Sianim 02 - Wolfsbane

the warmth of it strengthened her.
    Most of the power was in the spell that awaited some missing component to act: Wolf’s death. Aralorn could feel the magic coerced and caged into some shape of Wolf’s devising, but it was human born, and she could not touch it. But flickering around the spell like a candle flame in the wind was other power, a latticework of green magic that held the spell at bay: Wolf’s magic protecting her still.
    Someone came into the room, and a last vestige of caution made her look up for an instant and see Gerem stagger through the spell of darkness and silence that covered the curtain to the bier room. In that moment of inattention, when she strayed from her center, Ridane’s bond stretched tight.
    Aralorn cried out at the pain and drove her fingers into Wolf’s shoulder and wounded wrist.
    “Don’t you leave me, you bastard.” She gritted out the words, and called his green magic to her.
    Even though she was careful to leave enough magic to hold Wolf’s spell, power flooded her, filling her veins with icy fire and making it difficult to breathe. She couldn’t tell where the pain was coming from now, from the too-great magic that had answered her call or from the death goddess’s binding that stretched taut and thin between them.
    She had no idea what she was doing.
    She bowed down and pressed her forehead against his too-cool flesh. She fed him magic at first, but it flowed through him and back into her without leaving any virtue behind. It was his magic, and he’d called it to save her, not himself.
    She growled deep in her throat. “Not yet,” she said. “I’ll not lose you to your own stubbornness.”
    She took the magic and twisted it until it was attached to her, then thrust it back into him like a needle pulling her life force through him.
    “Wolf,” she murmured, touching his unresponsive lips, “don’t you die on me.”
    She could feel that his pulse had steadied with the force she’d added, but she could feel, too, that it wasn’t going to be enough. Remembering how she had touched her father’s life, she began singing to aid her work. She hadn’t consciously chosen the song, and was almost amused when she realized it was a rather lewd drinking song—so be it. If anyone knew how to fight off the cold thought of death, it was a bunch of drunken mercenaries.
    The music soon soothed her into a trance that allowed her to seep into the pattern of Wolf’s death. With more need than skill, she followed Wolf’s spirit where it lingered, held by thin traces of life.
    Recklessly, she threw energy to his fading spirit, to anchor him to his body, using his own magic to do it. She found the bond the death goddess had drawn between them and gripped it like a rope to pull him to her, only to find it gripped in return as Wolf, free from reason and memory, helped her at last.
    She came out of her trance slowly, gradually becoming aware of Wolf’s head in her lap, the unusual warmth of the stones beneath her, and the wild, surging magic that filled the room.
    “Crap,” she said. She’d called upon too much magic and released the power that had been bound in Wolf’s spell.
    She swung her gaze around to look for the reason that the walls were still standing. Kisrah stood before the darkness that was the entrance to the room. His feet were braced and his arms held wide. Gerem stood just behind him, gripping his shoulder with one hand in a position that even Aralorn recognized as “feeding.”
    “Wolf?” she said, shaking him with her good arm. “Wolf, wake up.”
    “Good idea,” muttered Kisrah, “We’re not going to be able to hold this back much longer.”
    Aralorn took the hint and quit being so gentle. “Wolf,” she barked with force enough to please a drill sergeant. “You’ve got to wake up, love. We need you.”
    He stirred this time and opened his eyes, frowning at her in puzzlement. He started to speak, and his eyes widened as his senses told him what was going on.
    “Gods,” he growled, sitting up a little too abruptly.
    She caught him before he could fall back and held him while he closed his eyes against the dizzying weakness of extreme blood loss. Since his weight hit her bad arm with a certain amount of force, she was feeling a bit dizzy herself.
    “What did you think you were doing?” he rasped. “You know better than to interrupt a spell in progress.”
    “Hmm,” she agreed. “Deathsgate and back, remember? You shouldn’t have tried