Song of Blood & Stone (Earthsinger Chronicles #1)(3)
The children's laughter across the street brought Jasminda back to the present. They pleaded and begged for another photo as the parents corralled them away to make way for the next in line.
“Let’s hear it run,” someone said, and a chorus of agreement rang out. Jasminda pivoted to leave; though she was curious about the auto, mistrustful gazes had already turned her way. She’d made it only about a metre when an earsplitting bang sounded.
Several things happened at the same time. White smoke shot from the back of the vehicle into the gathered crowd. A horse tied just behind the auto reacted to the noise, rearing on its hind legs. The little girl stumbled backward, out of her father’s grip and directly into the path of the horse’s front legs as they came crashing down.
A sickening crunch of bone echoed in Jasminda’s ears. Screaming, shouting, chaos all around became a fog hovering on the edge of her senses. She kneeled down next to the child, not remembering having crossed the street. Not having made a conscious decision at all. Tears streamed down her face as she did what came naturally to her.
With a deep breath, she reached out to Earthsong. The first moments of tapping into that infinite sea of life energy were like drowning. Even the small trickle flowing through her was overwhelming. The combined life force of every living thing pulsing in her veins made her sensitive to the raging emotions around her—shock and grief, pain and sorrow. Blocking them out, she focused only on the girl, who gasped desperately for breath through a crushed rib cage, a bone piercing her lungs. Jasminda’s Song was not nearly as strong as her father’s had been—he would have been able to erase every injury, making the child as good as new—but she could ensure that the girl would survive.
Life energy flowed into Jasminda, and she focused it into the child. Though she didn’t know the names of all the internal organs, she could sense their damage and sang a spell to route the healing energy to them. She restored the lungs and stanched the flow of blood that had been leaking internally. The broken bones would have to be set, but at least the child would live long enough to have that done. She let the connection to Earthsong slip away, and she swayed on her knees, completely tapped out. It would be many hours before she would be able to use her Song again.
The fog around her mind lifted as she became aware of her surroundings. The girl lay on the ground, crying but breathing normally. Her leg stuck out at an awkward angle, but she blinked through watery eyes and called for her mama.
“What have you done, witch?” an older woman said. Dozens of faces stared at her, most in horror and fear.
Bindeen appeared beside Jasminda and helped her to stand. “Can’t you see she’s helped the child?” he said. She wobbled a bit before finding her footing, grateful for the blacksmith’s strong arm to lean on.
The girl’s mother sobbed, cradling her daughter’s head in her lap. “We don’t want any of that witchcraft here. Why don’t you go back to where you came from?”
A few people in the crowd stood, heads bowed, repeating out loud the Promise of the Queen Who Sleeps, a prayer of protection. Others pegged Jasminda with hard glares and accusatory expressions.
The town physician pushed his way through and kneeled in the spot Jasminda had vacated. The girl’s father met Jasminda’s eyes, his expression grateful. He nodded once but his acknowledgment did little to lessen the sting of the rejection surrounding her. His wife continued to cry, stroking the girl’s hair. As the physician performed his examination, the mother looked up at Jasminda and screamed, “Get her away!”
Jasminda stumbled back, pulling away from Bindeen’s grip. She retrieved her bag, which lay abandoned on the other side of the street. Bindeen moved to follow her, but she waved him off. Her body was weary from the use of Earthsong, but even wearier was her heart. It ached with renewed pain. She hadn’t thought these people could still hurt her.
Shouldering her bag, she pushed through her exhaustion, focusing on one step and then the next. The journey ahead was long, and she had no more time to waste.
The girl looming above Jack looked like a mirage. She’d marched directly to his hiding place behind a cluster of coarse shrubbery and stood, peering down, head cocked at an angle. He went to stand, years of breeding kicking in, his muscle memory offended at the idea of not standing in the presence of a lady, but apparently, his muscles had forgotten the bullet currently lodged within them. And the girl was Lagrimari—not strictly a lady, but a woman nonetheless—and a beautiful one, he noticed as he squinted into the dying light. Wild, midnight curls floated carelessly around her head and piercing dark eyes regarded him. Her smooth skin was a confectioner’s delight. His stomach growled. When was the last time he’d eaten?
Her presence meant he was still on the Lagrimari side of the mountain range bordering the two lands and had yet to cross the other, more powerful barrier keeping him from his home of Elsira: the Mantle.
The girl frowned down at him, taking in his bedraggled appearance. From his position lying on the ground, he tried his best to smooth his ripped uniform, the green fatigues of the Lagrimari army. Her confusion was apparent. Jack was obviously Elsiran; aside from his skin tone, the ginger hair and honey-colored eyes were a dead giveaway. And yet he wore the uniform of his enemy.
“Please don’t be scared,” he said in Lagrimari. Her brows rose toward her hairline as she scanned his prone and bloodied body. Well, that was rather a ridiculous thing to say. “I only meant that I mean you no harm. I . . .” He struggled with how to explain himself.