Mercury Mind (The Downfall Saga Book 1) (25 page)

Ravyn let out a shriek, but her and Caddaric just stood there watching their friends burn, but couldn’t bring themselves to risk the flames to help them. Help came from the most unlikely of sources. Timid Delaney sprung over the table, and struggled to slowly flip the bed over onto its side.

Finally freeing themselves, Donovan shoved Kort out of the flames and struggled to crawl out after him.

***

D
onovan awoke in great pain. Everything hurt. He didn’t know how long he lay there before he finally forced open his crusty eyes. The room was dim, or maybe it was his eyes.

He stared up at the ceiling until he became aware of a hushed conversation on the far side of the room.

“Have you made any progress?” came Osmont’s voice.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” came a rich, feminine voice that he didn’t recognize. “I’ve had patients who were too far gone for me to help, but I’ve never seen one who was immune to my healing.”

“You and me both,” said Osmont. “I thought my Gift was failing me when I couldn’t help him. I’m strangely relieved to hear that others are having the same difficulties, but I wish that there was something we could do for him.”

“You and me both,” she said. “I have my assistants searching our records for anything like this. I can form a connection, but as soon as I try to probe his injuries or attempt to heal him, his body shuts me out completely.”

“I didn’t think it possible for someone to actively shut out the healing, let alone when they’re unconscious.”

“If there are no changes come morning, then I’m going to gather my entire staff together and we’ll try to overcome his defenses. Otherwise, we’ll do our best to keep him comfortable and let him heal naturally.”

“At least his friend was healed and is safe in his own bed. Let me know if there are any changes.”

Donovan saw a beam of light illuminate the room as a door opened. He turned his head and saw an empty bed beside him. The door closed and he was plunged into darkness. He could see star light streaming in through a window in the opposite wall. A blanket of darkness obscured the stars in the distance, and he saw the occasional flash of lightning.

He slowly pulled the sheet off of him, and saw that he was dressed in a thin smock. He eased his legs over the side of the bed and sat up. Every part of his body protested in agony and he nearly fell back down. He sat there, breathing deeply, before getting to his feet.

He gingerly crossed the room to look in a mirror hanging on the wall, his arms and legs made a crackling sounds each time he moved them. He couldn’t make out his reflection in the mirror until the next flash of lightning. His face was red and peeling, moist as if coated in a clear oil. His forearms were stiff and had a leathery texture. His hands were the only part of him which didn’t hurt, in fact they didn’t feel anything at all. They were black and charred, and he struggled to bend his fingers. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the mirror, leaving a red streak.

Lightning flashed again, much brighter this time, drawing his attention to the window. He made his way to the window, leaving a trail of bloody footprints behind and looked out.

The storm was rapidly approaching. Dark, billowing clouds were devouring the stars. A small ball of light grew in intensity until he could barely look at it, before exploding into a flower of light. He waited, but did not hear any thunder following the lightning. A second ball of light exploded in the sky. He knew that was no ordinary storm. This was a Downfall ... and it was calling to him.

He couldn’t explain the feeling that took over his body, but he struggled out of the smock and left it lying on the floor. He struggled with his numb fingers to open the latch on the window, but finally on the third try he got it. He pushed the window open, the two halves swinging outwards. He stuck his head out the window and inhaled the crisp mountain air. Despite the time of year, it was surprisingly pleasant outside.

He didn’t recognize where he was. He was in a deep valley which he assumed was part of Haven. A thick mist covered the valley floor and he could hear bubbling water from somewhere nearby. It was humid and as warm as a spring day. The longer he stood there the more he could make out the sounds of water. He was glad for the warm temperature, whether from a magical source or nearby hot spring.

He climbed onto the window sill, each movement causing pangs of agony. He tested the window pane and found that it could hold his weight. Swinging it out all the way, he climbed on top of it and then up onto the roof. It was challenging with his hands, but he carefully continued his climb. It was a stone flagged roof made of slate, with a steep pitch. Between the pitch and the moisture, it was a slippery climb. Practically crawling on hands and knees, leaving patches of skin behind with each step, he made it to the peak of the roof.

Laying down on his back, right arm wrapped around a chimney, he watched the storm move in. The world darkened as it devoured each star. Each flare of lightning nearly blinded him and left him in a dark abyss when it departed.

A gentle rain began to fall. Donovan opened his mouth to taste the rain. Eyes closed, he could barely feel it patter on his skin, but could still see the bright flashes of lightning. The gentle rain washed him clean. His frustration at Osmont for keeping stuff from him slowly ebbed and disappeared. His fight with Kort suddenly felt trivial, and he felt ashamed for losing his cool.

As his feelings drained away, he was left with many unanswered questions. He was left with a longing to know who he is. Who were his parents and what had happened to them? Were they somehow involved in the Blood magic carved into his chest? He had trouble believing that any parent could let something like that happen to their child, but why hadn’t they tried to track him down? Eamon knew where he was and treated him like a surrogate son, so why hadn’t his own father found him?

He stretched his arm and was rewarded with shooting pains. He was reminded again how different he was than the other students. Kort had already been healed and was sleeping soundly, while he was still in pain. At first he had thought that he was just incredibly weak, but he couldn’t explain all of the irregularities. His defenses were apparently extraordinary, almost as if he had a natural immunity to magic, and no one could explain what had happened on the mountain side. He knew it was impossible to crawl up a vertical surface like an insect, yet he had somehow done so.

He didn’t know how the Clachwards fit into all of this. Why did they seem to single him out? Was it because of his Gift, the Blood magic or just because of who he is?

The rain was soothing where it hit his skin. The blisters and burns practically melted away in the rain’s wake. After an hour in the rain, the Godstorm enveloping the entire valley, he realized that the sensation was returning to his hands. He flexed his fingers and didn’t feel any pain. In fact, he didn’t feel pain anywhere.

Relaxing, he drifted off to sleep.

He awoke refreshed in the morning. Looking down, he saw that his body was completely healed, skin soft and pink like a newborn baby.

When the shock wore off, he remembered that he was laying naked on the roof. He hurried back inside before someone saw his nakedness. He examined himself in the mirror and could find no traces of his injuries from the previous day.

Looking around the room, he saw the discarded smock on the floor and dried blood smeared around the room, proving that he hadn’t been hallucinating and that the burns had been real.

He searched the room but couldn’t find any other clothes. Donning the smock, he opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. The hallway was brightly lit and devoid of people.

“Hello,” he called, “Anybody here?”

A familiar face appeared out of a door down the hallway, followed by a body that he would never forget.

“Donovan,” said Aubrey Bishop, hurrying over. “What are you doing here? Wait, you weren’t the burnt person in there, were you?” She gave him a hug which felt exquisite on his freshly healed skin.

“Hi,” he said. “I was, but as you can see, I got better.”

“How? I was told that healing hadn’t worked.”

“A boy’s got to have his secrets,” he said. “Speaking of secrets, is there any chance of getting some clothes to cover mine?”

“What’s wrong with the ones you were wearing when you came here?”

“I suspect that they got a little crispy in the fire.”

“Oh, yeah. I’ve got to finish my rounds, but if you wait, I’ll come to see you in a while.” Without waiting for a response, she hurried back to the room she’d come out of.

Donovan watched her walk away, before retiring back to his room. With nothing else to occupy him, Donovan began a Vanora, the slow stretching routine helping to loosen his muscles. He was just getting warmed up when a knock sounded on the door and an older woman entered the room.

She had a stern face, creased from a perpetual frown with heavy folds under her eyes. She had her hair pulled back in a bun and wore a simple white robe over top of her clothes.

“I’m Professor Codee,” she said briskly, while crossing the room. “You look much better than last night.”

“I suppose I do,” he said. “Any chance that I can get a change of clothes so I can get out of here?”

“Have a seat.” She took his arm and forcefully guided him back to the bed. She reached out and tenderly ran her hand over his arm. “Remarkable,” she said to herself.

She moved the smock aside and gave a sharp intake of breath when she saw the symbol carved into his chest, still as pristine as the first time that Donovan had seen it. She showed no other signs of emotion as she spent several minutes confirming that Donovan was completely healed, which left him blushing furiously by the end of the thorough examination.

“There are no traces of the burns,” she said matter-of-factly. “If I hadn’t seen you last night, I wouldn’t have believed that you were burned, except for the hair of course. So who managed to heal you?”

“I think that I healed myself.”

“That’s impossible. You should know that.”

“It’s not the first time that I’ve done the impossible, nor will it be the last,” he said getting up off the bed and pacing around the room. “Now, unless I’m confined here, I would like to leave.”

“Osmont is on his way. He can show you the way back when he gets here. I have other patients to see.” She strode out of the room without looking back.

Donovan walked over to the window and peered out. With the sun now risen, he could see a little more of the valley. A thick mist hung in the air originating from a series of steaming, roiling pools of water spread around the valley floor.

Eventually Osmont entered the room without knocking. He held a change of clothes for Donovan in his arms, which he dropped onto the bed.

“I’ve been told that you’re doing better,” said Osmont.

“Much,” said Donovan, looking through the clothes on the bed. “Look, I’m sorry about what I said. I was upset at how easy it was for me to kill the king and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

“I thought about what you had said, and it was fair to question our motives. I should have recognized the parallels between the glamour and what you are going through.”

“It’s okay,” said Donovan. “Can you turn your back while I get changed?”

Osmont turned to look at the door, while Donovan changed into the spare set of clothes.

“Is Kort okay?

“He’s fine, other than an overall lack of hair, like yourself. He was healed without delay, but you were a different story.”

“Different is the story of my life.”

The two of them continued talking as Osmont led the way back to the familiar section of Haven. Passing through a narrow tunnel, Donovan found himself near the back end of the quad. Turning around, he could see the tunnel leading to the rest of Haven for the first time.

“That wasn’t there before,” said Donovan.

“It’s been there for a long time,” replied Osmont. “There is an illusion hiding the tunnel from sight, but the illusion loses its potency when you know that it’s there.”

“I’ll take your word on that,” said Donovan. “Am I allowed to travel through there on my own?”

“Technically, there are no rules against it, but I ask you to ignore it until you come back next year.”

“If I come back.”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

“If it’s a choice between learning about my past or struggling with my nearly non-existent Gift, then it’s an easy choice.”

“Don’t give up on it so soon. There’s something special about it and we’ll eventually figure it out.”

“Aren’t you going to ask about how I got healed?”

“You’ll tell me when you’re ready.”

Donovan paused on the steps leading up to the building. “It was the storm. The Downfall healed me.”

Osmont let out a laugh. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“I’m serious,” said Donovan. “I had an urge to go out into the storm and when I woke, I had been healed.”

He couldn’t read the look on Osmont’s face, before he headed back to his office. Donovan climbed the stairs to their room. He didn’t feel like attending his classes, so he laid down and waited for everyone to return.

Hours later he could hear a conversation approaching down the hallway. Donovan sat up in his bed as the door opened.

“... frozen. How could he keep us out in the cold for ... Donovan, you’re here and healthy,” said Ravyn. Donovan climbed out of the bed and was nearly knocked back onto it with the fierceness of her hug.

“Hi,” said Donovan meekly. Looking over her shoulder, he could see Kort standing just inside the door. There were no traces of the burns from the previous day. His missing hair and eyebrows gave him an ethereal quality which was at odds with his normal expressive face.

Releasing Ravyn, he gave Delaney a quick hug.

“I’m glad that you’re okay,” said Caddaric, reaching out to shake hands.

Releasing his hand, Donovan walked over to stand in front of Kort, while the other three stood watching. The two of them slowly looked each other up and down. Caddaric headed over to get between the two of them, until Donovan raised his hand to wave him back.