Crystal Moon (14 page)

hope did he, a mere boy, have alone? He nodded his

acquiescence and cringed inwardly at the sound of DiSanti’s

satisfied laughter.

***

Worry churned Sianna’s stomach as she paced the

courtyard wall. In the five days since Kyne, Lisha, and the

others had ridden out, there had been no word. Though she

kept busy every waking moment, and precognition was not one

of her gifts, she couldn’t banish her sense of dread.

A familiar wave of hostility broke over her. She turned and

came face-to-face with Katya. When Warda growled and

pressed close to Sianna’s side, she rested her hand on the

hound’s head, silently calming him.

Since Kyne departed leaving Katya in charge of the castle,

Sianna had done her best to stay out of the angry young woman’s

way. With little success. At every opportunity, Katya forced a

confrontation. The constant conflict wore on Sianna’s dwindling

reserves.

“For whom do you wait? Kyne? Graham? Rescue?”

Katya’s lovely features twisted into an ugly sneer. “Like a

spinner in her web, you seduce men to their destruction with

your innocent air. Be warned, Kyne and Graham are not so

easily deceived.”

Though Katya’s animosity drained Sianna, she laughed.

“You mix your similes badly. How does my innocent air seduce

men?”

Fury sparked in Katya’s eyes. “Don’t bandy words with

me, woman. You fool the others here because they’re ignorant

of your true identity. It sickens me to see them looking to you

for counsel and help, as if you were the lady of the castle rather

than the spawn of the unredeemed. One word from me, and

they’ll turn on you.”

A spurt of anger made Sianna bold. “Nothing I’ve done

has harmed you or these people. I grow weary of your threats.

Say what you will. Do what you must. Only cease annoying

me.” Frustration made her turn her back on Katya. The woman

refused to see the truth. She fed her grief with anger and hate.

Warda’s low rumble warned Sianna just before Katya

grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. At her touch, a

bitter stew of rage, pain and guilt swirled inside Katya and

flowed into Sianna. She staggered under the assault.

“Why didn’t I cut your throat that first night?” Anguish

laced Katya’s bitter question.

Sympathy for the woman’s pain made Sianna reach out.

“Because it’s not in you to commit murder.”

More difficult to heal than a physical injury or illness, a

spiritual wound would drain her dwindling reserves. Could she

cope? Maybe not, but could she ignore Katya’s desperate need?

She covered Katya’s hand with her own. “Let go of your pain

and hatred. Permit yourself to heal.”

Eyes wide, her golden skin gone white, Katya gasped and

jerked free. “Don’t touch me, witch. What moon-born magic

do you wield?” She backed away.

“No magic. Just simple compassion.” The Sisters had

warned Sianna against revealing the unusual nature of her gifts

to the suspicious and superstitious. More than one healer, even

without empathic skill, had been branded a witch and died a

fiery death at the hands of an angry mob.

“Keep your compassion.” Katya spat the words at Sianna.

“Nothing you give can replace what you’ve stolen. If spilling

your blood would give me one more moment with Aubin, I would

gut you like a shoat.” She whirled and hastened away.

Sorrow descended over Sianna. Deep inside, her soul wept.

How useless her skill seemed in the face of such agony. Unless

Katya rid herself of her quest for vengeance, she would never

again be whole.

A sentry called out. “Riders approach!”

From her vantage point on the wall, Sianna looked over the

treetops. In the distance, she could see wagon after loaded

wagon, interspersed with riders, navigating the treacherous

mountain path. Already the commotion in the yard heralded the

group’s success.

Though unable to discern his features, Sianna found Kyne

as he rode alongside an apparently empty wagon.

She reached out, but only a subtle hint of his presence

touched her.

Her stomach lurched as fierce, unrelenting pain sliced into

her legs. With a gasp her knees buckled.

Whose suffering did she feel? Relegating the pain to a

corner of her mind, she searched out the one in need.

Graham.

In her mind she saw and felt the world through his senses—

the blue sky above, the scratch of the blanket-covered straw

beneath him, the smell and taste of blood as he bit his tongue to

stifle his moans...and the white hot jolts of pain with each lurch

of the wagon.

How bad? With her mind she probed his body. So much

damage. Broken bones. Torn muscles. Mangled flesh.

Through the pain his emotions touched her. Without the

use of his legs he felt himself less than a man, less than human.

He wanted to die. No!

In less than a tenday she had come to love this large, quiet

man, as she had hoped to love her father. She could not let him

die. But could she keep him alive if he wished to die?

Could she heal him? Did she have the strength and skill?

Whatever it took she would give this man.

“Sianna. Sianna. Father is coming.”

Zoa’s excited cries and Warda’s anxious whine severed

Sianna’s connection to Graham. His pain faded to memory. On

shaky legs she rose and headed down the ladder to the courtyard.

“Hurry, Sianna! There are so many wagons. Do you think

there will be sugar to make candy sweets? I hope so. It’s been

ever so long.”

At the bottom of the ladder, Zoa danced in excitement, her

small face alight with anticipation. Warda sprang down after

Sianna, easily making the twenty-foot leap.

“You go on ahead. I have to talk to Althea.”

For a moment Zoa wavered, then temptation won out over

attachment, and the child darted off.

Sianna hastened toward the makeshift hospital. Graham

would need a separate room. She knew his pride would suffer

if he were forced to endure the pity in everyone’s eyes. On her

way she grabbed the two young boys from the great hall incident.

They protested, wanting to meet the caravan, but at her stern

look, capitulated.

“Althea.”

The old woman blinked, roused from her sitting doze in a

chair outside the herb room. She looked up at Sianna.

“Graham has been badly injured.”

The two boys beside Sianna gasped.

“We’ll need to use your chamber to care for him.” Althea’s

room, a small chamber with only a bed, a table and a chair, lay

next to the herb room. It would serve. Althea nodded, rose, and

went into her chamber.

Sianna turned toward the boys. “Go to Graham’s chamber

and bring down his bed, Althea’s is too small for his large frame.

Hurry. He’ll be here soon.”

While she headed into the herb room, the two boys ran off

to do her bidding. Her hands trembled as she collected the

medicines and instruments she would need to treat Graham.

She quickly directed the two boys in removing Althea’s

narrow cot and setting up the larger bed, then she laid out her

supplies on the room’s small table. Ground alt root would lessen

the swelling, but would do little to ease his pain. If only she had

some nika root.

She hadn’t lied when she told Kyne of the nika plant’s

medicinal benefits. Only the strong narcotic would keep Graham

unconscious while she manipulated his bones into proper

alignment. Could she convince Kyne to procure some nika root?

If not, a double dose of alt was her only alternative, but would

it do?

Neither herb nor narcotic could knit Graham’s shattered

bones into usable limbs. She must join her ka with his, absorb

his injuries into herself, and use her innate skill to mend bone

and muscle. While she didn’t fear the physical pain of joining

with him, the thought of the mental anguish daunted her. Because

he already called himself dead and because he mistrusted her,

his ka would fight her healing. The risk was great—to both of

them.

A commotion in the courtyard told her the caravan had

arrived. She stepped out of Althea’s chamber, and her gaze

clashed with Kyne’s. No softness lurked in his dark stare.

“Bring him in here.” She had no time for Kyne’s

recriminations. Graham’s life took precedence.

Like a big cat intent on destroying his prey, Kyne stalked

toward her. Standing her ground, she forced herself not to recoil

from her sudden awareness of his turbulent emotions.

He leaned close, and the heat of his body—potent with the

smell of sweat, blood and death—washed over her. “I’ll not let

you finish what your father started.” His whisper reached only

her ears. “Where’s Althea?”

Sianna grabbed his arm. Emotions lashed her—guilt, grief

and fury swirled like a whirlwind within Kyne. Unwilling to risk

draining her energy in a fruitless attempt to ease his turmoil,

she jerked away. “Althea is an old woman. She hasn’t the vigor

to treat Graham’s injuries. Let me help him. I’ll not hurt him.”

His hand gripped her shoulder, and his thumb pressed into

the hollow of her throat, a reminder that he held her life in his

hands. For the first time she actually feared Kyne would do her

physical harm. Pushing aside her apprehension, she projected

an aura of peace, serenity and a confidence she didn’t truly

feel.

“Trust me, Kyne.”

“I’d as soon trust a hungry water worm in my bath.” He

spoke of the large parasitic worms that lived and bred in stagnant

water and fed by burrowing into living flesh. His fingers dug

painfully into her neck. “But I have no choice. If Graham dies,

you die.”

She nodded. In the healing Graham’s ka and her own would

merge. If one perished, so would the other. Her affection for

the man decreed she help him. “I accept your terms. Now

bring him to me.”

Kyne’s gaze searched her face, then he directed three men

to carefully lift Graham’s blanket-draped body. Graham

stiffened and screamed, then went limp. The men carried him

into the small chamber, placed him on the bed, and departed.

Kyne stepped into the room and stood behind Sianna as she

pulled away the blanket. She couldn’t contain her gasp of horror.

Feeling Graham’s pain had not prepared her for the sight of his

injuries.

One leg was broken in three places, the thigh and twice

below the knee, the limb twisted and bulging. The other leg

was broken above his knee, ragged bone protruding through

skin and cloth. Blood still seeped from the torn flesh and soaked

his trousers.

“The price for the captured caravan was too steep.” Kyne’s

hoarse whisper made Sianna turn to him. He rubbed the ache

at his neck, but she knew nothing could ease the pain in his

heart. “You’ll need at least four men to hold him while you

amputate.”

“No!” Graham surged up on his elbows. “You’ll not take

my legs!” Sweat beaded on his chalky, pain-racked face.

Sianna circled his tense shoulders with her arms and tried

to ease him back. “No one will do anything you don’t want us

to. I promise.”

Kyne’s fingers dug painfully into her arm. “Don’t promise

him what you can’t deliver, woman!”

She tried to shake him off. “Please leave. You’re upsetting

him needlessly. I’ll decide the course of his treatment.” Beneath

her hands, Graham’s muscles started to relax.

“If you don’t amputate quickly, infection will set in, and

he’ll die. There’s no choice to be made. It’s your legs or your

life,” Kyne told Graham.

Graham glared at Kyne and struggled against Sianna’s hold.

“Then let me die. I’ll not go through life half a man.”

Patience gone, Sianna shouted, “Enough! Would you two

fight all the way to the gates of eternity?”

Eyes closed, Graham collapsed onto the bed, his strength

spent. “Oblivion’s gates more likely,” he murmured in a feeble

flash of his normal humor.

Kyne snapped his mouth into a tight line which promised

retribution.

“How does he fare?” Laila stood in the doorway.

“Not well,” Kyne answered. “The fool has decided to die.”

“Are his injuries so severe?”

“Not fatal, but crippling. His legs were crushed when his

quinar rolled over him during the battle. He refuses to consider

amputation.” Kyne spoke to Laila but looked at Sianna.

She avoided his gaze and worked at cutting away Graham’s

dirty, blood-soaked trousers. Though his eyes were closed, she

knew Graham was aware of what went on. Pain sapped his

strength, but not his will.

“Perhaps it’s better he die.”

Laila’s seemingly callous disregard for Graham’s life spurred

Kyne’s vehemence. “He’ll not die. I’ll not permit him to. Graham

is strong enough to survive. He must. Our people need him.”

I need him.

As clearly as if he had spoken, Sianna heard his thought.

Startled by the unexpected connection between them, she

glanced up. But already he masked his emotions.