Chapter Eight

Choice

The Weight of a Stone

Athair felt a jolt as energy was ripped from him. Its loss was replaced with a flood of awareness. The pain was incredible, but the weakness and disorientation were worse. The poison had done its job well. He would have been an easy kill. It was amazing he had gotten away at all, and now he must rely on these humans to heal him. What a laugh. He should have been able to heal himself.

The man thought him an animal. But the woman, she saw only with her heart. She was very tender with her own deep wounds. As soon as he was able, he would thank her by healing her. What he needed was sleep. Deep, healing sleep. But not yet.

They opened the back of the moving machine, placed him on something with wheels, and rolled him into a building. The first room was painted in bright colors and was filled with windows. The second was mostly white, so bright it made his eyes water after the dark night. Here they moved him onto a metal table. It was cold and hard, it brought fear to him again. The distance to the floor made the room spin around him. To stop the spin, he closed his eyes and tried to remember the woman's voice and what she had said to him. What was her name? What had the man called her? It was a nice name. Finally, the room came to a stop. Hope. That was her name. She was Hope. She would make it right. A wave of dizziness swept over him.

Make what right? So much was wrong. He opened his eyes and looked at her. Did she know that she was empathic? He could feel her trying to soothe him. Then she gave him an injection. Aahhh. The pain began to ease. She was Hope. And she'd drugged him.

* * *

Sgrios burst into the center of the group as a wolf, but he quickly shifted between forms depending on the need. A ripping, tearing bite here. His deadly knives in the very next moment. He was fire and fury, and completely without mercy.

Only seconds after his entrance, he had killed two of the men and cut the bonds from Rath with a single slash at the tree. When Rath would have fallen, Reultan was there to catch him, and he helped him to where Dàn was. Díon cut Dàn's ropes, gently cradling Dàn's still form as he lowered him to the ground.

Sgrios snapped another opponent's neck with one hard, deft twist, the cracking sound like a dry branch. Followed by a knife to the heart. A fourth tried to run but was caught with bolas tangled about his legs. He didn't even have time to struggle before Sgrios was on him, slashing his throat.

The rest scattered from his swift, devastating attack. Nothing could have prepared them for his fully unleashed rage.

Sgrios tangled another with a second set of bolas and threw two long knives, both finding deadly marks in the back of the necks of two retreating fighters. After retrieving his knives and dispensing of the downed men with a single flashing blade, he shifted to wolf form and shot into the night after Bequlf and the rest.

Rath leaned weakly against Dàn's tree, trying to get his bearings. Díon knelt beside Dàn for a long moment, and then he and Reultan moved off to check the area. Rath couldn't see how his friend still breathed. Or did he? He was completely still. Suddenly, Rath thought help must have arrived too late after all.

"Don't worry. I'm still here."Dàn offered in reassurance.

He wasn't convinced. "Good. I didn't want to have to carry your dead weight back home."

"Even alive, you may have to carry me."

"Looks like I owe you again. The least I can do is carry your lazy ass home."Rath knew it was certainly true, though he would be hard pressed to carry himself at this point. How he wished he could use his limited healing powers to help Dàn. At that, he remembered the silver bands and struggled to pull them from his and Dàn's arms. Dàn's skin felt cold. Dead.

"Thank you. They burned."Dàn's mental voice was little more than a tickle.

"Maybe I don't really want to know. But are you dead? Am I imagining this whole conversation? Or worse, am I talking with your ghost? You should know I am totally disturbed by talking with dead folk. Even nice dead folk."

"Not dead. But damned close. Sgrios may be able to help."

May? In more than four centuries, Rath had rarely heard Dàn sound hesitant as he made a prediction. What if Sgrios couldn't help or took too long to come back? This felt far too much like saying goodbye, but what if they had no other chance? "Dàn?"

"Yes, Rath?"

"Thank you. For everything. I mean for being a good friend, and you always have been, even when I wasn't. If I can do anything, I will. You know that. You saved me today and also long ago. I'll never forget that debt."He would have continued, if Dàn hadn't interrupted.

"Rath?"

"What is it, Dàn?"

"If you promise to stop bewailing my demise, I will promise to not die. Or at least do my best to live."

"Okay."

"Just watch for Sgrios and call him over as soon as he returns."

Rath looked around to see if perhaps Sgrios had come back during their exchange. He hadn't. He watched as Reultan and Díon checked the bodies of the traitors. He questioned his brother, "Reultan, are they dead?"

"Oh yeah. Very. Remind me to never piss off that wolf."

"How many are there? I can't see well from here."

"Seven in the initial attack. I am a lover not a fighter, but even to me his combat skills are inspiring."

Rath wasn't very good at empathy, but he could easily feel Reultan's sense of awe. "How so?" Rath was glad to have a distraction.

"He is efficient. Each kill was quick and precise. The first had his throat torn out. There's one with a broken neck. The two Sgrios took down with bolas have slit throats. And this one—"Reultan stood over a very gory body. "I take back the precise comment. I don't know what he did, or with what weapons, but the man's chest is ripped open. I think his heart was torn out." The last two were almost twenty feet past the other victims.

"What of them?"

"Knife to the back of the neck. The two wounds are exactly the same, entering deeply at the base of the skull. They never knew what hit them and there was no time for them to heal themselves."He turned and walked back to join the others. "That is one scary wolf."

Reultan went to Rath's side without looking at Dàn. "Díon and I can begin healing you while we wait for Sgrios."

Rath shook his head. Reultan was his brother, and it was natural for him to offer to heal him first, but Dàn was more critical. Dàn first, he said silently.

"I'm sorry, Rath." Reultan said gently after a short pause to look Dàn's way. "Dàn's dead."

* * *

Shortly after Hope gave the wolf anesthesia, the terrible crashing storm lessened, allowing them to concentrate on the animal's injuries. Only a few minutes later, the night was completely calm. At first Hope welcomed the sudden drastic change in the weather, but then it took on an eerie feel... almost surreal, supernatural.

Although the quiet should have allowed Hope to control her nerves and focus on the surgical repairs necessary to save the wolf's life, she ended up asking Steve to find a radio to provide background noise. Somehow the noise made an abnormal situation to at least seem believable. Here she was stitching up a wolf that shouldn't be here with injuries that were too terrible to imagine. The weather seemed to be out of control, and her mind kept drifting back to thoughts of werewolves. The Eagles' One of these Nights played quietly in the background.

With a deep sigh, Hope pushed all thoughts from her mind except those needed to repair the wolf's mangled flesh. There were twenty or more bite marks that were bad enough to require stitches. She closed each one, starting with the worst of them. He had one terrible gash that carved out the left side of his neck and shoulder. There was significant damage to the muscle, and it continued to bleed until she repaired the severed artery.

For more than four hours, she and Steve worked to put hairy Humpty back together again. Finally, when they were close to completion, Hope checked the wolf over one last time to be sure they hadn't missed anything. She had drawn blood and would start lab work in the morning. She wanted to restore this wolf to perfect health.

Steve helped her move the animal to a back room set up with crates and runs where he could recover. Placing him on the cement floor seemed too cold and alone, so Hope made a pallet of old blankets for him. Beside it, she hung the IV bag she insisted would help him recover more quickly. Then she moved the radio and set it to a rock channel with the volume on low. She believed music was soothing to hurt and scared animals and hoped that it would help the wolf.

Long after Steve left, she stood at the gate of the run, watching the wolf sleep. Stairway to Heaven played quietly in the background and she thought about the strange turns her life had taken recently. She only had two choices, to deal with it or deny it. Most days, she had the strength to deal with whatever life threw at her. But every now and then she remembered it was okay to deny what was before her. Some days, it was the only way to get through.

This was one of those times. She would get this wolf back on his feet and find him a place to belong. She wouldn't worry about werewolves and what else goes bump in the night. Except for the events of that one strange night, the world was exactly as it was before. So, she would put that night from her thoughts. And if she went wild with the full moon, so be it. She would deal with it when the time came.

* * *

"He's not dead,"Rath said.

"I know you were closest to him. I'm sorry, brother."

"He is not dead," Rath said stubbornly aloud in a dry cracking voice. Then he realized Reultan and Díon would not have the strength to help Dàn. Only Sgrios could.

Rath watched as the two exchanged a look that clearly said, Poor Rath has lost his mind, but we'll take care of him anyway.

Reultan leaned closer. "We can heal you some now. Will you let us?"

"Yeah, let's get to it."

With help, Rath lay back on the ground and tried to relax. He knew Reultan would lead the healing. The fact they were brothers would strengthen his powers, enough so that Díon, being a better healer, wouldn't matter. The healing powers could be better channeled with the proper ceremonies, but even here, without benefit of formal rites, their healing could be very successful.

Rath closed his eyes and felt the healing warmth soothe away his many aches and pains. Without looking, he knew both Reultan and Díon knelt beside him slowly moving their hands over his injuries. Their power would be channeled into the wounds to increase the speed of natural healing. He could feel the pain easing from his broken ribs as they knit back together in the course of only a few moments.

Rath focused on the power flowing into his battered body. He felt the distinct touch of his brother and also Díon. And another?

Yes, definitely a third source of power. Gentler. Subtle. Weak. He recognized that feeling… Dàn!

Rath bolted upright, interrupting the healing. "Knock it off Dàn! You don't have the strength for that," he shouted hoarsely at Dàn's inert body.

His unexpected outburst rocked Reultan and Díon back on their heels. Rath laughed at Reultan's worried look. Díon looked shocked too, and another, less definable, emotion flickered across his face.

Rath was saved from explaining himself when Sgrios returned. He loped straight to Dàn and shifted back to man form to begin examining Dàn's injuries.

Now that he was in much better shape, Rath went to help Sgrios. But before he could say anything, Sgrios growled in a low voice, "Send the others away. This will not be pretty."

It was an odd request. Usually, the addition of more people added strength to a healing. Yet even with his doubts, he asked Reultan and Díon to move the dead bodies away from where they were working. Rath helped them with the closest ones, until they were far enough from Dàn and Sgrios.

When he approached Sgrios, he saw that Sgrios had removed Dàn's torn shirt, revealing many critical wounds. And Rath saw for the first time the fatal wound. Dàn's throat had been cut, probably in retaliation for when Sgrios arrived.

Dàn really was dead.

"Call Dàn back." Sgrios said "It's almost too late."

Too late? Almost? "Dàn. Sgrios says it's time to come back."

No response.

Regardless of anything else, Sgrios was his elder. He did trust the wolf. Didn't he? "Dàn? Come back now!"

A long moment passed before the feeling of Dàn stirred in his mind. "Rath? When?"

"Dàn wants to know when."

Sgrios carefully placed his hands over Dàn, one over his throat and the other one over his chest. "Now," he said.

"Now, Dàn."

Before the thought faded, Dàn's body arched in a massive seizure. His heart began to pump, and blood flowed from his wounds, flooding from his throat.

The blood gradually slowed. Rath figured both Sgrios and Dàn himself were working hard to save his life. Sgrios worked to heal the fatal slash to his throat. Dàn was probably slowing his breathing and heart rate to give Sgrios time to work.

Rath quietly began the healing chant used in more formal ceremonies without knowing if it would help or not. The chant gave him something on which to focus. A purpose.

Sgrios concentrated on Dàn's torn flesh, pouring his energy into the healing. His energy was so strong it manifested as waves of bluish light that soaked into Dàn.

As Rath watched, a thin, red mist formed and swirled over Dàn's injuries. The strange mist instantly healed all minor cuts and bruises it touched, lingering and coiling for long minutes over more severe knife wounds and broken bones.

Was the mist part of Sgrios' healing? Or was it Dàn's work? Rath couldn't tell, but he planned to ask them later. It was certainly nothing he had ever seen before.

Rath looked up and saw Reultan and Díon returning, and he used his abilities to remove the blood from Dàn to diminish the amount of gore at the scene. That was within his power and would make Dàn's recovery seem more plausible.

Reultan and Díon approached without interrupting and joined in the chant. A look at Reultan's face showed Rath he didn't believe Dàn could be healed.

The healing continued for most of an hour. The progress was obvious. Soon, the wounds were only thin white scars. Dàn breathed normally, his body relaxed as if asleep.

The red mist still wrapped itself around him, comforting and protecting, yet menacing.

Suddenly, without warning, Dàn's body arched in another long, hard seizure. The mist spiraled over him in agitation. Tiny red sparks flew toward Sgrios, who was holding Dàn still. Pulling his hands away, Sgrios bellowed, "Rath! Call him, now. He must wake up."

"Dàn! Wake up Dàn!"Rath shouted mentally.

Another seizure hit Dàn. Moments later, it passed.

Dàn's eyes opened and for an instant, he met Rath's gaze. He appeared calm, as always.

Then a third seizure hit Dàn. He howled in anguish. The mist wrapped tightly around him, in comfort, while sparks continued to flash in all directions. When his body slackened this time, he lay limp and whimpered with each breath. "Please, send them away. I don't want to be seen like this." His stricken voice flowed into Rath's mind.

Then Rath realized Díon and Reultan were staring at Dàn in shock and fear. Díon was pale and his face was beaded with sweat. Reultan had backed away and gawked at the spectacle.

"Both of you!" He roared in fury at their callous behavior. "Go!"

When they only looked at him in surprise he growled, "Set up a camp near the stream."

When they still didn't move, Sgrios gave them a low threatening growl that sent them hurrying away.

Dàn cried out softly despite his obvious attempt at restraint. His loss of composure bothered Rath more than anything else had. Dàn had not uttered a sound during all the abuse they had suffered. In fact, he could remember only a few times that Dàn had reacted to pain at all.

"Dàn? What can we do to help?" Rath asked.

"Nothing,"he answered silently as he struggled to sit upright.

Rath reached for his arm, intending to help him. His hand was still inches away when scorching red sparks bit into his fingers, burning them deeply. He yanked his hand back with a yelp of pain. Dàn fell flat again.

"Guess I could have warned you." Sgrios showed him his own singed hands.

"What's happening to Dàn?" Rath rubbed his reddened palms, focusing his weakened energy to soothe the pain from them.

"I don't know. I've never seen anything like this," Sgrios said. "What does Dàn say?"

"Not much. Haven't you asked him?"

"No. He is too weak to talk aloud, and I won't inflict myself on him with mental contact."

"Oh." Maybe he should try to get some answers from Dàn. "Dàn? Do you know what's happening?"

"Somehow, I am changing. And it hurts like bloody hell!"

"Do you know why we can't touch you?"

Seconds ticked by before he answered. "I have no balance."

"He says he has no balance, and that he is changing. Does that tell you anything?"

"Maybe. The trauma of puberty often initiates or expands powers in the young. Perhaps the torture stimulated Dàn to a new level of strength. That could cause a magical imbalance."

"I've never heard of that happening before."

"Neither have I, but I read it in a book long ago and Dàn is constantly surprising us.Isn't he?" he said wryly.

It made sense to Rath. As he thought back to the only other time Dàn was seriously injured, he remembered that Dàn had been stronger after he healed. That injury had been caused by a silver tipped crossbow bolt, maybe accounting for his current immunity to silver.

"What do we do now?" Rath asked.

"Let me rest awhile."Dàn spoke silently.

"We'll set up camp and rest for the night," Sgrios said. "Neither of you are up to traveling yet." He stood and started walking in the direction the others had taken, calling out over his shoulder, "Wait here with Dàn. I"ll see to a fire and some warm food."

Not knowing how long they would have to wait, Rath sat down and made himself comfortable next to Dàn. "Looks like it's just us again."

Rath set Reultan"s canteen by Dàn, "There's some water left, if you're thirsty. I don"t think I can hold it for you, so I hope you"re strong enough to do it yourself." He watched as Dàn gritted his teeth and struggled to sit up, this time succeeding. Barely. Since he couldn"t help Dàn move, Rath shifted an old log behind his friend so he could rest against it.

Dàn took a long drink from the canteen and croaked out, "Thanks," in a nearly inaudible voice.

"So, how's Athair doing now?"

"I don"t really know. He was nearly unconscious when... When I lost track of him."

He couldn't be sure if that was good or not. But since Dàn hadn't mentioned going to his rescue, it was probably okay for now. "I suppose we will try to catch up with him. Do you know where he is?"

"About a day southeast of here."

"Will he be all right that long?"

"Yeah, he"s better off than we are."

"Will you be able to travel that far? Looks like I'll have to take back my offer to carry you."

Dàn smiled at that. "I should be well enough to carry myself by morning."

"What did you mean by changing?" Rath asked. He'd been wondering about that. "Into what?"

"I am not sure, not exactly."

"Was that red mist your doing?"

"What red mist?"Dàn tried to claim ignorance. Until Rath waved at Dàn's arms, where some of the mist still clung and moved in soothing motions. At least it was no longer spitting sparks in all directions. "Oh, that mist."

"Yeah, that mist."Rath snorted at his friend's evasiveness. "Fine. Don't tell me. It would probably just weird me out anyway."

"Probably,"Dàn avoided his gaze. Meanwhile, that strange mist continued moving over his skin.