Emerald's Fracture

by Kate Kennelly

  “Natalie, look.” Jules nodded his head—a rash spread ominously on Malcolm’s torso. The rest of their search yielded nothing significant.

  Natalie washed and dried her hands at a nearby washstand. “Let’s see what the Naming reveals.”

  After Jules washed his hand, they resumed their positions by the patient, Natalie placing her one hand on Malcolm and the other in Jules’s hand. Natalie bit her lip; it was like Malcolm’s body sipped their energy rather than devouring it as a healthy body should. Natalie’s arms ached. The energy eventually permeated his whole body, but not his heart. She opened her eyes.

  “His lungs,” Jules said.

  “His heart,” Natalie said at the exact same time.

  Natalie dropped his hand as if it had betrayed her. “Let’s go over the symptoms,” she began objectively. “Sudden symptom onset, no fever—”

  “No fever yet,” Jules said.

  “He’s pale, with severe lethargy and a rash on his torso. He didn’t absorb our energy well either, and the only place it didn’t go,” she glared at Jules, “was his heart. It’s tremosis. He’s going to be dead by tonight or tomorrow if we don’t treat him.”

  “Vell’s fever has the same symptoms—”

  “If he’s got Vell’s, the fever will take three days to come. He’ll be dead by then.” She almost slammed her fists on the bed but clenched them instead. Why wasn’t he listening to her?

  “I’m certain about what I saw. It was his lungs. Vell’s attacks the lungs. It’s only just started, that’s why you thought it was the heart, since they are so close together.”

  Natalie crossed her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow. “Should we do the Naming again to double-check?”

  “No. It’s Vell’s.”

  “If we wait for the fever to confirm it’s Vell’s, the tremosis could give him the heart attack that kills him.”

  Jules clenched his teeth. “It’s Vell’s.”

  Gripping the edge of the bed, Natalie leaned over Malcolm’s ailing body, hissing further arguments at Jules. Jules got in her face, debating right back. He would not make her doubt herself. Not this time. They stopped short when Malcolm’s body contracted into a ball and he broke out in a sweat.

  “It’s the heart attack,” Natalie snarled, reaching for her herb satchel and grabbing a vial of plennia elixir. “Hold him still,” she ordered two Healers who’d rushed to their aid. “Tip his chin back and help me open his mouth,” she snapped at Jules. She poured the vile-smelling elixir down Malcolm’s throat, shoved his chin closed and held it there. In her head, she apologized to him for all of it. The taste of the medicine, for holding his mouth closed while he tried to sputter the vile-tasting stuff back out and for the delay in getting the medicine he needed because Jules wouldn’t listen, damn the man.

  Once she was sure he’d swallowed all the medicine, Natalie placed one hand on Malcolm’s heart and another on his back, closed her eyes and let her energy flow through him. She reached out to the plennia elixir in his body and Activated it. Or tried. She kept her hands on his body until a horrible cramp formed in her neck, but she refused to remove her hands until her energy glowed brightly throughout Malcolm’s body. Except it never did. She Activated what herbs she could detect, then turned to the Healer nearest her. “More plennia elixir,” she demanded.

  She forced another dose down Malcolm's throat and again tried to detect the elixir in his body. There was nothing but dimness in her mind.

  Laying her ear on his chest, his heartbeat sounded irregular and muffled. A terrifying amount of time passed from one beat to the next.

  “No. No.” Natalie climbed atop Malcolm Bartlett, interlaced her two hands and began compressions on his heart, making his heart beat for him. Every five beats, she’d stop to see if she could detect any of the plennia elixir’s energy. All she could detect was light fading into nothingness.

  A gentle hand caressed her shoulder. “Natalie. He’s dead.”

  “No, I can save him!” Natalie frantically continued the chest compressions, willing Malcolm Bartlett to come back to life.

  Her arms aching, sweat dripping off her forehead and her back clenched in knots, Natalie placed her palms on Malcolm Bartlett’s shoulders and rested her ear on his chest. She closed her eyes. Silence and darkness. Tears welling up in her eyes, she kept her head on his quiet chest.

  “Natalie, I—” Jules began.

  She glared up at him from Malcolm’s chest. “Get. Out.”

  Chapter 7

  R

  N

  atalie spent the night at Malcolm’s bedside, tending to his body. She washed him with cool water and wrapped his body in a linen shroud. She and several other Healers carried his remains to the morgue to await his family. As dawn touched the horizon, Natalie sat in a chair next to what had been his hospital bed, with her head resting on her folded arms. An emptiness filled her that transcended tears.

  A gnarled hand touched her shoulder. “Natalie,” Gayla whispered. “The Council of Healers has called you and Juliers to a review. They want to know what happened here yesterday.”

  Natalie sat up and pressed her palms to her eyes. She couldn’t look at Gayla at all; she feared the disappointment she’d see in the face of the woman who was like a mother to her.

  She rose and shuffled behind Gayla through the narrow passage leading to the main part of the Abbey. At the end of the passage, they entered an ornately decorated antechamber. Natalie’s old, scuffed leather boots stepped on elegant carpets and she gaped at the elaborately carved wooden walls she’d only seen one other time. On their right stood the ornate wooden doors with large brass handles leading to the Council chamber.

  Gayla paused with her hand on the chamber door. “Take a moment, my dear. Juliers and the rest of the Council are already inside.” Her face inscrutable, Gayla turned and entered the chamber. The double doors closed with a bang behind her. Natalie flinched. Healer Aldworth and Headmistress Gayla sat on the Council of Healers. They must be so disappointed to see her under review again. And this time her patient died. Oh Goddess, she’d failed everyone. She’d be lucky if she made it out of this and kept her Healer status.

  Blinking back tears, Natalie peered into a mirror in the antechamber. Her hair had come loose from its customary braid. She re-braided it, then licked her hands to help tame the wisps of hair that insisted on sticking out. She hoped she’d washed her hands recently. There were dark circles under her eyes from the stress she’d been under. Her high cheekbones, which normally made her look healthy and cheerful, made her look gaunt. She sighed. “Nothing for it,” she said to her reflection, then turned to the imposing double doors and opened them.

  The three members of the Council of Healers—Headmistress Gayla, Healer Aldworth and a Healer who Natalie did not know—sat at a long table at the back of the room. Juliers sat in a chair facing the table, his face carefully blank. The empty seat next to his was obviously meant for her. She lifted her chin and took the seat with as much dignity as she could.

  “This review is now called to order,” said Healer Aldworth, seated in the middle of the Council table. He tapped a gavel on the table three times. “First, I will introduce the Council. I am Healer Aldworth. You know Headmistress Gayla, of course,” he gestured to the Headmistress on his right. “And Healer Hawkins is on my left.” Healer Hawkins reminded Natalie of a wise owl with her brown hair sprinkled with gray, pulled back into a bun, and round spectacles perched on her nose.

  “We are here to review the incident that occurred overnight in the Abbey hospital during which a patient, one”—he consulted the parchment on the table—“Malcolm Bartlett, died under your care. Healer Juliers Rayvenwood, as the senior Healer of the two, perhaps you might explain what happened.” Healer Aldworth clasped his fingers on his desk. He awaited Jules’s testimony with what Natalie felt was an almost gleeful manner. Natalie shot a glance at her former mentor. What the hell was going on?


  Jules calmly presented the facts of Malcolm’s case. Natalie tried not to turn and stare. His voice sounded foreign; wooden and completely devoid of feeling.

  “So, you Named the illness. Now, Healer Rayvenwood, we understand you’ve been developing a way to Name with your current … condition … by working with Healer Desmond.”

  An uncomfortable silence filled the room. Natalie glanced at Jules; his clenched jaw betrayed his aloof manner. The thought of him breaking a tooth gave her a momentary feeling of satisfaction.

  “Yes, sir,” Natalie interjected, “I developed a way for the two of us to Name together. We practiced on all the animals in the animal sanctuary first. Last night, Headmistress Gayla asked us to treat Mr. Bartlett. When we Named him, it was the first time we detected different results. While we both detected slow absorption of our energy, the only place I felt my energy blocked was the heart. Healer Rayvenwood felt the energy blocked at the lungs.”

  “So that brought you to a choice of tremosis versus Vell’s fever,” said Healer Hawkins, speaking for the first time.

  “Yes, ma’am. We—”

  A frantic knock sounded at the doors.

  “Come,” Healer Aldworth’s voice boomed.

  A Royal messenger rushed into the room, caked with dust and sweat, and delivered a letter to the Headmistress. The Headmistress opened it and as she read, her face paled and her hand covered her mouth. Natalie gripped the arms of her chair. The Headmistress always seemed so calm and collected; seeing her otherwise sent a frisson of fear down Natalie’s spine.

  Trembling, the Headmistress pushed herself to her feet. “Healers Rayvenwood and Desmond, please await me in the antechamber. Council members, a word please.”

  “But, we haven’t finished—” Healer Aldworth stood, his long, silk robes flowing about him.

  “This takes precedence,” Gayla interrupted with the same voice that commanded Healers, nurses and patients alike.

  Deciding to listen to her Headmistress over Healer Aldworth, Natalie stood up and left the room, Jules right behind her.

  In the antechamber, Natalie sat and studied the end of her braid. Jules paced back and forth. Natalie was convinced he’d wear a trench in the floor before the Headmistress came out.

  The double doors opened at long last and Gayla rushed out, her face pale.

  “Come here both of you and listen well. Your review has been canceled in light of a more urgent matter.”

  “What is it?”

  “Be quiet.” Gayla had not taken that tone with her since Natalie was fourteen.

  “You two need to get your acts together now. I know figuring out the difference between Vell’s fever and tremosis is hard, but the real reason Malcolm Bartlett died is because both of you had your heads stuck up your asses. Now, grow up and learn how to work together. Get back out there, practice more and get it right. We need you both at top form. Soon.” Gayla glared at each of them, then turned on her heel, strode into the Council chamber and slammed the door behind her.

  Natalie stared at the scuffed toes of her boots, feeling like she might throw up. The Headmistress was right, of course. They’d wasted precious minutes arguing. Though they wouldn’t have been wasted if he’d just listened to her.

  She grabbed her braid and twisted it viciously. Still, she was the one who’d thought they were ready for a hospital patient. She couldn’t have been more wrong. And yet the Headmistress wanted them to continue working together? How could they … how could she even think that would work after a man had died?

  Unable to face Jules—or anyone—Natalie raced to her room, found Jake, grabbed her summer-weight cloak and left the building. Tears flowed freely as she walked away from the Abbey and toward the woods nearby. It was a cloudy day, with a warm, misty rain moving in off the sea. The forest provided some shelter from the mist and wind, but also made the day even darker. She pulled her cloak’s hood over her head and aimlessly followed a trail through the wood, occasionally giving a sullen kick to a nearby stone.

  When she came to a large fallen oak tree, she sat on it, sobbing in earnest. She grabbed a nearby rock and threw it as hard as she could into the forest, screaming as she threw it. It hit a nearby tree trunk with a satisfying thunk.

  “Just once,” she shouted at the forest. “The one time I was confident in my Naming! And look what came of it. A patient died, a review with the Council of Healers and …” she couldn’t voice the rest aloud. She folded her arms over her heart. She could just imagine Gayla and Aldworth talking in the Council chamber even now about their disappointment in her. How would she ever earn their respect back? She hadn’t seen Healer Aldworth much since her apprenticeship—he always seemed to be traveling—but she and Gayla often took tea together in the Headmistress’s office. Sometimes they would discuss Healing, with Gayla doling out advice here and there, but other times they would chat about ordinary things. Natalie cherished their friendship. She prayed she had not damaged it beyond repair.

  And now she was under orders to patch things up with Jules. Honestly, she didn’t want to see him ever again.

  She stomped repeatedly on a nearby branch, breaking it into small bits. “In-suff-er-a-ble. ASS!”

  Jake barked. Natalie picked up one of the remaining sticks from the branch and threw it as hard as she could. Jake raced after it and brought it back to her. She threw the stick until the mist and her own emotions had her wiping her raw nose on her cloak.

  She headed back to the Abbey, Jake prancing next to her with his stick. Natalie blew out a sigh. What should she do about Jules? He’d been in the wrong, yes. However, he wouldn’t have been Healing in the hospital if she hadn’t suggested they were ready. And the Headmistress was right; they obviously needed more experience working together. Approaching the main entrance, she eyed the worn “Bridhe of the Isles Abbey” carved in stone above the door. What would the ancient mage who imbued Ismereld with magic have to say about her predicament?

  Dammit, she supposed she should apologize.

  Natalie returned to her room, changed into dry clothes and dried off Jake as best she could. Where would she find Jules? Since his return, he had always sought her out. Making sure Jake’s paws were extra clean—or perhaps delaying the inevitable—Natalie headed for the library.

  She pushed open the library’s double wooden doors, stepping into the yellow light cast by the table and wall lamps. She couldn’t find Jules on the first floor, so she climbed the spiral staircase at the back of the library to the second. She spotted tucked in a corner a pair of spotless black riding boots crossed one over the other and a dark head bent over a book. Natalie paused, tugging on her braid. There was a lump in her throat and her tongue felt too big for her mouth. She’d apologized to him once; she could do it again.

  Picking one foot up off the floor and then the other, she approached Jules, hands clasped behind her back, wringing her fingers together.

  He looked up from his book and spotted her, his expression guarded.

  “Hello,” she gulped. “I wanted to say I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have told you to leave yesterday, he was your patient, too, and I had no right to throw you out, after all, I was the one who thought we were ready for a hospital patient and I was wrong about that wasn’t I?” There she went with the run-on sentences again. Natalie bit her lip.

  Jules arched an eyebrow at her. “That’s quite an apology.”

  “I tend to speak too much when I’m nervous. I’ve done that ever since I was a child. S-sorry.”

  Jules set his book on a nearby table and rested his head in his hand, elbows on his knees. “No. I should apologize to you. Malcolm Bartlett would be alive if I had listened to you.” He pulled his left hand away from his face and stared at what remained of his right arm as if it had betrayed him. “You should go on without me,” he whispered.

  Natalie considered this for a moment. “That would be easier,” she mused aloud. “But not what’s best for our patients.”
r />   Jules scowled at her. “I killed a man, Natalie.”

  Wanting to defuse another fight, Natalie shook her head. “We. We killed a man. Did you get one image from the Naming and I another? Sure. But the real issue was us fighting instead of staying calm and taking the next logical steps to clarify our diagnosis. That’s what got Malcolm killed. Gayla was right—he lay there dying because you and I couldn’t get our heads out of our own asses for two seconds.” Natalie swore one side of his mouth curled up in a smile before Jules rubbed his jaw with his hand.

  “We’ve discovered an amazing way to Heal patients. But if we’re going to do this, you and I? Not only do we have to get the Naming right but we have to get ordinary things right, too. Like communication.”

  Jules’s haggard face regarded her with skepticism. “Are we going to do this? Should we? Wouldn’t you be better off as a normal Healer and not chained to me?”

  Natalie looked down at her shoes. He’d just offered her a way out. She didn’t have to work with him anymore if she didn’t want to. She could go back to her life as it was, before he came back.

  “Natalie?”

  She gave her braid a savage twist. “I—let me think.” I don’t know. I don’t have all the answers. You came into my life like a shooting star and your light sat in my heart for years. Then you left and I just went through the motions of my life, constantly wondering if you’d turn up dead. Now you’re in my life so much it hurts. I don’t like being hurt by you, and I have every reason in the Isles to leave you alone in this library and get on with my life.

  She paced back and forth. They’d also discovered something new; a system of Naming that made Healing accessible to amputees like Jules, or to people who, for whatever reason, could not work alone. It would be a shame not to discover its true potential and even teach it to others if they became skilled enough.

  As for going back to her old life? It was the easy way out. But it also meant Jules would have to try working with someone else—or stop Healing entirely. Her chest squeezed tight at the very thought of the former and she rejected it immediately. As for the latter, well, frankly she couldn’t stomach seeing that deadness return to his eyes ever again.