Chapter Twenty-Five
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Iza didn’t say a word as Delia and I slid down her shoulder. The dragon bustled past us without a glance, as though allergic to the highland winds. The bulls hurried to scramble out of their much larger hen sibling’s way. Half-concealed under closed inner lids, their eyes whirled in that way I’d noticed before, when they were excited. But the bulls still lowered their heads in deference to the young queen.
It was night when I visited the precipice in Lucas’ mind. Unseen then, the scale of the peaks around us, the valley laid out far below, was breathtakin’. The wind no doubt added to the vertigo the view prompted. I walked toward the edge of the sunnin’ platform and took it all in, blinkin’ against the stingin’ gale. The snappin’ of Delia’s dress reminded me I wasn’t alone. I turned a smile toward her, only to leap to her assistance. It looked as though the wind was about to fling her like a weightless kite.
I wrapped her in an arm and swept her toward the stairs. Out of the torrent, the howl turned sharper. It no longer pricked at the skin, but dust swirled around us, searchin’ for a way to get against our skin. I hurried down the two flights of granite steps. Stomped through a heavy-planked door that slammed shut behind us.
“It’s horrendous out there,” I called to no one in particular, my voice strangely loud inside after the roar of the storm outside.
The tiny human from the Hamlet rushed forward to fret over Delia, helpin’ her with her coat, and pulled from her face thick strands of hair that splayed about her. Delia didn’t appear happy at all with the fuss.
“Welcome to the mountain maelstrom,” the gray-haired woman crooned. “You must be Delia. Welcome, Morgan.”
Delia glared down at the floor.
“Well then. Come in. I’ll set ya a cup of tea to seep, and introduce ya to our patients.”
“I thought young Asr lived in the Hamlet,” I said.
“Oh he does. We brought him up here to separate him from the others.”
The woman introduced herself to Delia as she walked us through an enormous, cluttered chamber. It looked like a stagin’ area for some great undertakin’, with tools and supplies strung about, even six-foot tall blocks of granite.
Gladys, the healer. Her name had slipped my mind for a moment. But I’ll never forget her smile. It never fades.
We entered another room a bit larger than the first, with windows coverin’ the northern expanse. The savanna miles below stretched out before us like a canvas. A huge, circular hearth monopolized the center of the broad chamber. Otherwise it was conspicuously empty compared to the previous room. Only a modest table and chairs fronted the windows, and a pair of hutches sat near the hearth, furniture that would fill the average home, but looked insignificant within the vastness of Aedwin and Ike’s home.
It’s Lucas’ home too, I reminded myself.
“I’d offer ya a meal, but I haven’t had time to do any cookin’,” Gladys said. “I’m afraid our two patients have been takin’ turns losin’ their stomachs the last several hours. The buzzards, those who are silly enough to ignore the dragons, and this wind, should appreciate the burned meals I’ve tossed over the wall.”
Gladys’ line of sight shifted to my right, and I turned to see what she was lookin’ at, just in time to catch Delia disappear down a connectin’ corridor.
“She doesn’t care much for small talk, does she?” Gladys whispered.
My cheeks warmed. I shrugged and followed the human woman after Delia, down a dark hall, into an adjoinin’ room. Delia already mopped the forehead of Ike’s bull sibling. She had one hand spread out on the ogre’s heavin’ chest. His black dreadlocks were wet with sweat. Asr didn’t open his eyes. His lips remained parted, strugglin’ for breath.
“See. We did help Ike,” Delia snapped, as though we were still in the middle of an old argument. “He’s not nearly as bad off as this one.”
“Asr,” I said, supplyin’ his name.
But Delia ignored me. Names are as important to her as chit chat. She waved me to come to her like an angry mother would an errant youngling. She withdrew her precious glass gift from a fold in her smock.
An image flashed through my mind, of a smallish ogreling sunk deep into a bed fur—the previous owner of the marble. His eyes were shut tightly in agony. Sweat beaded his face.
Pre-sight?
I hoped it was just imagination, fear of what could come. I’ve lived my life in solitude. That’s over. I couldn’t stand back and watch this pain descend upon my neighbors. These folk are now my folk.
Bacchus riled at my hesitation, my failure to concentrate on the matter at hand. I stepped quickly to Asr’s cot and covered Delia’s hand with my own. My chest constricted. The bull was on a road to death. I felt a fraction of the younger ogre’s exhaustion and it took me to one knee. My hand slid down the smooth surface of Bacchus as I tried to keep from droppin’ the heavy staff. But Bacchus stood straight, as though under its own strength.
The energy passin’ from the ethereal, through Bacchus, through my body, and into Asr’s, felt like a serrated spearhead makin’ its way through my flesh. I heard a shriek of pain, not from Asr, but my own throat. Delia’s angry consciousness vibrated in my own, beratin’ me for my weakness, challengin’ me to focus.
I took deep breaths and sank to the floor, leanin’ against the cot, lyin’ my head across my outstretched arm.
As quickly as it struck, it was over. Or perhaps I merely lost track of time. Gladys’ hands pressed upon my shoulders, encouragin’ me to rise. “Come. Rest,” she said. “Ya’ve done all ya can do.”
I looked up into her green eyes. Did all humans have that color eyes? I shifted my weight to stand and the stiffness argued against it. I looked about for Delia.
“Where’s—”
“I’ve got her on a cot already,” Gladys said. “Afraid I can’t handle ya like I did her.”
Her gentle smile radiated a sense of peace that gripped my chest. I felt my head noddin’. But it took her givin’ me another tug at my arm before I attempted to fully rise. I groaned. My back acted as though I’d spent thirty hours collectin’ mushrooms. If all healin’ worked this way against us, we wouldn’t live long to heal many. We have to learn a more moderate approach.
“Aedwin needs ya too,” Gladys said. “How soon can ya see to her?”
I placed my hand across Asr’s forehead, which was noticeably cooler, though still sticky with sweat. But the bull’s lips were closed, expression relaxed. He slept.
I didn’t do this. May have contributed energy, but it was all Delia. It was her work. I smiled, recognizin’ my own disappointment. A pride in what the witch could work through me, slowly eased the disappointment.
“Come lie down.” Gladys gave me another gentle tug.
“Delia?”
Gladys’ smile broadened. She waved me to follow. In the next room Delia slept on a cot across from Aedwin. I walked up to the ogre hen and tested her forehead. It was hot, but she wasn’t strugglin’ to breathe as Asr had. I crossed to Delia and placed the back of my hand gently against the human’s cheek.
Her eyes popped open, her quick ire stretched across her face. I lurched away from her.
“I thought you were a healer,” Delia said.
“Never claimed that. I know the herbs, though.”
“You claim to be a warlock?” she snapped.
She’s such an angry snip.
“You have the focus of a two-year-old,” she continued. “What am I going to do with you?”
“Be patient, I hope.”
“Have little of that.”
I could have never noticed.
“Leave me be. I’m exhausted. Aedwin won’t be the only sick one we’ll have to deal with.”
Pre-sight? Or just cynical? Probably the latter. It went with her natural anger. But perhaps she has plenty of history to be angry about.
“I said go.”
She closed her eyes and I stood straight, back complainin’, but not as harshly as before. I followed Gladys out but shook my head at the offer of a cot. “Ya suggested tea earlier. I’ll take ya up on that offer now.”
Returnin’ to the lair’s main room, Asr’s Tir touched my mind, a subtle one, thankin’ me for easin’ his friend’s discomfort. I exhaled hard, emotion grippin’ my chest. Whatever if anythin’ I may have added to ease Asr, was the least I could do.
“Excuse me?” Gladys said.
I said that out loud? “Bad habit, mumblin’. I was just thinkin’ how happy I am to be able to help Asr be more comfortable.”
She turned on me, one eye half shut. “I think not. Ya were talkin’ to a dragon, weren’t ya?”
I froze. Would it be a bad thin’ to admit I could hear the dragons?
The smile returned to the human’s face. “Only one other has been open to dragons she doesn’t ride, and she only picks up strong emotion. She’s special. If they’ve chosen ya, ya’re special too.”
I only know of one female who rides a dragon. Ike’s mate, Aedwin, down the hall. “Ya’re assumin’ a lot, ma’am. I’d suggest Delia is the special one. She’s doin’ the healin’.”
“Looked like ya were pretty involved in Asr’s comfortin’,” Gladys said.
She pressed tea leaves against the bottom of two cups with a spoon as though it was a pestle, before pourin’ steamin’ water over them. She held her hands over the steam for a moment, though it was quite warm in the lair. Habit? Livin’ in the highlands, one must get used to bein’ cold. Humans don’t have enough meat on ’em. Scrawny creatures. Almost as bad as orcs. No wonder they constantly shiver, require those heavy boots infringin’ upon their feet.
“Did ya fly over the Hamlet on the way here?” she asked.
I nodded.
“More militia?”
I should have paid attention to that. I berated myself. Delia had said I had the focus of a two-year-old. Perhaps agree I’m less than aware of the world around me. I struggled to picture the eastern encampment of humans. It hadn’t looked as though it had swollen with outsiders.
“Not that I noticed.” I looked down at the cups to avoid her eyes.
“If we don’t die from this plague, Johanson will try to get us killed in a war.” The words didn’t seem directed at me. She had turned and faced the windows. The word plague piqued at my mind. Funny we call it a ghoul.
“Wish the Hamlet was built down there,” she continued. “But I would miss the evil glare of the Lake.” She chuckled. “Horrible place to be, Ivy through Hawthorne Moon, yet I see myself livin’ nowhere else. It’s the quiltin’ bees and story time that keep me sane through the icy winter.”
A rumble vibrated through the granite. The dragons were trumpetin’. Gladys’ face paled. “What is it?”
I listened. They weren’t speakin’ to me but I still knew what concerned them. Syl or Ken had found another stricken by the ghoul—plague. They usually attack durin’ the winter, when their prey are locked inside. If the malady persisted through the summer, it would be a deadly season to come.
Delia entered the room. “Drink yar tea. We should treat the ogre hen and be gone. There will be others who’ll need our help.”
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