Page 91 of Blood Fist
“Tell me, how have things been while I was away?”
Thankful for the awkwardness to pass, Brune launched into a well-meaning rant about the comings and goings of the camp while Ridan was in heat. Everything from sparring with Jonen for hours, to Halm being harassed by Iylah for reorganizing her herbs on a shelf that was too high, to the rumors about who was planning to court who. Most of it was nonsense, but Ridan appreciated hearing about it all the same. And the way Brune spoke of them as if they weretheirpeople.
“And our visitors?” Ridan asked cagily, wary to break the uplifting mood between them.
Brune shrugged. “Schok remains drugged. He occasionally…flaresup but Corric and Buzzard have been taking turns with him and they’ve got a system. Halm and Buzzard have been looking through some of Halm’s books, discussing potential cures.” He turned to look at the tent in question, squinting into the early morning sun. “If they can’t cure him, I don’t know—no one should live like that.”
Ridan was inclined to agree, but he wasn’t the man’s friend or brother. Whathewanted was to go back into the tent and eat more of Sehleh’s biscuits, but he steeled himself, following Brune towards the tent of problems.
He stepped into the tent only to be greeted byHalm yelping, hiding behind one of the books she was reading. Ridan lifted a brow.
“Artrax’s teeth,” she grumbled, running fingers through her ratty hair, leaving smudges of ink behind. “I thought you were Iylah.”
Jonen snickered behind him; arms crossed as he leaned against one of the support posts. “She’s been swatting her for days.”
Ridan wasn’t going to touch that, so he turned his attention to the others in the tent. Schok was, as expected, still laying in his grave. Buzzard was sitting beside it, looking a little better than when he’d last seen him. His color was better, and someone had given him a proper bath.
Corric was beside Halm, peering through the books strewn across the floor. He hid it well, but Ridan knew he must be exhausted. Their eyes met, and an understanding flickered between them. As much as Ridan would hate to admit it, Corric saved him. Bringing Brune’s shirt ended much of his suffering and made the rest of his heat pass in relative peace.
As he stared into the eyes that had provided him with so much safety and love, in and out of his heats, he knew could never end Schok’s life. Not even if he thought it was best. For Corric, he would do what it took to save his brother. Not out of thanks, but because Corric didn’t deserve to feel that pain.
“Well?” he asked the room. “Have you managed to do anything besides piss off my healer?”
Halm colored as Jonen and Buzzard chuckled. “Actually, I think…I think I have an idea.”
That caught their attention. Ridan gestured for her to continue.
“With what Buzzard has told me about Schok’s…captivity, I think I know why he’s burning himself.” Halm fingered at some of the scattered papers. “Theoretically, magic users should be protected from their own magic. Otherwise, well…” she didn’t look at Schok but they all knew what she meant. “And from what I’ve read, elemental magic is the most basic—ice being the easiest and fire the most difficult. Something about causing the ignition whereas water is in the air itself and can be easily—never mind, you don’t care—Schok is known to have mastered many natural elements, but he appears to only use fire. At least in his thrall form.”
“Because the magic that is left is old. It's rotting. Magic is not meant to be reused over and over without being replenished. I believe Schok has used too much magic, and it’s poisoning him. That’s why his magic hurts him.”
Brune scratched at his cheek, nails scraping through his neat beard. “But why does he only use fire?”
Halm looked a little less sure. “I…I don’t know. I think it could be that he spent so much time perfecting it that, in his thrall state, he uses it because it’s the one he worked with the most. Like a dominant hand. It’s instinctual.”
Ridan supposed that made sense. As much as any of it did. “And this poisoned magic is somehow keeping him in this state?”
“Uh, no,” Halm said sheepishly. “Actually, I think it might help us. Because the magic is unstable, I think it might be easier to break.”
“Can you break it?”
Smudging ink on her full cheek, she nodded. “I think so.” Halm gathered her collected materials as she got to her feet. “Let me preface this by saying I do not know what I’m doing.”
“Love the confidence,” Buzzard scoffed.
“The thing about thralls is that no one has ever tried to…uh, un-thrall them. It’s always been a one and done kind of thing, and those who have attempted it have always done so from the outside.”
Brune stepped up beside Ridan. “Outside? What do you mean?”
Shuffling through her papers, Halm finally gave up on what she was looking for and sighed. “Right. Say you were treating someone who was stabbed. If all you did was stitch it up, you might miss something critical. Like internal bleeding or infection.” Halm blinked dry eyes as she stared down at her ink stained fingers. Ridan nodded for her to continue.
“That’s what they’ve done with thralls. Just kind of…threw spells and medicine at them and hoped it worked. No one has ever tried to treat them from the inside.”
“The inside?” Corric asked, his voice quiet. “You intend to cut my brother open?”
“Yes! Not actually, of course, but um…” she ran his fingers through her hair. “There won’t be any cutting.”
Buzzard’s golden eyes were bright in the tent's gloom, narrowed on Halm like he understood something the rest of them hadn’t quite caught up on yet. “You want to use magic?”