Pool of Twilight - James M. Ward [2]
"What's going on?" a clear, crystalline voice asked.
A delicate young woman stood in the doorway of Kern's chamber. Between her forest green tunic and short dark hair she looked almost like a pretty but mischievous boy. Listle, Shal's apprentice, grinned impishly. "I heard something that sounded like an ogre's courting call down here and thought I'd better investigate."
She moved toward the others with a swift, smooth grace that belied her gray elven blood. Her ears were daintily pointed, her eyes silvery. Lamplight glimmered off a ruby pendant hanging from a silver chain around her throat She halted when she saw the blood oozing between Tarl's fingers. "Kern! What happened?"
"Listle," Shal said in her steady voice, "there's a purple jar on the highest shelf in my spellcasting chamber. You'll recognize it by the star-rune on the seal. It's an ointment of healing. I want you to get it for me. Now!"
Listle nodded, her eyes wide. She spoke a few fluid words of magic, and silver sparks crackled around her feet The elf dashed out of the chamber so swiftly her outline seemed to blur.
"I wish she wouldn't do that," Shal said with annoyance. "A swiftness spell takes a year off your life every time it's cast. True, elven lifespans are long, but not so long that Listle should squander a year every time she has the whim."
"Hush, wife," Tarl said gently. "She is only trying to help Kern."
"I'll be all right" Kern said weakly. "Really."
"You be quiet!" Shal snapped.
Kern meekly clamped his mouth shut. The room was beginning to swim around him.
Moments later, Listle burst into the room like a silver comet "I'm sorry I took so long," the elf gasped breathlessly. Her shiny hair was a raven-dark tangle, sticking out wildly in every direction. "You have a confusing variety of jars and vials, Shal."
"Did you find the ointment?"
Listle nodded, handing Shal a small purple jar. The sorceress took it breaking the runic seal with a single word of magic.
"Now, Kern, I need you to listen to me very carefully," Shal said. Her voice was stern but reassuringly calm. "I need you to open yourself to the power of the healing ointment. Imagine that you're surrounded by a shining wall of white light, a wall that blocked your father's spell."
The young man closed his eyes and did his best to picture a shimmering wall enclosing him.
"All right, Kern, now I want you to lower the wall. Slowly. Don't rush it. Let it drop, inch by inch, until it's just a shining ring at your feet."
Kern gritted his teeth with effort. It was hard, but gradually his will won out and the imaginary wall began to shrink. It dropped to his chest, then to his knees, and finally became nothing more than a glowing circle down around his feet.
"Is it gone?"
Kern nodded, not daring to speak for fear of breaking his concentration.
"Now, beloved," Shal said to Tarl, placing the jar of ointment into the cleric's hands. With deft, practiced fingers, Tarl spread a thin layer of the clear ointment over Kern's oozing wounds. The pungent healing balm smelled of mint and juniper. Tarl set down the empty jar.
Nothing happened.
"Concentrate on the wall, Kern," Shal warned.
With a groan of effort, he held the wall down. Suddenly he felt a cool tingling in his chest Then he could bear it no longer. He relinquished his willpower, and felt the imaginary wall spring back into place around him. But the pain in his chest was gone.
"You can open your eyes now, Son."
Kern could hear the relief in his mother's voice. Slowly he opened his eyes. He was almost surprised to see that, in truth, there was no wall of white light encasing him. He ran a hand over his chest. His bloodstained nightshirt was still in tatters, but the skin beneath was smooth and unbroken. The ointment had healed him.
He grinned weakly. "Thank you, Mother, Father," he whispered hoarsely. "You too, Listle."
The elf winked at him, beaming, but he didn't notice. In the blink of an eye, Kern had fallen asleep.
* * * * *
"I just don't understand it, Tarl!" Shal said, clenching her hand into a fist.