Cursor's Fury (Codex Alera #3)(141)

She did not know how much time passed as she focused on helping Fade's body fight the contagion, but she suddenly felt a presence beside her at the imagined mound of rock.

Fade stood there, frowning up at the mound of rocks. He did not look as he did in the healing tub, worn and wan and wasted. Instead, he appeared to her as a young man-thin with youth and a body not yet done filling out. His hair was cut Legion style, his face bore no scar of a coward's brand, and he wore the simple breeches and tunic of an off-duty soldier. "Hello," he said. "What are you doing here?"

"You're sick, " Isana told the image. "You need to rest, Fade, and let me help you."

At the mention of his name, the image figure frowned. His features changed for a moment, aged, the scar of the coward's brand emerging from his skin. He reached up to touch his face, frowning. "Fade..." he murmured. Then his eyes widened. He looked up at Isana, and his features abruptly aged, hair growing longer, scars reappearing. "Isana?"

"Yes," she murmured.

"I was wounded," he said. He blinked his eyes as if trying to focus. "Aren't we in Ceres?"

"Yes," she said. "You're unconscious. I'm attempting to craft you well."

Fade shook his head. "I don't understand what's happening. Is this a dream?"

An interesting thought. Isana paused to consider him. "It might be. I'm in a state of mind somewhere close to sleep. You've had a fever for days, and I've been in close contact with you, through Rill, almost the whole time. I've felt the edges of some of your dreams-but you've been in a fever the whole while. It was mostly just confusion."

Fade smiled a little. "This must be your dream, then."

"In a manner of speaking," she said.

"Days..." He frowned. "Isana, isn't that sort of crafting very dangerous?"

"Not as dangerous as doing nothing, I'm afraid," she said.

Fade shook his head. "I meant for you."

"I'm prepared for it," Isana said.

"No," Fade said, abruptly. "No, Isana. You aren't to take this kind of risk for me. Someone else must."

"There is no one else," Isana said quietly.

"Then you must stop," Fade said. "You cannot come to harm on my account."

Back in the physical world, Isana dimly felt Fade begin to move, the first such motion in days. He tried, weakly, to pull his hand from hers.

"No," Isana said firmly. She went to fetch the next stone and resume her steady labor. "Stop this, Fade. You must rest."

"I can't," Fade said. "I can't be responsible for more harm to you. Bloody crows, Isana." His voice became thick with anguished grief. "I've failed him more than enough already."

"No. No you haven't."

"I swore to protect him," Fade said. "And when he needed me most, I left him to die."

"No," Isana said quietly. "He ordered you to see us clear of the Valley. To keep us safe."

"I shouldn't have followed the order," Fade said, his voice suddenly vicious with self-hatred. "My duty was to protect him. Preserve him. He had already lost two of his singulares because of me. I'm the one who lamed Miles. Who drove Aldrick from his service." His hands clenched into fists. "I should never have left him. No matter what he said."

"Fade," Isana said quietly. "Whatever killed Septimus must have been too much for anyone to stop. He was the son of the First Lord, and every bit as powerful as his father. Perhaps more so. Do you really think you could have made a difference?"