Page 77 of HeartTorn

Help me, Diira!I cry, not quite in song but in a surge of panic.Teach me the healing song!

A tremor of uncertainty ripples out from her. I gasp. Pain and my own mortality drag me down, down. Darkness closes in,and the soulfire light which had seemed so bright but a moment before begins to fade.

Then she starts to sing. A strange, complex melody that speaks of ancient times, of an age before this world was created. A song of stars and dancing constellations, a song of heavenly beings and celestial graces. It’s devastating—I’m not sure where my own voice is supposed to fit. Then something inside me shifts. I don’t know how to describe it: like a piece of my heart turns slightly and realizes what shape it was meant to be all along.

I sing. I sing as I have never sung before, first little trills of sound, then a greater melody, stronger, surer. It blends in with Diira’s song so naturally, one would think they were born from the same source.

Slowly, fearfully, I let my awareness sink back into that body of mine. I must connect this song with that body if I hope to bring healing. The pain is so great, for a moment I can feel nothing else. Then faintly my ears detect a trace of song. It sounds different here, from this mortal perspective, filtered through physical senses. But it is still beautiful.

Diira’s horn rests against my breast, the tip aimed straight for my heart. Flame encases my body once more, but not the flame which nearly destroyed me. This is healing fire, drawn from heaven itself. It is both like and unlike that healing power I channeled with Elydark when I sang over Taar, only this song is fuller, deeper, and more perfectly harmonized. The difference between singing with another soul and truly beingone.

A sudden inhale. A constriction of muscles. Then a gust of air from released lungs, expelling a sigh through parted lips.

I blink and slowly open my eyes. I can see again—see all the way up to the endless blue sky arching overhead. The sunlight, which had seemed so sickly before, now glows with brilliance unmatched. Or is that glow not from the sun at all, but from themighty being standing over me, singing from the depths of her newly-repaired heart?

I gaze up at Diira. Glorious and shining, more beautiful than anything in this or any world. My heart swells with such an abundance of love for her, I cannot stop myself from opening my mouth and singing. By comparison to my song in the spirit-realm, this is certainly a poor thing, but compared to any other human voice it is a magnificence akin to that of angels. A true gift of the gods. My song and Diira’s fills that valley of death with the hope of renewal. And just for a moment I almost believe I hear the voices of the dead unicorns singing back to us from somewhere beyond the veil of this world.

When the song eases at last, I look down at myself. My body is suffused in purple fire, but it doesn’t burn. Instead I watch the scorched flesh and oozing blisters close up, reknitting into whole, healed skin beneath the tatters of my burnt dress. I lift my hands, turn them this way and that, admire the beauty of whole fingers. I touch my neck, my shoulders, my face, my hair. Gods! I have hair again!

Diira backs away a pace or two, lowering her head. Her song resolves, at least that which I hear with mortal ears. But I feel it still in the soul-tether now shivering in the ether between us, a constant hum of divine melody.Is it well, Vellara?the unicorn asks wordlessly in my head.

It is well, Diira,I sing back.

Then I gasp. A sharp stab shoots up my arm and bursts in the back of my head. Now that the far greater pain of my near-death by burning is past, thevelrareasserts itself with terrible force.

What was that?Diira asks, sensing my distress.

It’s my husband. He’s in trouble. Suffering.But not dead, I add to myself. If he was dead, our bond would be broken. Shanaera is keeping him alive for some twisted purpose of her own.

I scramble to my feet only to sway hard as the world pivots on its axis. Healed or not, my body has just undergone a tremendous ordeal and isn’t ready for any sudden movements. I steady myself, close my eyes until the world stills. When I open them again, a gleam of metal catches my eye. Moving with a little more caution, I hasten to reclaim my dropped knife, slipping it into its sheath before turning to Diira.

I must find him,I say. I must help him. To be parted from me causes him terrible pain.Even as I say it, another stab jolts up my arm.It doesn’t do me much good either.

Diira nods solemnly.We can follow thevelrato him,she says. Then to my surprise—though in retrospect, I don’t know what else I expected—she kneels.Hurry. Get on my back. I will carry you swiftly. There are none among the licorneir of this realm who can outpace me!

I stare for a moment at the blue-black, dappled back. A thrill bursts in my gut. It’s as though somehow, something I was born for is finally about to take place. I feel like a fledgling eagle, poised on the edge of the nest, the whole wide world spread before me if only I dare open my wings.

Breathless I climb onto that warm back, little heeding the fact that Diira is still burning bright with purple soulfire. I’ve danced in that fire, healed in that flame. I know for a fact that it will never burn me again.

Grabbing handfuls of mane, I find my center of balance as the unicorn rises smoothly to her feet. I hold up my arm and can almostseethe shining cord stretched before me in a straight, taut line.

“That way, Diira,” I say out loud, for the first time pronouncing her name with my tongue. It sounds strange, but I like it. “That way, as swift as you can.”

As the unicorn leaps into motion, I bow over her neck and picture the rotten face of the woman who stole my husband. My jaw sets grimly. Time to steal him back.

36

TAAR

The undead licorneir move in an unnatural gait, all the grace of their being lost in death, though they’ve retained both their power and speed. The landscape slips past my vision in a blur. Though I know this land better than I know my own face, I can make no sense of it, no sense of the world, of reality. Pain dominates everything, and weakness turns my limbs to straw.

But thevelraaround my wrist continues to burn like fire, deep down to the bone. Which means Ilsevel is still alive. Surely she must still be alive. I would know if she was dead.

“Let me kill her,” I’d begged. The words had slipped from my lips even as the undead grabbed my arms and dragged me away from Ilsevel’s body. “Let me kill her, Shanaera. Grant me that mercy at least.”

How could I leave her like that? The cruelty of it was beyond imagination. And what if thevardimnarstruck while she lay there, so helpless? That she should die of those burns was bad enough; I couldn’t bear that her soul would be devoured as well.

But Shanaera had refused. “What? And cripple you still more?” she’d snapped. “I need you strong, Taar. I need you fit and full of rage, not weeping over a dead bride. No.” She cast a last look over her shoulder to where Ilsevel’s burnt remains lay abandoned beneath the uncaring sky. “Let’s hope she survives long enough for us to accomplish our purpose.”

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