Page 40 of Shadowbound

Whatever it is, Sylvanna seems to get enough after a moment because she nods at me and then presses the point of her finger to the needle-sharp tip of the traveling gem. A single drop of blood wells from her fingertip…and then is sucked into the crystal which turns from bright blue to a cloudy purple. At the same time, Sylvanna is chanting.

“Take us where we need to go

Speed in haste, do not be slow.”

No sooner has she finished speaking than everything around me seems to whirl away. It’s like I mounted the fasted horse in the world and he’s traveling at a breakneck pace while I cling to his back and the world spins around me.

It’s a dizzying sensation and not just for me. The moment we come to an abrupt stop, the peasant falls to his knees, retching in the grass. Sylvanna is swaying as well. I catch her before she stumbles.

“Thank you, my Paladin.” She looks up at me gratefully. “I haven’t traveled this way in some time. I had forgotten how fatiguing it can be.”

In fact, she looks pale—even paler than usual, which is saying something. I’m fucking worried about her and I look down at her anxiously.

“Mistress? Are you sure you’re up to this?” I ask.

She nods firmly and straightens up, shaking my hand off her arm.

“I’m fine, Alaric—thank you. I just needed a moment to recover my composure.”

The peasant seems to be taking a moment too but eventually he staggers to his feet and gasps,

“My abode is this way, my Lady.” He points to a small cottage with a thatched roof not far from us.

“Very good—lead the way,” Sylvanna commands him.

Like me, he doesn’t question her. We follow him to the hut and he pushes inside, calling for his wife.

She comes at once—a Nocturna woman with a pale face and red eyes—it’s clear she’s been weeping.

“I’ve brought the Sorceress—the great lady is here to see our Jacobin!” he tells her but she shakes her head.

“I fear it might be too late. He barely breathes and his fever is so high. He’s burning like kindling!”

“Let me see him,” Sylvanna orders and the peasant woman gives her a frightened look and drops half a curtsey.

“Of course, my Lady. This way and thank you for coming,” she mumbles.

She leads us into the only other room in the cottage, which is smaller and more cramped than the first one. On a straw palate is a lad of perhaps eight or nine. In the dim glow of the oil lamp, his cheeks are burning red with fever and his breathing is so shallow I can barely make it out.

Heedless of the dirt floor and her fine lace dress, Sylvanna drops to her knees to examine the boy. Her slim, pale hand hovers over his forehead and she closes her eyes and murmurs something I can’t hear. When she looks up, her face is grave.

“He is very near to the other side—almost across the border of the Shadowlands,” she says. “I have a medicine that will help the fever, but then I must coax is soul back into his body.”

I have a sharp pang of misgiving.

“Is that safe?” I demand, kneeling beside her. “For you, I mean, Mistress.”

“I must try.” Her lips are set in a determined curve. “My mother took life after life from these people. I have vowed to save them when I can. The debt is heavy—I must repay it.”

“But—” I begin, but she’s already reaching for the leather satchel and rummaging in it.

“Here,” she says, drawing out a small crystal vial with a silver top. “Essence of moon-flowers, feverfew, and cooling mint. Sealed with a healing spell, this will bring his body back from the brink. Help me get it down his throat.”

I hold the boy’s jaws open—his skin is nearly as hot as mine gets when the Holy Fire rises within me—and she pours the pale blue healing potion into his mouth. He chokes for a moment, then swallows instinctively. As he does, Sylvanna is murmuring over him, talking in the Archaic Tongue which is the language of most magic.

She’s tried to teach it to me but I catch only a few words—one of them, though, is “sacrifice.” That concerns me but I don’t think I could stop her even if I tried—she’s wholly fixated on healing the peasant lad.

At last she sits back and nods to herself.

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