Miro remembered much more than Ella. He remembered Alarana talking about the Eternal, teaching him the prayers. He wished that Ella remembered more. She said it was just a blur, a scent that stirred a vague feeling. When she tried to grab hold of the memory, it was gone.
Miro prayed. It was a prayer Alarana had taught him, from his childhood.
"Eternal. One who watches and waits. Lead us forward, protect us and shelter us. Shelter us from our failings. Shelter us from the failings of others. Show us the way. Shelter this one who is given into your care." He thought he heard a soft voice join with his. "Shelter the body, mind and soul. May our fathers, and their fathers, watch us from your embrace."
Miro looked up. Amber stood watching silently. A small, determined-looking woman waited at her side; it was her voice he had heard. The woman wore a soft mantle of precious fur, the garb of a Dunfolk healer.
Miro looked up at Amber. She looked awful, her dress torn, strands of shrub in her hair, her breathing heavy, her knees buckling with exhaustion. She looked beautiful. "Thank you," he whispered.
~
"HER spirit is broken" the healer said.
Her name was Layla. She was actually quite young, almost pretty, her small features youthful and innocent, yet her mouth set with resolve.
"What do you mean?"
"Simply, she does not want to live."
"What can you do?"
"Me? I can do nothing."
Miro’s shoulders slumped. Amber put her arm around his shoulders.
Layla continued, "It is what you can do."
Miro looked up. "What can I do?"
"You can bring her back. Both of you. You can convince her to live. Before I can mend her body, I need you to help mend her soul."
"How?"
"I will show you." Layla moved to stand behind Miro and Amber. With gentle pressure on their shoulders, she pushed them down until they were kneeling beside Ella’s bed.
Ella was so still. Her lips had turned blue and her face was as white as death.
"She is close now, so very close."
"Please," Miro said. "Help her."
In a small clay bowl, the healer ground together some powders with a little water to form a thick liquid.
"Do you want her to live? Think long and hard about your reasons for wanting her to live. You will not have long."
Miro gulped. "I do."
"I do," Amber echoed.
"Be ready," Layla said. She leaned forward, and deftly dripped a small amount of the liquid into Ella’s mouth.
Ella whimpered. Miro held his breath. Then she opened her eyes and parted her dry lips. "Miro? What…? What is it? Where am I?"
"Ella," Miro said, his voice ragged; he knew he had little time. "You’re ill. Very ill. I need you to live. Please. I need you to live, because…" A tear fell from his eye and rolled down his cheek. "Because, without you I have no one else."
Amber spoke, "Ella. Please, listen to me. I need you to live, don’t fall from me, please, don’t push me away."
Amber broke down, crying. Ella’s eyes closed.
Layla said nothing. She reached for a mug she had prepared, an amber-coloured liquid filling it to the brim.
Little by little, Layla dripped the liquid into Ella’s mouth, moistening the parched lips, the dry throat.
She took Miro and Amber’s hands each in hers and led them from the room.
"She will sleep now, and let us hope the will to live reasserts itself. I have prepared herbs that will help her rest and recover," she handed Miro a pouch, "and other herbs that will need to be mixed with water and slowly fed to her continuously." She handed Miro a second pouch. "I’m sure you did your best, Alturan, but she has been days without food or water, and needs her body to rebuild its strength."
Layla left without another word.
"Thank you," Amber called after her.
~
IT was a slow and steady process but eventually Ella’s colour started to improve and her strength began to return.
Amber and Miro alternated periods of caring for her so that she could continue with her studies at the Academy and he at the Pens.
Life continued in Sarostar. The two spoke little to each other, united by their bond of caring for Ella. Occasionally Amber’s hand would brush across Miro’s, or she would catch him looking at her. But neither acknowledged any feeling for the other. Amber’s plans to marry Igor Samson progressed, while Miro sought to become the warrior he knew he could be.
Then one day Miro returned from the Pens, a nasty cut under his arm where an opponent had scored him, bruised and battered from fighting in the dust. At first he didn’t believe it, but then he was certain; he could hear voices.
Creeping forward, Miro kept as silent as he could. He climbed carefully up the stairs to the wooden porch, looking through the open window straight into Ella’s room.
Ella sat up in the bed, her face pale but otherwise looking well. Amber was telling her a funny story. Occasionally Ella smiled a little and spoke softly.
Miro’s heart leapt.
Ella looked up and met his eyes. Amber stopped and turned, her smile growing when saw Miro’s face.
"I’ll leave you now," Amber said.