by Tara Grayce
The fiery power of his magic tore through her, and she struggled to grip it. She gritted her teeth, mentally wrestling with the amount of magic placed in her hands. Forcing herself to breathe, she held onto Farrendel’s magic even as he poured still more into her and the heart bond.
It felt as if fire scorched through her veins about to burn her up. Essie dragged in a breath and struggled to stay conscious. She must not pass out. She had to hold on to Farrendel’s magic for just a few moments longer.
Then, through the heart bond, she sensed Farrendel’s grip on his magic steady, his control shaky but returning. He grasped the remaining magic, drawing it to him. Essie’s breathing hitched with the force of the magic contained in the two of them.
The magic surrounding her and Farrendel exploded.
Essie was thrown backwards, Farrendel torn from her grip. The moment before she would have struck the ground, the magic in the heart bond flashed out and shielded her, cushioning her fall enough that only her shoulder ached from the impact.
A gigantic boom tore through the sky, then the pressure of magic dissipated like a breeze sweeping away into the distance.
When she peeled her eyes open, sparks of Farrendel’s magic drizzled down from the sky like rain before winking out.
Farrendel lay unmoving on the ground several yards. He must have also been blown backwards by the force of the magical blast, though the way he sprawled limply on the ground suggested he hadn’t had the magic-protected landing Essie had.
Essie tottered to her feet and dashed toward him, her legs still unsteady.
Weylind raced past her and knelt next to Farrendel, gently lifting him. As Essie approached, Weylind held up a hand. “No, do not touch him. Not yet.”
Essie clenched her fists but didn’t go any closer. He was right. If she activated the deep connection of the heart bond now, it might make it harder for the elven healers to do their job, since they would have to worry about putting too much strain on Essie. Better to wait until it was absolutely necessary, even though she wanted to hold Farrendel close.
Weylind stood, cradling Farrendel to him. Farrendel lay limp, head lolling against Weylind’s shoulder. Weylind strode in the direction of the gates, as if oblivious to everything else but getting Farrendel to a healer.
Essie moved to follow, yet something caught her eye. Behind Farrendel and Weylind, the troll prince eased to his feet and pressed a hand to his shoulder. She whipped her rifle from her shoulder and raised it.
Averett appeared at her side, a pistol already in his hand. He pointed it at the troll prince. “No sudden moves.”
The troll prince spread both hands at his sides, palms up. “I have already surrendered.”
Averett’s pistol didn’t waver. Not that a mere pistol would do much good if the troll prince tried something. Averett reached out with a hand and blindly patted Essie’s arm. “Take care of Farrendel. I can see to things here. Edmund, go with them. Julien, with me.”
Essie handed her rifle to Julien. He and Averett would need the weapon more than she did. Then, she hurried across the courtyard. Edmund fell into step beside her, his jaw set.
With his long stride, Weylind had already reached the gates and was crossing the temporary wooden bridge that spanned a two-foot-wide gap in the stone bridge. The explosive they had used to splinter the gates must have been strong enough to punch a hole through the bridge.
Even though she was hurrying, Weylind still reached the camp on the far side and disappeared into the hospital tent before Essie had caught up with him. She reached the tent flap and pushed inside.
Wounded lay on cots with nurses bustling between them. Surgical rooms in the back were walled off with curtains.
Before Essie could take more than a step inside, an elven nurse blocked her way. “You need to wash before you’re allowed inside.”
“But Weylind...Farrendel...” Essie couldn’t manage to talk coherently. She just wanted to push past this nurse and hurry to Farrendel’s side.
Arguing would take longer than simply doing as the nurse demanded. Essie stepped to the buckets of hot water and the soap at the washing station just inside the tent and scrubbed her hands, then waited while Edmund did the same. As much as she wanted to hurry on without him, she also didn’t want to face whatever lay ahead without one of her family members by her side.
When they were both clean, Essie led the way between the cots to the back of the tent where six surgical rooms were cordoned off with canvas. She heard Weylind’s voice in the nearest one, and pushed her way inside.
Farrendel was laid out on the wooden surgical table in the center of the space with two nurses bustling around him, cleaning the blood and grime from his skin. A white sheet draped over his middle and legs, and Essie guessed the nurses had stripped him of the remains of the filthy clothes he’d been wearing.
The head surgeon and healer that Essie had met back in Tarenhiel were huddled next to the table, their heads together as they discussed something between them. Weylind stood next to the table with a hand on Farrendel’s shoulder.
Farrendel’s breathing was ragged, his eyes squeezed shut, his fists clenched. He was conscious now, if the amount of pain tightening his face was any indication.
While Edmund stayed by the door, Essie crept closer. She didn’t want to get in the way, but she didn’t want to stand on the outskirts either. She halted next to Farrendel’s head at the end of the table. “I’m here.”
“Essie.” He gasped her name between ragged breaths. Farrendel’s eyes remained squeezed shut, as if to block out the pain.
The elven healer reached out a hand, a glow of magic around his fingers, and pressed his palm to Farrendel’s chest.
Farrendel cried out, and the healer snatched his hand away, gripping it as if he had been burned. The healer turned to the Escarlish surgeon and began another discussion in rapid, hushed tones.
Essie should have felt satisfaction that the surgeon and healer were getting along so well, considering this teamwork on the part of the medical staff had been her idea. But her stomach was churning, and she had to grip the edge of the table to keep herself from reaching for Farrendel’s hand.
At the door, Jalissa rushed inside, though she halted only a few feet past the entrance, her mouth and eyes wide with a stricken look. Edmund stepped forward and put an arm around her, steering her toward his place by the wall.
After a moment, Nylian, the elven healer, turned to Weylind, his whole body braced as if prepared to be shot for delivering his news. “Weylind Daresheni, I am sorry. But your brother is dying.”
Weylind’s shoulders sagged, his head bowing as if to hide his emotion from those present. Jalissa gasped, pressing a hand over her mouth. Edmund wrapped both arms around her.
Essie’s knees sagged, and she gripped the edge of the table with both hands. No, he couldn’t be dying. They’d rescued him. He was supposed to be fine now. “No. No, there must be something you can do.”
The healer swung sad, dark brown eyes in her direction. “I am truly sorry. But whoever put that stone into him did not intend for him to survive his rescue. The stone has pierced him deeply, curling around his bones and puncturing organs. There is too much troll magic still inside him for me to keep him alive through the surgery that it would take to remove it. On top of that, I suspect his own magic reacted against the stone, doing even more damage.”
The surgeon glanced at the healer before he too turned to Essie. “I’m not sure we could even remove it with surgery. Not if the stone is as embedded into him as Nylian has described. If this stone were a bullet or shrapnel, the normal procedure would be to leave it in. Most people can live a normal life under such cases.”
“But he would be in constant pain. The stone would slowly kill him.” The elven healer shook his head. “I am sorry. But there is nothing we can do.”
Weylind’s head remained bowed, his hands braced against the table.
“No. No, there must be something. The heart bond
...I can keep him alive during a surgery. It’s strong enough. I’m strong enough.” Essie reached for Farrendel. She could help him. She refused to let him die. Not like this. Not when she’d just gotten him back.
But Farrendel was shaking his head, his eyes cracked open to slits. “My...choice...Essie...” he gasped, his gaze meeting hers.
His choice. That had been what he’d told her on the train when they’d been captured. He’d wanted the choice to sacrifice to be his, this time.
“The stone is too deep.” The healer’s tone was gentle, even though he was stabbing Essie’s heart. “The attempt would likely kill both of you.”
“My choice...” Farrendel gritted out again, his gaze still locked on hers.
He didn’t want her to risk herself for him. Perhaps it was her life and her choice to make, but it was also Farrendel’s choice to refuse her help. He wouldn’t want to kill her along with himself.
Then what could they do? Essie wasn’t just going to stand there and watch Farrendel die. Not after how far she’d come to get him back. Not when they had just barely begun to experience happiness together.
If neither the Escarlish surgeon nor the elven healer could remove the troll-magic laced stone killing Farrendel, then there was only one answer. A troll had to remove it. After all, the trolls had put it there. It made sense that only a troll could take it out.
How would they find a troll willing to save the life of the trolls’ most feared enemy? And a troll they could trust enough to help Farrendel and not hurt him further?
She met Edmund’s gaze across the room and motioned. He said something to Jalissa, then eased her away from him. After he hurried across the tent, he halted by Essie.
The healer and the surgeon had begun another discussion with Weylind listening.
Essie leaned closer to Edmund and whispered, “Fetch Averett. Make sure he bring the troll prince.”
Edmund searched her face, then nodded. “Right.”
As Edmund left the tent, the Escarlish surgeon motioned to Farrendel. “We should give him something to make him comfortable. Thanks to your elven magic, we have more than enough morphine to spare.”
“Morphine.” The elven healer’s nose wrinkled for a moment before he sighed. “I suppose such methods are the only means left at our disposal.”
At least he’d left out the word primitive, even though it was still implied.
The surgeon stepped away and disappeared into a curtained-off section. Essie caught a brief glimpse of crates. That must be the supply closet, if a tent could have a closet.
Weylind turned to the healer. “Are you absolutely sure there is nothing that can be done?”
The healer sighed and shook his head. “If there was something I could do, I would. We should let Maxwell make him comfortable. It may be some time before...” The healer trailed off, as if he couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud.
If the trolls couldn’t help Farrendel, if this was it, Essie wanted to hold Farrendel’s hand. She didn’t want to let him go.
But she wasn’t sure what the heart bond would do if she touched him. She had to wait and save her strength in case it was needed.
The surgeon returned, trailed by a nurse holding a tray with a glass hypodermic needle partially filled with a clear liquid, a glass bottle, and a few wads of bandages. The surgeon splashed one of the cotton cloths with the liquid in the bottle, an alcohol based on the smell. Essie remembered the process from the inoculations she had received as a child.
When the surgeon swabbed the inside of Farrendel’s elbow, Farrendel started and tensed. His eyes flew open, and he focused on the surgeon.
The surgeon picked up the hypodermic needle, held it, and flicked it with a finger several times to make sure there were no air bubbles.
Farrendel’s breathing grew more rapid, his muscles rigid.
“It’s all right. I’ve had inoculations before. It will be fine.” Essie rested her hand next to Farrendel’s head, though she didn’t touch him.
“It’s just a quick pinch.” The surgeon lowered the hypodermic needle and bent over Farrendel.
Farrendel’s eyes remained wide. When the surgeon reached for Farrendel’s arm, blue magic sparked around his fingers.
“Get back.” The elf healer threw an arm around the surgeon’s chest and pulled him back.
“Farrendel.” This time, Essie didn’t hesitate. She rested a hand on Farrendel’s cheek, feeling the sweaty warmth to his skin. For a brief second, the heart bond connected, and she gasped as pain shot through her chest.
Then Farrendel placed that iron wall between them, though it wasn’t as solid as it was when they were apart. She could still sense his emotions, taste a portion of his pain, though her body wasn’t trying to keep his alive.
Placing her back to the others, she leaned over Farrendel and cradled his face in her hands, blocking his view. “Do you trust me?”
Farrendel’s gaze searched her face before he nodded, slowly.
“And do you trust that I won’t let them do anything to harm you?” Essie traced her fingers across Farrendel’s cheek, then brushed aside a lock of his hair.
Farrendel drew in a deep breath, his muscles relaxing. He squeezed his eyes shut. “I trust you.”
“Good.” Essie straightened, but she kept a hand on Farrendel’s cheek. “Go ahead, Maxwell. It’s safe now.”
The surgeon hesitated, as if he wasn’t sure it was as safe as Essie said. After a moment, he stepped forward.
Essie focused on Farrendel’s face. She knew the moment the needle slid into Farrendel’s arm by the tightening of his jaw. But he kept his magic in check.
“There, all done. It will take a few moments, but you should start feeling a numbing sensation spreading up your arm.” The surgeon set the hypodermic needle back on the tray.
Good. At least Farrendel would be more comfortable while they waited for Edmund to return with Averett and the troll prince, though the others didn’t know that was what they were waiting for. They all thought they were waiting for Farrendel’s death.
After a minute, Farrendel’s breathing began to steady, and his muscles relaxed beneath Essie’s hand.
The surgeon glanced between Weylind, the elf healer, and Essie. “We should move him. I’m sorry, but we’ll need this table for the next patient.”
“Not yet.” Essie moved her free hand to Farrendel’s shoulder, as if to keep the others from moving him. She opened her mouth, but she wasn’t sure how to explain. Or if she should. Weylind would surely object.
Beside the wall, Jalissa had sunk to the floor, her arms wrapped over her stomach, her head bowed so that her hair hid her face. Her shoulders shook, though she didn’t make a sound.
“Princess Elspeth. I understand why you would be...reluctant.” The surgeon glanced at Weylind, as if pleading for him to deal with her.
Weylind stared down at Farrendel. “I know...I know it is hard to accept...”
“No, it’s...we need to wait for Averett.” Essie couldn’t let them move Farrendel. That would mean giving up. Accepting the fact that he was dying.
And she was not ready to stop fighting for him.
“No need to wait.” Averett’s voice came from the entrance as he pushed the tent flap aside. He stepped into the tent, followed by the tall, gray-skinned, white-haired form of the troll prince.
Weylind stiffened, his hand reaching for the dagger at his belt. “What is he doing here?”
“He is here to help Farrendel.” Averett stepped aside as Edmund entered the tent and immediately knelt at Jalissa’s side.
“No.” Weylind’s grip tightened on the dagger. “I will not let him anywhere near my brother. He has already hurt him enough.”
“He’s also the only one who can save him.” Essie pointed at the troll prince. “A troll put the stone in him, and only a troll can take it out.”
“We cannot trust him.” Weylind’s whole body tensed, though he didn’t draw his dagger. Not yet, anyway.
>
“Probably not.” Averett turned hard eyes on the troll prince. “But Prince Rharreth knows that treaty negotiations will not go well for Kostaria if he harms the brother and brother-in-law of the Tarenhieli and Escarlish kings. After all, he unconditionally surrendered. Utterly destroying his kingdom without any kind of consideration is still an option at this point.”
Prince Rharreth bowed his head, his gaze focused on Farrendel. “Even though he is the elf who killed my father and my brother, I will help him. He has already paid enough for the blood of my family.”
Weylind shook his head, fingers flexing on his dagger’s hilt. “We cannot trust him.”
“Farrendel, what do you think?” Averett’s voice was quiet, solemn.
Farrendel held Prince Rharreth’s gaze for a long moment, before his silver-blue eyes flicked up to meet Essie’s. “I trust Essie.”
Essie smiled, but the smile hurt. “You heard him. He trusts me. And this is the only chance we have to save him.”
Weylind crossed his arms but nodded. “Very well.”
Averett, the troll prince, the surgeon, and the elf healer began discussing how to make it work. Something about the surgeon helping to remove the stone so that Prince Rharreth could direct the stone out in a manner that did the least damage rather than snaking it through Farrendel’s body yet again.
Essie only partially paid attention, just enough to stop them if she heard something that didn’t sound right.
She cradled Farrendel’s face and put her back to the others, blocking Farrendel from seeing anyone besides her. He already remembered far too much of torture and pain. This time, when he remembered this moment, she wanted him to remember only her.
“It’s almost over.” Essie stroked Farrendel’s cheek with her thumb. After the two weeks of capture, the hollows under his cheeks and eyes cut far too deeply. “Just hang on a little longer, all right? Just a few more minutes.”
