Darkness Rising (The Endless War Book 2) by D.K. Holmberg

Author:D.K. Holmberg [Holmberg, D.K.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: ASH Publishing
Published: 2016-07-11T06:00:00+00:00

17

Jasn

My time wandering nears an end. The college has summoned me to return. I have seen enough to give me pause in returning, and need answers before I respond to the summons.

—Lren Atunal, Cardinal of the College of Scholars

“Why do you think I need your help?” Tarak asked Jasn.

He was a small man with narrow-set eyes and a high, sloping forehead he tried to hide with long hair combed forward. He crossed his arms as Jasn appeared at the door, and tried to push him back.

Jasn didn’t know Tarak well. He was one of the order but had specialized skill in healing. In that way, he was much like Jasn. “Calan thought I could help.”

“You? You’ve been here”—he squinted, squeezing his lips together as he considered Jasn—“a month or two, and you think there is something you can do to help? I know you helped Wyath when he was injured, but that was before I’d returned.”

“Not only Wyath.”

Tarak waved his hand at Jasn, shooing him away like he was nothing more than a child. “Return to your lessons. There’s nothing you can do to help me.”

Jasn pushed into the room. He was well over a head taller than Tarak and didn’t like the idea of simply shoving past him, but he grew tired of trying to explain himself to everyone in this place. “I was the one who healed Thenas,” he said as Tarak started to object, running around Jasn to stand in front of him again. “I trained with Oliver. Now, where is Ifrit? Calan thought I would be able to help.”

“Oliver?” he said.

The room was different than many of the others. Rows of cots were set up, leaving it something like a hospital, though Jasn hoped there would never be a need for so many beds. If all were filled, it would mean that most within the barracks had been injured. Pots of oil were set into the wall, heated with shapings that gave the air a sickly, familiar odor that reminded him of the time spent in Atenas. Only one of the cots had anyone on it.

Jasn made his way to Ifrit. He only knew of her and was surprised to see she was young and had the dark complexion of someone who lived along the border with Rens. Black hair spilled around her shoulders. She breathed slowly but was otherwise motionless.

“You can tell Calan that I’ve done what I can,” Tarak said.

“I don’t doubt that,” Jasn said, “but let me see if I can help.” He looked over to the small healer and forced a smile. “Listen, I mean no disrespect. All that I want is to help.”

Tarak watched him for a moment. “How long did you study with Oliver?”

“Three years.”

“And you’re here now?”

Jasn nodded and turned his attention back to Ifrit. “Healing… Well, it wasn’t for me.”

He took Ifrit’s shoulders between his hands and squeezed gently, connecting to her. She was soft and warm, but he immediately sensed the injuries within her. Tarak’s healing layered atop her, essentially preventing her from dying, but it would not save her.

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