Where his skin color had not been tainted by the effects of his wounds, the scout was as pale as alabaster. His sternum had turned black and swollen up to form a dome as big around as Brianna's fist. There was a gash in his side so long and deep that she could have hidden the dagger in it. Most troubling of all was the steady stream of blood oozing from his mangled arm. If she did not halt that flow, Tavis would be dead within minutes.
"Will he be all right?" demanded Avner.
"I'll do what I can," Brianna replied. She found it difficult to speak around the catch in her throat. "But I am young, and Hiatea has not blessed me with her most powerful healing magic-and only two of her lesser remedies."
"You can't let him die!" Avner burst.
"The princess will do all she can," Morten said, coming up behind the boy. "You'll only make the task more difficult by disturbing her."
Brianna slipped her amulet from around her neck, then opened her waterskin and placed her goddess's flaming spear inside. "Valorous Hiatea, bless this water with your magic so that it may boil the enemy's contagion from the wounds of this…"
Brianna hesitated, trying to think of the kindest thing she could honestly say about Tavis. Hiatea was not profligate with her magic, seldom granting it to aid those who had proven themselves unworthy of her attention, and the princess feared that her goddess would not heed her call to aid the firbolg. To her surprise, she found herself terribly alarmed by that possibility, so much so that unsummoned tears were rolling down her cheeks.
"Bless this water so that it may scald the evil from this warrior's blood," she continued. "Many times has Tavis Burdun's bravery saved my life and that of an orphaned child. He has served you in that much, at least."
Avner demanded. "Does your goddess let people die just because she thinks they've done bad things?"
"We'll talk later," Brianna replied, hardly hearing the boy.
"But Tavis didn't know-"
"Later!" Morten grunted. He plucked Avner up and carried him across the platform to where the boy would not interfere with the princess's work.
Brianna brushed the tears from her eyes, then spoke the mystic syllables that would actually shape Hiatea's purifying magic. A gentle gurgle arose inside her waterskin, then the sides puffed out and white vapor gushed from the open neck. The princess sighed in relief. Her supplication had convinced the goddess of Tavis's worthiness.
The princess removed her talisman and poured the boiling liquid over her patient's injuries. White bubbles frothed up in the open cuts, though not to the extent she had expected. She had assumed the scout's blood would be so full of wicked contagions that it would continue to lather until her waterskin ran empty. Instead, the fluid quickly cleared and began to stream from his wounds in red-tinged runnels. Brianna bit her lip, puzzled. When she had healed Morten back on Coggin's Rise, even his blood had frothed more than Tavis's.
The scout's eyes popped open. "Bri… an… na!" he croaked. The effort of speaking drained even more color from his face. "Giants!"
Noticing that his gaze was fixed over his shoulder, Brianna looked up to see that the three hill giants had come to watch her work her magic. In one hand, Rog still held Greta's limp form, but no other wolves were near, for the rest had perished inside the fault cave.
Brianna returned her attention to Tavis. "Don't you remember? Rog is our friend; we're safe with him."
Given the power of the shaman's magic, the princess was not entirely sure that was true. But if Goboka did find a way past the gate, Brianna could only hope Rog and his two friends would be able to dispatch the ogre.
Tavis grabbed her head and pulled her car close to his mouth. "No. Can't… trust… giants!"
"Be quiet," the princess said gently. "You're not strong enough to talk."
Brianna placed her silver spear on the scout's mauled arm, then closed her eyes and uttered the mystic syllables of her healing spell. A wave of searing heat pulsed from the silver spear, and Tavis cried out.
Brianna opened her eyes again and looked down to see her amulet flickering with orange fire. The arm itself was hidden by a pall of gray smoke, though the princess could see tongues of yellow flame dancing where there had been runnels of blood before. Hiatea's magic continued to sear the mangled limb for several moments. Tavis groaning in pain as the heat burned his flesh. At last, the flames died and the smoke cleared, revealing a hairless arm covered with swirls of raw, scorched hide.
By way of comforting Tavis, Brianna said, "Don't worry, it'll look better after I heal it a few more times. At least the bleeding's stopped."
The scout hardly seemed to notice the arm. "Just make me strong enough… to protect you." Then, so quietly that even the princess could barely hear him, he gasped, "In case you're wrong… about Noote."
Brianna held her gaze on Tavis's. The scout's persistence was beginning to convince her that he believed what he was saying. Perhaps Basil or Runolf, or both of them, had lied to him. That would certainly explain his fanatic accusations against her father and Noote.
"We'll worry about that later." Brianna took a hooked needle from her satchel and ran a coarse black thread through its eye. "Right now, I must concentrate on you."
"But-"
The scout's objection changed to a hiss of pain as Brianna pinched the gash on his stomach closed. Before he could protest further, she slipped the tip of her needle through a flap of skin and began to stitch the wound shut. Tavis allowed her to work in silence, perhaps because he found it impossible to speak through clenched teeth.
The princess had to concentrate to keep her attention focused on the task at hand. Her thoughts kept wandering back to what had happened when she purified Tavis's wounds. The lack of froth suggested the scout was exactly what she had originally believed: a rather naive, self-sacrificing firbolg incapable of treachery. Yet, that could not be so. Even if she dismissed his accusations against her father, she had seen with her own eyes that Tavis was a thief. The two incidents were contradictory, and she did not understand how she could have witnessed them both.
Brianna finished closing the wound and returned the needle to her satchel. In spite of her efforts, brightly colored blood continued to ooze from between the gash's puffy lips, she laid her talisman over the cut, then decided to make a quick inspection of the bruise on Tavis's chest before using her last healing spell. The wound on his stomach was probably a greater threat to his life, but the bruise might mask some internal injury that would kill him more quickly.
The princess placed her hands on both sides of the black circle and pushed down, steadily increasing the pressure. Despite Tavis's howl of pain, she was pleased by what she felt. The sternum had not moved and probably was not cracked. Next, the princess grabbed the dome of swollen flesh and worked it back and forth between her fingers, drawing even louder cries from the scout. The lump felt soft and watery, with no sign of anything solid inside.
"If you're… trying to kill me, just slit my throat," the scout growled. "It'd hurt less."
"Don't be such a coward," Brianna chided. 'This is nothing but a bruise. You're not going to die from it."
With that, the princess touched Hiatea's talisman and cast her last healing spell. The spear's silver flames flickered to life, sending a wave of searing heat deep into the scout's abdomen. He gasped in pain, his eyes rolling back in their sockets as a thin line of yellow fire shot from the slash. The flames continued to burn for a moment then, beginning at one end of the gash, slowly died away, leaving the lips of the wound melted together. The black thread remained untouched by the magical blaze, for it would be some time before the skin alone was strong enough to keep the cut from ripping open.