Book Two: ‘King’s Champion.’

Chapter One. 

Fleeing Rykan’s wrath and the patrols sent to hunt them down, Marik, Ruth, Taran, Ric, Bull and Robin, the captain bearing Sullivan’s unresponsive form before him on his horse, rode as fast as they dared through the dark woods. Poor light forced them to use the main trails but many patrols had come and gone over the previous weeks so their tracks would not be too obvious, at least while it was dark. If they could get far enough away by dawn, they should be relatively safe.

It was a nightmare ride and they shied at shadows; jumping at the slightest sound. Marik was in mortal fear of his life and rode hunched in silence, dreading the sounds of pursuit. He knew what his fate would be should Rykan’s patrols find them. But only once did Bull sense someone close on their tail and they urged the horses back into a gallop where they could. Eventually they lost their pursuers in the maze of trails and trees.

They rode through the night, not slackening their pace nor pausing to rest the horses until they were sure they were clear of patrols. Ruth shared mounts with both Ric and Taran during their flight, to reduce the burden on her own overloaded horse. Riding with Ric again, some hours later, she asked him to move closer to Robin. They came up on the captain’s left, as he held Sullivan cradled in his arms with her back resting against his right arm and her head bowed against his chest.

‘Any change?’ Ruth asked softly as Ric’s horse drew abreast.

Robin raised red-rimmed eyes and she realised he had been weeping. ‘None,’ he said.

‘Let me see,’ she said, pulling on the rein to edge Ric’s horse closer. Reaching across, she drew down a corner of the velvet cloak. Putting her hand to Sullivan’s neck, she felt for a pulse. Her fingers came away bloody due to the chafing of the silver collar. Robin’s eyes never left hers.

‘It’s difficult to tell,’ she said slowly, ‘the movement of the horses interferes. But I think she’s still with us. Only she’s so very cold.’

‘I’m doing my best!’ choked Robin.

Ruth was shocked by his anguish and squeezed his arm. ‘Oh Robin, I know you are. If not for you, she’d still be in that cell and almost certainly dead by now. At least she’s among friends, even if . . .’ She let the sentence hang, unwilling to complete it.

Robin closed his eyes, whispering, ‘That’s no comfort, Ruth.’

Ruth kicked the horse ahead, catching up with Marik. ‘Count,’ she called, ‘have we come far enough to think about stopping yet? We’ve been riding for hours. Your help in this rescue will count for nothing if I can’t assess the major’s injuries and give her some treatment.’

‘If we’re caught by Rykan’s men, no treatment in the world will save us,’ he snapped. ‘We’ve a long way to go yet.’

‘Do you have a destination in mind then?’ asked Bull, overhearing the exchange.

‘No,’ snarled the count, ‘I thought we’d just ride around in aimless circles until we get dizzy! What do you bloody take me for? Of course I have a destination in mind!’

Muttering curses, he kicked his horse so hard that it jumped into a canter again, forcing the others to follow.

‘I wonder what’s eating him?’ murmured Ric in Ruth’s ear.

‘I imagine if you’d just lost everything you ever had, you’d be feeling tetchy, too,’ said Ruth tartly, watching the count’s rigid back. Ric stayed wisely silent.

A couple of hours later, in the early hours of the morning, Marik drew rein, letting the others catch up. The horses were blowing and lathered, their sides heaving. Their riders were in no better shape; lack of sleep and too much adrenaline had taken their toll. Ruth suddenly realised she could dimly make out their faces; the false light of dawn was stealing across the sky.

Marik had stopped on the edge of a rise, careful to keep a line of trees behind him to show no silhouette. ‘We’ve come a little more north than west now,’ he said, his earlier ill-mood replaced by exhaustion. ‘I’m not completely sure but I think we’re about an hour away from an old drovers’ hut I know of, somewhere over that way.’ He waved a hand off to their left, over the ridge. ‘Has anyone sensed any patrols lately?’

Bull shook his head. He glanced at Robin but didn’t bother asking the question; he could see the captain was preoccupied with his own worries. Taran offered to link with him to search a wider area. The others waited until they were done.

‘The nearest people are a good few hours away,’ reported the big man, ‘and they’re all asleep. It seems we’ve shaken them off for now.’

Marik nodded. ‘Right, let’s see if my memory serves me and I can find this hut. It isn’t much but it should give us shelter and the opportunity for a fire and hot water.’ He glanced at Ruth. ‘I take it that’s what you’ll want?’

She managed a small smile. ‘Among other things, Count.’

Rolling his eyes, he led them over the ridge at a steady pace.

When they finally found the drovers’ hut the light had increased, showing a thin film of mist on ground lightly laced with frost. The hut was a low building nestling snugly against the hillside; single-roomed with one door and two windows. It had a sod-covered roof glittering with hoar-frost, but it looked in good repair. To one side was a small corral for the horses with a lean-to barn attached; they hoped this would contain fodder for the exhausted animals. They rode cautiously up to the hut, though Bull could sense no occupants. Swinging down from his horse he steadied himself against the animal as his weary legs took his weight. Passing his reins to the count, he pushed open the door and disappeared inside.

A few moments later, he re-emerged. ‘All clear. There’s wood for a fire and it’s relatively clean and dry. It’s even stocked with some supplies. Robin,’ he said, turning to the young captain, ‘give her to me and I’ll take her inside.’

He stopped short at the expression on Robin’s face. The increasing light had shown the young man what he had not noticed during the ride. He stared at Ruth, his dark-blue eyes wide with fright. ‘Ruth,’ he whispered on a note of panic, ‘where’s this blood coming from?’

Alarmed, Ruth kneed Taran’s tired horse over to Robin’s and he wordlessly showed her his arm where the major’s body had been held against him. His sleeve was soaked with blood, as was the velvet of the count’s cloak. He stared in anguish at the worried healer. Reaching out, she drew back a fold of the ruined cloak and saw that the slim, bruised legs beneath were covered in bright red blood. Robin gasped.

‘All right, Robin,’ soothed Ruth, trying to stay calm. Her own panic was rising; she was only too afraid she knew the cause of the bleeding. ‘It’s just possible that it’s . . . natural, you know?’ Sure that it wasn’t, she had to offer him something.

‘Oh!’ Robin had not thought of this possibility and coloured.

‘Let’s get her inside, get a fire and some warm water going and then we can see what we’re dealing with.’

Ruth was half-relieved, as the bleeding showed that the girl was still alive. However, losing more blood, even should it prove – against Ruth’s better instincts – to be body-rhythm blood, meant danger to the barely alive major and Ruth slithered hastily from Taran’s sweaty horse, following Bull inside the hut.

There was a large fireplace already laid with wood and Bull knelt before it to coax it into life. Ruth took in the rude surroundings; a solid wooden table and a few stools occupied one end of the simple room and a trestle bed with a few folded blankets stood against the wall at the other end. There were shelves over the fireplace stacked with wooden bowls and plates, and a motley collection of battered pots and pans was piled at one end, next to crocks of preserves and dried herbs. The floor was packed earth and the two windows, one either side of the door, were grimy with dust. But the place smelt clean and dry and when the first crackle of fire lit the gloomy interior, a measure of cheer came to the place.

Bull went back outside to help Robin while Ruth dragged the bed nearer the fire. She placed the folded blankets on the hearth to warm them and when Robin entered the room carrying Sullivan, she asked him to sit on the bed and hold the unconscious girl against him. The others stayed outside, caring for the horses.

Bull came back in with a large pail of fresh icy water drawn from the drinking pool in the paddock. Ruth asked him to boil some both for washing and for sterilising her instruments. He set about doing so.

Laying her medical bag on the bed, Ruth rummaged in it for clean cloths. Delicately, with the captain averting his eyes, too afraid of what he might see, Ruth pulled back the blood-sodden cloak, exposing the poor, battered body beneath. She heard Bull’s gasp of shock, forgetting he had not seen Sullivan in the cell. Belatedly, she thought she ought to have warned him. However, she had more pressing concerns. Gently, she moved the girl’s left leg and bent the knee. Her gasp of outrage at the torn and abused flesh between the girl’s legs told Robin all he needed to know.

‘It’s not . . . natural . . . is it?’ he whispered.

Ruth stared at his pinched, grey face; her horror matching his.

‘Oh gods, Robin,’ she murmured, feeling sick. ‘No, it’s not.’

The others came in then, having rubbed down the horses and fed them on the grain and hay they had found in the barn. Dumping packs on the table, Ric came over to the bed. Ruth was using cloths to stem the worst of the bleeding, which she knew must have been aggravated by the rough ride. Ric exclaimed in horror as he saw what Ruth was doing. The others glanced over but stayed out of the way, giving the healer room to work. They could tell by the look on Robin’s face that the news wasn’t good.

Ruth looked up. ‘Ric, I shall have to do some stitching,’ she said. ‘Will you be able to assist me?’ He had helped her back at the Manor and was the nearest she had to a trained assistant. To her relief he nodded, starting to lay out what she would need.

Ruth turned to the captain. ‘Robin?’ But he was lost in his grief and she had to speak his name again. He started and looked down at her. The pain in his eyes nearly overset her professional calm and she had to breathe deeply. ‘I’ll need you alert, too,’ she warned. ‘Sullivan needs our help right now; we can deal with our grief and anger later. All right?’

For a moment she thought he might snap at her, but then he nodded.

‘The first thing we need to do is get these manacles off,’ she stated. ‘I can’t work while her arms are held behind her back. Besides, her muscles and circulation are suffering.’ Looking over her shoulder she called, ‘Count?’ The Andaryan was sitting by himself with his head in his hands; he startled like a kicked dog at being addressed. ‘Do you still have the jailor’s keys?’ she asked. ‘Is there one for these manacles?’

Searching his jacket, he produced the bunch of keys. ‘I think it’s this one,’ he said, indicating a small silver key.

Covering Sullivan once more with the ruins of the cloak, Ruth said, ‘Rob, can you turn her without disturbing those cloths?’

Stirring himself, Robin helped Ruth bring Sullivan’s arms out from under the folds of cloak, exposing the silver manacles. Ruth took the keys from Marik and used another cloth to hold the one he had indicated. Without touching the metal of the cuffs, she managed to insert the key in each and release them. Picking them up by the short links that joined them, she dropped them on the floor. Marik kicked them viciously towards the door with his foot.

Ruth clicked her tongue in dismay at the raw flesh where the spellsilver cuffs had burned Sullivan’s wrists. The injuries were not life-threatening though and would keep. Turning her attention to the collar she was about to try the key in its lock when Marik suddenly stopped her. Glancing up in alarm, Ruth saw panic in his eyes.

So did Robin. ‘What is it, man?’

The count’s eyes shifted warily.

‘Tell us,’ urged Ruth, reaching up to touch him.

He pulled back and said hoarsely, ‘Do you remember me saying she wasn’t completely sane the last time I spoke with her?’ Bull gave a sharp gasp. ‘She had lost all hope of rescue by then and knew she couldn’t hold out against Rykan any longer. She said . . . she told me that . . . when he came to her again’ – there was a catch in Marik’s voice and Robin’s eyes narrowed – ‘she was going to feign surrender. But for Rykan to gain access to her metaforce, he would have to remove the spellsilver. She told me that the moment she felt it go . . . the moment he came into her mind to take her power . . .’ He stopped and licked his lips, his throat dry and unresponsive.

‘What?’ demanded Robin.

The count closed his eyes against Robin’s pain and whispered, ‘She said she was going to destroy herself, hopefully taking him with her.’

‘No!’ cried Robin, his face a mask of rage.

The count flung up his hands to ward off Robin’s fury. ‘It was her one last defence,’ he cried. ‘She had nothing left!’

Groaning, Bull lowered his head to his hands. Ruth frowned and stared at the frightened count. ‘Are you saying that if I remove this collar, she’s going to kill herself?’ Marik nodded miserably. Ruth turned to Robin, demanding, ‘Can she do that?’

He had his eyes closed, his face pressed to Sullivan’s hair. ‘Masters have that power,’ he whispered.

‘Then what can we do?’ cried Ruth. ‘How can we let her know she’s safe; she doesn’t need to do it? There has to be something!’

Bull rose from where he had been watching the water. Putting out his hand, he tenderly stroked the matted tawny hair. ‘We can try preventing her,’ he said, cocking his head at Robin. ‘I know we’re all tired but if you can reach her, lad, she’d recognise you, I’m sure of it. Even like this. We have to try; we can’t leave that thing on her, it’s killing her anyway.’

Robin nodded, tears in his eyes. ‘I’ll need help,’ he said hoarsely. ‘Even then I’m not sure we’ll have the strength to stop her. I may not be able to reach her in time.’

‘You will,’ stated Bull. ‘You have to.’

‘What can I do?’ asked Ruth.

Bull patted her arm. ‘Just leave this to us, dear heart. She’ll need your strength in other ways, and so will we. This will be very draining. Taran, Ric, can you gather round? If we all sit close together, it’ll be easier on Robin. Marik, what about you?’

The count looked startled; frightened, even. He backed up a pace. ‘Don’t think I don’t want to,’ he said, ‘but I’d better not.’ He ducked his head, hiding his expression. ‘She might associate me with that place, with pain; I don’t think it’d be helpful.’

His manner and refusal gave birth to a dreadful suspicion in Robin’s mind. Capturing the count’s panicked gaze, he accused, ‘You saw it, didn’t you? You watched him!’

Horror came over the count’s face and he began to perspire. ‘He forced me!’ he protested. ‘I had two guards with swords at my back! What could I do?’

‘You stood there,’ raged Robin, his body shaking, ‘you stood and watched him rape her and you did nothing!’ There was murder in his eyes.

The others stared at the count, all except Ruth, who was weeping with her face in her hands.

‘There was nothing I could do!’ shouted the count. ‘I couldn’t stop him! I swear I wanted to, but I’d have been killed out of hand and what use would I have been to her then?’ Tears coursed down his stricken face.

‘Use?’ yelled Robin, his face white, his eyes blazing madly. ‘You’ve been no bloody use all along! It was your spineless behaviour that let all this happen. If you’d only warned us at that bloody banquet of yours, we would never have left her there. And to think she looked on you as a friend! You’re nothing but a bloody traitor!’

The count fell back as if slapped.

‘Get out of here!’ raged the captain, his voice dangerously close to hysteria. ‘Go on, before I run you through myself! Haven’t you done enough damage? Get out!’

With an inchoate cry, Marik bolted from the hut. The door slammed shut behind him and Robin buried his face in Sullivan’s hair, sobbing uncontrollably.

Shocked silence descended, broken only by the sound of Robin’s grief.

‘Oh, Rob,’ sighed Bull, rubbing the captain’s back. ‘Come on, lad, we need you, don’t let go now. Sullivan needs you; don’t let her down.’

Robin raised a tear-streaked face, his midnight eyes deep pools of blame. ‘I’ve already done that,’ he whispered. ‘I should never have left her alone at the mansion; I knew it was wrong.’

Taking a deep breath, Ruth wiped her eyes, her healing skills and practical good sense coming to the fore. ‘What’s done is done,’ she said. ‘We need to concentrate on the present. Sullivan’s still alive, Robin; will you jeopardise that by giving way now? She needs you to fight for her; she needs us all. We have to do everything we can to help her. There’ll be time enough for recriminations later.’

Giving her a shaky look, Robin nodded and pulled himself together with a visible effort. ‘You’re right, we have to try. Ric, Taran, bring three stools over, will you?’ They did as he asked. ‘If you’ll all sit by me and touch me, I won’t have to reach for the power. Ready?’

Nodding, they laid out their matrices one by one, each person touching the captain on the arm. The flash of raw power when Robin formed the PowerSink touched even Ruth. Taking hold of the power he wove it around himself and Sullivan, instinctively recoiling from the vast null blankness of the spellsilver field encasing her mind. He couldn’t even sense if she was dead or alive through its void and couldn’t begin to imagine how she would cope with its after-effects.

‘The shield is in place,’ he murmured, his eyes blank. ‘Ruth, I want you to unlock the collar but don’t remove it completely until I tell you. Just let the barest end of it touch her skin, and maybe I can slip past it to reach her. When I say, you can take it off, but not before. All right?’

Ruth wrapped a cloth around a portion of the collar so she could hold it. ‘I’m ready,’ she murmured, placing the tiny key in the lock.

‘Go ahead.’

Turning the key, she removed it. Holding the awful collar by the cloth in one hand she lifted it free, letting just the very end of the arc touch the raw skin of the girl’s neck.

A blinding flash of pure metaphysical energy pulsed into the room as Sullivan’s powerful but tormented mind, released from the majority of the collar’s restraint, made a frantic leap for freedom. Recoiling in shock, Robin rushed to block her escape, calling her name over and over. He sensed the other three men steeling themselves against the drain of their powers as he wrestled with Sullivan’s insane desire to drown in darkness and death.

He knew how strong she was but hadn’t reckoned on her desperation and despair. He was losing his hold and he knew it. He was only an Adept-Elite and despite the support of the PowerSink couldn’t possibly hope to breach the impenetrable defences she had built against the agony and violation she had suffered. She was two full levels above his skills and was walled away behind a shield such as he had never experienced. He would never breach it and found himself admiring her power and might even as his soul despaired.

With a rare flash of insight, he understood that he was doomed to failure no matter how much power he had. For he was a man and although she loved him intensely, a man had betrayed her, abused her trust and her love; a man had violated her body. She would never surrender to a man in this extremity, no matter how much he might love her.

Despite his frantic care, his deep and abiding love and desire for her, Robin knew he couldn’t put her through any more pain, even if he could have breached her adamantine shield. Not even to bring her back to him. She was too damaged for him to heal and what she needed, he could not give. His soul an aching well of grief and pain, he prepared to let her go.

He began to pull back, feeling the anguished resistance of the others, Bull in particular. And then, just as he felt her spirit brush past him and knew that even though she would not stay, she recognised him, he felt a new warmth, a new strength and power flood around him.

It was so different, this new strength, almost alien. He felt it take him over and push him aside as if he didn’t exist. It had a colour and vibrancy all its own, although he could never have described it. It was insubstantial, capricious in ways he could never have tolerated, but it spoke to the essence of Sullivan as if to a kindred spirit, and drew a response from her that Robin could not.

Amazed, he watched as this new strength enveloped Sullivan’s damaged soul and gently drew it back from the awful abyss towards which it yearned. He felt its annealing power, soft, unobtrusive yet immensely strong. It surrounded the tortured girl like a mother’s womb and sealed her away from harm.

The moment of the collar’s removal came almost as a physical shock, and Robin started towards the warm light place where Sullivan’s essence now slept, peaceful at last and at rest. There was no leap for freedom now, all was quiet and still. But he could not reach through that warm and gentle barrier any more than he could through the spellsilver field, and he drew back; puzzled, amazed, and a little hurt.

Coming back to himself, he looked round at the faces of the other three men, seeing the same exhausted astonishment upon them all. Bull shook his head and gathered Ruth into a warm and enveloping hug. ‘Well done lass,’ he breathed, ‘you did it!’

Robin gaped at Ruth, dumbfounded. ‘That was you?’ he exclaimed. ‘But how . . ?’

She glanced proudly but shakily up at him. ‘Ah, you men,’ she smiled, ‘you don’t have a clue, do you?’

Chapter Two.

Using warm water steeped with naturally disinfecting herbs and a soothing salve from her supplies, Ruth and Robin washed Sullivan’s wasted body. They also washed her hair as Robin was most insistent that no dirt be left to infect any of the open wounds.

Dirt was inimical to Ruth’s healer instincts but during her time in the Infirmary she had learnt how especially vital cleanliness was beyond the Veils. She made a thorough job of disinfecting Sullivan’s wounds, pleased and surprised that there was no obvious sign of infection. Most of the injuries were not life-threatening; loss of blood and shock were Ruth’s main concerns. A couple of the deeper whip-cuts on Sullivan’s back needed stitching once they were cleaned though, and Ruth closed them neatly. There was nothing she could do about the broken ribs except to salve the bruised area and apply a supporting bandage. She also cleaned and wrapped the raw sores around Sullivan’s neck and wrists, where the skin had been burned by the spellsilver’s effects.

The worst job she left until last. The torn and bloodied flesh between the girl’s legs where Rykan’s brutality had left its most obvious mark needed a delicate touch. Robin turned white when he finally summoned up the courage to look but he made no comment. Ricard assisted Ruth by handing her the implements she needed, but he avoided looking at the abused body at all if possible.

Ruth asked Robin to support the unconscious girl from behind so her legs could be braced out of the way as much as possible. The wounds were still weeping, re-opened by the roughness of their ride, but when Ruth began cleaning she found that the damage was not quite as bad as she had feared. Ricard handed her the needle and suture thread and Ruth took the first stitch.

She heard the sound first in the back of her mind and wasn’t at all sure it was real. Shaking her head, she put it down to the effects of exhaustion. Their daring rescue and panicked flight had taken its toll on them all. Focusing her weary eyes on her work once more she passed the needle through the torn flesh again.

This time there was no mistaking it. Her head snapped up and Robin glanced at her uneasily.

‘Can’t you hear it?’ she asked him.

He frowned. ‘Hear what?’

Worriedly, Ruth studied Sullivan’s unresponsive face. ‘I’m sure I heard her voice,’ she murmured. ‘As if she was crying out in pain.’ Robin shook his head; he had heard nothing. Ruth began her work again and this time the noise in her mind was so loud that she dropped the needle, forced to clamp her hands to her ears in a futile effort to block out the sound of terror and pain.

‘Robin,’ she gasped, ‘surely you can hear her? You’ve got to help her, deaden the pain or something. I have to do this, but with all the abuse she’s suffered, she just can’t bear it.’

Bowing his head, Robin closed his eyes. He was still shaken by his inability to reach Sullivan in her extremity and his failure to sense what Ruth could hear sapped his confidence further. He wasn’t at all sure that he could reach Sullivan now. When he tried however, he slipped easily through the warm annealing cocoon which Ruth had somehow wrapped around the girl and reached out for that familiar strong presence he knew so well. Stilling the panic he found there, he flooded the half-awareness of her consciousness with soothing sleep. Gratefully, he felt her respond, sinking down into oblivion once more.

Opening his eyes without fully withdrawing from Sullivan’s mind, he nodded briefly at Ruth. ‘Go ahead,’ he murmured, ‘she won’t feel you now.’

Having completed her ministrations, Ruth pushed her aching back upright with a sigh and wearily rubbed her eyes. Lack of sleep, too much adrenaline, and hours of concentration had left her feeling ill and old. Dully, she watched Ricard pack away her things, leaving some of the implements sterilising in the boiling water.

Bull helped Robin wrap Sullivan’s battered body in the clean, warm blankets and put fire-heated stones alongside her. Bull had also brewed coffee and Taran had set out some of their supplies, so once the unconscious girl was laid carefully on the bed, they made a quick meal. Ruth thought it must be noon at least, judging by the quality of the light outside. They had been awake now for around thirty hours, most of them spent in fear or in flight.

Having eaten, Robin laid his slim length alongside Sullivan and wrapped his arms around her. He was almost instantly asleep. Ruth and Ricard sought their own bedroll and twined themselves together in exhaustion. Taran glanced at Bull, both of them showing signs of the strain and emotion of the last few days in the dark rings under their eyes and the pallor of their skin.

‘You sleep,’ advised the big man. ‘I’m going to see what’s become of Marik and then I’m going to grab some rest too. I’ve had a scout around; there’s no-one for miles so we should be safe enough. We can’t move on until she’s stronger, anyway.’

He made no mention of their fears for her sanity; it wouldn’t do to worry needlessly. Taran cleared away the remnants of their meal then lay down on his own blankets on the other side of the fire.

Leaving the warmth of the little hut, Bull closed the door softly against the chill day. It was an hour or so past noon, he thought, as he glanced around for the count. He felt sorry for the Andaryan in the face of Robin’s understandable fury; the man had obviously given Sullivan what care he could under the circumstances and had put himself at considerable risk to help them free her. In fact, Bull thought, without his help they probably would not have succeeded.

He finally found the man in the barn, desultorily cleaning grime from the horses’ bits. The count glanced up fearfully when Bull entered but relaxed when he saw who it was. He didn’t speak. Bull noticed that the rest of the horses’ gear was also clean and that the animals themselves had been tended and curried.

Wearily, he sat down beside the count. ‘Thank you,’ he said, indicating the gear. ‘You needn’t have done all this by yourself.’

The count looked down, rubbing vigorously at a stubborn spot on the metal bit in his hands. ‘I wasn’t doing much good anywhere else,’ he muttered. There was a pause before he asked diffidently, ‘How is she?’

Bull sighed. ‘She’ll live, Ruth thinks.’ He glanced at the count’s face, noting the sudden tears in the alien eyes. ‘You mustn’t take what Robin said to heart. He was distraught and feeling guilty at not being there when she needed him. He’ll realise he was wrong, you’ll see.’

‘But he wasn’t.’

Marik looked Bull in the eyes, the bit lying forgotten in his long-fingered hands. There was anguish on his face. ‘He was quite right. Had I stood up to Rykan, not been so spineless, none of this would have happened.’

Bull frowned. ‘Did you have any choice in the matter? Did you know what Rykan had planned when he ordered you not to warn her of his presence?’

‘No, of course not! Rykan’s never trusted me and anyway, he’d never tell a lowly count his plans. I just thought it was coincidence he was at my house when her request came through. He’s heard me mention her before; I just thought he wanted to meet her. He can’t resist beautiful women . . .’

Bull smiled. ‘Then the blame doesn’t rest with you, does it? From what you’ve said, you managed to help Sullivan where you could. Will she blame you, do you think, or be grateful?’

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Marik unhappily. ‘She knew I was there, of course; she knew I couldn’t do anything. Rykan would have killed me if I’d tried to interfere. And the few times I managed to get food and water to her, she never even mentioned it.’ Suddenly flinging the bit from him with a clang that startled the horses, he blurted, ‘Gods, but she didn’t deserve to suffer like that, Bull! What he did to her was completely unnecessary! He’s worse than an animal; I swear he actually enjoyed torturing her and hearing her scream. She was very strong but I’ll be surprised if she can ever speak again, the amount of screaming she did.’

Bull winced and his eyes filled with tears. Trying to keep his voice even he said, ‘Robin and Ruth heard her once or twice, you know.’

‘Yes,’ replied Marik, ‘that was how she knew someone would eventually come. She was sure she’d managed to reach one of you, though how she got round the spellsilver, I’ll never know. She told me she’d used her pain and panic to lend her strength but she was afraid that whoever she’d reached would just assume they were having nightmares. That’s why she made me promise to free her horse. She said it would find its own way back, but I just thought she was raving. I was glad to release it, though; Rykan was taking his anger out on it. He was as determined to break the horse as he was her.’ He eyed Bull. ‘Was she right? Did it get back by itself?’

Bull nodded. ‘Mandias is one of the few horses we have that can actually cross the Veils by himself. But he was in a very poor way; I don’t know if he survived.’

Marik drew a shaky breath. ‘Well, don’t tell her that, if she asks. She was more concerned about the horse’s welfare than she was her own.’

‘That sounds like Sullivan,’ agreed Bull, lowering his head to hide the sudden clench of his heart.

Marik watched him silently. ‘Is there any one of you who isn’t in love with her?’ he suddenly asked.

Bull raised his head again, a faint smile on his lips. ‘Ah, you too?’

The count paled visibly at Bull’s perception and the big man gripped his arm. ‘It’s all right,’ he soothed, ‘she has that effect on most people. It’s her generosity of spirit and pure selflessness that does it. I think her entire company’s in love with her, one way or another. I suppose it’s no surprise. How many people with that much power can be as unconcerned for themselves as she is? I’ve seen it, you know; she’d give everything she had to any one of her command, even the most useless new cadet, just because he’s her responsibility. So then, Count, how much more would she give for her friends?’

Marik stared at Bull, hearing his unspoken assurance. ‘She’d give her life,’ he murmured.

‘Yes,’ agreed Bull. ‘She would.’

The two men re-entered the hut silently, looking round at the sleeping bodies. Bull stepped over to the bed and was relieved to see that Sullivan’s breathing seemed stronger and her face had a little colour in it under the bruises. Softly, he stroked her cheek. She didn’t stir.

Marik touched his shoulder. ‘You’re done in,’ he murmured. ‘You sleep, I’ll watch.’

‘Thanks,’ said Bull, ‘I admit I could use it. If there’s any change in her, anything at all, you wake me, you understand? Leave the captain to sleep; he’s completely exhausted.’

At Marik’s nod, Bull laid himself down next to the bed and fell asleep with the ease of a soldier long used to grabbing what rest he could.

When the count’s hand on his shoulder finally roused the big man, the daylight had nearly faded away again. The fire had been stoked and its heat and flickering light filled the little hut. Bull glanced up at Marik who indicated the bed with a gesture of his hand. Bull looked quickly round and rolled over as he saw, with a little shiver, that Sullivan’s eyes were open. He levered himself up on one elbow and studied her face.

Her eyes were enormous and completely black. Bull was used to the strange expanding of her pupils when she expended power but had never seen them quite so huge before. There were no whites and virtually no iris, and they gave her face an alien cast. With a sinking sense of shock he suddenly recalled Marik’s comments about her sanity. Watching her, he couldn’t tell whether her eyes were focused or not, where her gaze lay or indeed, if she saw anything at all. She had made no movement and Robin was still deeply asleep in the same position.

Slowly and quietly, Bull sat up. This brought his head on a level with hers where it rested against the young captain’s chest. He could tell by her breathing that she wasn’t asleep. Gently, he reached out and touched her cheek.

‘Sully?’ he said softly, aware that Marik had withdrawn to one of the stools by the table and was watching in silence.

The deep ebony pools of her eyes contracted very slightly, showing some of the dark-gold iris. She seemed to focus on his face and her fine brows drew together in concentration. Bull held his breath.

She gave a tiny gasp and whispered, ‘Bulldog?’

He smiled with unconcealed relief and let out his pent-up breath. ‘I’m here, love,’ he said. ‘It’s all right. You’re safe now.’

She seemed to struggle with consciousness and he thought she might slip away again. Then she stirred slightly and one small hand crept out from the blankets, seeking him. At once, he grasped it, tiny and cold as it was; the stark white of the bandage standing out coldly against the bruised and damaged flesh. Her eyes were more normal now and she looked full at him. She took a slight breath, almost a sob, and said huskily, ‘I am so very thirsty, Hal. I could really murder a coffee.’

The comment, so unexpected but so like her, completely undid Bull, who had been so strong and so dependable. Bowing his head over her hand, his shoulders shook with muffled sobs. He felt her hand tighten briefly on his and was instantly ashamed of needing her comfort when she was in no state to give it.

Pulling himself together with a huge effort, he smiled through brimming eyes. Her own were no less moist and she returned his smile, although he could tell that it hurt her to do so. She spoke again and he had to concentrate to hear the words.

‘Hold me?’ she asked, and there was such need, such desperation, in her voice that he was almost unmanned again.

Gently moving Robin’s arm from around her without waking the captain, Bull bent to gather her up. He hesitated, unsure, remembering her injuries. ‘I don’t want to hurt you, love,’ he said.

She looked up at him, her naked and damaged soul plain in her eyes. ‘You could never hurt me, Hal,’ she whispered, and the depth of love and trust in her tone caused his heart to lurch.

He put his strong arms around her and lifted her. Never a great weight, her days of deprivation had so reduced her that he hardly knew he held her. Moving back to the fire, he lowered himself down and held her on his lap, so he could reach the water, cups and coffee. As he did so, he realised Marik had silently taken himself off again, unwilling to intrude on their reunion.

Sullivan rested her head on his chest and he gently stroked her hair. After a few moments he felt what he had been waiting for. Her whole body began to shudder violently as she gave way to her terror, shock and pain as she had not done in Rykan’s cells. Sitting quietly, Bull let the storm of grief run its course, knowing it was necessary that she cleanse herself.

Soon – sooner than he would have thought – he felt her give a vast, shuddering sigh and he raised her chin with a tender hand. ‘Better, love?’

She gave him a wan smile and swallowed painfully. ‘I could really use that coffee now, Hal.’

Her voice rasped awkwardly and he grieved for her lovely, lilting tones. ‘Then you shall have it,’ he said, and using his one free hand, he made a pot of steaming brew. He had found some honey in one of the crocks and put a little in her mug, although she normally drank her coffee as strong and bitter as he did. But he knew her body would need it just now and she made no comment. Pouring the coffee he handed her the mug but when she brought her hands up for it, they were so weak and shaky that she just couldn’t hold it.

‘I am sorry, Hal,’ she apologised, ‘I cannot . . .’

‘Here,’ he said, ‘you’ve nothing to be sorry for, dear heart! We’ve been here before, remember? We know how to do this,’ and he held the mug to her lips.

Years ago, when he was still serving as her sergeant-major, they were in the field battling a persistent band of Relkorian raiders. Sullivan took a nasty sword-slash which became infected despite her powers, and she lay ill with wound-fever for days. With all her strength gone, she had depended on Bull for everything. That time seemed very vivid to him now.

The coffee gone, they sat together staring into the fire. Sullivan eventually stirred to ask hoarsely, ‘Where are we, Bull? Is Robin here? Is Marik safe?’

He told her then the story of her rescue and what had happened since. She listened in silence, unmoving, until he wondered if she had fallen asleep again. But when he finished, she drew a shaky breath.

‘Did Rykan . . .’ – she stumbled over the name – ‘issue his Challenge to the Hierarch?’

‘You don’t have to worry about any of that now,’ soothed Bull, but she was not to be placated.

‘I have to know,’ she insisted; ‘it is important. Has he challenged the Hierarch yet or not?’

The note of desperation was plain in the scratchy voice. ‘We believe so,’ he told her. ‘Marik says he did.’ He felt some of the tension leave her body.

‘Good. One more thing, Bull, and then I must sleep some more. I asked Marik to free Mandias for me. Did he do it? Did he make it home safely?’

Even if the horse had not, Bull could not have told her. There was such a plaintive note to her voice that it just squeezed his throat. He was glad to be able to say, with no lie; ‘Yes, he did as you asked. Mandias made it home and that’s what brought us all running – as you knew it would!’

Her relief was palpable and Bull’s transmitted image of them dashing to the rescue forestalled her asking after the horse’s condition, as he had hoped.

Sighing, she settled back in his arms and he sat there unmoving as she fell asleep once more.

It was deep into the evening when they were abruptly roused by the sound of hoarse screaming. Bull was only half-asleep, subconsciously aware of the shuddering body held cradled against him. He was cramped by his position on the floor but had feared to move in case he woke her. Now, Robin leapt off the bed and looked round wildly; he had not realised she had gone from his side. Seeing her in Bull’s arms relieved some of his shock but when he saw the big man’s expression, it returned in force. He knelt down beside the two of them as Ruth, jolted out of an exhausted sleep, rushed to join him.

‘What on earth’s the matter?’ she breathed, staring at the slender body in Bull’s embrace. Robin didn’t reply; he was too stunned by the appearance of Sullivan’s eyes, once more huge and black and unseeing; the whites totally gone. The subvocal screaming went on, quickly causing them all blinding headaches.

Robin was at a loss. He tried to reach Sullivan’s mind but his own, exhausted and drained as it was, had no force to penetrate the black wall she had thrown around herself in futile defence. Bull tried to aid him but his own strength was depleted and they failed. Even Ruth tried, encouraged by her earlier success. But she had no real idea of what she was doing and got no response.

The major’s body was convulsing and shaking and no amount of calling her name, either vocally or sub vocally, had any effect. Robin took her shoulders, shook her gently and stroked her face, but she was totally unresponsive. Bull and Robin exchanged despairing glances.

‘She was all right when she woke a few hours ago,’ said Bull in anguish.

Just then, Marik, who had been outside on watch, burst through the door. ‘Dear gods,’ he said, staring at Sullivan, ‘not again!’

‘What do you mean?’ pounced Ruth. ‘Has this happened before?’

Crossing the room, Marik looked down at Sullivan. ‘Yes, she had two attacks like this that I know of after Rykan started . . . abusing her.’ There was fear and desperation on his face. ‘Can’t any of you reach her?’

‘No,’ said Robin curtly, not looking at him. ‘She won’t hear us.’

‘Would you like me to try?’ offered Marik, obviously expecting refusal.

Robin didn’t disappoint him and instantly bridled. ‘What on earth makes you think you can help her when we can’t?’

Hurt, Marik turned away but Ruth laid a hand on Robin’s arm. ‘Were you able to help her before?’ she asked the count.

His eyes moist with unshed tears, he said, ‘I had to try; there was no-one else. She did seem to respond . . .’

Ruth turned to Robin. ‘Then you have no choice,’ she snapped. ‘What harm can it do to let him try?’ Seeing Robin’s anguish, she carried on more gently, squeezing his arm to show she understood. ‘She’s not hearing any of us, Rob. Don’t deny her this chance of comfort.’

Robin hung his head and stepped reluctantly back. Bull looked up at Marik from where he sat cradling the shuddering girl’s body. The count came forward slowly and held out his arms for her. Bull surrendered her to him and stood up stiffly, stretching against the ache in his back.

Seating himself on the bed, Marik placed his hands on either side of Sullivan’s face, forcing her unseeing gaze onto his. He stared into her eyes for long moments, his own alien pupils wide, and then began softly crooning in a tongue none of the others understood. Taran thought he recognised some of the words in the song Sullivan had performed on the great floor-harp for Rykan. It seemed like years ago now.

For a long while, nothing changed. Through the sharp, splintering scream in their heads they could vaguely hear Marik’s murmuring voice. But gradually, the noise was abating. Then, abruptly, it ceased. Marik’s voice continued its soothing a while longer, and then he removed his hands from Sullivan’s face and held her closely to him, rocking her as he would a child. The shuddering gradually diminished until she was still again. Her eyes remained open and huge; no sign of the golden iris could be seen. She seemed completely unaware.

Marik ceased murmuring and looked into her face. Seemingly satisfied by what he saw, he beckoned to Robin. The young captain came forward.

‘Take her,’ whispered Marik. ‘It would be better if she sees you when she wakes rather than me.’

Ruth caught his note of wistfulness and saw understanding on Bull’s florid face.

Gathering her up, Robin took the count’s place. Marik walked out of the hut without a backward glance. Silently, Ruth watched him go.

The captain sat calling Sullivan’s name softly. She stirred and life seemed to return to her eyes. The pupils contracted swiftly and her face was transformed from something alien back to the familiar. She frowned slightly, looking up at Robin. He was gripped by a sudden awful fear that she wouldn’t know him, but then she smiled, just barely.

‘Robin,’ she whispered, her cracked and husky voice completely unrecognisable.

‘Hello, Sullivan,’ he whispered back.

Sighing deeply, she said, ‘I missed you,’ and he dissolved into tears, unable to hold back the emotion.

Chapter Three.

Seeing there was nothing more she could do for the moment, Ruth followed Marik out of the hut. Taran and Ric were busy preparing food and Bull was brewing fresh coffee. The smells called to Ruth’s exhausted body and wrung-out nerves but her professional curiosity was piqued and she had to talk to the count.

Cloud-wrack covered the moon and a chill wind blew from the east, carrying the faint smell of rain. The night was silent except for the sough of the wind. Ruth’s eyes took a moment to adjust after the firelight and she could see no sign of the count.

Gradually becoming accustomed to the darkness, she walked round the end of the hut towards the barn and corral. She could hear the soft chewing of the horses and smell the grain and hay. Entering the barn, animal-warm in the darkness, she saw a shadowy figure seated on a pile of straw.

The count glanced at her as she sat beside him but didn’t speak. With an involuntary shiver of fear Ruth noticed the slight luminosity of his eyes which meant that his narrow, slit pupils were just visible. If she ignored his alien eyes she could deal with him as she would any human being, but if she dwelt too long on those cat-like orbs she felt his difference as an almost physical barrier between them.

He shifted, sensing her unease. ‘I’m sorry if my appearance frightens you,’ he murmured, turning his head away.

‘Oh, it’s not that,’ said Ruth, annoyed that she had betrayed her discomfort. ‘It’s just that I’m not used to all this. I’m only a healer; I’m not gifted like the others and I’ve never done anything like this before. I’m a little out of my depth.’

‘Is that so?’ He turned back, interested in spite of himself. ‘I’d never have known.’

‘Have you ever been to Albia?’ she asked suddenly, treading around what she really wanted to know.

‘Once,’ he replied. ‘That was when I first met Sullivan.’ He stopped.

‘Tell me?’ encouraged Ruth. ‘That is . . . I don’t mean to pry. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.’

The count looked down at his hands. They were strong and long-fingered, a swordsman’s hands, brown from the sun and nicked in places from old sword-cuts.

‘It was six or seven years ago,’ he said softly, ‘just after I inherited my father’s manor. I was young and naïve, eager for advancement and adventure. But my father wasn’t wealthy and my Artesan gift is weak, so the only options for improving my fortune or status were either to marry into a powerful and wealthy family, or by conquest.

‘The first was out of the question because no-one would look at a lowly count with so little in the way of Artesan talent.’ He snorted. ‘The nobility want to marry their daughters to men who will strengthen their bloodline, not weaken it. So I thought, if I could gain a reputation for good generalship by organising successful raids beyond the Veils, then some high-born noble might offer me a military position, thus increasing my status.’

Shaking his head ruefully, he said, ‘I should have known better. I should at least have chosen another realm. But I was cocky in those days – before I realised how hopeless it all was – and I thought Albia was the right place to start. So it might have been, had I not run straight into that rather unique young woman in there!’

He stopped, glancing at Ruth who was listening in fascination. She smiled, encouraging him to continue. Staring out of the barn door, Marik felt again the rage, embarrassment and frustration of that younger man, so eager to prove himself.

‘It was sheer bad luck really, because I don’t have the power to direct a substrate tunnel. I only just managed to open one long enough to get my men through! And of all the places we could have emerged, bad luck took us into an area patrolled by Sullivan’s company. It was her first time out as leader and she had also just recently been made Master. Any other company and I might have got the result I was after; why did Fate throw me into her path?

‘Her scouts saw my men and she very quickly blocked my way back through the Veils. I wasn’t too worried; I may not have much Artesan power but I am a capable swordsman. She was about seventeen at the time and a girl. What did I have to fear?’

Seeing Ruth’s expression he said plaintively, ‘As you may have heard, Andaryan women don’t bear arms. Neither can they influence their metaforce. I’d never met anyone like Sullivan; what was I supposed to think?

‘Anyway, I ordered my men to fight. None of them took any notice of her but she wasn’t interested in them. No, she came straight for me. All I saw was a slight young girl with a ridiculously large sword and – as I thought – an ego to match. My men thought I was mad accepting her challenge but I intended to disarm her, to show her my skill and teach her the price of her folly. Hah, folly!’

He pursed his lips. ‘The folly was mine. I’d barely raised my sword before she had disarmed me. And she even had the gall to offer me my sword again, asking had I not been ready! But there was no point me trying again; I’d recognised her skill and couldn’t afford to lose any more face with my men. I knew it was hopeless so I surrendered.’

Staring morosely at the ground, Marik sighed. ‘Another company had come up by then, drawn by the noise of combat. Their commander was all for killing us for breaking the Pact but Sullivan said we should be allowed to return, as I was bound by the terms of my surrender. She knew our customs and was aware that I could not challenge her again once defeated. So our lives were spared, even if my men did laugh at me behind my back for being unable to best a girl. They never spoke of it though, they knew none of them would have fared any better.

‘Shortly after that I received a message requesting safe passage for your King’s Ambassador. Sullivan presented herself at my house and so our friendship began.’

The count fell silent. Ruth said nothing either, digesting the story, thinking what an extraordinary life Sullivan had led. Remembering the younger woman’s earlier pain and panic, which was the reason she had followed the count out here, she asked, ‘So what was all that about in there, just now?’

Marik started as if he had forgotten she was there. ‘Oh. I . . . don’t really know.’

Ruth could plainly hear the lie. ‘Come now, Count; I’m not stupid and I’m a healer, remember? It’s something Rykan has done to her, isn’t it? Tell me; I really need to know if I’m going to be able to help her.’

‘You can’t . . .’ he began but was cut off.

Ruth jumped as she heard Ric’s voice calling her name into the dark. There was a note of fear in his tone when he couldn’t immediately see her. ‘I’m here,’ she called, coming out of the barn.

‘There you are,’ he said, relieved. ‘Sullivan’s asking for you. You too, Count,’ he added, as the thin man moved towards the horses.

‘Me?’ exclaimed Marik. ‘What does she want me for?’

Ruth could tell he was reluctant to enter the hut again.

Ric shrugged unhelpfully. ‘You’d better come and see,’ he said.

Following the dark-skinned Apprentice they re-entered the hut, blinking in the firelight. The smells of food and coffee hit Ruth like a delicious wave and she realised how very hungry she was. The odd hours they had kept recently had thrown her body-rhythms completely out. It must have been going on towards midnight but she was ravenous.

The others had already started on the food. Bull pressed a mug of coffee into her hands and she sipped the scalding liquid gratefully. He also passed one to Marik, who looked startled at being included. Ruth noticed Robin watching him suspiciously from where he sat on the bed, holding Sullivan to him.

Ruth approached them, kneeling down on the floor. Placing her mug beside her she took one of Sullivan’s cold hands. The girl stirred to look at her and smiled faintly.

‘Ah, Ruth, there you are. I wanted to thank you for what you have done. You put your life at risk to save me.’

Ruth shook her head. ‘I don’t need thanks,’ she said, ‘I’m just relieved you’re still with us. I don’t know that I could have survived what you’ve been through.’

A brief flicker of pain crossed Sullivan’s face. ‘You have done so much already,’ she continued huskily, ‘and I hesitate to ask any more. I know how tired you all must be.’

‘You don’t have to ask,’ exclaimed Ruth, ‘what is it you need? Is it to do with what afflicted you earlier? You were in such pain . . .’

Sullivan shook her head, her hair rippling in waves down her shoulders and over Robin’s arms. ‘Ruth,’ she said softly, ‘I have to be able to ride soon; we cannot stay here much longer, we are too close to Rykan’s palace. But it would take too long for me to recover my strength naturally, I am far too weak.’

‘We just need to get you strong enough to cross the Veils,’ soothed Robin. ‘Once we get you home, you can rest and recover properly.’

Ruth was dismayed by the look that came over Sullivan’s face and the tears that welled suddenly in her eyes. She was about to say something when the younger girl glanced warningly at her.

Taking a deep breath, Sullivan said, ‘Robin, I need you to take control of a PowerSink. You are all drained and exhausted so you must take control of my power too.’

‘What, all of it?’ gasped Robin. Ruth heard Taran’s sharply drawn breath and saw Bull’s amazed expression.

‘Of course,’ said Sullivan impatiently. ‘Unless you think you are not strong enough?’

‘I’ll be strong enough, trust me,’ averred Robin, a privileged look on his face.

Ruth glanced at Bull, who shook his head. ‘She’s just casually handed Robin what she nearly killed herself denying Rykan,’ he said.

Sullivan frowned. ‘This is quite different, Bulldog, as well you know. And Robin would never ask.’

The captain was trembling with reaction. ‘Are you quite sure?’ he asked her.

She looked up into his midnight eyes. ‘Rob, I trust you with my life and all that I have. You should know that.’ The captain closed his eyes briefly, feeling like his heart might burst. ‘But I want Ruth to do the healing,’ added Sullivan.

‘Well how . . . but I can’t . . .’ began Ruth.

Sullivan squeezed Ruth’s hand. ‘You can,’ she said. ‘Just think of the power as a medical instrument or a potent salve. I will show you what to do. Just open your mind and think of what needs to be done. I will guide you. Robin, you must go very gently with the power, this will be very strange to Ruth.’

She glanced over to where Marik was loitering by the door, looking distinctly uncomfortable. ‘Count,’ she asked hoarsely, ‘would you be willing to participate? I really need you.’

‘What do you want him for?’ demanded Robin. The acceptance on the count’s lean face disappeared at Robin’s animosity.

‘Oh, Robin,’ chided Sullivan, ‘I have owed my life to Marik more than once over these past two weeks. I can never repay him for his care, considering he has lost his lands and livelihood because of me. And if you love me then you owe him your gratitude at the very least, not this jealous and angry suspicion.’

Robin coloured, not least because the charge of jealousy was too near the mark for comfort. His anger was rooted in guilt for not being there when she needed him most.

‘But it was his doing that you were taken in the first place!’ he blustered. ‘And he stood by and watched what that . . . that animal was doing to you and made never a move to stop him!’

Sullivan’s face, grey with illness as it was, drained further at Robin’s bile. Bull could see her gathering non-existent strength to lash out at him and he put a hand on her shoulder to stop her.

‘Enough!’ he commanded. ‘Leave it, Robin. Isn’t it enough that Marik saved her life? If Sully doesn’t blame him, how can you? You weren’t there, you don’t know what happened. Make your peace, lad.’

‘Thank you, Bull,’ murmured Sullivan. Fighting with Robin was something she could well do without.

The captain looked at the two of them in silence before letting his breath out in a huge sigh. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry, Marik; I’m upset and jealous and I shouldn’t have said what I did. Of course I’m grateful that you helped Sullivan, and I know we probably wouldn’t have got her out without you. Will you accept my apology?’

‘Of course,’ said the count, but he didn’t sound convinced.

Sullivan lay back in Robin’s arms. ‘Can you concentrate now, Rob?’ she asked, wearily closing her eyes. ‘I need to clear my mind; can I trust you to accept Marik’s place in the structure?’

‘Yes,’ soothed Robin, ‘I’m sorry; I’m ready now.’

Ruth was feeling apprehensive. The extraordinary experience of being able to bring comfort to Sullivan’s damaged spirit had seemed so natural; it wasn’t something she had planned to do or even thought about, it had just happened and she had instinctively known what to do. This was completely different and she didn’t have the faintest idea how it could work.

‘What do you want me to do?’ she asked, fearful of letting Sullivan down.

Without opening her eyes, the younger woman said, ‘Take my hand and hold it fast; I will not be able to reach you if you let go. Just close your eyes and let me guide you.’

Ruth did so. Without the distraction of sight, her other senses came alive, heightened beyond anything she had known before. She felt the others as they came into the structure Robin was forming, even recognising Marik’s alien matrix. She felt as if she was floating above herself. And then she heard Sullivan’s voice in her mind. It shouldn’t have surprised her but it did to find Sullivan’s mental tones were as warm and lilting as her physical voice was husky.

*Ruth? Concentrate on me now. You know where the worst hurts are. You cannot completely heal them but you can close the flesh and strengthen muscles and tendons. Begin with the lesser wounds*

Suddenly, Ruth could see the various places where she had stitched Sullivan’s skin. Without even thinking, she used the deep amber power Robin was holding out to her to meld the flesh and make it strong. Energy seemed to flow over and around Sullivan’s body, doing whatever Ruth commanded, and she felt vaguely intoxicated, as if she could heal the world.

*Robin* warned Sullivan, *hold back. You are giving her too much. Remember whose power you are handling*

 Ruth felt a draining of some of the force and could almost have cried for the loss.

Sullivan’s voice brought her back. *Ruth, I need you to deal with the ribs now. Can you see; two are broken and one is cracked. Seal the cracked one first, it needs no moving*

Ruth did so, sealing the cracked bone easily before turning her attention to the broken ones. She felt Robin preparing to use the power to dull the inevitable pain but Sullivan stopped him.

*No, Rob* she gasped, * I need to feel where the ends are to ensure they align correctly. Go ahead, Ruth*

Bull could see sweat standing out on Sullivan’s face as she fought not to cry out at the pain of the broken bones being set. Her face was pallid and she was gasping for breath when Ruth finally finished.

These physical hurts attended to, Ruth was about to open her eyes when something vast caught her attention. Something black, deep within Sullivan’s soul; a site of great damage and poison towards which she yearned, wanting to cauterise and cleanse. Reaching once again for the power in Robin’s hands, she felt him released it as she approached this huge area of wrong within Sullivan. The tawny-haired girl had relaxed her vigil in the aftermath of the pain and didn’t immediately see what the healer was doing. When she did however, there was such a backlash of refusal and rejection that Ruth’s mind was nearly burned. She was flung away from the area with great force.

*Don’t stop me, Sullivan* she protested, *I can heal you of that. It will kill you otherwise*

*No, Ruth* commanded Sullivan, pain and panic in her tone, *you cannot heal there. You will destroy us both if you try. Hear me*

The healer fought her, desperate to follow her instincts, but Sullivan was too strong. Reluctantly, Ruth was drawn away. She heard the major calling on Marik and watched while the count’s power, weak though it was, was cast around the dreadful area of wrong, walling it off.

Puzzled and hurt, the healer opened her eyes. She stared at Sullivan’s white and sweating face. ‘Why did you stop me? Don’t you know that it’s . . .’

Gripping Ruth’s hands painfully, Sullivan stopped her finishing what she would have said. ‘Leave it, Ruth,’ she pleaded. She lay back into Robin’s arms, exhausted. ‘Let me sleep now. Robin, wake me at dawn, do you hear? Time is pressing and there are things that must be done. Bulldog, make sure he obeys me.’

‘You don’t need to set Bull on me,’ said Robin, ‘I’ll do as you ask.’