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Eleven
Baine
“No!” I screamed as Rosalie fell from the sky, fear and panic haunting her blue eyes.
A spark of magic zapped from the balcony, encasing her in a shimmering bubble, slowing her descent. I ran and held out my arms until she fell into them.
“Get the prospects out of that tower!” I screamed at my men, knowing Lord Demious would need to subdue the crone before the creature went into a frenzy.
Blood spewed from a bite on Rosalie’s arm and dripped from a gash in her forehead. Gripping her tightly, I moved away from the tower to a safer distance. I needed to stop the bleeding.
“What is that thing?” Her body shook in my arms.
“A crone, this tower’s host mage.”
“That . . . that’s who Lord Demious brought us to meet?” Her shaking intensified, making her teeth chatter against one another.
“You entered its nest. One of the few things that will provoke the creature. They are very territorial.”
“I . . . I didn’t know.” Her body trembled.
I couldn’t wait. I had to take her somewhere.
But that meant leaving Lord Demious alone to deal with the crone. Though, he could handle the beast, I didn’t like the idea of leaving him.
“Baine.” Rosalie buried her face within the folds of my shirt, gripping the material in her hands. “I . . . I don’t feel so good.”
Holding her close, I touched her face. Her normally warm skin was ice cold. “Hold on.”
The fast movement would make her queasy, but I had no choice. She needed a healer, and quickly.
With her cradled in my arms, I flew across the grass, running toward the healer’s cottage by the Moonlake waterfall, less than a mile from our current position. Rosalie’s hold on me slipped, her hands releasing my shirt as she lost consciousness.
Once Lord Demious saw I was gone, he would know where I went and send word. For now, I had one objective, make sure this fragile human in my arms didn’t die.
The healer hated uninvited visits. I’d need to pay her well.
“Enola!” I screamed, banging on the door of the cottage with my fist.
Her goat ate at the grass by the side of the house. She never left home without him.
“Enola!” Banging again, I yelled for the healer to come forth. If she didn’t answer, I’d kick in the door and find the herbs I needed.
The door swung inward, and I stepped back.
“What in all of Saol is the matter! I’m trying to nap.” Her angry glare softened when she noticed Rosalie. “Who is that?”
“She needs help.”
“Bring her in.” Enola closed the door behind me. “To the bed.”
Gently, I laid Rosalie down. The sunlight from the window near the bed highlighted the sickly paleness of her skin. I kneeled on the ground beside her head, brushing her hair off her face.
Enola pulled over a wooden chair and sat. “What happened?” She picked up Rosalie’s arm, examining the circular wound.
“The crone.”
“The crone? He hasn’t attacked anyone in decades.” Enola went to her workbench where herbs dangled from hooks and hung in bunches. “I’ll need more yarrow. For now, I’ll dress the wound and put on the kettle. Some stinging nettle tea will help fight any infection.”
