“Oh, you’re no bother at all.” Enrietta chuckled and patted the back of Asher’s hand. He had come closer, kneeling in the grass in front of her wheelchair. Smart kid. Getting on her level meant that she would trust him, and this entire operation could go even more smoothly, as if it wasn’t already.
By now Enrietta was patting at Asher’s hair, smoothing it out of his face. He was a natural, to be sure, but I couldn’t help wonder if this wasn’t just him subconsciously seeking out affection. The kid did lose his mom, after all.
I started to tune out by the time the two of them had started speaking in lower voices, discussing the specifics of Enrietta’s disease, which I guessed would determine how Asher was going to approach treating her. I had the impression that brute-forcing it would have worked, but I recognized what Asher was doing for what it was: putting the old woman at ease, simply by talking and listening.
Arnaud cleared his throat eventually. “It is getting quite chilly for you, madam. I suggest we finish this sooner rather than later.”
As if that had prompted something inside of her, Enrietta shuddered slightly, gathering her blankets closer around her. “Yes, I think you’re quite right. Mr. Mayhew, may we proceed?”
Asher nodded, and within the glimmer of a second his expression hardened, the boy melting from his face. It was odd to see him so serious, so stony. His breathing steadied, and greenish light began to pour from him, pulsing from his elbows, down his fingers, and onto Mrs. Boules’s tiny wrists.
She sighed softly, eyes closed. Even in the darkness I could see that her cheeks were getting rosier, her skin filling with color. The blanket slipped from her knees, and she hardly seemed to notice. Asher stood with her as she rose to her feet, this time without the awful pain and effort that it had taken before. Even her spine was straighter. Warmth and life were returning to Enrietta Boules.
The rest of us watched in silence, Carver observing with all the reserved curiosity of a scientist, and Arnaud marveling in open wonder. I had to admit, it was incredible to see something like this. It looked unremarkable on the outside, and sure, I’d seen healers and clerics at work before, but what Asher was doing was actually giving Enrietta renewed life, cleansing her body of whatever ailed her.
From the little time I’d known him Asher struck me as the kind to be boyish and buoyant, but seeing him so grimly determined changed him. He seemed taller somehow, his face set in a mask of intense concentration. Maybe it was the darkness, or maybe it was the wavering of reality caused by the surge of his magic, but he even looked older. I wondered if I was imagining things, or if that happened to be a side effect of his talent.
“Asher,” Carver said. “Be careful, now.” Either he knew something I didn’t, or I was correct in my assessment of this tenuous exchange of life energy.
“Don’t worry about it,” Asher said, shooting a quick, relaxed smile over his shoulder. “I’m working from the outside in. It’ll take some more time, but I promise it won’t be much longer.”
I knew that Asher was surrendering some of his life force in order to perform this massive feat of healing for Enrietta. He didn’t have to. It took me a minute to fully comprehend why he seemed so invested in ensuring her wellness, but it hit me.
He was buying his freedom. What did a sliver of his life span cost him if it meant he had the liberty to choose where he wanted to be, and what he wanted to become after this night was over? I finally understood, and I looked on as rich threads of emerald magic poured from his fingers into her skin.
But another voice split the silence. “Carver,” Gil hissed. “Something’s up. Do you smell that?” I turned to the two of them, my hackles rising.
Carver tilted his head back, as if sensing for something on the wind, one of his eyes flickering madly. “No,” he hissed back. “No, no, no. Such terrible timing.” He glared at me, as if in accusation. “Graves, your good friends from the Lorica. They’re here.”
“What the – again? How many fucking times are we going to have to – ”
“Over and over,” Prudence’s voice called out of the darkness. “Because that’s our job. Or have you forgotten already, Dustin?”
I whirled to face her, unable to contain my frustration, and my heart pumped even harder when I spotted that she was flanked by the exact same companions she had earlier. I couldn’t tell whether Bastion or Romira was angrier with me.
“Uh. Hi, guys. How’ve you been?”
“Keep them away,” Carver hissed, his hands already tracing patterns through the air.
Arnaud cried out as pale flames wreathed around his feet, encircling both Asher and Enrietta as well. The flames formed into a cocoon, then
vanished. Carver had erected a barrier around them. Good. It would keep them safe until they completed their exchange.
“We’re not here to fight this time, Dustin. Odessa’s orders. We need to get him out of here, and fast.”
Odessa? So they were taking orders directly from a Scion all along. Was that why this operation felt so off, why the Lorica seemed to be pulling its punches?
Not that it mattered. The exchange needed to be completed. “Let them finish. Prudence, please. The kid only wants to help. He just wants a life of his own.” Like Mrs. Boules. Like me.
“I don’t know why we’re even talking.” Bastion held his hand out towards Asher and the others, his fingers glimmering with faint light as he stalked straight for them. “There’s no time to argue. They’re coming.”
“What? Who?” Dread washed down my back like iced water. Surely not more of the Lorica? That was the last thing we needed.
Carver bared his teeth, his fingers gesturing as he prepared another spell. “You don’t tell us what to do, boy. You – ”
He paused, then bent his head, one ear raised to the sky, like a beast of prey listening for – for something. Gil sniffed at the air, then growled from somewhere inside of his chest.
“Too late,” Romira said, her hands working to shape an orb of fire. “They’re here.”