Killian mounted first, then helped Kade up behind him. Not having bothered with a saddle when he stormed out of the barn meant they were riding bare. Kade’s hips were flush to Killian’s backside and his arms were tight around Killian’s waist.
The hair on Killian’s arms prickled. He squeezed his knees into the stallion’s sides, and they started off after Tora at a gallop.
Mylla was barely conscious by the time they arrived. He moaned at the slightest touch. His daughter was sitting next to him, her hand pressed firmly over the bleeding wound on Mylla’s inner forearm. She was in tears, pale and shaking, but she’d done enough to keep him alive.
Mylla had fallen in front of the plow as he worked the small field out back from their house, readying it for new crops to plant. The very plow toppled only a few meters away, the horse still attached and pawing at the ground, a bit spooked, but well trained and loyal.
Kade knelt next to the daughter, whispering quiet words of comfort before urging her away and taking her place. His hands replaced hers over the wound.
The blades had caught Mylla’s wrist and carved deepthrough sinew and flesh, dragging up his arm from his wrist to his elbow. The white of his bone was visible even through the mess of blood and muscle.
Killian whistled. “That’s nasty. Might be easier to just cut it off.” Everyone turned to glare at him. He shrugged. “What? It’s a valid suggestion. Not many can come back from an injury like that. Given his age, it might be easier to cut your losses. He can live without an arm.”
“Shut up, Killi,” Kade ordered. His brow furrowing as he felt over the wound. “I can do it. Come here. I need you to hold him down.”
Killian curled his lip at the thought of getting blood all over his clothes, but obeyed. He nearly had to climb on top of the old elf to keep him still. Killian planted his knees on Mylla’s shoulders and used his hands to hold the old elf’s arms down. Tora was sitting on Mylla’s ankles, nearly as pale as his grandfather.
“Keep him steady,” murmured Kade. “This may hurt.”
By the way Mylla squirmed, moaning and groaning, it did.
Kade used his palms to push the edges of the wound together, the flesh matched unevenly from the way the plow’s blades had ripped Mylla apart. Slowly, the blood running rivers into the soil began to ebb and the flesh began to meld together again.
Every so often, Killian could see sparks of gold streaking through the air where Kade’s skin met Mylla’s, there and gone again in the corner of his eye. Theirenintertwining as Kade called on both their energy to heal Mylla from the inside out.
Killian could only see hints of it, when it was strong enough, his sight and magical affinity too low to do much else. Hecaught glimpses of the golden energy coiled around the heart, where any living being’senis most concentrated. For Killian, any attempts of channelingenfor healing or otherwise was met with a stubborn and cold resistance.
Killian couldn’t even begin to imagine what Kade saw when he tapped into his magic and opened his eyes to the flow ofenaround them. How the world would look, lit up with theenof every living being in sight, plant and animal and elf alike. It must be beautiful, and overwhelming.
Mesmerized, Killian could do nothing but watch.
Kade’s entire body was taut with concentration, beads of sweat dripped down his face. His hands moved carefully, the skin stitching together in their wake.
Mylla’s thrashing slowed to the occasional spasm, his body finally able to relax as the pain seeped away with every passing second.
After several long moments, Kade sat back on his haunches, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. The skin was badly scarred, red and bumpy, like two poorly welded iron flats. Too thin, the skin was molded over the bone, large chunks of flesh missing.
Mylla had escaped death with his arm still intact, which was more than Killian had expected.
Village healers, even with their wells of knowledge, could rarely do much for such injuries aside from amputation. Though not weak by any means, their wells of magic weren’t deep enough to take on such a task.
Kade’s magic was strong, stronger than most, but the scars he left showed his inexperience.
Kade left gold trails in his wake as he trailed his fingers overthe healed wound. Patching up whatever else he could to ensure Mylla was stable.
“It’ll scar, but he should be in the clear now.” Kade stood and moved towards Mylla’s daughter. He called over his shoulder to Killian, “Take him inside. He’ll need to rest for a few days to get his strength back.”
Killian did as he was told, carrying the elf to his bed. Tora, having gone with him, then took over and tucked Mylla under the covers, laying a cold soothing towel over the old elf’s arm and another on his brow.
When Killian rejoined Kade, the younger was promising to return in a few days to check Mylla’s condition.
Mylla’s daughter sent them off with food, kisses to each of Kade’s cheeks, and a few coins pressed into his hands; drying tears on her face and endless gratitude on her tongue.
A pleased flush on his cheeks, Kade’s smile was unlike any other.
Later, when they were home and had cleaned up, Kade bullied Killian into a chair next to the table full of herbs. He watched as Kade puttered around the table, bottles clinking as Kade searched through them.
Kade looked so at home amongst the chaos of his work table, so sure and confident. The same as he did when he was knelt over Mylla. It hit Killian again, how much Kade had changed from the last time Killian was in Turell. Kade had just come of age, celebrating his fiftieth birthday a few months before Killian had been taken away. Now, passed his hundred and sixtieth, he was so much more than Killian ever could have imagined.
