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Dynarien to follow them out.
"Josiah has worsened," Laurelyanne told him, walking quickly toward the back
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of the camp where the healers' wagons were gathered. "He'll be gone before
morning if we cannot figure this out. The wounds are bad, but not like this.
There is no sign of infection in his system. Yet he shows all the symptoms.
Lord, if there is more that you can tell us about what happened..."
Lord? Had his remark about Eldarion Havenrain given him away? "He used magic
to hold his body together long enough to rescue Aejys. I think they call it
making a last stand."
The spell had ultimately done more damage than the wounds. It had been
created to sustain a battlemage in a situation where he desperately needed to
sell his life as dearly as he could: wounds went unfelt and it was possible to
bleed to death without realizing it until the moment of final collapse; it
exhausted the life force, spending every bit of energy and magic that could be
wrung out of the body. Unless a healer intervened in time the spell frequently
killed the caster even if his wounds did not.
Laurelyanne gave him a sharp look. "That's battle magic. Advanced battle
magic. There is no way he could have learned it in the four months since I
last saw him." She climbed into the wagon where Josiah lay. He shivered under
the blankets, cold sweat coating his face, moistening the pillow as it
gathered and dripped. "It's dangerous magic. Practically a suicide spell."
"He's Josiah Abelard."
"Sonden told me..." Laurelyanne Read Josiah, her face tightening.
"With all of his knowledge and skills intact. The two incarnations merged two
months ago." Dynarien stooped to enter and joined her there.
"Ahhhh. Now it makes sense. I think I can deal with this. At least I know
what we're fighting." She spoke to Josiah softly and his restless stirring
ceased.
She turned to him. "Now tell me who you really are, Lord. If our people know
you, they will not speak. We are a discreet people, as you should know."
Dynarien uncovered his shield, showing her the eagle and blue roses.
Laurelyanne nodded. "Dynarien Willodarusson, as I suspected. Welcome, Lord."
"What's goin' on?" Tagalong poked her head in, saw the shield, and glowered.
Dynarien grinned. He pointed to the maker's mark. Tagalong's eyes widened,
recognizing the ancient runes, which she had been forced to memorize as a
child. "I thought ya were shittin' me. Still doesn't explain where ya got it!"
Tagalong refused to give an inch, glaring at him suspiciously. The only thing
in his favor was that the armor fit as if it had been made for him.
"It's his by right," Laurelyanne told her. "This is the Rose Warrior. Now
both of you get out of here. I've work to do."
Tagalong's glare lessened as she trotted along beside him. "Yer a yuwenghau.
Only thing stupider than a paladin is a yuwenghau. Always lookin' fer
trouble."
Dynarien laughed. "My sister is Dynanna. The one who cursed you with all that
luck at games so that no one wants to play with you anymore."
Tagalong stopped in her tracks, goggling.
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CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
SPIRITDANCER
Aejys woke to herself, lying on a pallet in a small, single room of the
bottommost waystation of the sacred mountain, Kaliridonni. She wore woolen
trousers and tunic with a bearskin cloak thrown over her as a blanket. A huge
figure sat at the table. She squinted in the mage light hovering about his
head. He was a skeletal figure with skin like ancient leather the color of
parchment pulled over it. Her instincts cried lich. He turned as she sat up.
She felt her teeth, but found no change in them and felt oddly relieved.
"Have I risen?" Aejys asked, feeling the wounds in her throat where Hoon had
fed.
"No. You are still living." Carliff rose from the table. His withered, undead
face was impossible to read there was no flesh beneath the skin to twist
into expression but he held himself stiffly, hands balled into fists of
rage.
"How?" Aejys asked, watching him uneasily, wondering if he meant to attack
her for reasons she did not yet know. What had she done to him? Or not done?
"I pulled the death web out of you," Carliff's voice whistled slightly like a
high wind between rocky edges. He brought his fist to his sides, as if
fighting his own inner demons to hold himself back from striking her. "It will
spread again, but for now you live. Josiah cast Shared Life on you to replace
the blood Hoon took."
"Josiah is alive?" Hope pushed back the shadows from her heart and mind.
"Yes. As, after a fashion, is my many times great granddaughter, Dree."
"Then you are Carliff?"
The lich smiled, pulling back his yellow lips to reveal long fangs. "Yes.
Called mad because I will not feed upon the living. The living you would now
be feeding on had I not intervened." The smile became a snarl of disgust. "I
see questions in your mind. Dree lives as a cat, never to be human again.
Because she tried to help you you who are not worth helping. Were you not
the last of the Rowans, I would have destroyed you."
Aejys sucked in a sharp breath, wishing she had the comfort of her pipe.
"Where are we?"
"We are at the foot of the sacred mountain. You must start climbing now, at
once. I let you rest as long as I dared. Hoon will soon discover you were not
destroyed. He will sense this as soon as you leave my presence. He will know
you are on the mountain. He will speak in your mind, trying to persuade you to
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