Alora Page 7

  “None of that explains why she can’t wake up. And by the way, Doc, a coma seems pretty serious to me. So maybe this isn’t really PTSD.”

  Uncle Charles. He sounds upset. I need to let him know I’m okay.

  “As I said before, it’s not a coma,” Dr. Sanders said. “It’s simply a prolonged unconsciousness. Coma is a much deeper state.”

  Uncle Charles huffed, and Alora imagined him rolling his eyes.

  “You may as well accept it, Doc. In this realm, some things are beyond your knowledge as a physician. Like Jireo said—”

  “I know what Jireo said. But just because he got a weird feeling that Alora would die, doesn’t mean I believe it. She would’ve woken up, eventually. You see, with PTSD—”

  “Can we not allow Laethan the opportunity to attempt a healing?”

  That’s Graely’s voice, for sure. How did they get here? Did I transport a bunch of people in my sleep?

  “I’d like to go on the record as saying it was a mistake to bring her here,” Doc Sanders proclaimed. “I should never have let you take her out of the hospital.”

  “But you said yourself you had no idea why she was unconscious. Whatever you put in that IV did nothing,” Beth argued.

  “That doesn’t mean I approve of you taking her to some medieval witch doctor,” barked Doc.

  “You must let Laethan fix her. You have to,” Markaeus cried. “Please—”

  “Enough! Out of my healing house! Leave me to my patient and go waggle your tongues about in some other place.”

  That’s Laethan. Who else sounds that grouchy? Well, besides Doc?

  “Any who remain here beyond the next breath will be chained to a bed and treated with a double dose of leeches.”

  Cries and scuffling of shoes on the wooden floor marked the abrupt departure of the crowd. Greatly fearing the leech treatment, Alora struggled to open her eyes, desperate to leave with the others.

  “You’ll let me stay with her, won’t you?” Kaevin’s anxiety made her heart beat even faster.

  “You may remain, if you follow my direction.”

  “I believe she’s waking up.” Kaevin’s voice shook as gentle fingers caressed her cheek.

  “I hope not,” said Laethan. “I find unconscious patients much easier to leech. Perhaps I should attach my hungry friends quickly, before she awakens.”

  “No...” Barely a whisper, Alora breathed the word, praying someone would hear. “No leeches.”

  Kaevin’s lips touched hers, warm and tender. “Don’t listen to him, Alora. He’s only teasing you.”

  “Lower your voice, please. I’ll not have you undermining my authority with such nonsense. I never tease.”

  Finally, her eyelids came unglued, cracking open just enough to see a tiny sliver of light.

  A wide smile lit Kaevin’s face, but there were deep shadows under his eyes. “I feared you’d never come back to me. You’ve been asleep for a long time.”

  Alora’s stomach growled in confirmation. Forcing her eyes open wider, she saw Laethan scowling at her. She reached out, trying to sense his emotion. Was it anger? Impatience? Something else? His mind was a blank slate—nothing.

  His lips stretched in something almost like a smile, not quite eliminating his grumpy countenance.

  “That won’t work with me, my dear. And now that you’re in my healing house, you’ll follow my orders in everything you do, especially concerning the use of your empathy.”

  Wait... I’m in Laegenshire? Her eyes focused on the rustic stacked stone walls and panned the room, sweeping across the orderly rows of beds, a few of which were occupied with other patients.

  “It’s amazing,” Kaevin remarked. “She hasn’t been here more than three or four fingers. How did you wake her?”

  “You’ll understand, Kaevin. All in good time.”

  “How did I get here?” she rasped.

  Ignoring her question, Laethan reached for a mug of water and held it to her mouth. With Kaevin supporting her, she sat up enough to take a few soothing sips. She fell back onto the bed, still weak, but more alert by the second.

  “Do you remember what happened?” Kaevin asked her.

  “Not really... I remember we were making chocolate chip cookies.”

  “Do you remember getting this burn?” Stretching her arm out, he pointed to the back of her forearm where an angry red welt had taken up residence.

  She tentatively probed the blistered skin with one finger, expecting it to be sensitive. “I don’t remember how this happened, but it feels numb when I touch it. It doesn’t hurt at all.” She pressed a little harder.

  “Yes, Alora. It hurts,” said Laethan. The words had no sooner left his lips than a throb erupted from the burned skin.

  “Ow! It does hurt. No, it stopped again. Weird... I guess I’m controlling the pain.”

  “No, you aren’t,” Laethan replied. “I am.”

  ~7~

  “You’re controlling my pain?” asked Alora. “How? Is it some kind of healer magick?”

  Laethan sank onto an adjacent bed, his eyes looking up to the ceiling as if the answer were etched in the wood planks. “It is my gift.”

  When she glanced at Kaevin, he offered only a shrug.

  “Because you’re a healer?” Feeling lightheaded, Alora struggled to sit up, letting her legs hang from the side of the bed. She patted the lumpy mattress in invitation, and Kaevin sat down supporting her with an arm around her shoulder.

  A long, heavy sigh preceded Laethan’s response. “I possess the same gift as yours, Alora. I’m gifted in empathy.”

  “I don’t understand.” Kaevin frowned at the healer. “If you have the gift of empathy, why weren’t you the one training Alora? Raelene said the gift is rare, and no one else in Laegenshire possessed it. She traveled to Rivershire to interview someone gifted in empathy.”

  “Had I known Raelene would be given such inept advice, I would have confessed. And I suppose now my secret will be exposed, at any rate.”

  “But why keep your gift a secret?” asked Alora. “Is it because you’re a man and ashamed of your feelings?”

  For once, Laethan seemed quite speechless, staring at her with his mouth agape, as if she’d asked him if he liked the smell of stinky socks. He blinked a few times and lifted his eyebrows. “Why would I be ashamed of my emotions simply because I’m male?”

  “I don’t know,” Alora admitted. “It sounds silly when you ask, but I think a lot of guys in my realm try to hide most of their feelings. So why hide your gift?”

  Laethan’s customary scowl returned. “Being a healer is my life. I’ve worked hard to hone my skills.”

  “So your healing gift is more valuable than your empathy gift?” asked Alora.

  Laethan appeared upset by her question. “Have you taught her nothing, Kaevin?”

  “There’s no such thing as a healing gift, Alora. Remember? We talked about all the major gifts,” said Kaevin.

  “I know,” she recited, ticking them off on her fingers. “Agility, bearer, discernment, farsight, judging, language, shaman, strength, weapons, and wisdom. But you told me there were a ton of minor gifts, like empathy, and a bunch were obscure. I just assumed healing was one of those rare minor gifts.”

  Laethan scanned the room, his gaze resting for a moment on three occupied beds on the far side of the room. Evidently assured no one could eavesdrop, he pursed his lips and continued his explanation. “Healing is an occupation, not a gift. Most healers are gifted in wisdom, as there is much to learn and remember, and faulty memory can cause death. Agility is useful, as well as minor gifts of touch and water source.”

  “Water source? Why does that help?” asked Alora, failing to see how finding a good location for a well could help a person with healing.

  “Those with a water source gift can detect any fluid, though it be hidden from site. That gift is invaluable for determining the source of bleeding inside the body.”

  “Oh, I get it. They act kind of li
ke a magic CT scan,” Alora joked.

  Blank stares.

  “Wow, this is a tough crowd.” She chuckled. “What does all that have to do with keeping your empathy gift a secret?”

  Laethan stretched his lips in a wide grimace. “Those gifted in empathy are strictly prohibited from being healers.”

  Kaevin was as surprised as Alora, his mouth opening and closing like Pavarotti, a goldfish Alora had managed to keep alive for over a year when she was seven.

  “Why?” he asked. “It seems as though empathy would be a valuable gift for a healer.”

  “It could be, but...” Laethan drummed his fingers on his knees. “Alora, do you know the difference between a major and minor gift?”

  “Yes. A major gift is a power that’s kind of turned on all the time and affects everything you do. And a minor gift is something you use whenever you feel like it, so you can turn it off and on like a light switch.”

  She saw the whites of Laethan’s eyes as they rolled around.

  “And Alora knows that empathy is a minor gift,” said Kaevin. “But her gift appears to be quite difficult to control.”

  “Empathy is an unusual gift—rare and not well-understood,” said Laethan. “Because it is so weak in most, it is considered a minor gift. Sometimes, however, the gift grows stronger with age, until it acts much more like a major gift, an essential part of a person, affecting every aspect of life.”

  “That could explain the one thing I haven’t quite been able to learn about empathy—how to turn it off. I got really good at blocking my pain instead of broadcasting it everywhere, especially at Kaevin. But I can’t seem to make the gift go away at will.”

  The sound that emerged from Laethan’s throat could only be described as a growl. “You’ve been blocking your pain?”

  “Well, most of the time.” She chewed her lip, flashing an apologetic glance to Kaevin, who had borne the brunt of her shared pain, both during the torture and the long, slow recovery. “I just imagine building a thick wall or being wrapped in a tight blanket. That seems to keep pain inside pretty well, although my emotions are a lot more leaky. I haven’t felt much pain since Raelene taught me to block it, after the... the incident with my father.”

  “Bright!” Laethan leapt to his feet with an open-mouthed expression she compared to someone watching a horror movie. Beside her, Kaevin flinched at his outburst, but the Tenavae curse word didn’t bother Alora.

  “Are you telling me you’ve felt no pain at all since the day of your torture at Vindrake’s hand? For moons?”

  She couldn’t help being proud of her accomplishment, but she tried not to brag. “Yes. I couldn’t do that at first, not during the actual torture.”

  She swallowed the last word, as a wave of remembered pain pulsed through her, threatening to spill out. Clutching Kaevin’s hand, she drew on the soulmate bond to push it back. It’s okay as long as I don’t do it too often. It was just so much easier than willing the power from another source. Confident she was once again under control, she boasted, “Once I learned I had the empathy gift, I used it so I wouldn’t feel any pain from the burns. But Raelene taught me how to draw my power from water, stone, and wood, instead of depleting the soulmate bond like I used to.”

  Laethan stomped to her bedside, pushed Kaevin’s hand away, and clasped both of her hands in his. His expression was so fierce, with his bushy brows folded low over his eyes, she thought he might hit her. But what he actually did was much worse.

  “I’m sorry, Alora. This is going to hurt.”

  “What are you going to—” The words died on her lips as her breath left her in a scream. The burns on her arms flared back to life as if they’d never healed. On and on, the searing agony screeched through her nerve endings. She thought she heard Kaevin yelling something, but she was only aware of the focused pain radiating through her body.

  Laethan dropped her hands and stepped back, panting, his face drenched with sweat.

  “What did you do to her?” Kaevin demanded, stepping between them, using his body to block her from Laethan.

  “I’m so sorry, but it must be done,” said Laethan, his voice hoarse as if he’d been screaming as well. Perhaps he had been. “Like emotions, pain is never meant to be captured and held inside. It will only grow more and more intense. It must come out. But you have stored so much pain.” He shook his head and swallowed hard. “So much pain.”

  “Are you saying, after all she’s been through, she must experience all of that pain again?”

  Her soulmate was on his feet, and he looked like he wanted to slash someone with his sword.

  Laethan turned, directing his answer to Alora. She was amazed at how calm she felt as he pronounced her upcoming suffering. “There is no other way. You cannot keep it within, for it will smother you. And you cannot be rid of it without feeling it. When Kaevin shared the pain of your torture through your gift, he probably kept you alive. Sharing lessens the pain.”

  “Please, don’t do it,” Kaevin pleaded. “She can’t bear it again. Let me feel it in her place.”

  Laethan’s head was already shaking from side to side. “I was selfish and fainthearted to hide my gift once I realized Alora was gifted in empathy. But now I will do everything in my power to ease the recovery. I can accept some of the pain and lessen its sensation. My ability to perform that function is one of the reasons those with empathy must not be healers. One walks a fine line when sharing pain or life force with another. After one healer lost his mind and another died while treating a patient, it was forbidden.”

  “I won’t allow it!” Kaevin swore. “There must be some other way!”

  “No, Kaevin.” Alora reached out to touch his arm, sending a swell of serenity toward him. “Let Laethan do his thing. I’m not saying it didn’t hurt like Hades, but I feel better already.”

  “And you and I will have many lessons, Alora.” Laethan punctuated his displeasure with crossed arms. “I know what you just did, and it will not do to use your gift to manipulate others, no matter how noble your intent. We must protect ourselves from the lure of evil that comes with such a practice.”

  “What did she do?” asked Kaevin.

  Alora kept her eyes averted. “Sorry, Kaevin. I was only trying to keep you calm.”

  “The fault lies with me, Alora. For you did not know because you were not taught.”

  Blowing out a long breath from puffed cheeks, Alora realized she had almost as much to unlearn as to learn.

  “Kaevin, you should take your soulmate to find nourishment, and we will meet again after supper. Meanwhile, I must go make my confession.”

  Laethan smoothed his hair, binding it with a leather tie. Bending to adjust the laces on his leather boots, he straightened, breathing in until his chest expanded. He surveyed the healing room with sad, longing eyes, before purposeful strides took him to the door, where he paused. “I promise to attend to your healing and training, though I may no longer be chief healer when we meet again.”

  With that pronouncement, Laethan slipped through the door. The soft snap of its closing sounded ominous and final.

  **************

  Thalaena held out her palm, displaying the small, smooth stone. “It no longer seems effective. I wore it around my neck, just as you suggested. At first, I felt a great deal of energy—so much so that I couldn’t even sleep with it in place. But after only two days, I felt nothing at all.”

  She studied the merchant as he took the stone, nodding his head while he rummaged in his cloth sack. His dark hair was streaked with gray, tied behind his head with a piece of braided leather. Deep green eyes were accented with bushy eyebrows, like two great, furry worms clinging to his forehead. Intricate stitching decorated his tunic, one of many indications of his wealth. His boots and leathers were also of fine quality, as was the ornate carved table. He kept his shop neat and tidy, from the cobweb-free ceiling to the polished wooden planks of the floor.

  Well known for his pottery, of which some fifty o
r more cooking pots of various shapes and sizes sat in orderly array on the shelves, he must have had an abundance of patrons. Yet he seemed nervous that no one else was buying his wares, constantly checking the door in anticipation of another customer’s arrival.

  Placing the stone on the table, he withdrew a cloth from his bag.

  “So Alora and Kaevin are back in Laegenshire?” he asked in a casual voice as he spit on the stone and buffed it with the cloth.

  “Who told you that?” she asked, suddenly suspicious, since the pair’s retrieval had only taken place the previous day.

  He cocked his head to the side, shrugging his shoulders. “I hear things...”

  She held her tongue, and he turned his attention back to the stone, scratching the surface with a fingernail, chewed so short it looked like it could bleed.

  “Let me sand the surface to allow the essence of the stone to emerge again. I’ll have it back to you within a hand.”

  “Actually, Blaggard, I thought I might simply ask for the return of my coins.”

  His thick brows flew up as his eyes widened. “No! Please, give the stone another chance. After the sanding, I’m certain you’ll be happy with it.”

  Strange he should be so concerned. He appears to have luxuries aplenty. Why would he panic over a few coppers?

  She explained. “I also find the stone bothersome when I practice at battle. It distracts me, bouncing about on my chest. Yet you say it must contact my skin to be effective.”

  “You could take it off when you fight,” he suggested, drumming his fingers on the table.

  “But battle is when I would need it most.”

  “What if I could secure the stone to a belt? Would you not be willing to try it again? Think what you could accomplish with your gifting amplified.”

  “I don’t believe the stone enhances my agility. However, I did feel more alert... perhaps slightly quicker. But no more benefit than using Roseroot oil.”

  He winced.