Realm of Light - Deborah Chester [45]
“I—”
“The worst, Caelan!” she commanded. “Tell me the worst.”
“The venom is in you. In time, if its work is not checked, you will become like General Paz.”
Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. Her hand dropped from his arm, and despair filled her face.
“But there is time yet,” he said hurriedly. He pulled her to her feet and put his arm around her to steady her. “While there is time, there is a chance. We must hurry.”
“Where?”
“We’ll go to the hold. It isn’t far. We need shelter, and I may be able to find something in Father’s writings.”
He led her forward, holding to her unsteady pace when he really wanted to scoop her into his arms and run. He had to keep her walking and thinking. If she kept talking to him, then he would know she was still with him.
“Walk, Elandra,” he commanded. “Walk faster. Keep your blood strong.”
Her feet moved slowly. After a moment, she glanced up at him. “Is there a healer nearby? A neighbor? Anyone who can be sent for?”
He frowned. It was as though she couldn’t comprehend that his home had been destroyed and all who lived there had died or been sold into slavery. The same had happened to neighboring holds. Whether anyone had returned or rebuilt, he did not know. But he would not deny her this small hope.
“Perhaps,” he said. “We will get shelter, and then we will see what can be done.”
His dagger lay on the ground at the edge of the clearing, its blade blackened. He hesitated over it, hating to be weaponless yet not certain whether it was tainted.
“Take it,” Elandra said faintly.
He bent and scooped it up, opening himself to sevaisin. There was death in the metal, nothing more. Relieved, he wiped it and put it back in his belt, then led Elandra on with a quick glance at the sky.
Beyond the clearing, the trees grew thick and tangled. Their boughs were turning white with snow, and the mist seemed to hang more thickly here, obscuring the way. Shouldering a path through,
Caelan pushed on at a steady pace, his face grim and set against the lash of snow.
When she stumbled, his arm tightened around her. “I am with you,” he said in reassurance. “I love you with all my heart and soul. I will find a way to save you.”
“Can you?” she asked, her voice dragging with weariness and pain. “I do not doubt your strength or your courage. I know you can do things most men cannot. But can you save me from this?”
He wanted to shout aloud in fear and frustration. He wanted to run with her for help, only there was no help to be found. For the first time in his life he regretted his expulsion from Rieschelhold. If he had stayed and become a healer, perhaps he would know what to do.
But if he had become a healer, he would never have met this woman who now meant everything to him.
I cannot lose her, he prayed. Please don’t take her from me.
“You are all I have,” she whispered. “I trust you, my love.”
A few minutes earlier, her admission of love would have filled him with joy. Now he could only grieve for her. But he had to stay in control of himself; he couldn’t bear for her to see the inadequacy and hopelessness he felt.
She had insisted he tell her only the truth, but he loved her enough to lie. “I will get it out,” he promised. “As soon as we have shelter from the wind spirits, I will find a way to save you.”
She gave him a tremulous smile. “Forgive me?”
Her plea nearly unmanned him. Raggedly, he said, “Why? What is there to forgive, my love?”
“I should have obeyed you—”
Without warning, she sagged against him.
Desperate not to let her fall, he tightened his hold. “Elandra? Elandra!”
He tipped back her lolling head, but her eyes were shut. Her face was as gray as death.
Frantic, he lowered her to the ground and knelt over her. For a moment time froze around him, and he could only stare. She looked so small, so still in her golden cloak and hood. He thought she was dead.
Pain lanced his heart, and he wanted to scream his denial to the heavens.
Then he pulled back her hood, releasing her hair, which