He remembered his last trip to the infirmary all those weeks ago to get the cream for his cheek. The image of the infirmary was very clear in his mind. He growled in frustration. They needed to get there faster!
I am flying as fast as I can.
I know dear-heart, I know. I’m just worried that it won’t be fast enough. He’s losing so much blood.
I . . . I can feel it now. It must be coming off the saddle.
Aeron’s thighs were now damp with blood that had soaked through the leather riding pants. Tears sprang up in his eyes. Jessip was going to die! What could he do? He imagined the infirmary in front of him, willing it to appear. If only there was a way to reach the infirmary faster!
He recalled seeing the Farm on the map, where Sharrah had shown it to them that night in his room. It hadn’t looked that far from the Caer. In fact, he could place his thumb on the Caer and his finger on the Farm, they were so close to each other on the map. If only he could drag them closer together, like dragging and crushing the paper of the map between his thumb and his finger.
Aeron’s eyes widened. Was it possible? Would that spell work this way? He would have to use enormous anchor points. He concentrated fiercely on his recollection of the infirmary. He had flown over it, over the entire Caer, many, many times as he and Anaya worked to increase her flying stamina. Could he place an anchor point there, and one near him? But how would you place a vector anchor for this? How would you . . . grab something at each place to compress the distance between them?
The image of his fist, grabbing, popped into his head, and a thought occurred to him. A sphere? He tried placing a large spherical anchor in the air, high above the infirmary. To his complete and utter astonishment, he felt it form and hold. He was so shocked, it took a moment before he could continue. He shook his head.
The spell. He wasn’t going to be able to use the exact same spell they had used on the metal rods. He just knew that the main magical focus in the normal spell wouldn’t work on the distance between them and the infirmary. He needed to compress the distance, not metal. Aeron started to panic again. What types of focus would he need? Think, Aeron!
Calm down, Aeron. Concentrate. Anaya slowed and then stopped, hovering high above the nighttime landscape, her great wings making large, powerful strokes in the chill winter air. Let your thoughts float free. Feel the magic. I think this will work.
Anaya’s soothing voice calmed him once again. She was right, of course. He did better when he cleared his mind and concentrated only on the magic. He did so now, taking deep, slow breaths. He felt the magic, the pulse of it, and thought about what he had woven so far. What was next? He needed another anchor.
He created an anchor directly ahead of them, twin to the one above the infirmary. And though it was very much out of order, he next created the compression framework, building it between the anchor in Caer Baronel and the one ahead. He felt the goose-bump flow of magic grow stronger, felt it coursing over him and Anaya. He thought of what he wanted to accomplish, what he needed to accomplish. He watched the bands of color pulsing, some violently, as they flowed from the anchor before them and off into the distance to the anchor point so far ahead.
He knew the spell would have to be stronger than the one he had studied with Master Doronal. Compressing the space between things, he instinctively felt, would take much more effort. So he wove Spirit focus into the spell. As he did so, he felt strangely light-headed. He shook off the feeling and adjusted the vectors at the anchors, making them as long as he could. The length, he recalled, also determined the strength of the compression, and he felt it needed to be incredibly strong.
He remembered the metal rod that had been crushed into a ragged ring with a hole at the center. Would the distance remain compressed like lead? Or would it fight back against the compression, like the sponge rod? He didn’t know. But it was better to be safe, so he adjusted the spell and felt the flow of magic increase.
And now he was back to needing to know what focus to use for the actual compression. He took a breath and thought about his options. It couldn’t be the same as the original spell written for lead rods. What would it be? What focus could he weave? He needed to link the anchors and compress the distance between them. Aeron’s brows drew together. Why did that sound familiar? Linking the anchors and distance. He thought fiercely, but it wouldn’t come. He once more felt the warmth along his legs and in his crotch and he started to panic again.
He needed to calm down! He closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind. He felt the chill of the winter night on the exposed portions of his face, felt Anaya’s movement as she beat her wings, hovering. He felt the magic as it flowed powerfully over him and through him, felt its deep pulse and rhythm. And behind it all, through the link, he felt Anaya’s loving presence. He breathed deeply and exhaled very slowly. Then, he knew.
He opened his eyes and smiled. Of course. It was obvious. He changed the pattern of the spell, adjusted it, then wove ether focus in. When he looked over the changed spell, however, he frowned. It was the right focus, he was sure of it, but the spell still felt wrong. Something wasn’t . . . in balance? He could tell the spell would rip apart, spin out of control, if he completed it as it was.
This is needed, Anaya said, adjusting the spell. And this needs to be stronger.
Yes! he said, studying her changes. And these need to be stronger, too. Perfect!
The additions Anaya made allowed her to include her own magical support as part of the spell, and the adjustments they made strengthened it, balanced it, nearly completed it. Aeron sent a surge of thanks through the link.
The bands of color shone before them like a long road of multicolored light. Aeron stared at the spell’s enormity, at its thrumming beauty. The pulsing, throbbing rhythm of the spell was now of such magnitude that he knew it was using a gigantic amount of magic. He’d never cast a spell this powerful and was suddenly very afraid.
Master Doronal’s words from months ago returned. ‘If you lose concentration, if you are not careful of how you finish the spell, or if you lose control of the spell, it can have unpredictable results.’ Aeron was very certain that with a spell this powerful any unpredictable results would be devastating, and he wondered whether he was insane for even attempting it. He was risking his and Anaya’s lives. And Jessip’s! But he was sure that Jessip would die if he didn’t use it.
He took a slow, deep breath and released it. Concentrating, he finished the spell.
There was a great wrenching inside Aeron, similar to what he had felt with the nahual-ton, except it wasn’t quite painful. A beautiful geometric pattern of transparent plates suddenly appeared, completely surrounding the spherical anchor. The plates, which looked like delicate violet glass, interlocked with no gaps and formed an enormous structure, spherical itself, glowing softly in the air before them.
The bands of color that lead off into the distance throbbed violently. The eruption of magic Aeron felt from them was of such enormity that he fully expected to be knocked from the saddle, so he braced himself, concentrating on the spell. It flooded over him, over Anaya, through them, like a torrential river of magical pressure.
In the stillness that followed, a cloud of slowly swirling light appeared at the anchor, filling the delicate glass structure. Moments later, the glass plates disappeared, and the center of the swirling cloud resolved itself into a view Aeron recognized. It was the Caer!
His relief was intense. A wave of weakness nearly overcame him, and he had to grip the handholds to keep from falling back.
Are you feeling well?
I’m okay. Just overwhelmed with relief, I think. Fly us through!
Anaya beat her wings and flew through the swirling light of the enormous gateway, the portal. Aeron didn’t have time to think of what to call it because, suddenly, Anaya was angling down for a landing in front of the infirmary, and he had to keep hold of Jessip. When she began to backwing for her landing, Aeron quickly unbuckled his riding straps one
-handed. Once she was fully on the ground, he made sure Jessip wouldn’t fall and then leapt off her. He burst in the doors of the infirmary and yelled for help.
The nurse on duty, a man of about thirty, ran over to Aeron and stared at his bloody riding pants. “Good gods boy, what happened to you?”
“Not me! Come quickly, this isn’t my blood!” Aeron ran out the doors with the nurse on his heels. He unsheathed his belt knife as he ran up to Anaya. “Help me lower Jessip, quickly!”
He sliced the ropes that held Jessip onto the saddle, and after a moment’s distraction over Anaya, the nurse helped lower him down.
“He’s got a terrible gash from his shoulder down across his chest,” Aeron explained. “A vein has been nicked and he needs a surgeon fast. I’ll keep pressure on the wound, get others to help!”
The nurse took in Aeron’s words, glanced at Jessip, and nodded, running back inside. Moments later, he returned with two men who carried a stretcher onto which they carefully transferred Jessip. The nurse then examined Jessip and secured the bandage properly, after which they all returned inside. The two men quickly carried Jessip farther into the infirmary, while the nurse stayed behind with Aeron near the front desk.
“Is he going to . . . to be okay?” Aeron asked, breathlessly.
“Luckily, Master Inndrus was still here,” the nurse replied. “He’s taking your friend into surgery immediately. What happened to him?”
“Nahual attack,” Aeron said, distracted. He was feeling very light-headed and leaned on the desk. Would Jessip live?
“Here at the Caer?” The nurse was incredulous.
“No, at Baronel Farm. I flew him here on Anaya.”
“You flew him—oh. Yes. The dragon. You’re Aeron, of course.”
Aeron nodded.
“You know, you don’t look very well yourself. You’re ashen.”
“I’m fine. It’s been a very busy night.”
You do not seem well. Anaya’s concern pulsed strongly through the link, and she made a loud plaintive sound.
I do feel very . . . tired.
The nurse turned to the door, to the sound Anaya had made. “May I see her?” he asked. Through the windows on the top of the doors, they could see Anaya anxiously looking in.
“Sure,” Aeron said. He felt odd as he lead the way out. “Jessip is going to be okay, isn’t he?”
“I’m not certain. He’s lost a lot of blood, but Master Inndrus is the best surgeon in the Caer. And some would say in the entire north.”
Jessip had to be okay, Aeron thought fervently. He and Anaya had tried so hard to get him back to the Caer in time!
“She’s a beauty,” the nurse said, moments later when they were outside standing next to Anaya. She was nervously looking over Aeron, making more of her plaintive sounds.
“She is,” Aeron agreed, nodding. He shouldn’t move his head like that. It made him dizzy. Instead he looked at Anaya. She was so beautiful, so smart, so fast. “You should see her when she’s asleep. She’s the most adorable thing in the world. And she smells really pretty too. Like wood, and valliner, uh, vani . . . la.”
The nurse looked at Aeron, brows furrowed.
Aeron shook his head and regretted it. Where was he? The infirmary. And Jessip would be okay. “We tri . . . tried very . . . hard . . .”
He stood next to Anaya, slumped a little, arms dangling. His voice sounded weird too, like a ragged whisper. No matter. They had made it, and Jessip would be okay now. He glanced up at the swirling portal that had saved them so much time and smiled.
The nurse walked over to Aeron. He seemed worried about something. Aeron’s smiling gaze distracted him, however, and he glanced up. “What is that?” he asked, quietly.
Aeron heard a strange rushing sound, and something was happening with his eyes. The edge of his vision was going white. The pale color was creeping in and covering everything. “Barbs,” he said, weakly. He turned to look at the nurse just as his legs gave out. “Something is—”
Anaya gave a cry of alarm, and he felt her head and neck beneath him supporting his body. He thought he heard something incredibly loud, felt something, but then he passed out.
Chapter 25
Therday, Primory 28, 1874
Afternoon
Aeron opened his eyes and blinked slowly. There was something he had been trying to do, something serious. He thought for a bit, but couldn’t remember. No matter. It would come to him soon enough if it was important. For now, he just lay in bed, enjoying the feel of not having anything to do for the moment. The wonderful scents of the converted feed and tack room still lingered in his bedroom, even after all these months. He breathed it in and felt a tightness in his back. He twisted and stretched, feeling the knots loosen, some with faint cracking sounds. The stretching felt good. He felt good. He smiled and sighed. And remembered parts of the previous night. He sat bolt upright.
“Jessip,” he whispered.
To his left, he heard a muffled snort. Willem was sitting, was sprawled really, in a chair next to the bed, a blanket draped over him, fast asleep. His head was at an odd angle, his mouth open as he breathed softly. Aeron stared at him and smiled. Why was Willem here?
Beyond Willem, Aeron noticed Anaya asleep on the floor. The bulk of her was in her den, but her head, neck, and forepaws were in his bedroom. Her head lay on her forepaws, and her shoulders, the front of her wings resting atop them, were wedged in the doorway.
What had happened last night? He remembered Jessip being taken away to the surgeon. He and the nurse had gone to look at Anaya. Then he had . . . fainted? His stomach rumbled, and suddenly, he was starving. He looked over at the alarm chronometer and saw that it was two hours past noon. That couldn’t be right. Had he forgotten to wind the device?
“Willem.”
The blond boy jerked awake and looked around in confusion for a moment. “Aeron!” he cried. He reached over and grabbed Aeron’s arm, looked him over, and apparently satisfied, said, “Thank the gods you’re okay!”
Anaya woke then and added her own plaintive sounds and words. Aeron! Are you well? We were so worried!
“Anaya, I’m fine! Please stop that, you’re going to break the doorway!” Aeron climbed out of bed quickly, had to pause a moment at a flash of dizziness, then made his way to her, hugging and comforting his distraught companion. She had been trying to cram herself into his bedroom, the wooden door frame groaning ominously as she had desperately tried to squeeze her bulk through. “I’m fine, dear-heart. I’m fine.” He put as much love as he could into the link, reassuring Anaya.
“You had us all worried,” Willem said. He was standing now, watching Aeron carefully. “What happened?”
Aeron released Anaya, though he kept one arm on her. “I’m not completely sure. I was feeling very, very tired. And then I passed out, I guess.” He looked at Willem. “How did I get here? And where is my riding gear?” He had just realized he was only wearing smallclothes.
Willem fidgeted. “The pants were ruined, which is just as well, they were getting to be too short for you again, but the rest is over there.” He pointed to a pile in the corner. “I wasn’t going to let them put you into bed covered in blood, so we removed your gear and washed the blood off you and got you a clean change first.”
“We? Which we?” Aeron was somewhat mortified. Who had been there when they had changed his clothes?
“Me. And a nurse from the infirmary. He was with you and Anaya when I got there. And Master Doronal was here. And Sharrah too, but she and Master Doronal stepped to the other room while the nurse and I . . . well, I know how to remove the riding gear, so . . .”
“How did all those people come to be in my room?” Aeron was confused and somewhat embarrassed.
Willem sighed. “It’s a long story and Master Doronal wanted me to fetch him the minute you woke up.” He paused, studying Aeron closely. “You do seem to be okay, so, why don’t you get freshened up while I go get him.”
Aeron ran a
hand over his face. “Okay. But I expect a full account when you get back. Also, is there any food around? I’m starving.”
“I’ll ask Master Doronal about sending someone to the Dining Hall,” Willem said over his shoulder as he shut the door to the study behind him. After a second, Aeron heard the outside door open and close.
What had happened last night? Why had he fainted? He actually still felt a little light-headed. He sat back on his heels beside Anaya and tried to figure out what had happened to him.
Anaya placed her large head on his lap. I was very worried. I could barely hear your thoughts. You were so weak! You did not hear me and I did not know what to do, how to help you. I called for Willem.
That was very smart. And everything worked out, it seems.
Anaya lifted her head and laid it on his shoulder, and he reached up and hugged her neck fiercely, breathing in her soothing scent. So many things had happened last night. It had been very busy. He hadn’t really had any time to think about it all.
“I need to freshen up, love, before they get back.” He gave her another hug, patted her neck, then stood carefully and walked to the water closet. Anaya rested her head on her forepaws and watched through the open door of the small lavatory, not taking her eyes off him.
Aeron went over the night in his mind as he brushed his teeth. This odd ‘nahual-sense’ he and Anaya shared, was it new? He didn’t think it likely. It had to be another ‘gift’ they got from the Bond like the link, didn’t it? But if so, why had they never sensed a nahual before? He glanced at his reflection in the mirror, at the pale skin at his wrist. He spit out some toothpaste into the sink and continued brushing.
The unlocked memory of his mother was another surprising event, maybe the most shocking thing about the whole evening. He had thought she had died of a heart attack, as his father had told him. Why hadn’t his father told him the truth? He pondered that question a while, but came up with no answers. One day Aeron would have to ask him about it. He spit out the last of the toothpaste and rinsed his mouth.
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