Realm of Light - Deborah Chester [44]
Elandra screamed and darted away from him toward the trees. The shyriea followed her. Caelan ran at it, shouting in an effort to distract it, but it attacked Elandra first, its female face contorted as it slashed at her. With bared fangs, its head darted at her in a swift strike.
Elandra screamed.
Rage flashed through Caelan. Screaming a curse at it, he hurled his dagger. All his fury went into the blade so that it glowed as though with fire.
It struck the demon true, and the shyriea exploded into black ashes that rained down.
Clutching her bleeding arm, Elandra sank to the ground.
Caelan rushed to her, fear like a hammer in his temples, and caught her in his arms. She was white-faced, trembling with shock. Her forearm bled heavily.
“It bit me,” she said.
“Hush, my darling. Hush,” he said hurriedly, hardly aware of what he was saying. He used handfuls of snow to clean the wound. The bite itself looked deep and nasty. Already her skin around the edges of the wound looked black and withered. As he handled her, he used sevaisin lightly to determine how much of the venom had entered her body.
The answer stilled his hands for a moment. He closed his eyes, agonized to think of Elandra tainted by this evil. The venom would spread through her, poisoning her blood until it was black and vile. She would become a creature owned by the darkness, commanded by it as General Paz had been.
Once again, Caelan saw his sword blade slice through the general’s arm, saw again the black fluid gush forth, saw again the infant shyrieas forming in it.
Sweet mercy of the gods, this could not, must not, be Elandra’s fate.
Opening his eyes, he ripped the lining of his cloak into strips and bandaged her arm with swift, deft motions. Then he used more handfuls of snow to wipe blood from her wrist and hand. She sat there like a child, unflinching beneath his rough ministrations. Her eyes stared into the distance.
“My price,” she said dully. “I didn’t believe it could happen. Am I going to die?”
“No,” he said, picking up her cloak and flinging it about her shoulders. Swiftly he tied it at her throat and pulled up the hood over her snow-sprinkled hair.
If he could find a way to stop the progression of the venom through her bloodstream, there remained a slim chance of saving her. But how? He felt hopelessness drag through him, and angrily battled it away. This was no time for despair. He must get her to shelter first, and then he would try to think of what else could be done.
Chapter Nine
“Caelan,” Elandra said. Her fingers reached for his and clamped hard. Her eyes were wide with fear, and now and then her lips trembled. She was breathing hard, trying not to panic. “You must tell me what is wrong. Am I going to die?”
With an effort he forced himself to conceal his own fears. He gave her a little smile. “No, of course you are not going to die. It is only a little bite. I am sure it hurts, but you—”
She raised her hand to silence him. “No lies. I need the truth. Do you understand?”
Worry lay on him like a thin sweat. Still, he knew he must keep the truth from her for as long as possible. He could not afford to let her panic. He reached for severance, but she grabbed his wrist and pulled herself to him.
“Tell me!” she cried, her eyes flashing with fear. “Don’t turn to stone. Don’t shut me out. I deserve better than that!”
It was like being plunged into the past, hearing her voice echo his own pleas to Beva. Appalled, Caelan wondered, Am I like my father?
He stroked her cheek. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t want to be like him.”
“Who? You’re not making any sense.” Her eyes clawed at his, holding his gaze when he tried to look away. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”
The lies and assurances died on his lips. “Yes,” he answered in a hollow voice. “It is bad.”
Fear leached the remaining color from her face, making her eyes huge