Healer (29 page)

Chanté could only point to the two wolves
shifting back to their true forms. His other hand mimicked the final signals
from their father.

In a thrash of uncontrollable anger,
Corrigan broke through branches in a rage that sent large chunks of bark and
whole limbs raining down below. Eyes flashed gold as he climbed the air
currents. There was only one
focus, that
of the
Lo-ans’rel
leader standing over his
fallen son with raised staff.

In a scream that resonated throughout the
battlefield, his large wings held the splendor of any broad-shouldered Black
Wing.

Then, he dived.

*****

Wisdom pressed his fingers firmly over the
neck wound. The wolf’s bite had been off-mark. A little more to the side and it
would have hit a vital artery. He slid back on his rump where he had fallen,
his own wolf form completely drained. Now, staring up at his father’s raised
staff, he knew the game was at a close.

When,
Osha
!
There
was no ignoring those agonized screams from a failing army. Numbers were short,
and without the projected shields Simpletons provided they would have been
wiped out at the very beginning.
When!

As he watched the blade slip from its
hidden slot, the staff lowered in slow motion over his chest. Out of breath,
out of time, Wisdom closed his eyes to the oncoming slice of pain.

If I
die, will your soul die as well?

Patience
,
was the calm reply, even as the tip of blade grazed
his shirt.

A scream from above,
enough time for Chronicles to glance to its source before a brown and black
blur slammed into him.
The staff
was instantly
lost,
and landed some feet away like it
had been planted firmly in the ground. For several yards, the two slid across
ashen earth. When they at last came to a halt, it was Corrigan who pressed his
talons against the Healer’s throat as he pinned Chronicles down. Unfurling
wings reached out on either side, keeping others at bay. An angry
‘Keyarx
was not something to mess with.
Thus, the two were respectfully granted space, and time, as Corrigan curled his
lip back to show a set of fangs.

“You let Rusha die! Admit it!” However,
Chronicles could only whimper as those pointed tips drew crimson beads of
blood. “Call off this fight! Get your people under control, or breathe your
last, Healer!”

Chronicles closed his eyes. It was nearly
impossible to concentrate with compressed lungs. Yet he managed to send his
thoughts across the field to each of his clan members.

Sounds of battle soon quieted.

It was the lingering stillness that kept
the men steadily darting their gazes around to be sure no attack was coming.
When the last war cries and clanging steel finally faded, Wisdom pulled himself
up. A hand to his shoulder made him glance behind to see Ashpin offering
assistance. The prince accepted with a nod of thanks, and he was helped to his
feet. He then drew his attention to the new center of activity.

“Corrigan—”

“Don’t try to reason. You know he deserves
nothing less!”

“It’s not him,” Wisdom said sharply. “He’s
merely a puppet. You know this. You’ve seen it.” He could feel the pressure of
all eyes upon him. Both Healers and humans followed his every move. Now was the
time to show them the truth.
If Jenario
had shown himself sooner, we could have avoided so much!

Gradually, Corrigan eased off the Healer’s
throat, allowing Chronicles to suck in a breath.
“Should’ve
known he was just another tool.”

“Who’s to say we all haven’t been?” Wisdom
said.
“You most of all.
Remember?”

Corrigan grimaced. How could he forget the
way Jenario used him for spying? As he slid off Chronicle’s sprawled form, he
kept an eye on the Healer.

It took a moment for the leader to collect
himself
. When he did, he pulled himself up as smoothly
as possible,
then
stepped away from that menacing amber
stare.

Wisdom glanced around the area. The
Simpletons had not shown themselves yet.
Good.
Let them continue to believe everything’s
burned.
A few whispers at the back of his mind, and he knew the Simpletons
had heard his thoughts.

As Healers began collecting around their
leader, Wisdom signaled to Alexander. He seemed in good condition, besides a
few well-scraped places around the arms and legs. The Western Clan leader began
assembling his men, helping the wounded limp back into relative safety. Those
still on the field were either dead or dying, and Wisdom wished that he could
go to them – even make his kind heal them.
If
trust were possible
– yet healing required full
concentration,
and he dared not try when war was still at hand. Instead, he watched his father
pull the staff from its upright position and motion for his people to wait.

Thin trickles of blood drizzled down his
neck. No doubt, he was exhausted by the way he leaned heavily on the staff. His
gaze soon flicked to his son.

“So now you have our attention,”
Chronicles said in a stern, but tired tone. “I suggest you make use of it.”

Before Wisdom could even get out a word,
there came a loud caw. A raven swooped across the field, heading toward the
prince. Thoughts rang to him in anger.

You
dare make a fool of us!
Nearly upon
his target, a swipe of white feathers knocked the bird to the ground. In
surprise, Wisdom stepped aside for Chanté to land.

Feathers fluffed in agitation. “I never
liked him,” the harpy said as the bird shifted back to the raven-haired youth.

Opal eyes angrily gazed up at them.

“Jangus,” Wisdom heard his father call,
but his focus had drifted to a hint of green sprouting from the ash. Had the
Simpletons slipped? Jangus apparently never noticed even after sitting up from
his crash-landing. As more color spread behind the youth, Wisdom’s chest
tightened with fear.

“It’s coming...” It was no more than a
whisper. Yet his father’s ears perked in his direction. “Jangus, I suggest you
move.”

The young Healer brushed himself off as he
got to his feet. “Since when do
you
give orders?” Oblivious, he continued to ignore the warning, even when his own
kind began to recognize it.

“Why isn’t that being covered?” Ashpin
leaned in close to whisper.

“Because it’s none of their doing,” Wisdom
said quickly.
“Jangus!
You’re in
Eúgliactmaent!
Move!”

“Yeah, right!”

“Jangus,
ci’vo!”
Chronicles ordered.

Confused, the young man turned.

There was no holding back that gasp of
surprise. Eyes widened fearfully, and in his haste he tripped over the
fast-constricting vines. Several ensnared his legs and were already wrapping
around his chest. As it grew, blossoming buds burst with five pointed petals on
each, snow-white with yellow centers. A familiar honeysuckle scent filled the
air. One bloom pushed its way toward the struggling Healer’s face.

“Hold your breath, Jangus! Don’t
breath
it!” Wisdom warned, though he knew it was useless.

Other Healers attempted to help, but the
plants snaked upward and snapped at them. Even Alexander’s men attempted to
hack at the vines. In moments, more replaced what was lost, and only thickened
across the ground.

The men moved back.

“You built him up to be like you!” Wisdom
said. “The least you could do is save him!”

“Such is the price when you fail to
listen,” his father replied without a hint of emotion. “Remind you of anyone?”

“At least Shy was smart enough to know he
was being used!”

By now, Jangus’ body was a tangle of
lime-green vines. There came a muffled scream, followed by a joking wheeze.
Several blooms made a coughing motion. Their pointed petals jerked outward,
spewing yellow pollen from its core.

Immediately, Chronicles ordered his kind
further back from the deadly particles. They drifted momentarily in the air before
settling around the base of the plant. Soon a thin, yellow coating collected
where Jangus had been engulfed. However, the vines themselves continued to
gather. They entwined up the side of an ashen mound, building at the top like
some great gate about to open.

Wisdom held his breath.

Your
salvation has arrived, Healer
, a
rasping thought thundered between each individual. Then the vines pulled aside
to allow its master through.

Cloven hoofs kicked up bits of ash as it
stepped forth. Each movement captured the power in its rippling chest of
protruding veins populating a hairless coat. It was not the sleek appearance
accustomed for a unicorn, but a mass of lumped muscles and tightly-stretched
skin over a ribcage that seemed ready to tear. Up the curving neck, which
dipped in greeting, one could only stare as its pupil-less eyes flicked over
each person. Then the horn, or what looked like one, cracked and twisted like
the vines that crawled over upon themselves, spiraled up from the forehead.

Wisdom averted his gaze from the ghastly
creature. He tried not to gag, but his stomach would not still itself. This was
different from the last time he had seen it.

No
wonder it wants a new body! It’s dying!

Beside him, he heard Ashpin suck in a
sickened breath. Its hideous appearance could stop any war, and he hoped that
now it would.

Now
they see who they should be fighting.

Then, a scream.

CHAPTER 5

The memory of fire slammed Chronicles so
hard he thought he would choke.
It
had
been on his mind earlier.
It
had been
what the fire built up around, trying to stop it from ravaging the land.
It
had been the reason his people had
left Ettotu’s Glade.

Not humans...
Chronicles’ startling scream caught everyone off
guard. “No! No! It’s not possible!”

Wisdom forced himself to hold position
when his father fell to his knees. He wanted to jump to his side, but a quick
glance to the unicorn only confirmed a look of contentment.

There came a hiss from Corrigan. From the
corner of his eye, the prince could see the harpy’s feathers ripple in
agitation.

“What have you done?” Wisdom demanded.

“I?”
A chuckle.
“He’s now realizing the error of his ways.
Of course, I may have…influenced a few thoughts along that path. But it all
comes down to
his own
course of action.”

As the creature rasped on, Chronicles
could only shake his head. Clasping both hands on either side of his temple, he
kept saying, “What have I done? What have I done?”

While the rest of the Healers seemed to
pull from their own trances, Wisdom opened his thoughts to pick up any other
clues. What he saw in those thoughts sent him reeling back in time.

He saw images of his mother. They were
fleeing the forest as their former leader Windchester issued an emergency.
Fragments of burning trees mingled with concerns of half-breeds and human
relationships. In that respect, Wisdom could understand his father’s growing
dislike for humans at the time. But it was while trying to escape that his
father encountered the dark unicorn. That was the moment his memories blanked.

“Wisdom?”
Ashpin’s voice drew the prince back into his own
mind. He sucked in a breath and let his thoughts sift through pieces of imagery
until the prince had a clear picture of what they were dealing with.

“No wonder he’s acted this way.” Wisdom
then lifted his voice for the rest to hear. “He’s seen it before, but it
covered his mind so he couldn’t remember – just like it did my brother. He
thought he was doing good eliminating humans because he thought humans had
destroyed our homeland. But that wasn’t so, was it?” He pointed to the unicorn.
“You
destroyed it!”

“More
than likely another leader’s doing, one that went wrong,”
was its answer.

“But you can’t deny everything that’s
happened is directly related to you. Everything from my past, to my father’s
actions, to this war! You staged
everything
from the beginning! You have to! You’re a unicorn. That’s what they do!”

“And
you think my dear sister works any different than I?”
It snorted.
“What
of her staging events? Are they any purer in reason other than to survive
Nature’s own set of rules regarding the Purification process?”

Between the unicorn’s excuses, and
Chronicles’ repeating apologies, Wisdom felt the urge to choke one of them.

“Now’s not the time to fall apart!” he shouted
to his father and took a step toward the animal. “Fight it, Jenario! Don’t let
it continue using you!”

Queer laughter mixed with a throaty growl.
As those crimson eyes burned with amusement, it bowed its head in mocking.

“As if he could hear you.
Jenario’s no more in control than you of Sapphire’s storm.”
A quick glance off to the sidelines where Alexander’s
men stood,
“But since you insist.”

A faint outline of crimson secured its
form. As it warped into a human shape, Wisdom got the hint of what the horn
intended.

It
wants Jenario to take the blame.
To
his left, Chronicles managed to get to his feet, although he avoided all eye
contact.
We can settle this later,
he
thought to his father.
Let’s just worry
about what’s in front of us.

A nod.
Chronicles then focused his attention back on the
fading glow that uncovered the true form beneath the black monster – and
gasped.

“Jenario?”
Wisdom heard over his own sudden intake of breath.
The man’s haggard appearance revealed what the horn had done to him. That once
warm, sly manner he carried was no more. Instead, he resembled someone drained
of all energy, hallow-cheeked and dismal staring. His lean form slightly
hunched forward in an overbearing, velvety robe. A good walking stick would
have served him better. Now he just looked like a used-up worker still
pretending to be the magic-user he was not.

“Jenario.”
The prince stepped closer, mindful of
Eúgliactmaent
vines still lingering.
“Can you hear me?”

Slowly, the alchemist’s gaze fell to the young
Healer. Upon recognizing him, eyebrows lowered in sudden anger.

“You...” he hissed. “Why couldn’t you just
let me study? That’s all I ever wanted. To study something real! Not books!
Real!”

“Listen to
yourself
!”
a new voice announced.

All eyes switched to the young man who
slipped through Alexander’s men and strode, unafraid, through the tangle of
vines to where his father stood.

Wisdom caught a slight smirk from
Corrigan. The two must have have come together, for he heard the sarcastic
thought,
About
time!

Jenario remained silent as he watched his
son approach.

“Do you know who you sound like?” Abraham
said.
“That thing.
You’ve carried it so long that it’s
now made you into itself. Don’t you feel that?” He shook his head. “You’re not
the same person I came to when I was looking for my father.
When
I was looking for inspiration.
When I was looking...to
do magic.
Now I wish I didn’t have this…” He pulled the long robe,
signifying a magic-user’s status, over his head and tossed it at the feet of
his father.
“Because I would hate to end up like you!”

Jenario stared at his son’s simple tunic
and gray pants before dropping his gaze to the crimson robe crumpled on the
ground.

“You would put yourself in a commoner’s
position?”

“Rather that than yours!” Abraham pointed
to the crimson necklace. “Father, you’ve got to let that thing go! It’s killing
you! It’s already killed the land surrounding Sapphire. But it’s not stopping.
It wants more, and it’ll get more the longer you continue wearing it!”

Abraham held out a hand, palm up, as if
requesting his father’s piece of jewelry.

“Please.” He stood with outstretched hand
and waited.

Wisdom held his breath.

Silence persisted, and still Jenario did
nothing.

With a sigh, Abraham balled his hand into
a fist. “Have it your way,” then slammed it into his father’s jaw. The punch
sent Jenario tumbling over himself, over slithering vines, and down the mound’s
side. He came to a sliding rest on his back, where he drunkenly gazed up into a
darkening sky.

Wisdom released the breath he had been
holding. Where Jenario lay, his fingers fidgeted against blackened earth. There
was no attempt to get up.

“That went well.” The prince felt like
Corrigan, sarcasm rolling from his tongue as he eyed the changing sky. “Stay
here, Ashpin.” He strode through some of the groping vines, counting on
Osha’s
protection to keep them from pulling him under as it
had Jangus.

“Careful!” Alexander called from behind,
in which Wisdom raised a hand to acknowledge the message.

“I didn’t know what else to do.” Abraham
slid down the side of the mound to where his father lay. “He acted like he’d
lost all common sense!”

“Well, he has! The horn took it. And just
based on looks, it’s taken more than that.”

The alchemist’s eyes were closed by the
time the two got to him.
Just glancing over those sunken
cheeks made the prince feel sorry for him.
After years of playing cat
and mouse between two unicorns,
Purification
preparing, and cleaning up one mess after another, actually seeing his arch
nemesis up close made him realize something else.

“Your father’s not the enemy, Abraham.”

“I know.”

A glint of metal in the dirt, and Wisdom
stooped to uncover Ashpin’s gold-striped dagger. Chronicles’ bear hide must
have been too thick to do much damage, and had dropped off in the heat of
battle. Its slender craftsmanship was perfect for quick maneuvers. He eyed the
gold chain around Jenario’s neck. Upon his breast lay the stone containing the
piece of horn – the hub of the horn’s existence.

“Think we can get it off?” Wisdom held up
the dagger until Abraham nodded.

“Right.
We don’t want to risk that thing getting one of us.”

“You most of all.”
The prince had him back away slightly. “Think of the
destruction had your father had
real
magic instead of illusion.”

Slipping the blade’s tip beneath the
chain, he slowly raised it. He was careful not to let the chain slip down to
the hilt when Jenario’s hand shot up and grabbed his wrist.

With Abraham shouting from behind, the prince
dropped the dagger. Jenario, however, held firm, those cold eyes flooding with
the horn’s red presence.

“Oh,
but surely a Healer is more preferable over
any
magic-user.”

A flash from Wisdom’s open scar caused the
mage to suddenly release him. While the prince instantly jerked back, he could
not help but notice how the scar cooled to its original color.

“Guess it’s not that simple if I have your
counterpart.” He stood next to Abraham, who had raised a hand to ready a spell.

 
“So…my appearance bothers you, does it?”
Jenario turned to his son. At a hand gesture, the vines pulled into the earth,
taking the fallen with them.

Wisdom caught the last of Delexi’s furry
form sucked under. A slithering vine crossing over his boot made him
twist
away. Several commands came from both groups to avoid
the groping plants. When the last of it disappeared into ashen earth, Jenario
made another motion.

An explosion tore through the ground,
throwing ash every which way. From it, the leafy plants expanded upward into a
column of entwining green, gray and white buds. The weighted structure then let
itself collapse into a molding clump. Snaking up and around, it began to form
the body of the dark unicorn. White buds protruded from facial sockets and
around the feet, acting as feathering. A thorny patch rose in place of a horn,
while active pieces flowed out in waves of hair strands. If not for the chaotic
lull of power reeking from its form, there might have been beauty to it.

Wisdom braced himself, unsure of the
horn’s intentions.

A chuckle escaped the alchemist’s lips.
The plant unicorn dipped its flowered head. Five-petal buds opened in the eye
sockets as a release of power withdrew from its horn into Jenario’s body. Soon,
those sunken features began to fill in, until he was as the prince remembered
him – a cocky illusionist expecting obedience of another.

Wisdom felt sick.
He’s using the dead to draw energy!
He then repeated those thoughts
to the separate groups.

“That
better?”
Even the horn’s rasping was
clearer as he took a bow. Behind him, the vine unicorn pawed the ash.

“Storm not enough for you?” Wisdom
frowned, allowing his sight-reading ability to pick up random thoughts from
others.

Many questioned,
Why not just kill him?

Do you
want the horn jumping bodies? We need Jenario in control of himself!

Leave
that to
us
,
came the multiple voices of Simpletons, with one
standing out among them all.

Careful,
Mididus
, the prince cautioned.

“What..?” Chronicles peered around at the
touch of grass sliding against clothing. Nearby trees and ground vegetation
that had once been shielded slipped back into view. The burnt area now seemed
insignificant to the amount of greenery taking its place.

A rush of Nature’s energy connected to the
Healer’s flexing fingertips. Where purple and black swelled, healing took away.
At last, Chronicles could fully see again.

Clever,
those eyes seemed to say, which his son welcomed with
a nod.

“Deceitful
moves, Healer.”
The horn grinned and
directed his attention toward the prince.
“But
is it wise to reveal your secrets?”