From the Ashes (The Elder Blood Chronicles, #3)(56)
“The wound on her side is corrupt and I can’t get the infection out no matter how many times I heal it. That is causing the fever and that will be what kills her if she dies. The hand is maimed but healed and this wound on her neck is clean,” the first voice spoke again filled with frustration.
“If we remove the child now does she have a chance of recovery?” Vaze asked, his tone cautious.
Jala felt panic rising and retreated further into herself wrapping everything she had around her child as if simply her spirit would be enough to protect him.
“We won’t do that. Let her fight,” Valor broke in, his voice firm. She felt another touch light on her face as hair was brushed back from her cheek.
“She isn’t bloody fighting, Valor, she is unconscious. If that would save her it is something we should consider,” Neph snapped.
Fight for me, Valor, Jala urged silently. She didn’t have the strength to spare to fight for herself with words. She could feel the corruption growing in her flesh like tiny little daggers stabbing toward her child. Everything she had, every ounce of magic, every drop of will had to go to him right now.
“You don’t know Jala like I do, and you will not take that child while I draw breath,” Valor spoke with cold promise written in his voice.
“It’s not the child that threatens her at any rate. It’s the wound. Removing the child would only weaken her more at this point, and if we weaken her anymore we might as well start digging the grave,” the unknown speaker uttered in a voice filled with disgust. “I’ve never seen anything like that wound. When I heal, it seems to improve for a breath and then grows worse.”
“If it grows worse when you heal it, then why in bloody hell have you tried to heal it multiple times?” Neph snarled. A weight pressed down heavily on her bed as someone sat beside her and she felt the blankets pulled more tightly around her. “Is Valor right, Jala? Are you fighting? I wish there was something I could do for you,” Neph said softly in a voice pitched for her ears alone.
“Maybe we should fetch Rose from Sanctuary. She has been a healer for as long as I can remember. Perhaps she has seen a wound like this before,” Wisp suggested and Jala could hear the sound of the Fae’s misery in each word.
Keep fighting. Block them out and focus. I will not let them take your child and I will guard you while you fight. Marrow’s words in her mind drowned all the voices in the room and she nodded faintly. Take some of my strength until your own returns. You need magic and you are as dry as sand. That’s her magic working on your wound. I can sense it, though I don’t know why the fools around you can’t.
I can’t let him die, Marrow. I can’t lose them both, Jala whispered back to the Bendazzi. The effort of the mind link pulled her back from the child for only the barest moment and in that breath she felt the corruption spread farther.
Cursing herself for a fool, she drew on Marrow’s strength and wrapped more protections around the child. The threads of Anthe’s broken wards wavered faintly before her and she began to repair them as well. Be strong, she urged the child once more as she worked. Anthe’s magic grew clearer in her mind as she focused upon the individual threads until each ward appeared as a delicate silver web in her mind. Most of the magic still held and she knew without a doubt that was the only thing that had saved her child’s life until now. With her mind made agile once more by Marrow’s gift she worked quickly, retying the broken strands until each ward was whole once more. Never before had she had such clarity with her magic. Sovann had spoken of threads and strands before but she had always assumed it was simply terminology for the craft. Not literally strands of magic forming each spell.
Her son settled and she felt him grow calm. As her fear for him subsided she turned her focus to the wound on her side. She could see the magic now, black vile threads that pierced her flesh in thousands of places. Cursing herself once again for not noticing it sooner she began to slowly pluck the threads from her one by one only to see three more take their place. Pulling her remaining magic back once more she focused on the magic itself trying to find a starting point for unraveling the spell. The threads surged again and more tiny strands of darkness latched onto her skin spreading the corruption farther.
Pulling on Marrow’s strength once more she tried simply to contain the magic until she could determine how to end it. The black threads wavered in her mind and she began to see the pattern of them. Web after web of darkness surrounded her as if a thousand spiders were weaving a cocoon over her flesh. The magic bore down through her flesh where the threads connected, each strand of darkness seeking a way through the wards protecting her child.
Jala gave a silent snarl of frustration and refocused her magic to block the seeking strands. She simply didn’t have enough power yet to stop the spell. Her son’s only hope now was that she should could keep Death’s touch from him long enough for her own magic to strengthen him enough to live beyond her broken body. Be strong. Grow, Jala repeated, sending more magic to the child within her. Time lost all meaning to her as her entire mind was devoted to halting the webs of Death’s magic and feeding her strength to her child.
The brush of icy water drew Jala’s attention partially back from her constant battle with Death. She felt cloth on her skin once more and the sensation infuriated her. She couldn’t afford to spare attention for the sunlit world right now.