Morgawr

24

Because he had never done this before and had no real idea of how to do it now, Bek Ohmsford did not rush himself. He proceeded carefully, taking one small step at a time, watching Quentin closely to make certain that the magic of the wishsong was not having an adverse affect. He called up the magic in a slow humming that rose in his chest where it warmed and throbbed softly. He kept hold of Quentin’s hands, wanting to maintain physical contact in order to give himself a chance to further judge if things were going as intended.

When the level of magic was sufficient, he sent a small probe into Quentin’s ravaged body to measure the damage. Red shards of pain ricocheted back through him, and he withdrew the probe quickly. Fair enough. Investigating a damaged body without adequate self-protection was not a good idea. Shielding himself, he tried again and ran into a wall of resistance. Still humming, he tried coming in through Quentin’s mind, taking a reading on what his cousin was thinking. He ran into another blank wall. Quentin’s mind seemed to have shut down, or at least it was not giving off anything Bek could decipher.

For a moment, he was stumped. Both attempts at getting to where he could do some good had failed, and he wasn’t sure what he should try next. What he wanted to do was to get close enough to one specific injury to see what the magic could do to heal it. But if he couldn’t break down the barriers that Quentin had thrown up to protect himself, he wasn’t going to be able to do anything.

He tried a more general approach then, a wrapping of Quentin in the magic’s veil, a covering over of his mind and body both. It had the desired effect; Quentin immediately calmed and his breathing became steadier and smoother. Bek worked his way over his cousin’s still form in search of entry, thinking that as his body relaxed, Quentin might lower his protective barriers. Slowly, slowly he touched and stroked with the magic, his singing smoothing away wrinkles of pain and discomfort, working toward the deeper, more serious injuries.

It didn’t work. He could not get past the surface of Quentin’s body, even when he brushed up against the open wounds beneath the bandages, which should have offered him easy access.

He was so frustrated that he broke off his attempts completely. Sitting silently, motionlessly beside Quentin, he continued to hold his cousin’s hand, not willing to break that contact, as well. He tried to think of what else he could do. Something about the way in which he was approaching the problem was throwing up barriers. He knew he could force his way into Quentin’s body, could break down the protective walls that barred his way. But he thought, as well, that the consequence of such a harsh intrusion might be fatal to a system already close to collapse. What was needed was tact and care, a gentle offering to heal that would be embraced and not resisted.

What would it take to make that happen?

He tried again, this time returning to what was familiar to him about the magic. He sang to Quentin as he had sung to Grianne—of their lives together as boys, of the Highlands of Leah, of family and friends, and of adventures shared. He sang stories to his cousin, thinking to use them as a means of lessening resistance to his ministrations. Now and then, he would attempt a foray into his cousin’s body and mind, taking a story in a direction that might lend itself to a welcoming, the two of them friends still and always.

Nothing.

He changed the nature of his song to one of revelation and warning. This is the situation, Quentin, he sang. You are very sick and in need of healing. But you are fighting me. I need you to help me instead. I need you to open to me and let me use the wishsong to mend you. Please, Quentin, listen to me. Listen.

If his cousin heard, he didn’t do anything to indicate it and did nothing to give Bek any further access. He simply lay on his bed beneath a light covering and fought to stay alive on his own terms. He remained unconscious and unresponsive and, like Grianne, locked away where Bek could not reach him.

Bek kept at it. He fought to use the magic for the better part of the next hour, maintaining contact through the touching of their hands while trying to heal with his song. He came at the problem from every direction he could imagine, even when he suspected that what he was trying was futile. He attacked with such determination that he completely lost track of everything but what he was doing.

All to no avail.

Finally, exhausted and frustrated, he gave up. He rocked back, put his face in his hands, and began to sob. All this crying felt foolish and weak, but he was so weary from his efforts that it was an impulsive, unavoidable response. It happened in spite of his efforts to stop it, boiling over in a rush that left him convulsed and shaking. He had failed. There was nothing left for him to try, nowhere else for him to go.

“Poor little baby boy,” a voice soothed in his ear, and slender arms came around his neck and pulled him close.

At first he thought it was Rue Meridian, come down to the cabin when he wasn’t looking. But he realized almost before he had completed the thought that it wasn’t her voice. Gray robes fell across his face as he twisted his head for a quick look.

It was Grianne.

He was so shocked that for a moment he just sat there and let her hold him. “Little boy, little boy, don’t be sad.” She was speaking not in her adult voice, but with the voice of a child. “It’s all right, baby Bek. Your big sister is here. I won’t leave you again, I promise. I won’t go away again. I’m so sorry, so sorry.”

Her hands stroked his face, gentle and soothing. She kissed his forehead as she cooed to him, touching him as if he were a baby.

He glanced up again, looking into her eyes. She was looking back at him, seeing him for the first time since he had found her in Castledown. Gone were the vacant stare and the empty expression. She had come back from wherever she had been hiding. She was awake.

“Grianne!” he gasped in relief.

“No, no, baby, don’t cry,” she replied at once, touching his lips with her fingers. “There, there, your Grianne can make it all better. Tell me what’s wrong, little one.”

Bek caught his breath. She was seeing him, but not as he really was, only as she remembered him.

Her gaze shifted suddenly. “Oh, what’s this? Is your puppy sick, Bek? Did he eat something bad? Did he hurt himself? Poor little puppy.”

She was looking right at Quentin. Bek was so taken aback by this that he just stared at her. He vaguely remembered a puppy from when he was very little, a black mixed breed that trotted around the house and slept in the sun. He remembered nothing else about it, not even its name.

“No wonder you’re crying.” She smoothed Bek’s hair back gently. “Your puppy is sick, and you can’t make him better. It’s all right, Bek. Grianne can help. We’ll use my special medicine to take away the pain.”

She released him and moved to the head of the bed to stand looking down at Quentin. “So much pain,” she whispered. “I don’t know if I can make you well again. Sometimes even the special medicine can’t help. Sometimes nothing can.”

A chill settled through Bek as he realized that he might be mistaken about her. Maybe she wasn’t his sister at all, but the Ilse Witch. If she was thinking like the witch and not Grianne, if she had not come all the way back to being his sister, she might cure Quentin the way she had cured so many of her problems. She might kill him.

“No, Grianne!” he cried out, reaching for her.

“Uh-uh-uh, baby,” she cautioned, taking hold of his wrists. She was much stronger than he would have thought, and he could not shake free. “Let Grianne do what she has to do to help.”

Already she was using the magic. Bek felt it wash over him, felt it bind him in velvet chains and hold him fast. In seconds, he was paralyzed. She eased him back in place, humming softly as she moved once more to the head of the bed and Quentin Leah.

“Poor puppy,” she repeated, reaching down to stroke the Highlander’s face. “You are so sick, in such pain. What happened to you? You are all broken up inside. Did something hurt you?”

Bek was beside himself. He could neither move nor speak. He watched helplessly, unable to intervene and terrified of what was going to happen if he didn’t.

She was speaking to him again, her voice suddenly older, more mature. “Oh, Bek, I’ve let you down so badly. I left you, and I didn’t come back. I should have, and I didn’t. It was so wrong of me, Bek.”

She was crying. His sister was crying. It was astonishing, and Bek would have felt a sense of joy if he hadn’t been so frightened that it wasn’t his sister speaking. He fought to say something, to stop her, but no words would come out.

“Little puppy,” she whispered sadly, and her hands reached down to cup Quentin’s face. “Let me make you all better.”

Then she leaned down and kissed him gently on the lips, drawing his breath into her body.

Rue Meridian was sleeping in a makeshift canvas hammock she had strung between the foremast and the bow railing, lost in a dream about cormorants and puffins, when she felt Bek’s hand on her shoulder and awoke. She saw the look on his face and immediately asked, “What’s wrong?”

It was a difficult look to decipher. His face was troubled and amazed, both at once; it reflected uncertainty mixed with wonder. He appeared oddly adrift, as if he was there almost by accident. Her first thought was that his coming was a delayed reaction to what she had told him hours earlier. She sat up quickly, swung her legs over the side of the hammock, and stood. “Bek, what’s happened?”

“Grianne woke up. I don’t know why. The magic, maybe. I was using it to try to help Quentin, to heal him the way Brin Ohmsford did Rone Leah once. Or maybe it was when I cried. I was so frustrated and tired, I just broke down.”

He exhaled sharply. “She spoke to me. She called me by name. But she wasn’t herself, not grown up, but a child, speaking in a child’s voice, calling me ‘poor baby boy, little Bek,’ and telling me not to cry.”

“Wait a minute, slow down,” she said, taking hold of him by his shoulders. “Come over here.”

She led him to the bow and sat him down in the shadow of the starboard ram where the curve of the horn formed a shelter at its joining with the deck. She sat facing him, pulled her knees up to her breast, and wrapped her arms around her legs. “Okay, tell me the rest. She came awake and she spoke to you. What happened next?”

“You won’t believe this,” he whispered, clearly not believing it himself. “She healed him. She used her magic, and she healed him. I thought she was going to kill him. She called him a puppy—I guess that’s what she thought he was. I tried to stop her, but she did something to me with the magic so that I couldn’t move or speak. Then she started on him, and I was sure she meant to help him by killing him, to take away his pain and suffering by taking his life. That’s what the Ilse Witch would have done, and I was afraid she was still the witch.”

Rue leaned forward, hugging herself. “How could she heal him, Bek? He was all broken up inside. Half his blood was gone.”

“The magic can do that. It can generate healing. I watched it happen to Quentin. He’s not completely well yet. He isn’t even awake. But I saw his color change right in front of me. I heard his breathing steady and, afterwards, when I could move again, felt that his pulse was stronger, too. Some of his wounds, the ones you bandaged, have closed completely.”

“Shades,” she whispered, trying to picture it.

He leaned back into the curve of the horn and looked at the night sky. “When she was done, she came back over to me and stroked my cheek and held me. I could move again, but I didn’t want to interrupt what she was doing because I thought it might be helping her. I spoke her name, but she didn’t answer. She just rocked me and began to cry.”

His eyes shifted to find hers. “She kept saying how sorry she was, over and over. She said it would never happen again. Leaving me, she said. She wouldn’t leave me like before, not ever. All this in her little girl’s voice, her child’s voice.”

His eyes closed. “I just wanted to help her, to let her know I understood. I tried to hold her. When I did, she went right back into herself. She quit talking or moving. She quit seeing me. She was just like before. I couldn’t do anything to bring her back. I tried, but she wouldn’t respond.” He shook his head. “So I left her and came to find you. I had to tell someone. I’m sorry I woke you.”

She reached out for him, pulled him close, and kissed him on the lips. “I’m glad you did.” She stood and drew him up with her. “Come lie down with me, Bek.”

She took him back to the canvas hammock and bundled him into it beside her. She pressed herself against him and wrapped him in her arms. She was still getting used to the idea that he meant so much to her. Her admission of this to him had surprised her, but she’d had no regrets about it afterwards. Bek Ohmsford made her feel complete; it was as if by finding him, she had found a missing part of herself. He made her feel good, and it had been a while since anyone had made her feel like that.

They lay without moving for a while, without talking, just holding each other and listening to the silence. But she wanted more, wanted to give him more, and she began kissing him. She kissed him for a long time, working her way over his mouth and eyes and nose, down his neck and chest. He tried to kiss her, as well, but she wouldn’t let him, wanting everything to come from her. When he seemed at peace, she lay back again, placing his head in the crook of her shoulder. He fell asleep for a time, and she held him while he dreamed.

I love you, Bek Ohmsford. She mouthed the words silently. She thought it incredibly odd she should fall in love with someone under such strange circumstances. It seemed inconvenient and vaguely ridiculous. Hawk would have been shocked. He never thought she would fall in love with anyone. Too independent, too tough-minded. She never needed anyone, never wanted anyone. She was complete by herself. She understood his thinking. It was what she had believed, as well, until now.

She put her hands inside of Bek’s clothing and touched his skin. She placed her fingers over his heart. Counting the beats in her head, she closed her eyes and dozed.

When she woke again, he was still sleeping. Overhead, the sky was lightening with the approach of dawn.

“It’s almost daylight,” she whispered in his ear, waking him.

He nodded into her shoulder. He was silent for a moment, shaking off the last of his sleep. She could feel his breath on her neck and the strength in his arms.

“When we get back to the Four Lands,” he began, and stopped. “When this is all over, and we have to decide where we—”

“Bek, no,” she said gently, but firmly. “Don’t talk about what’s going to happen later. Don’t worry about it. We’re too far away for it to matter yet. Leave it alone.”

He went silent again, pressed against her. She brushed back her hair where it had fallen into her face. His eyes followed the movement with interest, and he reached out to help. “I have to go down into the Crake,” he said. “I have to get Quentin’s sword back. I want it to be there for him when he wakes up.”

She nodded. “All right.”

“Will you look after Grianne for me while I’m gone?”

She smiled and kissed him on the lips. “I can’t, Bek.” She touched the tip of his nose. “I’m going with you.”

When she said it, Bek panicked. He kept the panic in check on the surface, but inside, where his emotions could pretty much do whatever they wanted to, he was a mess. All he could think about was how afraid he was for her, how frightened that something bad would happen. It had already happened to Quentin, and his cousin had at least had the protection of the Sword of Leah. Rue wore a splint on one arm and had no magic at all. If he agreed to let her come, he would be taking on the responsibility for both of them. He was not sure he wanted to do that right after failing Quentin so miserably.

“I don’t think that is a good idea,” he told her, not sure what else to say that wouldn’t make her furious and even more determined.

She seemed to consider the merits of his objection, then smiled. “Do you know what I like most about you, Bek? Not how you look or think, not your laugh or the way you see the world, although I like those things, too. What I really like about you is that you don’t ever act as if I’m not just as good as everyone else. You take it for granted that I am, and you treat me with respect. I don’t have to fight you for that. I can expect it as a matter of course. I am your equal; I might even be a little better in some ways.” She paused. “I wouldn’t want to lose that.”

There was not much he could say to her after that. So he simply nodded and smiled back, and she kissed him hard to show that she appreciated his understanding. He liked having her kiss him, but it didn’t make him feel any better about taking her along.

But the issue was decided, so they slipped over the side of the ship and walked to the edge of the bluff, followed the precipice to the trailhead, and started down. It was light enough now that they could make out the shapes of the trees and the soft movement of leaves and branches in the slow morning wind. Bek cast about with his magic as they descended, taking no chances on being caught off guard, even if what he was doing somehow alerted the dead Graak’s mate. If the mate was anywhere close, he had already decided they would turn right around. Even Little Red couldn’t argue with that.

But fortune smiled on them, and they slipped into the Crake as invisible as wraiths. Bek used the magic of the wishsong to cloak them in the look and feel of the rain forest, choosing images and smells that would not attract a carnivore. Draped in trailers of mist and cooled by the morning wind, they slid through the trees with the ease and freedom of shadows, untroubled by the dangers that on this occasion were elsewhere. They found Quentin’s sword muddied but still in one piece beside the body of the dead Graak, retrieved it, and made their way back again. The sun was cresting the jagged line of mountains east when they began their climb back up the trail.

That was so easy, Bek thought in surprise as they regained the bluff. Why couldn’t it have been like that for Quentin? But then, of course, there would have been no reason for Grianne to come awake, and he would not have seen for himself that her responses to pain and suffering were no longer those of the Ilse Witch, but of his sister. He would not have discovered that maybe she could return to him after all when she was ready.

Rue Meridian turned to him, a mix of mischievousness and satisfaction mirrored in her green eyes. “Admit it. That wasn’t so bad.”

He shook his head and sighed. “No, it wasn’t.”

“Remember that the next time you think about doing something dangerous without me.” She reached out and took hold of the back of his neck with both hands and pulled him close to her. “If you love me, if I love you, there shouldn’t be any question of that ever happening. Otherwise, what we feel for each other isn’t real. It doesn’t mean anything.”

He shook his head. “Yes, it does. It means everything.”

She grinned, brushing loose strands of her long hair from her face. “I know. So don’t forget it.”

She picked up the pace and moved ahead of him. He stared after her, barely able to contain himself. In her words and smile, in everything she said and did, he saw a future that would transcend all his expectations of what he had ever imagined possible. It was only a dream, but wasn’t reality conceived in dreams?

His euphoria peaked and faded in a wash of doubt. It was foolish, he thought, to let himself think like this, to allow his emotions to cloud his reason. Look at where he was. Look at what had befallen him. Where, in all of this, did dreams like his belong? He watched Rue Meridian’s stride lengthen and as he did so, felt those dreams slip away, too frail to hold, too insubstantial to grasp. He was drawing pictures in the sand, and the tide was coming in.

When they reached the trailhead and walked back toward the Jerle Shannara, they found Redden Alt Mer and his Rovers gathered at the edge of the bluff, looking east. The Wing Riders were flying in from the coast, and they had someone with them.