“Listen to me,” he said as he held both of her wrists firmly in one of his big hands. “It will only be to heal the damage. You’re still losing a lot of blood. I have to hurry. You have to let me help you. Just lie still and don’t fight me, all right? Can you do that? Can you trust me? It will be easier if you do.”
This was a chance at life. This was a chance to be pulled back from that terrifying dark void. She had fought for her life. She couldn’t let herself slip beyond the veil. At last, she let the tension go from her muscles and nodded.
“Thank you, Master Rahl,” she managed with the greatest of effort.
He offered a brief smile before putting his hands to either side of her head. His hands muffled the distant sounds of the world, muffled what she only then realized was the sounds of her own sobs.
She looked up at him, and his blue eyes reminded her of looking up into a blue sky. As she stared, unable to blink, she was drawn into that calming color. His eyes became the sky. She felt herself falling into that azure forever that became sapphire that became cobalt that became midnight blue that became simply midnight.
She felt the weight of his power press in on her mind as the cold flood of his magic cascaded down through her whole being.
She had been healed by Baraccus before, but that had been for relatively minor things—a deep cut, a twisted ankle, a crippling headache—so she recognized the unique feel of Additive Magic. What in those instances had been a trickle was now a massive icy torrent overwhelming her with its power.
Even more, though, she felt the red-hot touch of what she knew had to be Subtractive Magic. She imagined that he was removing residual traces of the damage done by the dream walker’s presence.
She gasped at the sudden, sharp, searing heat deep inside her ears. She recoiled at the smell of burning flesh, realizing that he must be cauterizing the wounds to stop the bleeding.
Even though she felt lost in a strange, empty place, she knew that she was not alone. He was there with her, working, trying to help her. It was something like when the dream walker had made himself known in her mind, but at the same time it was the opposite side of that alien presence. The dream walker, she knew, she could feel, had been malicious and had fully intended harm.
This, by contrast, was a benevolent presence. Despite the pain pulling her ever downward inside herself, she could feel that his purpose was only to help her, only to eventually be able to lift her pain away.
She could feel every thread of Additive Magic stitching through her torn muscles and broken ribs. It didn’t exactly hurt, but the odd sensation made her queasy. She wanted to squirm away, yet she knew that this was her only chance and so she surrendered to it. The warm power seeping deep into her ears was equally uncomfortable.
At the same time, she was aware of him trying to force her to let him lift the agony away. Magda resisted, holding on tight. She didn’t want anyone else, especially Master Rahl, to have to feel the agony she felt. She clutched it tight, trying to shield him from the full force of the suffering.
It did no good. He was stronger than she was. With a fearful sense of concern for his safety, she felt the pain’s grasp slipping from her. With that impediment lifted away, his gift was able to twist down through her inner being, going deeper into her core in order to heal her.
As she felt the last of that icy agony stripped away, she reveled in the mercy of being free of it and at last began to feel the warmth of his healing magic warming her.
She hung suspended in that glowing warmth, only distantly aware that anything else existed but that comforting support.
Magda lost all sense of time. She didn’t know how long she floated in that place of serenity. It could have been mere moments, or it could have been days. In that silent void, time lost all meaning. In that strange inner place, time ceased to exist.
Gently, she became aware that it had ended.
Her eyes at last opened and the room around her came into focus. She realized that she was lying on a couch. Lord Rahl stood over her, his brow beaded with sweat. He looked exhausted.
The candles on the iron stand nearby were burned down to nubs. She knew, then, that it had lasted most of the night.
Magda reached up and touched her ear, letting her fingers trail down along her jaw. It didn’t hurt anymore.
Her chest didn’t ache inside, either. She placed her hand on her ribs, testing. They were sound and no longer hurt.
But there was more. While she still missed Baraccus, still hurt that he was gone, it was different, now. The pain of losing him wasn’t so crushing as it had been. She still grieved, still felt the suffering of the loss, but she recognized that the sharpest edges of that misery were now softened just a bit.
She would always miss her husband, always love him, but she knew, now, that she was going to be able to go on. She had to go on.
“Thank you,” she whispered up at Lord Rahl.
He showed her a weary smile. “I would suggest that you rest, but I fear that we can’t afford the time right now.”
Magda sat up, wiping at her eyes, getting her bearings. “Is it still night?”
His smile widened. “It’s a new day, Magda. Has been for a while now.”
“Then we need to get to the council chambers. They will be in session. I need to convince them of the imminent danger. They must act.”
Lord Rahl glanced down at her clothes. “Maybe you had best get cleaned up, first.”
Magda stood, feeling remarkably steady. She had expected to at least still feel wobbly, but she didn’t. She felt alive. Really alive.
She looked down at her dress. Large areas of it were soaked with blood. He was right, she needed to change. She touched her hair and found that it, too, was matted with dried blood. She glanced over at her reflection in a small mirror on the wall. Blood stained the sides of her face and neck.
“I guess I do look a shocking mess. I had better clean up, first, before we go to see the council.”
Alric Rahl nodded as he gestured at his two big bodyguards. “We’ll wait outside while you change and wash up.”
Magda caught his arm as he started to turn toward the door.
“No.”
He frowned. “No?”
“No. I want the council to see me like this. They need to see the reality of the blood that will be shed by our people at the hands of the dream walkers if they refuse to listen.”
Lord Rahl smiled. “I don’t think that the council has yet ever really encountered the true resolve of Magda Searus.”
She returned a haunted smile. “They are about to.”
Chapter 14
Magda kept her eyes straight ahead as she marched past towering, polished black marble columns to each side of the gallery leading toward the council chambers. Rounded moldings covered in gold atop the columns supported a thick architrave carved with robed figures meant to represent the members of the council.
A gridwork of golden squares overspread the long, vaulted ceiling. Each square held a bronze medallion with a scene of a different place in the Midlands. Supposedly, as council members passed through the gallery they were walking beneath a grand display of the diversity of the Midlands so that they would be reminded to be mindful of all the far-flung people they represented as they went about their official deliberations. In Magda’s experience, it took more than bronze medallions to remind the council to be mindful of all the far-flung places of the Midlands.
Magda passed beneath a line of long red silk banners hanging from the vaulted ceiling. They were meant to represent the blood that had been shed in defense of the people of the Midlands. The carpet she walked along, with the names of battles woven along the edges, was also red and meant to be a reminder of the struggles fought and the lives laid down so that others might live.
Magda usually found passing through the gallery to be a somber experience. On this day, it was more somber than usual.
&
nbsp; The red banners and crimson carpet only served to help draw attention to the blood covering Magda. More than ever before, she felt a connection to those who had bled in defense of their motherland. If the council refused to listen to her, then a great deal more blood would be shed.
As she marched down the long carpet, men to the sides paused in midconversation to stare openly. Women moved back. The drone of talking withered to whispers and then people fell silent as she passed, leaving a hush in her wake.
As she entered the great rotunda not far from the council chambers, Magda saw small clusters of people all through the enormous room standing around talking, no doubt discussing matters waiting to be brought before the council. The conversation echoing around the room tapered off as people watched her advance through their midst, trailed by the Lord Rahl of the D’Haran Lands and his two huge bodyguards.
Overhead, the high windows around the lower border of the golden dome let in early-morning sunlight to bathe the towering reddish marble pillars around the edge of the room in harsh light. Between the columns, against the stone wall, stood imposing statues of past leaders.
Magda knew that one day a statue of Baraccus would take up a place of honor in this room leading to the Central Council.
It was a strange thought that touched her with pride, yet at the same time served to highlight how Baraccus was slipping inexorably into her past.
It wouldn’t be long before Baraccus became a figure left to history. People would no longer come to know him, they would only know bits and pieces about him. She wondered if the stories people in the future learned would bear any resemblance to the reality she had known with Baraccus. History, like memories themselves, tended to become distorted with the passing of time, or worse, corrupted with the agendas of those writing it.
As much as she wished it were otherwise, Magda could do nothing to alter the past or to bring Baraccus back. He was now in the hands of the good spirits. Meanwhile, life went on. He had wanted her to go on.