Trembling, the block of stone crept upward another handspan-and Torio hauled Bevan out from under just before it dropped again with a thunderous “whump!”
Torio grasped the young man’s leg, where bright arterial blood pumped out, squeezing to keep the last of his life from spilling onto the rocky ground. “Wulfston!”
The Adept had sunk to his knees in recovery from his effort to lift the rock. He looked blankly toward Torio for a moment, then pulled himself away from the desire to collapse and came to Torio’s side.
“Straighten his leg,” he instructed Torio. “Unite the blood vessels.”
Torio did as he was told, feeling Wulfston go unReadable again. Torio Read carefully, holding the major vessels while Wulfston concentrated, and they healed together, normal blood flow resuming. Only then did he shove together the splintered bone ends, watching them knit miraculously together into a tenuous bond. Then, with Bevan’s wife and mother tenderly cleansing the wounds, the torn muscles were healed, but-
“The nerves, Wulfston.”
“I can’t,” the Adept said wearily. “Make certain all will stay alive for now-the rest will have to be healed later.”
The audience of quarrymen and their families stared as Bevan’s torn skin was carefully drawn back over his leg. Large chunks were missing, but the leg was saved, along with his life.
Finally, the heat of Adept healing spread beneath Torio’s hands, killing any infection that had been introduced, and continuing the healing as the young man slept. Torio had seen it a hundred times, but every time it was a new miracle: Wulfston had set in motion the healing powers of Bevan’s own body, which he could not activate on his own. He would continue to sleep and heal even after Wulfston left him, probably for more than a day before he woke with his pain gone and his leg well on the way to being whole again.
Wulfston had sat down, tailor-fashion, to concentrate on the healing. Now he remained still, withdrawn-Torio wondered if he would fall asleep right there. His tiredness was now completely Readable.
But after a few moments he looked up, blinking. “Your son will heal,” he told the anxious parents. “Carry him to your house, and let him sleep until he wakens naturally. Then feed him-he will need a great deal of food to restore his strength.
Don’t let him try to walk. His leg is alive, but he will not be able to feel it until the nerves are healed.
When I return from Zendi, you must bring him to my castle. There Torio and I will finish the healing.”
Bevan’s father and his brothers carried him carefully down to the house, his mother hurrying ahead to prepare his bed.
“Oh, my lord!” Bevan’s wife knelt beside Wulfston, sobbing. “I thought sure he was dead, my lord! How can we ever repay you?”
“No need,” Wulfston replied. “It is my duty to keep my people healthy-I’m just glad I was nearby.
However, if you can provide me with something to eat-?”
“Wulfston!” Torio warned suddenly. “Someone’s coming!” And to the woman he ordered, “Run! Get into the house!”
As Bevan’s wife fled clumsily down the path, around the side of the hill came armed riders in the ragtag garb of hill bandits. They ignored the fleeing woman, charging directly for Wulfston and Torio.
There were a dozen men, enough to make an Adept waste his powers until he made himself helpless-provided they knew exactly how to trick him into doing so.
And it appeared that they knew what they were doing, for despite his tiredness after moving the quarried stone, Wulfston sent a sheet of flame roaring up out of the ground before their horses. The animals screamed and reared, but in moments the riders had them under control and were charging once more toward the two men, cutting off their chance of escape down the path.
Wulfston did not kill indiscriminately; Torio knew he meant to frighten the attackers off, but he hadn’t succeeded.
“Wulfston-save your strength!” said Torio, grasping the Adept by the arm and hauling him behind the rock as the bandits drew close enough to shoot arrows from short bows. They clattered off the rock, but the men kept coming, those without bows now drawing throwing knives.
And below them on the slope, four other bandits rode toward the quarriers’ house with torches. In moments the thatch roof was ablaze.
From their position, Wulfston could see what was happening below. Instantly, his responsibility for his people asserted itself, and he concentrated on putting out the blaze-again working against nature, for once that dry straw had begun to flame, it would have gone up instantly without Adept powers to stem it.
“Wulfston, they’re dividing your attention!” Torio warned. “Put those men down there to sleep!”
That the Adept had the power to do, but Torio could Read him clutching the granite block for support, and feared that the dozen men drawing in for the kill might be too many for Wulfston to handle. The young Reader drew his sword, prepared to defend Wulfston and himself to the extent of his strength and skill.
The huge stone blocked the path, so that the attackers could get through only on one side. Three men jumped off their horses and started around. The first one ran straight into Torio’s sword, for the Reader could tell every move he planned and be ready for him.
At their companion’s death cry, the other two charged forward together.
Torio was a skilled swordsman-and, thank the gods, these two were not. He used the advantage of his sightless eyes, letting them drift unfocused, unnerving his opponents as they realized they were battling a blind swordsman.
But even as Torio held the two at bay, the nine other bandits leaped from their horses and began to climb over the granite block, aided by the ropes still slung around it.
“Wulfston-they’re climbing over the stone! Retreat!”
The Adept, though, took another action. The ropes around the mighty stone blazed into flame, and the bandits dropped off, yowling, sucking at burned hands.
Starting fires, Torio knew, was one of the easiest of Adept skills, taking very little power. As the flame sizzled around the ropes to where he fought with the two bandits, one of them started at the noise, allowing Torio to get in under his guard and skewer him.
As a Reader, Torio had to deal swift death or suffer with his victim. He shoved his keen-edged sword upward to pierce the man’s heart.
The other man’s fear sweat was a stench in Torio’s nostrils, but in terror he slashed at the Reader, forgetting what little style he had had as he drove the younger man back with the sheer power of panic.
Torio evaded his blows, letting him waste the charge of adrenaline, waiting for an opening-
But Wulfston did not wait. Seeing Torio apparently being beaten back, he stopped the man’s heart, and the bandit dropped at Torio’s feet.
Just as Torio looked toward Wulfston, though, the fire consuming the thick ropes around the huge rock reached the underside-and as their support collapsed to ashes the stone shifted and slid.
Wulfston grasped the moment. Working with the already-moving stone, he sent it skidding sideways, right toward the bandits on the pathway, crushing them to death against the side of the quarry.
Torio gasped with their death agony, but in moments it was over, and he turned to Wulfston just as-
Above them, on the edge of the quarry, more bandits appeared. Minor Adepts, they joined hands and concentrated together-just as they must have done to crush Bevan under that rock! It was all a trap-a ruse to draw Wulfston here and use up his powers so that he was helpless before their minor abilities.
A sheet of flame rose out of the pathway. Wulfston swore as he and Torio ducked away from it, the Adept stumbling with weariness.
“Why didn’t you Read them?” Wulfston demanded.
“They were braced to use their powers,” Torio explained. “With everything else going on-”
But even as he spoke, the gang at the top of the quarry were focusing on him.