Union (29 page)

“You are correct, Nykin. Dragon blood has healing properties, but can only heal our bonded riders from something as severe as Faelon’s injuries. The spell is killing him from the inside, draining away his life force.”

Nykin shuddered. He helped lay Faelon gently on the sand in front of them.
“So there’s nothing you can do?”
Nykin watched as Avelor dropped to the sand beside Faelon’s head, and ran his fingers through Faelon’s blond hair.
“But I thought—”

“Nykin.” Avelor’s voice was urgent, but his gaze never left Faelon’s face. “Is there anything Fimor can to do to help him?” He did look up then, hurt and misery swimming in his eyes.

Nykin clenched his fist into tight balls at his sides.

“Tell him yes, Nykin.”

“What?”
Nykin’s head shot up, and he glanced quickly over at Fimor.
“But you said—”

“There’s a slight chance that I can save Faelon. But I’m not sure if it will work, so he needs to be prepared for the worst. Hurry.”

Nykin quickly relayed Fimor’s words, and Avelor sagged in relief. “He doesn’t know if it will work though, so….”

“I understand.” Avelor leaned down to kiss Faelon’s pale lips, before sitting back on his heels and looking up expectantly at Nykin. “What do we need to do?”

“Bring him closer to me, and make a cut in his chest where the spell struck him.”

“Grab his arms.” Nykin gestured to Avelor and Ryneq, while he and Selene grabbed Faelon’s legs. “He needs to be next to Fimor.” They laid him out as close to Fimor as they could, and Nykin instructed Avelor to rip open the front of Faelon’s shirt.

Four thick black scorch marks ran across his chest, and the skin around them had already turned an angry red. “You need to cut him open”—Nykin ran his finger over the marks, making sure not to actually touch them—“along here.”

Avelor glared up at him but didn’t hesitate to pull out his knife and slice a deep cut through the middle of it all.

“You need to put my blood in his wound, and he’ll need to drink it too, just like you did.”

“But
—
”

“Just do it, Nykin. I’ll explain, later.”

“Give me your knife.” He held his hand out, and Avelor handed it over with a wary look.
“Where shall I cut you, Fimor?”

“Here.”
He extended his front leg, and Nykin took a deep breath before sliding the knife into the thick hide. It took all his strength to draw blood, but when he did, it flowed thick and fast out of the cut.
“Hurry, Nykin.”

Fimor held his leg over Faelon’s chest, so the blood fell directly into the cut. Silence surrounded him as Nykin helped hold it in place. Everyone watched with bated breath, as Fimor’s blood spilled out into the deep gash in Faelon’s chest.

“That’s enough. Nykin. Now his mouth.”

“Avelor, hold his mouth open.”

Nykin waited for Avelor to pry Faelon’s lips apart and then shifted Fimor’s leg slightly so the blood now dripped into Faelon’s mouth instead. Nykin held his breath and waited. He didn’t remember much about when he’d had to do this, and he had no idea if they needed to do anything to make Faelon drink it.

The blood ran down Faelon’s chin and neck, his mouth too full to hold any more. “Avelor, you need to make him swallow,” Nykin cried.

Avelor’s hands fluttered uselessly around Faelon’s face in desperation. “How?”

“Like this.” Ryneq surged forward and pushed Avelor’s hands out of the way. Ryneq’s face was far paler than it had been a moment ago, and Nykin wondered if he was remembering too. He closed Faelon’s mouth, and clamped his hand over it to keep it shut. “Fimor, can you rouse him just a little?” His other hand massaged Faelon’s throat, coaxing him to swallow over and over, until Faelon groaned softly. His eyes remained closed, and he choked a little, some of the blood spilling out and between Ryneq’s fingers. But he’d swallowed.

“Good, but he needs more, Nykin
.
I can’t keep him in this state for long.”

Nykin quickly pushed Ryneq’s hands out of the way and opened Faelon’s mouth again. Avelor sagged in relief as Faelon started to drink on his own.

Nykin concentrated on getting the blood into Faelon’s mouth, but he still caught the way Ryneq sat back, his hands shaking and covered in Fimor’s blood. Nykin wanted to wrap his arms around him and remind him that it wasn’t him this time—he was alive and well—but they had no time.

Fimor withdrew his leg away from Faelon’s mouth and licked over the wound.
“Now, Nykin. The rest is up to you.”

“Me?”

“You’re connected to Faelon through his magic and now my blood. Close your eyes, Nykin, and search for his essence deep inside you.”

Nykin closed his eyes and concentrated, just like Fimor had shown him the last time they did this. He let his mind go pleasantly blank and focused on the soft hum of magic he could barely feel.
“It’s so faint, Fimor.”
Nykin used everything he had to hang on to it, but it still got weaker and weaker.

“You need to hold on tightly to it. Picture my blood coursing through Faelon’s body and healing him. Faelon’s magic will respond to you, and so will mine, Nykin. You need to draw on them both and use them to drive out the witch’s spell.”

Nykin thought of the thick red of Fimor’s blood and pictured it filling Faelon’s chest and throat. He imagined it flowing through Faelon’s veins, mixing with Faelon’s own magic and washing away the darkness. All the while he held Faelon’s essence tight inside him and refused to let go.

Nykin’s wrist burned under his rider’s mark as Fimor’s magic flowed into him, and his whole body began to ache. He ignored it and blocked out everything else as he willed Faelon to heal.

He held on for as long as he could, but his wrist was on fire, and a wave of dizziness made him drop forward onto his hands. That broke whatever connection he had to Faelon, and Nykin collapsed onto his side.

“Nykin!”

He barely heard Ryneq’s anguished shout as he lost consciousness and everything went black.

H
E
COULDN
’
T
have been out for long, because when Nykin opened his eyes, Ryneq was hovering over him, still calling his name.

“Don’t do that again.” Ryneq glared at him before cupping his face and kissing him hard. He pulled back a little, but only far enough to rest their foreheads together. “Please. I’ve seen you unconscious far more than I care to.”

Nykin managed a weak smile, trying to get that desperate look off Ryneq’s face. “I’ll try my best.”

Ryneq sighed and leaned in to kiss him again before helping him up into a sitting position.

Nykin glanced over at Faelon. He was still lying on the sand, with Avelor stroking his cheek and holding his hand. He looked a little gruesome with Fimor’s blood staining his mouth and chin, and red streaks smeared all over his throat and chest. “How is he?” Nykin could already feel Faelon’s essence growing stronger inside him, but he needed to ask.

Ryneq followed Nykin’s gaze. “He seems to be doing better, but we were waiting for either you or Fimor to confirm it.” Ryneq smiled softly and took hold of Nykin’s hand. “We couldn’t exactly do that with you passed out.”

“Oh.” Nykin was about to mention that he could have just asked Selene, but then he suddenly remembered how his wrist had burned as though on fire. He quickly glanced down at it, but when he turned his hand over the skin appeared unblemished. The pain was gone too. Nykin shook his head, and opened the connection between him and Fimor.

“It worked, didn’t it?”

Fimor swung his head around to face him.
“Yes, Nykin. You can feel his magic getting stronger, can’t you?”

“Yes.”
He smiled and repeated what Fimor had said so Ryneq and Avelor could hear.

“You helped save his life, Nykin. I know it took a lot of energy to do what you did. How are you feeling?”

Nykin closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His body ached all over, and he was tired, but the fact that he’d helped save a life made him feel amazing. It wasn’t really down to him, he knew that. Fimor’s blood, combined with his dragon magic, and Faelon’s, had done most of the work. But Nykin had helped, and Faelon was alive because of it.
“My body feels like I’ve run for miles, but apart from that I feel great. We saved him, Fimor.”

Fimor laughed softly, and a wave of warm comfort seeped through the bond like a blanket. It wrapped around Nykin, and his eyes felt heavy.
He yawned and struggled to remain awake.
“Sleep, Nykin. I’ll take care of everything else.”

Nykin wanted to ask how Fimor was going to do that when he couldn’t talk, but he was already lying back down on the sand, and he was asleep within moments.

R
YNEQ
RESTED
back on his hands as he watched Nykin’s eyes close again. Thankfully, this time just for sleep and not because he’d passed out. Though Ryneq was still a little unclear as to what had tired Nykin so badly. They’d definitely be discussing that later. He knew Nykin had helped Faelon, but he just didn’t know how.

“Sire?” Selene’s hand on his shoulder startled him. She’d been so quiet throughout all of this that he’d forgotten she was there.

“Yes?” He looked up at her and smiled.

“Fimor has spoken to Kalesh, and he suggests we might want to take both Faelon and Nykin back to the royal quarters to rest. They both need watching, especially Faelon.”

“Of course.” He glanced over at Faelon. A little color had returned to his cheeks, but the elf still looked far from well. Their horses were on the road at the edge of the beach, and they had no easy way to get them down there because of the steps. Ryneq rubbed his hand through his hair and sighed. “Just how are we supposed to do that?” It had taken all four of them to carry Faelon down the beach, and now Nykin was asleep.

Selene crouched down next to him. “I can run back and fetch help. I don’t think Faelon should be jostled much, and Nykin is dead to the world.”

Ryneq had to agree, the less traumatic the journey, the better.

“I’ll go.” They both looked up as Avelor spoke. He was still stroking his hand through Faelon’s hair, but Ryneq thought he looked a thousand times better than when they’d left the forest. “I know who to talk to and where to go. It’ll be quicker if I do it.”

“If you’re sure?” Ryneq didn’t think he’d want to leave if Nykin was in that state, but he could understand Avelor offering if he thought he could get help quicker.

Avelor’s gaze dropped back down to rest on Faelon. “I am. He needs to be somewhere better than here to recover properly.” He placed a soft kiss on Faelon’s forehead and then slowly got to his feet. “Watch him for me while I’m gone?”

Both Selene and Ryneq promised to do exactly that, and then Avelor was gone, jogging down the beach without so much as a backward glance.

R
YNEQ
WAS
surprised at how quickly Avelor returned. It didn’t seem long at all before Avelor was walking along the beach toward them with eight elves in tow, carrying two flat boards between them.

They carefully loaded Nykin and Faelon onto the boards, and Ryneq walked alongside Nykin as he was carried back. They took Faelon to one of the guest rooms, where Queen Ahlyria was waiting for them, and she ushered Avelor and Faelon inside with a worried look on her face. Ryneq had already assured her that Nykin just needed to rest, and she’d allowed him to go with a promise to let her know immediately if he needed anything.

The elves left after gently laying Nykin on the bed. Ryneq closed the door and let his head fall back against the wood. It might only be a little past midday, but Ryneq was exhausted. He hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast, and that combined with everything that had happened made him want to collapse next to Nykin and sleep.

He glanced over at the bed where Nykin had curled up on his side and took a couple of steps toward him. But then Ryneq looked down at his hands and stopped dead. Fimor’s dried blood covered them, and he swallowed down the anxiety that threatened to return. He stood there, drew in several long, deep breaths, and forced the memories to the back of his mind.

He’d already had one reminder of when Nykin had been lying so close to death, and he really didn’t want to relive it again. With one last glance at Nykin’s peaceful expression, Ryneq headed for the bathroom to get himself cleaned up.

Their room was warm in the afternoon heat, and after washing his hands, Ryneq stripped off his shirt and slid into bed, settling on his back. He stared up at the ceiling, letting all the events of the morning flow through his mind as he attempted to sort them out.

He’d clearly underestimated Seran’s determination to get at Cerylea, and the lengths he would go to. Seran seemed just as obsessed as Hatak had been. Ryneq had never met a witch before, but he’d heard his father say how untrustworthy they were. Seran must have been desperate to form an alliance with one.