Soldier Scarred Page 7

“Where do I find her?”

  “Three streets over, there will be a net across her storefront. Tell her that you need healing for cothuln.”

  Endric nodded and started off. As he ran, he tried not to think about the fact that the man might only be crazy. There might not be anything for him, and there might not even be a healer where the man claimed. He had little choice but to at least try.

  He made it only one street before Senda stopped breathing once more.

  Endric set her down and breathed for her, waiting for her to begin breathing again. It never came.

  He lifted her up and started off, pausing every so often to breathe into her mouth, praying as he went that it would work and that he could somehow bring her back. With each breath, he questioned whether it was even possible. Was she too far gone? There might come a time when whatever injuries she had sustained would be too much for her. Already it seemed as if his breathing for her no longer mattered.

  Endric refused to give up. Senda would not have given up on him. She always wanted more from him, sometimes more than he was even willing to ask of himself. How could he not try for her?

  When he passed the third street, he froze, frantically searching for the sign of the netting the strange street hawker had claimed would be found here. There was nothing.

  Endric made a quick circle, pausing as he did so that he could breathe for Senda.

  Then he saw it. The netting was nothing like what he had expected. This was a fine weave, nothing like the thick rope nets fishermen out of Gomald and some of the northern ports used. What would a net like this even be used for?

  Endric banged into the door and threw it open, stepping inside. Smells assaulted him. There was the stink of fish and an earthy sort of odor, but there was a scent of decay that lingered over everything as well.

  A wide woman appeared out of the back of the store. She had a long, hooked nose and deep-set eyes, practically hidden by the thick hair hanging in front of her face. “What can I help you find? Perhaps a love potion? Perhaps a concoction that will bring you great luck on the sea? Or perhaps some way of speaking to the gods?”

  This was the person the street hawker had sent him to? This was the person who was to help him find healing for Senda? She was nothing more than a charlatan.

  “I need a healer.” Endric breathed for Senda, looking up at the woman. Her face hadn’t changed, and she watched him with a strange sort of interest. “My friend, she nearly drowned.”

  “Ah. The sea nearly claimed another. And now you deal with the sea’s revenge.”

  Endric shook his head. What had the man said? “Cothuln.”

  The woman cocked her head to the side. “What is that?”

  “Cothuln. A man near the docks said that…”

  What did it matter? He didn’t know whether or not to even believe the man, and he didn’t know whether it made a difference. At this point, Senda was likely far too gone for him to save, and whether there was some strange sea creature that had attacked her or not, what could this crazy woman do to help?

  The woman tottered toward him, somehow navigating her considerable bulk around the rows of shelves in the back of her store. She leaned over Senda, inhaling deeply. Much like the strange street hawker, her eyes widened slightly. “Bring her to the back.”

  “You can help her?” Endric asked.

  “Bring her to the back,” the woman said again.

  Endric followed the woman as she led him to the back of her shop. They passed through a bead curtain to a side that was even more sparsely decorated. Jars of creatures rested on the floor. Several were living. One, a massive eel, swirled in the water as they passed. Another jar held dozens of fish, swimming in a spiraling pattern that went still the moment Endric came close.

  Other jars had stranger items. One appeared to be the head of a shark. One was a bright red, and practically glowed. Still another jar seemed to contain nothing more than dirt.

  There was nothing here that would help Senda. He had seen places like this during his travels, and in none of them had he ever found anyone with real skill. All used strange concoctions to work whatever healing they claimed would be effective, but Endric had never seen any that actually worked.

  What he wouldn’t give to have Senda back in Vasha.

  For that matter, what he wouldn’t give to have Tresten.

  “Set her here,” the woman said, motioning to a place on the floor. It was little more than a bed of straw. Endric hesitated but the woman grabbed his arms and dragged him down with more strength than he would have guessed she possessed. She pulled Senda from him and laid her down on the floor. The woman began smelling her, placing her nose up to Senda’s neck and then to her forehead, and then on to each arm before finally moving to her hands and then her feet. When she was done, she turned and glanced at the jars.

  “Continue breathing for her,” the woman said.

  Endric shook himself. He had forgotten to continue his breaths. How long had it been since he had taken a breath for her? Did her heart even still beat? He didn’t know enough about healing to know how to assess that, but he’d heard healers often enough to know that if the heart stopped, even breathing for someone wouldn’t make a difference.

  The woman went to the jar with the live eel swirling around. She pried the top off the jar and scooped a cup full of water into a chipped porcelain cup. She returned to Endric and nodded at Senda. “Tip her head back.”

  Endric took another breath for Senda and did as she instructed.

  The woman brought the cup to Senda’s mouth and poured the liquid into her throat.

  “What is it?” Endric asked.

  “Cothuln. You are lucky you encountered Jonash. Few would have recognized a cothuln attack.”

  “I’ve never heard of it.”

  The woman looked up at him, meeting his gaze. “Few have. Few managed to survive.”

  The woman continued sniffing Senda. She paused at Senda’s arm and hurried to another jar, one that Endric didn’t see, and when she returned, she nodded to him. Endric tipped Senda’s head back once more. The woman poured liquid into Senda’s mouth. Too late, Endric realize that it was a bright red liquid.

  “What was that?”

  “We call it the blood of the gods.”

  Endric sucked in a breath. “What is it?”

  “It is a combination of much power. If we are to revive your loved one, it will take divine intervention.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Then you aren’t listening. Now. Pay attention!”

  Endric twisted and looked back at the jar. It was a deep maroon, almost a blood red, and as he studied it, he couldn’t help but think that it glowed faintly. There was something unsettling about it, though, and Endric couldn’t quite place what it was. And now Senda had just drank it.

  “Breathe for her.”

  Endric glanced over at the woman. She ignored him and scurried off to another jar.

  What choice did he have? He leaned forward, breathing for Senda again. His lips tingled when they touched hers, and he wondered what exactly was in the blood of the gods. What had she given to Senda?

  When the woman returned, nodding to him once more, Endric complied, tipping toward Senda’s head to give her a breath.

  “Not you, idiot. Again.” She poured another liquid into Senda’s mouth and ran her fingers along Senda’s throat. This one had a sour odor to it that reminded him of cheap ale, the kind that Senda had often admonished him for drinking before he had been promoted.

  How long would he put up with this? There had to come a time when he would realize that nothing could be done for her.

  “Breathe!”

  Endric leaned in and placed his mouth on Senda’s. The woman slapped him.

  Endric jerked back.

  “Not you.”

  Endric looked down at Senda. “She hasn’t taken a breath on her own in… A while.”

  “Yes, but that was before.”

  “Before what
?”

  “Before this.”

  The woman placed her finger on Senda’s forehead and leaned in. “Breathe.” It was a whisper, but there seemed to be a force of energy that came with it. Was it imagined?

  If it wasn’t imagined, maybe this woman could help Senda, regardless of the concoctions she thought to use. She was odd, but so were the women in the house of the Yahinv, and they had possessed power. Endric didn’t question whether they were capable of using that power to help, either.

  Endric watched and, with a sudden gasp, Senda began breathing on her own.

  He leaned back, waiting. “You did it.”

  This woman had actually healed Senda. He started to smile, thinking of all the things he wanted to tell Senda, the things that should have been said before she had gone after him. They were things that he had left unsaid for far too long.

  ““I’ve done nothing other than get her breathing again,” the woman said. “She will require more than I can provide. This one very nearly didn’t survive.”

  “What does she need?”

  “Divine intervention.”

  “How will I find that?”

  The woman frowned at him. “How? You follow what you feel, you fool.”

  9

  Endric clutched Senda to his chest. She breathed, but that was all she had done. Each breath seemed to struggle, as if at any moment she would stop again. He felt on edge, focusing on her, afraid that she would stop breathing again but so far, she had not. If she did, what would he be able to do?

  He patted his pocket, checking for the vials the strange woman had given him. Each one was numbered, a sequence that he was instructed to follow if she stopped breathing again. Somehow, he was to find divine intervention, healing that no longer existed.

  For Senda, he had to find it, but Endric wasn’t sure where to begin.

  He glanced toward the docks. Now that he was here, he could hire transport across the sea, and in a matter of… days? weeks?... he could return to Vasha, and from there, perhaps he could request healing from the Magi. There were few Magi that he knew, and given Senda’s connection to the Magi, he wondered if perhaps they would help, or would they send him on his way?

  What other options were there? He didn’t have enough of the elixirs to get Senda back to Vasha. That much he knew all too well. And if he somehow didn’t find divine intervention, there would be no saving her. That was an answer Endric couldn’t stomach.

  There was another possibility, but it seemed even more unlikely than reaching Vasha. It was one that had a greater chance of success. If he could somehow find what happened to Urik, and see if Tresten had been resurrected…

  Endric shook the thought away. Even if he could find Urik, the idea that Tresten could have somehow been resurrected seemed more than improbable. It was impossible.

  As impossible as finding divine intervention that would save Senda.

  Endric turned away from the docks.

  He couldn’t take the dinghy. They had followed the current here, so there wouldn’t be any way to take it back to the cove where they’d been let off. That meant somehow traveling across the land.

  There was another option, but he didn’t know whether it would even help.

  His gaze drifted to a large building on the edge of the city. The canicharl was home to the College of Teachers. Senda was descended from them, so he had to hope that they might offer some assistance. They had to, didn’t they?

  If nothing else, maybe they could watch over her until he figured out how to get her the help he needed. Perhaps they could administer the necessary elixirs, though would he even trust strangers to do that?

  He couldn’t carry her indefinitely. He would need help.

  Endric trudged through the city, making his way toward the canicharl.

  Elaniin was enormous, and everything he saw made it clear that it had started off as a fishing village and had grown from there. There were countless fish mongers and other similar vendors. He saw dozens of shops to help with the fishermen, including several that were weavers, something Endric quickly realized meant that they made the nets used by the fishermen. Other shops had similar purposes. The farther he went from shore, the more the nature of the city changed, taking on more of a scholarly type of appearance. He passed a few booksellers, something that surprised him at first, but the longer that he walked, the closer that he came to the canicharl, the more that he found. Merchants moved through here, and Endric realized that many were book traders, making him realize that the canicharl and the college traded in these books.

  By the time he reached the canicharl, his arms burned with the effort of carrying Senda. Endric hadn’t worked out how he would convince the canicharl to help him, but somehow, he would have to find a way. They were Teachers. Maybe they would be interested in studying what happened to her and evaluating what strange elixirs the woman had used on her.

  An elderly man answered his knock at the door.

  “Visitors aren’t allowed until the morning,” the elderly man said. He had a warbly voice and he eyed Endric with an edge of suspicion.

  “Please. I need the assistance of the college,” he said.

  “As I said, visitors are not allowed until morning.”

  “She is the daughter of Teachers.”

  The man’s gaze shifted from Endric’s face to Senda, curled up in his arms. “Many can claim connection to the Teachers.”

  Endric searched his brain for what Senda had told him about herself. What was it that she’d said about her parents? They had died along the coast and a scrap of fabric had been found there, but there had been something else, hadn’t there?

  Maybe he needed to try a different approach.

  “Her uncle was Listain.”

  The man frowned, glancing from Endric to Senda. “Was?”

  “Listain died. She is his niece. She is—”

  “Bring Senda in.”

  It was Endric’s turn to frown. He wasn’t surprised that they would recognize Listain’s name. As second in command of the Denraen, he had a reputation, and Endric didn’t think it terribly surprising to know that Listain was related to the Magi and that he could have been one of the Great Teachers. What surprised him was the fact that the man recognized Senda only by that connection.

  Once inside the canicharl, Endric looked around. Walls of stone rose on either side of him and massive lanterns glowed, casting the hallway in bright light. Windows were set high overhead, but at this time of day, very little light came in.

  “This way,” the man said, guiding Endric along the hall.

  Endric followed the man, unable to help himself as he paused at the periodically hung tapestries. They were exquisitely made, and one of them possessed a map of the known world, nations outlined in bold colors, cities labeled as well. Most of the cities still existed, though there were a few that had disappeared since that tapestry had been made.

  “Come along,” the man said.

  Endric shook himself, pulling his attention back to the task at hand. He needed to get Senda the help she needed, and if that was here with the Teachers, then that was what he needed.

  “What happened to her?” the elderly man asked.

  Endric took a moment to study him. He had deep wrinkles along the corners of his eyes and his brow was heavily furrowed. His hair was cut close but completely silver, and he had steely gray eyes to match. Whereas Endric had thought him fatherly at first, the more he studied him, the more it seemed as if the man had more of a stern countenance.

  “She was drowning—”

  The man glanced over, and the deep frown on his face cut Endric off as much as the strange healer’s slap had. “This was not a drowning. She smells of the sea, but the irregularity of her breathing combined with the urgency of your request tells me this was no simple drowning. What happened?”

  “I don’t know. I was dragged into the sea. Senda went after me. I got into the boat, and she… She barely made it. She’s been like this ever since.”


  The man studied her. Endric kept waiting for him to sniff her, the same way that the others had sniffed her. He was thankful when he did not. “You brought her to Aria.”

  Endric nodded. “Do you know her?”

  The man’s face soured. “Unfortunately, I know her. It is a shame you brought Senda there first.”

  “I didn’t have a choice. She wasn’t breathing—”

  “You breathed for her?”

  Endric nodded. “Part of my training included some basic resuscitation.”

  The man regarded Endric with renewed curiosity. “You are Denraen. I didn’t see it at first. You don’t carry yourself like the Denraen I know.”

  “How do I carry myself?”

  The man didn’t answer. “What did Aria do for her?” the man asked.

  “There was water from a jar with an eel in it. There was something she called the blood of the gods. And there was—”

  The man shook his head. “That is enough.”

  “I came here to see if you could help.”

  “It is too late for our help. You brought her to Aria.”

  “Why does that matter?”

  “Aria works in different realms than we do. What she does interferes.”

  Endric frowned. That seemed an odd comment from a Teacher. They were scholars and supposedly studied strange realms.

  The man guided them into a small room. There were rows of beds here, and men and women wearing white clothing moved between the beds, administering to people lying on beds. This was some sort of healing ward, but it was nothing like Endric had ever seen before.

  Had he made a mistake? Could he have gotten Senda here in time to provide any sort of help for her? Or wouldn’t it have mattered? She was far along when he had reached Aria, possibly too far along for it to have mattered whether he had stopped at Aria’s healing shop or continued to make his way here. Maybe it wouldn’t have mattered either way.

  The man stopped in front of an empty cot and motioned for Endric to set Senda down. When he did, he breathed out a sigh of relief. He’d been carrying her for a long time, and his arms burned from the effort.

  “There’s nothing you can offer?”