“Now what?” I asked.
Loelle’s eyes fluttered again, then closed.
“Loelle!” I cried, but she didn’t answer. I pressed my fingers against her neck, checking for a pulse. It was there, but wouldn’t be for long.
“I can’t do anything for her!” I turned back to Wynnow. “Please call for help.”
“I did. I called for you.” Then Wynnow casually folded her arms and leaned against the door, apparently indifferent to whatever happened next. I cursed, putting my hands over Loelle’s wound to slow the bleeding. I had to think. What would be the next thing to do?
I didn’t know. The bleeding had to be stopped, but simply pressing my hands here wouldn’t help nearly enough. She needed healing from within.
And with that singular thought, I shuddered as something emptied from me. I wasn’t sure what it was: Strength? A parcel of my own life? I only knew that I felt weaker than before, and in the same moment, Loelle began breathing easier.
“Something is happening.” With hopefulness in her voice, Wynnow stepped forward. “Kestra, keep going!”
I did, not for her, but for Loelle. I concentrated on her injury and offered my strength to close the wounds, to seal every tear. I knew it was working, because the pain of it transferred to me. I felt the knife, the broken tissue, the fierce sting, as if the wound was mine. Everything I gave took something from me. As she became stronger, I weakened.
“Enough,” Loelle whispered, placing her hands over mine. “Enough, Kestra.”
“You’re not whole yet.” I tried to keep working but she pushed my hands away from her. “I can do more.”
“No, you cannot. You must not.” Loelle sat up, though with significant effort. “My lady, I felt your strength pouring into me. If you give too much of yourself, you will die. No more than half, ever.”
“How do I know what is half?”
“This is half. Never give more than this.” She put her hand on my cheek and smiled. “So there is an eleventh cluster of magic, one that is yours alone. You are not a healer as I am; you are a giver of life. This is a powerful gift, Kestra. Use it well.”
I stared at my hands, trying to calm their shaking, cursing my weakness. Loelle was wrong. In my hands, this was not a powerful gift. Not with such a high price for using it. I’d never be capable of helping on a large scale.
Wynnow walked forward, triumphantly standing over us. “This is wonderful news, and a significant power.” As if this were her achievement.
I turned to her. “How did you know that would bring out my magic?”
She only shrugged. “I didn’t.”
Anger washed through me, giving me enough strength to stand and begin walking off the field, this time determined to get away from her. “I am finished here. Finished with Brillian superiority, your dismissal of all races but your own, your disregard for anything that does not benefit you. I will not fight for you or use magic for you. I’ll be gone by morning.”
She started to speak, but I pushed open the door and stormed away. Yet as angry as I felt, that wasn’t the problem, not really. I didn’t even make it to my room before I began openly sobbing. I wrapped my arms around myself, consumed with pain, then crouched in a quiet corner of the palace and let the tears fall.
I had acquired a magic of only marginal significance, and for what? This supposed gift would have little impact in the fight against the Dominion, and to discover it I’d just traded away the thing I valued most.
In the moment of saving Loelle’s life, I had sealed the end of my relationship with Simon. It was over.
The battle began much as I’d expected. The condors flew over the forest canopy, but the leaves were far too dense for the riders to set targets with their shoulder cannons.
Many of the early Ironhearts who entered attempted to do so on their oropods, but they quickly realized their mistake. The forest floor was covered in such heavy brush and thicket, their oropods became tangled and fell, making them easy targets for us from the canopy tracks above.
We killed or wounded almost half of that first wave of Ironhearts, but those who survived quickly responded, firing disks upward. It was easier for us to hide than it was for them, and in a few cases, the disks fell back to their archers, piercing them. Where the canopy tracks were lower to the ground, if we lay on our stomachs, we could aim the halberd downward and stab a soldier before he knew we were there.
But our easy victories could not last. After an hour of their side taking heavy losses, the carnoxen were sent in. Their bodies were too low for us to reach with our pole weapons, and from this distance, our disk blades couldn’t pierce their hides. They also trampled the undergrowth, creating easy trails for the next wave of Ironhearts.
“Now?” Basil asked, looking over at me.
I nodded, and with a silent gesture to men waiting in key positions around the canopy, a handful of rope ladders quietly descended.
The Ironhearts returned, angrier than before and apparently with orders to flush us out of the canopy, just as I’d hoped. One of their officers called out that the rebels had made a mistake and he’d found a ladder. I grinned. A mistake had certainly been made, but not by us.
I gave a whistle that was immediately echoed by our fighters in the distance. The Ironhearts climbed the ladders, certain they would trap us, while we led them deeper into the forest, quietly descending in prearranged locations and waiting to counteract their next order. Basil and I descended together but took up hiding places as far apart as possible while staying in visual range.