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Alora thought about the torture at her father’s hand, cringing to think she’d only felt half the pain. Feeling remorseful for the pain she’d sent to Kaevin during her torture, she used her empathy to share more of his current pain, which was considerable at the moment.
He reacted immediately. “No, Alora. Let me do my part, while you do yours. I can bear my own pain while you help Bardamen.”
When she sent the pain back, he didn’t even flinch. His fingers tightened around hers, and he smiled encouragement.
Meravelle continued, “But this is the important part of utilizing empathy as a healer. You can share your life force with a patient—a small amount—only enough to keep a soul awake.”
Alora scrunched her lips to the side, trying to loosen the scab on her mouth. “Then why would a healer ever let someone die? Why wouldn’t he just give a tiny bit of life force to each injured person to keep him alive? And what’s the risky part of all this?”
“I’m unsure,” Mera admitted.
“If you’ve got this empathy gift, why don’t you do it yourself?” Uncle Charles asked Mera.
“I don’t have the gift,” she explained. “But I’m an archivist, and I’ve studied much about empathy in the ancient scrolls.”
Uncle Charles got the same look Bozeman got when someone tried to steal his bone. “You’ve read about it? That’s it? You’ve read about it? Well I’ve read books about pilots, and you don’t see me trying to teach a pilot how to fly a plane, do you?”
r /> “Uhmm...” Mera’s eyes looked as big and round as silver dollars.
“Lay off, Uncle Charles. She’s the best we’ve got, since Laethan isn’t here.”
He didn’t speak again, but Alora felt his anger—not necessarily directed at Mera, but sort of generally aimed around the room, like a bucket of splattered paint.
“Kaevin? What do you think?” Alora asked. “Your life is on the line as much as mine.”
Kaevin turned to his defender brother. “Jireo? What is your counsel?”
All eyes focused on Jireo, who spoke through gritted teeth. “I’m not in favor. My defender bond is battering the inside of my head. But I cannot say for certain you will die.”
“You don’t have much time,” Doc put in.
As she took a deep breath, Alora let her gaze rest on the fingers of her right hand entwined with Kaevin’s. He lifted her hand, pressing his lips to her fingertips. Then he leaned in and kissed her face—first, in the middle of her forehead, then on her left eyelid, then on the right corner of her mouth. The only three spots on her face that didn’t hurt.
“I believe in you,” he whispered.
“Okay.”
She reached out with her free hand, placing it on Bardamen’s hands folded on his chest as if he were posed in a coffin.
Starting the only way she knew, she looked for Bardamen’s pain.
And she was in.
**********
Alora found Bardamen’s pain immediately. Or, at least, she found the place where his pain should be. It was empty. She groped in the darkness. No emotions. It was like floating weightless in a big empty wheat silo.
Maybe he’s already dead.
She tried calling to him, mentally. But she couldn’t hear her own voice, so she figured it wasn’t working.
Where’s the life force? What does it feel like?
Whatever the essence of Bardamen was, she couldn’t find it anywhere. She withdrew and opened her eyes to find fifteen sets peering back at her.
“She’s back already.” Beth clapped her hands. “Did it work?”
“No, it didn’t. He’s like a bear, hibernating in a cave where I can’t find him.”
