Amber Magic

Chapter Twenty-Five

Well after daybreak, he slowly became aware of someone bathing his forehead with a cool damp cloth. His eyes fluttered open to find Telyn bent over him, her face pinched in worry. He thought he had never seen a lovelier sight, not even the Shining Lady could move him the way this tanner’s daughter could. “Telyn, does Jak live?”

“Of course,” she answered, her face brightening. “He is feverish, but should recover. Gudrin is a miraculous healer. There are so many crafts I could learn from such as she.”

“The shafts have been removed then?” he asked.

Her face clouded. “Yes, but-”

He gripped her arm. “But what?”

She pressed him down again, and he let her do it, for in truth he felt as weak as a kitten. “You must rest, Brand. You are not well either. You strove mightily with the Faerie last night, and such things take a grim toll from mortals, to say nothing of dragging your brother through miles of forest.”

“Ah, yes,” said Brand, remembering the long night. “I saw your beacon Telyn. It was my only hope when all else was lost. It was your sorcery that saved us.”

Her hands plucked idly at the damp cloth she held. “No, it was all my fault that you got into this in the first place. Jak is almost dead because I wouldn't listen to reason. It's fine for me to endanger my own skin, but I can't forgive myself for nearly killing us all with my rashness.”

Brand sat up, although it was a mighty effort. He put his arm around her. “I'll not have that! I was the one the shade began tracking in the first place. I could just as easily say that the breaking of the Pact was on my head!”

“What utter foolishness,” said Telyn, but he could hear the gratitude in her voice.

“Now, tell me the whole truth about Jak.”

She cast him a concerned glance, then looked back to the cloth in her hands, which was now wound into a knot. “The shafts came out easily, Brand, but the heads did not.”

“What do you mean?” asked Brand, feeling cold inside.

“I mean that the arrow points are still in him, somewhere… Brand?”

But she was talking to his back, for he had already started for the kitchen. There, in the brightly lit room which he had supped so many times so well, Jak lay. His flesh was bloodless and white, but his breathing appeared regular. Brand gripped the doorjamb for support. Gudrin held something pinched in a pair of tongs which she held aloft to the light. It was a tiny flint arrowhead. She rubbed her chin then dropped it into a pewter pitcher. The water in the pitcher bubbled and hissed briefly, then fell silent.

“That's one,” grunted the talespinner. She eyed Brand gruffly, but didn't order him from the room.

“Is that from his chest?” asked Brand.

Gudrin nodded. “The other has gone deeper still. I only just decided he was mended enough to go for them, and it was critical that I did so now.”

“Why?”

Gudrin gestured to the pitcher. Brand stepped forward and peered into it. There was no sign of the arrowhead. “What happened to it?”

“The arrowheads are enchanted. There is no question about it, your brother was elf-shot.”

“Elf-shot?” Brand echoed. Stunned, he looked at his brother's leg wound. “There is still one of them in him?”

“Yes, worming its way to his vitals. Were you attacked by the elfkin?”

“No, goblins only. At least, we saw no elfkin.”

“Strange,” said Gudrin. She shook her head and prepared to dig into Jak's flesh to remove the other arrowhead. She stepped to the sideboard for a moment, where her book lay open, and read a page or two before returning to her work. Brand noted that her rucksack was stowed carefully beside her book. “That's what the others said. But it is for certain that these arrows are elf-work. Goblins have not the craft. Either there are elves in league with our Enemy, which is fell news indeed, or these arrows were stolen. We have no way of knowing which.”

Gudrin began her digging and cutting then, bidding Brand to hold his brother still. Even in his unconscious state, Jak moaned and writhed in pain.

“Make sure he doesn't reopen his chest wound!” ordered Gudrin. The work was bloody and it was all Brand could do to keep from retching. Modi and Tylag were finally called in to help, while Aunt Suzenna did what she could to make her nephew comfortable. Brand wondered if he could ever enjoy a meal at this table again.

Forcing himself to watch, he looked into the splayed flesh of his brother's thigh. There was a black shape, buried down near the bone. Gudrin reached for it, but it wriggled and half vanished into red bloody flesh again.

“The River save us!” breathed Brand.

Finally, Gudrin got a grip upon it, and lifted it up. “There's the little cursed thing.”

Aunt Suzenna, who was the best and fastest with needle and thread, set to sealing the wound. Jak's agonized moans subsided. Gudrin and Brand stepped aside and examined the arrowhead.

Gudrin reached out and touched the river stone around Brand's neck. “A River ward, after the fashion of your folk. Hmmpf. Well-made, too. Your work?” she asked Telyn, who nodded. “You have an eye for the craft. If it was not for these wards, or if the goblins had used normal weapons, you would have all been killed. Notice, the arrows struck only Jak, who wore no such ward.”

At this point she yelled aloud and swore in the tongue of the Kindred. She dropped the tongs she had been holding aloft and clutched at the hand that had held them.

“What's wrong?” asked Brand, but Telyn had already snatched up the tongs and grabbed Gudrin's hand. The palm was pooling with blood. Only a stub of the arrowhead was still visible as it burrowed into the talespinner's flesh.

“It got away from me! I'm a fool! An old fool! Can you get it, girl?”

Telyn made no answer, but instead thrust the tongs into the open wound. Red blood spilled and splattered the floorboards. Gudrin grit her teeth and hissed through them, but did not pull away. Brand suddenly became aware of Modi, who was standing very close, watching everyone intensely. His knuckles stood out white upon the haft of his axe.

“Got it!” shouted Telyn, pulling the tongs free. With two quick strides she took the arrowhead to the pitcher and dropped it in. The water bubbled and hissed and soon the cursed thing was no more.

Gudrin swore again, wrapping her hand. “I should have done that in the first place. Thank you, girl.”