“You can’t go anywhere. Not like this.”
As I lift a bucket of water onto the table to clean his wounds he looks over his shoulder and places a hand on mine. When I meet his eyes there is steel in them.
“It’s not a choice.”
“Rob.” My throat swells and I can’t say more. I shake my head, trying to swallow the emotions blocking it.
“Quinn.” His voice is soft and earnest. Other people move around the cave but they’re distant, not involved in this moment between Rob and I. “Duncan is still there. I am going back for him.”
I squeeze my eyes tight and grit my teeth, then nod. I agree with him even though I know this is a bad idea. He can’t leave Duncan any more than I can, not in the hands of anyone who could do this kind of harm to another human. I have no doubts that they wouldn’t have stopped beating Rob if he hadn’t somehow managed to escape. Knowing that, then God only knows what they are doing to Duncan even as we are here debating.
Anger rises, hot and cold both at once, a freezing fire in my guts, consuming my world and my mind. My anger calls power. The power to do something, to create change. I focus on the anger, which is really a simmering rage ready to explode at the slightest notice, and magical power pools in my core.
I open my eyes and Rob’s lips make a popping sound as they part, and his eyes widen. I put my hands on his shoulders and grip. Warmth flows through that point of contact similar to how it did when I healed Aillig. I close my eyes to visualize and see the threads of power flowing from me to him. It’s like a white light emanating from my core that I direct through my hands. I imagine it moving into him, spreading.
As my magic flows into him his wounds appear in my mind’s eye as dark spots. The first thing I find is his collarbone is broken. The dark blob pulses as if it is breathing rapidly. My light pushes against it and the darkness resists, pushing back. It’s a tussle, real or only in my mind I don’t know, but I’m not going to debate philosophy. I’m going to save Duncan and for that, I need Rob.
I push more power and the light increases in intensity. Then, with an almost audible pop, the darkness breaks, dissipating before the light like shadows being chased away when someone flicks the light switch on.
Rob gasps. In pain or surprise I’m not sure, but I can’t stop now. I’m in control of this, but it feels tenuous. The light continues to flow, finding spots of darkness one at a time, and the same scenario repeats over and over.
When I’m at his ribs the darkness is thick, roiling, and filled with a sense I can only label as death. These wounds, untreated, will kill him in short order. I was right, or it seems so, that blood is filling his lungs. One of the broken ribs has punctured his right side. That’s what’s causing the hitch in his breathing.
I don’t know how much time passes. It doesn’t matter because I’m not stopping until the light of my magic flows freely through Rob’s entire body. It’s exhausting work, draining my own energy, but at last all the dark spots are gone. Only then do I open my eyes.
Rob stares with wide eyes and open mouth. He snaps his mouth shut, blinks rapidly, then rolls his shoulders. I watch as the muscles of his chest flex and relax as he tests them. He moves slowly, gingerly, but ends up swinging his arms and stretching them over his head.
“By the Holy Mother,” he mutters. “Quinn…”
Exhaustion lies so heavy across me, mentally and physically, that I don’t have the strength to speak. I stumble and grab the table to support myself. The burned-out sensation I had when I first arrived back here echoes through my body and I let my head hang, breathing heavily.
“Shhh.” I shake my head, taking a deep breath and holding it long enough to stabilize myself then looking up. “Don’t say it.”
“Fae,” he says, and I slap my hand over his mouth.
“No,” I hiss, looking around to see if anyone is listening.
He pulls his head back, frowns, then shakes his head. “Right.”
I nod now that we have an understanding. The last thing I need is him running off shouting about how I’m a witch.
“For Duncan. You understand? We must do whatever it takes to save him.”
He looks thoughtful, then grabs his shirt and pulls it over his head. He slides off the table, rolls his shoulders, swings his arms, and twists side to side. He has a look of confusion and what I hope is wonder on his face, then he sighs.
“For Duncan.”
I nod, our agreement set. Past him an older couple who are sitting on their blanket are staring in our direction, but when I look directly at them, they turn and act as if they saw nothing. Alesoun would have a lot to say about this, but I didn’t have a choice. I will not leave Duncan to be tortured and killed. I’m going to do whatever it takes to save him.
“Oy, enough. Stop your fighting now.”
A deep booming voice that can only belong to one man echoes into the cavern. Chief Johnne has returned. Rob and I exchange a knowing glance. I’m glad to hear Johnne’s voice, for sure, but I also know that with him here, we’ll need his support for our mission to rescue Duncan and the others. If we don’t have his agreement, then we’ll be going on our own and that will drastically reduce our chances.
Silent, no words being necessary, we walk out to meet the chief. He’s a head taller than anyone in the crowd around him. Raucous voices fill the air, requests, demands, fears devolving into shouting to be heard over each other. The crowd pushes in on him but then his deep voices calls, for silence and that’s it.
The crowd moves back to a respectful distance. Almost to a person they look ashamed. They’re scared and looking for assurances that he probably doesn’t have to give. I can’t imagine being in his shoes. Two large men stand with him, including Graham, the man with scars all over his face who helped end the fight between Besse and Catte.
“Where have you been, Johnne?” a faceless voice asks. “Were you captured?”