Stormchild: Emeline and the Forest Mage

49. Apart (I)

'He will not come,' Emeline said and stomped her foot. 'He can't. You don't understand, Kijs. Haven't you seen her?'

The Mage would have none of it, and Emeline's anger rushed like the noise of the blood in each body in the vicinity. She tried to drown out the thudding and gushing of it, but it grew louder. She blocked her ears. A cry sounded and echoed down the tunnel.

'Stop this,' Kijs said. 'We can't leave him behind. He is the only one who can kill her. You can't go killing people every time you get angry.'

'Kill?' she looked back at the tunnel that lead to Guiseila's place. Footsteps thudded nearer, and panting, and very warm blood beating an erratic rhythm.

'Mage, Girl Child.' Denirya bowed as she approached, hands folded into her dark cloak. 'Come quick. It's Avétk. He's stopped breathing.'

Emeline ran. She didn't pause to listen what words were spoken next or to allow any thoughts to surface. She only pounded back up the dark tunnel as fast as her legs would go, cussing. Avétk. Not Avétk. What had she done? She nearly fell over Avétk's form sprawled near the entranceway, Ketiya feeling his pulse and blowing into his mouth, Färin pumping at his chest.

'What is this?' Ketiya's eyes, broken with fear.

'Help us.' The lordling, panting with the urgency, his arms forceful in their efforts. Push, push, push.

A wave of dizziness washed over Emeline, but Guiseila stood just beside her, from where she had come Emeline couldn't say, but her paper thin, soft skin was a comfort that rooted Emeline to reality.

'Come, Emeline. You know what to do. Just close your eyes and focus.' Her voice sounded so much like Mother's. Emeline did as she said, and it came to her.

Of course. She had stopped the flow of his blood when she forced its silence! When she blocked her ears. She pinched her eyes shut and begged his blood with whispers to awaken, to do what they were made to. Her lips touched, the mutterings soft and illegible like the Mage's magics. And then, in a flash, she saw his blood, stagnant and cold in his veins. Iced.

Could she undo that? Her eyes snapped open. 'Put him near the fire, quick.'

She started pulling her arms out of her sleeves. 'Färin, bring me all the furs, I don't care who owns what. His blood is frozen. We have only a few minutes.'

Her top was off. Ketiya's too. Ketiya understood what she was doing. Together with Finlug, they lifted and pulled Avétk close to the fire and undid the laces keeping his vest together. Next they tugged his top off. A real challenge. The man was big and bulky and unresponsive as a false god. Färin, eyes peeled to the two now fully naked woman and almost naked man with a shocked fascination, threw furs at them, reluctant to come closer. The girls wrapped the furs around each other, sat Avétk up between them, and wrapped themselves around him.

Emeline closed her eyes. The little ice crystals that his blood had become started to thaw, but would it be fast enough?

'Rub at his heart, Kitty.'

She nodded. He was frigid and it terrified her.

The Mage and Denirya ran into the cave just then, him clutching his staff, her looking frazzled for once. 'I think I can help,' he said.

'The wind kuns?' Denirya asked.

'Yes, dammit.'

'I have the ingredients,' Guiseila said, already walking to the little shelf in the wall near the black pot.

Denirya ran to catch up with her, and they fiddled through things and ran back, an off-white paste rubbed onto Denirya's fingers.

'Draw it,' Kijs said.

Denirya drew in the dirt, a strange pattern Emeline didn't even attempt to see. The dirt clung to the paste on her palm, rolled worms of gunk now amber with dust. Emeline felt that Denirya's very movements were part of the magic, a Movement of The Way. A warm wind hushed through the cave as Denirya drew in the dirt, a wind hot as the desert.

Färin scowled and a pensive look melted onto his face before a very deep pain settled in his eyes. He turned and walked out of the cave.

Emeline rubbed at Avétk's arms, waist, neck, face, legs, foot, back. All the while she begged the blood to move. Some if it was melting, freeing from the frosty shape it'd taken. She focused on the wind that rushed faster and faster around her, and willed the heat into his blood. Come, she called to the blood. Feel how warm it is. Forget your icy brother the snow, the frost. Forget him and live again.

P.S Golly gosh I had fun writing this, and yes it is half of a chapter, but look at that bloody cliffhanger *squee* Please guys, your thoughts. I can't wait to hear your thoughts.