Warsong (Chronicles of the Warlands, #6)(19)

Hanstau stared at it. It looked good, considering that it had been cauterized to stop the bleeding. But he noticed something else.

The grass under Hail Storm was withering.

Hanstau blinked. They’d been in the tent for some time, so the grass wasn’t the brightest shade a green to begin with, given the lack of sun. But the grass under this warrior-priest was curling, browning, even as—

Hail Storm said something harsh.

Hanstau jerked his eyes back up. “Yes,” he said, not sure of the words, but understanding the tone. “It looks good.”

Hail Storm grunted, his eyes narrowed as he began to re-wrap his stump with the dirty bandage.

“No,” Hanstau said firmly. He wouldn’t let the Dark One himself do that on his watch. “Use a clean one.” He jerked his chin toward his satchel.

Hail Storm grunted again, and pulled it close to rummage within. This ordinarily would have upset Hanstau, but he was distracted by the browning grasses, and now that he thought about it… he squinted a bit.

There.

There was the glow he had seen when he’d been with Simus and Snowfall. The power that Wild Winds had warned him of. It too was there, in the ground, and it flowed away from Hail Storm’s presence.

Hanstau became aware that Hail Storm was studying him as he tied off the fresh bandage.

Hanstau noted the signs that the fever had broken, and that the infection in the arm had cleared. The man looked healthy overall. Almost too healthy for someone who had lost a limb.

Hail Storm stood, and Hanstau sucked in another breath. The knife at his belt; the blade was glowing with a purplish-black rage.

Hanstau yanked his gaze away, and focused on the foot of one of his guards. That made no sense; daggers had no emotions. But Hanstau could almost feel the anger in the knife throbbing from across the room. It was as if the dagger pulsed with power. Power about to be used.

Hanstau looked up.

Hail Storm was considering him with a slight smile. He placed his stump against the dagger hilt, and with the other he clenched a fist.

Every muscle in Hanstau’s body froze. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, as if he were clenched in the fist, helpless…

The guards each stepped back, removing the blade from Hanstau’s throat. He could feel its absence, but for his life he couldn’t move, couldn’t take his eyes off Hail Storm.

Whose smile was that much more satisfied.

Panic flooded through Hanstau, and he would have thrashed against the restraint. But he’d no control, and no air, and his vision grayed—

Hail Storm eased his fist open the slightest bit.

Hanstau sucked in the air his body craved, his chest heaving. He still couldn’t move, but at least—

Hail Storm tilted his head, and made the slightest gesture with his fist.

To Hanstau’s horror, his own head moved in a bow of submission.

He knelt there, unable to move. A deep shiver of fear wracked him, and a cold sweat broke out over every inch of his skin. His breath came in desperate pants. He was helpless, no control, no power.

Over him, Hail Storm laughed.

As suddenly as it had happened, it was gone. Hanstau found himself on his side, alone in the tent. Hands still bound, tears drying on his face. They were gone, the guards, Hail Storm. He closed his eyes in thanks for that.

The tent flap stirred, and he lifted his head just enough to see that it was Reness, naked and wet from her bath.

“I got the bandage wet—” a gasp and she was at his side. Hanstau could feel the warmth of her body against his. “What happened?” She asked as she untied his hands. He couldn’t seem to get a breath. His entire body felt cold, numb, and lifeless.

Reness gathered him up, held him close. “Hanstau?”

He clung to her, like a babe to his mother, trembling.

“Breathe,” Reness said, her voice the barest whisper in his ear. “Listen to my voice, breathe with my words. Fear is your enemy,” she chanted.

Hanstau tried to focus.

“Fear holds you still when you need to move,” Reness continued, but Hanstau clutched her tighter as the memory replayed.

“Hail Storm,” he whispered, and a shudder ran through him again.

Reness hugged him tighter. “Tell me,” she said.

“I am a Master Healer,” Hanstau hated the cracks in his voice, but he had to force out the words. “He should not be able—”

“I am the Eldest Elder Thea,” Reness admitted. “He makes my skin crawl. Tell me.”

Hanstau did, managing to calm even as he forced out the words.

Reness’s arms tightened around him as he finished speaking, and she took her own shuddering breath. “They always claimed to have strange powers,” she said. “They are evil.”

“No, not all,” Hanstau sat in the circle of her arms, and swallowed hard as he thought his way through his fear. “Snowfall, Wild Winds,” he looked to Reness, to see if she remembered them. “They did not have this feel to them. And the glow embraced Snowfall.” He shook his head. “There is something very different about Hail Storm.”

“We will find a way,” Reness said.

“And if we can’t?” Hanstau asked softly. “If he takes control of my body?”

Reness released him, settled back, and looked him in the eye. “I will send you to the snows before that happens,” she growled.