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Swallowing Darkness :: Гамильтон Лорел
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"Was your chest wound an oldwound?" I asked.
"Yes, ma'am. That prince, he pointed his hand at me and it was like the wound just came back. Then he ripped my vest back so he could see the wound. He seemed to enjoy seeing it."
"Was she wounded in the neck?" I asked.
"Yes, ma'am."
Cel was hurting my people. He was hurting people who had sworn to protect me. They were dying to protect me and mine. It wasn't right. We were supposed to protect them, not the other way around.
I prayed to the Goddess as I touched Hayes. She was brave, and had saved lives once with this wound in her body. It seemed wrong to make her live through it twice, but even in the midst of the horror, she had grabbed another solider and dragged him with her. So brave.
There was pain, and this time I didn't pass out. This time I saw the nail push its way out of my flesh in a spurt of blood. The blood spattered Hayes's face as her eyes flew wide, flashing white. She gasped, and grabbed my arm. The nail fell on to her chest, and her other hand closed on it automatically, as if she hadn't noticed.
"Who are you?"
"I am Princess Meredith NicEssus."
She clutched my arm, her fist clutching the bloody nail to her chest. She swallowed hard. "It doesn't hurt."
"You're healed," Dawson said, leaning over her.
"How?"
"Let her heal Orlando, and you'll see."
Dawson helped me stand, but I was feeling a little better, and didn't have to lean so heavily on his arm. I still let him and Brennan help me to my knees. I still couldn't move my shoulder, though my hand and lower arm now had more range of movement.
There was no visible wound on Orlando, but his skin was cool to the touch, and I couldn't find a pulse in his neck, not even that thready hesitation that Dawson had had. I tried not to think what that meant. I tried not to question this miracle, or to think too hard that I didn't really know what I was doing or how. I prayed harder, and laid my hands on the man's cooling skin.
A shower of rose petals blew across us, like pink snow. I felt the man shudder underneath my hands, and there was more pain, more blood, and another nail fell into his half-open hand. His hand convulsed around the nail, just like Hayes's had done.
"Dear God," Hayes said.
"I think you mean Goddess," Dawson said.
The man on the ground stared up at me, his face frightened. "Where am I?"
"Cahokia, Illinois," I said.
"I thought I was back in the desert. I thought... "
Hayes gripped his shoulder, and turned him to look at her.
"Was your chest wound an oldwound?" I asked.
"Yes, ma'am. That prince, he pointed his hand at me and it was like the wound just came back. Then he ripped my vest back so he could see the wound. He seemed to enjoy seeing it."
"Was she wounded in the neck?" I asked.
"Yes, ma'am."
Cel was hurting my people. He was hurting people who had sworn to protect me. They were dying to protect me and mine. It wasn't right. We were supposed to protect them, not the other way around.
I prayed to the Goddess as I touched Hayes. She was brave, and had saved lives once with this wound in her body. It seemed wrong to make her live through it twice, but even in the midst of the horror, she had grabbed another solider and dragged him with her. So brave.
There was pain, and this time I didn't pass out. This time I saw the nail push its way out of my flesh in a spurt of blood. The blood spattered Hayes's face as her eyes flew wide, flashing white. She gasped, and grabbed my arm. The nail fell on to her chest, and her other hand closed on it automatically, as if she hadn't noticed.
"Who are you?"
"I am Princess Meredith NicEssus."
She clutched my arm, her fist clutching the bloody nail to her chest. She swallowed hard. "It doesn't hurt."
"You're healed," Dawson said, leaning over her.
"How?"
"Let her heal Orlando, and you'll see."
Dawson helped me stand, but I was feeling a little better, and didn't have to lean so heavily on his arm. I still let him and Brennan help me to my knees. I still couldn't move my shoulder, though my hand and lower arm now had more range of movement.
There was no visible wound on Orlando, but his skin was cool to the touch, and I couldn't find a pulse in his neck, not even that thready hesitation that Dawson had had. I tried not to think what that meant. I tried not to question this miracle, or to think too hard that I didn't really know what I was doing or how. I prayed harder, and laid my hands on the man's cooling skin.
A shower of rose petals blew across us, like pink snow. I felt the man shudder underneath my hands, and there was more pain, more blood, and another nail fell into his half-open hand. His hand convulsed around the nail, just like Hayes's had done.
"Dear God," Hayes said.
"I think you mean Goddess," Dawson said.
The man on the ground stared up at me, his face frightened. "Where am I?"
"Cahokia, Illinois," I said.
"I thought I was back in the desert. I thought... "
Hayes gripped his shoulder, and turned him to look at her.