of air. “I knew it,” she said. Her voice was as rusty as the mountains.

She spooned saffron soup into herself with trembling hands, then gave up and slurped from the bowl, but could only manage half of it before she had to lie back. “Where’s Amaranth?”

With my horses, Heff said. I brought all your gear.

“Thank you.” She meant more than the horse and the gear. Still she had to ask, “Why didn’t you come sooner?”

He wouldn’t let me. He wanted to talk to you. He hoped you’d come back with him. When you didn’t, he allowed me to fetch you. He didn’t want you to die.

“No, I’m sure he didn’t.” She glanced at the fire, but met only Kazhe’s hot eyes; the Darkmage was involved in something. He would want the use of her light. He would assume he could heal her, if he believed her story at all.

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