Ilse Witch - Terry Brooks [139]
To no one’s surprise, he did not keep his vigil over Walker alone. Sitting with him the whole of the time was the young seer, Ryer Ord Star. As she had since their departure from Arborlon, she stayed as close to the Druid as his shadow. She studied him intently during his struggle, her head bent in concentration. She watched while Joad Rish worked, asking occasionally what he was doing, nodding at his responses, giving silent approval and support to his efforts. Now and then she spoke to Bek, a word or two here and there, never more, always with her eyes directed toward the Druid. Bek studied her surreptitiously, trying to read her thoughts, to see inside her mind deep enough to discover if she had caught a glimpse of Walker’s fate. But the seer revealed nothing, her thin, youthful face a mask against whatever secrets she kept.
Once, when Joad Rish had left them alone and they sat together on a wooden bench at the Druid’s side in candlelit gloom, Bek asked her if she thought Walker would live.
“His will is very strong,” she replied softly. “But his need for me is greater.”
He had no idea what she was talking about and could not think of a way to ask. He was silent long enough that Joad Rish returned, and the matter was dropped. But he could not shake the feeling that the young woman was telling him that in some inextricable way Walker’s life was linked to hers.
As he discovered two nights later, he was right. Joad Rish had announced earlier in the day that he had done everything he could think to do for the Druid and that further healing was up to the Druid himself. He had not abandoned hope or given up on his treatment, but he was seeing no change in Walker and was clearly worried. Bek could tell that the Druid had reached a critical juncture in his battle. He was no longer sleeping quietly, but thrashing and twisting in his unconsciousness, delirious and sweating. His great strength of will seemed to have hit a wall, and the poison was pushing back against it relentlessly. Bek had an uneasy feeling that Walker was losing ground.
Ryer Ord Star must have decided the same. She rose suddenly as the midnight hour approached and announced to Joad Rish that he must step back from Walker and give her a chance to help him. The Healer hesitated, then decided for whatever reason to comply. Perhaps he knew of her reputation as an empath and hoped she could do something to relieve his patient’s distress. Perhaps he felt there was nothing more he could do, so why not let someone else try? He moved to the bench beside Bek, and together they watched the young seer approach.
She bent to the Druid soundlessly. Like the shadow she so often seemed, she hovered over him, her hands placed carefully on the sides of his face, her slender form draped across his own. She spoke softly and gently, the words lost to Bek and Joad Rish, murmurings that faded into the sounds of the airship as it sailed on the back of the night wind. She continued for a long time, linking herself to Walker, Bek decided, by the sound of her voice and her touch. She wanted him to feel her presence. She wanted him to know she was there.
Then she laid her cheek against his forehead, keeping her hands on his face, and went silent. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply and steadily. Walker began to convulse, arching off the bed in violent spasms, gasping and moaning. She held on to him as he thrashed, and her own body jerked in response to his. Sweat appeared on her thin face, and her pale brow furrowed in anguish. Joad Rish started to go to them, then sat back again. Neither he nor Bek looked at each other, their eyes riveted on the drama taking place.
The strange dance between Druid and seer went on for a long time, a give and take of sudden motion and harsh response. She’s taking the poison with its sickness and pain into herself, Bek realized at one point, watching her body knot and her face twist. She’s absorbing what’s killing him into herself. But won’t it then kill her? How much