by Helen Gosney
Rowan shuddered as he remembered Pleer Bon’s icy touch and the burning agony that had followed it. Had there been any purpose to it, apart from, well, pain? And why should Beldar attack him like that, unprovoked, and so fierce and merciless, only for him to just… walk away? He struggled to understand as he thought it through. Were those… those creatures truly the Gods? How could he possibly have killed Pleer Bon if he was a God? No, it didn’t make sense. And what was it they’d said about the prayers of the people of Yaarl had given them the powers of Gods ‘in this place’…? But that meant they… No, he was so exhausted his thinking was going around in circles.
The creatures’ indifference still nagged at him though. Beldar’s single-minded aggression had been almost the only emotion any of them had shown… None of them had seemed too concerned that Pleer Bon had, er, ‘ceased to exist’. At least, Rowan told himself, he’d had the satisfaction of telling them what he thought of them, whatever they were, and for whatever good it might have done… But then they’d all just turned and gone. No, truly, he didn’t understand it at all, and he thought he probably never would. He could only hope that was the last that would ever be seen of the creatures and their ‘games’. At least in that way some good might come of it all. He looked at the silver braid falling over his shoulder, then at Rill, who had turned away to speak to Cris and he decided he was simply too weary to think about it anymore. Really, he’d been lucky to sit down before he fell down.
When the initial hubbub of his return had died down he’d drunk some water and forced down some willowbark tea, but refused all offers of food. Somehow he just couldn’t be bothered with the effort of eating as he sat slumped in exhaustion. All he really wanted to do was sleep, in spite of the pain in his knee and shoulder and in spite of all the thoughts spinning confusedly in his mind.
Rose looked at his ashen, weary face and knelt beside him, putting an arm around his shoulders. He gasped in pain, swore savagely and pulled away from her.
“Oh! What have I done! Rowan, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she gabbled, shocked at his reaction.
Rowan had shocked himself. His shoulder was a lot stiffer and more painful than he’d expected it to be, but he’d thought in his weariness that the fight with Beldar must have simply done it no good at all. Somehow Rose’s touch had awakened a deep fiery pain that tore through his shoulder and chest and down his arm. The throbbing agony of it left him breathless. He couldn’t even apologise to Rose.
**********
Rill ran to him, kneeling in front of him and peering worriedly into his face as the others hovered anxiously.
“Rowan…? Rowan! Did Pleer Bon touch you on your arm or your shoulder as well? Did he have both hands on you at the same…” Rill’s almost panicked voice trailed away as he saw an odd-shaped silver-black mark on Rowan’s dark leather vest. “No! No, Rowan! You should have said something…you should have told me…”
“You were there… You must have seen it…” Rowan said listlessly.
“No, I could not watch. I, I thought that Pleer Bon would surely kill you after Beldar had failed… but I heard him speaking to you, and then you stood up to him. No-one ever stands up to him, and I… and then I heard him scream…” Rill was frantically trying to see Rowan’s shoulder, but he was fumbling so badly that Rose pushed him aside and eased Rowan’s vest and shirt off. Rowan couldn’t do that either. He seemed very close to collapse.
A large part of his chest, shoulder and back looked to have been severely burnt. The skin was charred looking, reddish-black and covered with huge blisters and deep splits that were weeping a bloody fluid. In the centre, on the top of his shoulder above the tattoo and about where Rowan thought Pleer Bon had held him was an odd silvery-black area shaped like a hand. It had been painful before, but now it was agonizing.
Rose, Cris and Moss gasped in shock. None of them had ever seen anything like this before and they couldn’t imagine what they might be able to do to help ease it.
“Rowan… Rowan!” Rill was becoming more frantic by the second.
Rowan blinked at him and tried to pull himself together. Between the suddenly severe pain and his exhaustion he could hardly think straight.
“That’s where he held me… he had one hand there and… and one hand on my head…” he managed. He hoped Rill would be happy with that and just go away and leave him in peace.
Rill swore, not as impressively as Rowan had a few moments before, but still a good effort.
“Rowan, I will try and do what I can with this… there is still some power left… but I do not know if it will be enough…” he gabbled.
“Please Rill… please do whatever you can,” Rose said quickly, seeing that Rowan could barely answer. What the hell had happened to him, she thought desperately. And what might Rill be able to do? She’d seldom seen a less inspiring looking young man.
Rowan managed to nod wearily in agreement as Rill placed his hands on the top of his shoulders, carefully avoiding the silver-black handprint there. Rill closed his eyes as he concentrated.
“Hmm… oh, no, this is not good, not good at all… oh, my…but it is torn at the joint on this side too… Pleer Bon has not done that…” Rill sounded puzzled as he muttered to himself.
Rowan remembered vaguely that he’d recently dislocated a shoulder. It seemed he’d done more damage than he’d believed. His efforts against Beldar probably hadn’t helped it much either, he thought sadly. And what the hell had Pleer Bon done to him? No wonder it had bloody hurt and it was a lot worse now… Gods, he was tired.
Cris looked at his friend’s ashen face in concern. He was looking worse by the minute, in terrible pain and exhausted beyond measure. And what was it he’d said about Pleer Bon had touched him…? No. Not Pleer Bon, Cris suddenly thought with horror. It couldn’t have been him. No…please, no, he must be wrong, Cris thought desperately. He was suddenly terrified for Rowan. He looked across at Moss and saw the same dread on his face.
Rill opened his eyes and gently touched Rowan’s face to get his full attention. He looked relieved when Rowan blinked a couple of times and focussed on him.
“Rowan, this is very bad,” Rill said, sounding unsure of himself, “There is a lot of damage here, especially under the handprint… It is something almost like a burn, but not, and it is very deep, almost right through the top part of your chest and… and it is stealing the life force from you…” he hesitated. “You must keep fighting it and I will do what I can, but I am not certain it will be enough…”
“Just do what you can then Rill…and thank you…” Rowan said, his voice rough with pain and the effort of speaking.
Rill refocussed on the task. He was looking even more worried than before, Rose thought. She took Rowan’s hand and squeezed it gently, perhaps as much for her own comfort as his. His hand tightened around hers for a moment as he looked up at her. She found a smile for him and watched his face anxiously as he turned his attention back to Rill.
Rill clamped his hands on Rowan’s shoulders and concentrated fiercely. At first Rowan felt only a soothing warmth but it quickly grew to a blast of searing agony. He’d thought the pain was excruciating before, but it seemed he’d been wrong. Fight it, Rowan, he thought. Rill said you must fight it. He desperately wanted to scream, but he tried very, very hard not to because the screams of the men at Messton still haunted him and he didn’t want the same thing to happen to Rose and his friends. He tasted blood as he bit through his torn lip again and he couldn’t help groaning as he closed his eyes and waited for the pain to just stop. If it was ever going to.
Rose cried out and tried to pull away as Rowan’s muscles spasmed suddenly and his hand closed very tightly around hers. Moss quickly tried to release Rose’s hand. Gods, Rowan’s grip was strong. For a horrible moment the troll thought he might even have to break a couple of his friend’s fingers, but he managed to force them open as the spasm eased a little.
Rose wept quietly as she looked at her brother i
n horror and nursed her badly bruised hand. His muscles were rigid, his body convulsed in unspeakable pain. Blood bubbled from his mouth as he mumbled something that sounded like it might be Thallassian, but she didn’t recognise the words. Probably just as well not to, she thought wildly.
Moss quickly felt at Rowan’s wrist for a heartbeat as the spasm passed. Yes, it was there. Erratic, but there. But his chest wasn’t moving.
“Breathe, Rowan! Breathe!” the troll muttered, seeing the bluish tinge on his friend’s bloodied lips. He slapped him across the face, feeling dreadful as he did so, but knowing that he must.
Rowan’s eyes snapped open, wide with outrage and dark with pain.
“Breathe, Rowan! Thou must breathe!” Moss said again and was rewarded by a gagging cough and spray of blood, followed by a shuddering gasp from his friend and then another and another. Even so, Moss doubted that Rowan was aware that he was even there. He took Rowan’s hand in his own, grimacing at the strength of the grip as he convulsed again.
Rowan could feel his muscles spasming and heard himself mutter something truly dreadful in Thallassian, but he was far more concerned with the unbearable agony of whatever it was that Rill was doing.
He heard his own heartbeat pounding erratically in his ears and felt himself falling towards a dark, peaceful, beautiful place that promised no pain at all. He was most upset to be dragged back by a sudden sharp stinging across his face.
Outraged, he stared up into the very worried face of a troll. Moss? Moss had… had hit him? But why would he…? Over the roaring in his ears he thought he heard the troll say something that sounded like… like ‘breeze’. What? It made no sense at all. He heard it again, more forcefully. ‘Breeze’. No, that was daft, it couldn’t be right. Moss wouldn’t have hit him to talk about the weather. Rowan tried to focus. Perhaps it was, umm… Oh. ‘Breathe’. Aye, he should do that. He really should. Perhaps if he tried to concentrate on that… Rill had said that he must fight for as long as he could and he couldn’t do that without breathing, could he? He choked on blood for a moment, then managed to get some air into his lungs. It didn’t feel like nearly enough, but it was slightly better than nothing. He tried again.
He squashed Rose’s oddly huge, rough hand in his as he convulsed again. Just finish it, Rill, he thought frantically. Just finish it. I can’t do this much longer.
Rill could feel Rowan’s agony and desperation through the healing link. He shuddered and shielded his mind as best he could. Yes, that was better, but he couldn’t do the same for Rowan or he simply wouldn’t have the strength to keep going. And he had to keep going or Rowan would die. He might anyway, Rill thought bleakly as he forced his mind back to trying to heal the dreadful injury under his hands. Strange that Rose’s touch had caused it to flare like that, but then Pleer Bon liked to inflict as much suffering as he could, for as long as he could and he was nothing if not inventive. None of the injuries he caused were truly alike.
Finally Rill could do no more. He opened his eyes slowly and took his hands from Rowan’s shoulders. He was sweating and trembling nearly as much as Rowan was.
“Rowan… Rowan…?” Rill said softly, expecting little or no response at all.
Incredibly, Rowan blinked up at him. He was barely conscious, but Rill hadn’t really expected even that.
“I’m so sorry, Rowan… I did not realise that it would be so… so excruciating… but I had to keep going once I had begun,” Rill said unsteadily. “I do not think I can do more…”
Rowan nodded wearily and took another shuddering breath, perhaps a little deeper than before.
“’Tis all right, Rill… I…”
“Hush, Rowan. Do not try to speak now. You have fought well. Just rest…” Rill put a very unsteady hand on Rowan’s head for a moment and dredged up as much power as he could. It wasn’t much, but it would be better than nothing at all. It would simply have to do.
Rowan tensed again, then he sighed softly and collapsed in a limp heap.
“Rowan!” Rose wailed, clinging to him.
“Rill, is he… will he be all right?” Cris asked fearfully. Rowan was laying horribly still now and he couldn’t see how his friend could possibly have survived such torment.
“I… I truly do not know. I did not realise it would be so terribly painful for him, poor man, and I could not ease it… but it is very, very dangerous to stop before the process is finished. He is very brave and he is very strong, but…” Rill shook his head slowly as looked down at Rowan’s pallid face. “I cannot do more. We can only keep him warm and let him rest. We must cover the wound lightly where it is weeping fluid and then… then we can only wait for him to awaken…” If he ever does, he thought sadly. The shock alone would likely kill him now.
“Then that’s what we’ll do… thank you, Rill,” Rose said quietly. She’d pulled herself together somehow, she had to so she could help her brother. “Moss, can you help me move him into the building there please?”
Moss nodded and scooped his friend up in his arms. The ghastly wound on Rowan’s chest and shoulder looked… well, different somehow. The blisters didn’t seem quite as huge as they’d been and the deep, weeping fissures in his flesh didn’t seem quite as dreadful as before. The terrible reddish-black burnt area somehow seemed to look more like deep black bruising, though the silvery handprint still glistened on his shoulder. He was breathing a bit better than he had been and his heartbeat was stronger, but Rowan was cold, his skin ashen grey, and he was deeply unconscious.
**********
They settled him inside and spent the rest of that day and all of the next one worrying. Rowan shivered a lot in spite of their best efforts to keep him warm, but otherwise he didn’t stir at all. Still, the horrible wound on his chest, back and shoulder did look better. Very deeply bruised, yes, but the blistering and the awful charring were gone and the deep tears in the flesh had nearly closed. Rose and Cris were sitting quietly beside him when he finally opened his eyes.
“Rowan…? Are you all right?” they both asked anxiously.
He looked exhausted, but his pale face was a better colour than it had been. He nodded uncertainly.
“Aye… I… I think so. Cold though, and bloody tired. I feel like I’ve… like I’ve been kicked by a team of mules. But at least that terrible pain’s gone… where’s Rill? Is he all right?”
Rill and Moss came into the building as Cris cautiously helped Rowan to sit up.
“Rowan!” Rill cried, hurrying over to him. “I’m so sorry, Rowan… I could not stop the pain for you… I had to keep going once I had begun. But…”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m truly grateful to you. But Rill…? Are you all right? It hurt you too, didn’t it?” Rowan looked appalled as Rill nodded dumbly. “Rill, you shouldn’t have hurt yourself…”
Rill smiled wanly. “To be truthful, I did not realise that would happen. And it was very much worse for you than for me. I could, um, block most of it. I will be all right when I have rested a bit more… it was harder to heal the damage of Pleer Bon’s touch than I thought. The injury was dreadful, but even so I do believe something must have protected you somewhat, or I could not have done it at all.” He frowned thoughtfully. “I think it must have been the grounding of your sword as you leant on it. You saw what happened to the floor. And perhaps your leather vest has saved the flesh a little too. But, Rowan… it will take a good while for you to recover fully and I fear your shoulder will still ache at times… and I could not erase the scar…”
Rowan looked at the silvery handprint on his shoulder as he carefully moved his arm. Yes, it was moving more freely and incredibly the pain was more or less gone. He felt weak and exhausted, but that didn’t matter. He’d done what he came here to do and now he could rest. He didn’t know exactly what Rill had done, nor how he’d done it and right now he didn’t care. He could see that the blistered reddish-black area was now a massive black bruise, but that would eventually go too, as he well knew. Another scar didn’t c
oncern him at all, and neither did the prospect of a few more aches and pains in the future. That was what willowbark tea and liniment were for.
“Rill, I… I don’t know what to say to you, except thank you,” Rowan said simply, “None of the other things matter, truly.”
**********
Rowan and Rill slept the rest of that day and Rowan slept for most of the next one as well. Cris and Moss were sitting around a campfire talking with Rill when Rowan finally surfaced. Rose was sitting quietly, fretting about her brother; she smiled up at him as he sat beside her, cat-quiet as always despite his heavy limp. He looked much better: still pale and bruised and weary, but at least the horrible greyness had gone from his face. His silver hair gleamed red in the firelight, but she knew that was an illusion.
“Are you sure they’ve really gone...?” Cris was saying.
“Yes, all gone... all but me,” Rill said simply.
“And you really are the... the river god?” Rose said, trying not to stare at the unimpressive looking young man sitting across from Rowan. An oddly changed Rowan, to be sure, but still the brother she had always known. She wondered for a moment how she could have doubted it.
Rill said quietly, “Well... I was the one called the river god... but I am that one no more. My power is almost gone, and soon it will be gone completely.”
“And what of the barrier on the bridge... and the maze, and the mists thee came from?” Moss wondered
