Nakor felt the energy course through him, down his arms and into Pug’s chest. Faintly, under the palm of Nakor’s right hand, he could feel the fluttering beat of Pug’s heart. Slowly it strengthened, as if drinking the energy from Nakor and the others like a dry sponge in water.
Nakor felt himself tingle with the flow, but he focused, and attempted to see the energy sites in Pug’s body. ‘One of you, put hands over his head,’ he said.
Acaila did as he was bid, and Nakor closed his eyes a moment.
In the elven glade more and more came to witness the healing. Tomas strode into the ring of watchers, who stepped aside to let him approach his friend. Nakor opened his eyes and said, ‘Good. Put your hands over his throat. He burned his lungs, and I need help.’
Nakor closed his eyes and directed the energies flowing into Pug.
Time passed and night gave way to day, and still they labored, kneeling for hours letting the healing energies of their own bodies as well as the ancient magic of Elvandar flow into the injured magician.
Near noon, Nakor faltered and found familiar hands gripping his arm. ‘Master?’ came Sho Pi’s enquiry.
‘I’ll be fine,’ said Nakor. ‘I just need rest.’
‘I’ll take over,’ said Nakor’s student, and he stepped into the position his master had occupied, placing his hands upon Pug’s chest.
Miranda came over, and from her drawn expression and red eyes, Nakor could see she had been weeping. ‘Will he live?’
Nakor said, ‘I don’t know. A lesser man would have died instantly. Most greater men would be dead now, but there’s something in him that hangs on.’ He looked at the man lying on the floor of the glade, upon the grass, and said, ‘He looks very small and vulnerable now, doesn’t he?’
‘Yes,’ said Miranda, her voice heavy with emotion.
Nakor sighed. It was obvious he was exhausted from his efforts. ‘The longer he hangs on, the better his chances that he will survive. We are all channeling healing energies to him, and as long as he has a will to live, he continues to live. I told Nicholas once that in some men life is weak and in others it is strong. For one such as myself, your father, or yourself, it must be strong for us to abide all the years we continue to exist, but for Pug it’s something more.’ Trying to be reassuring, he added, ‘I think he will live.’
Miranda looked into Nakor’s eyes. ‘You don’t think that, do you?’
Nakor tried to force a grin, but it failed. ‘No, I don’t. We will do all we can, but he is injured far beyond what I’ve seen any man endure.’ His eyes revealed a hint of deep regret, then he forced back that doubt and assumed his usual cheerful mantle. ‘But what do I know? I’m just a gambler who has some tricks, and Tathar and the other Spellweavers are working vigorously.’ He patted her hand in a fatherly fashion. ‘He will be all right, I’m sure.’
She looked into Nakor’s face and saw the words were empty, but she appreciated the gesture and nodded, walking over to stand beside her father.
Nakor watched her move away, then looked at Pug’s face, the oozing, cracked skin, the blackened arms and legs. ‘But if he does, it will be a very long time before he rights again.’
Days passed, and Pug’s condition remained unchanged. The Spellweavers, Nakor, and Sho Pi, worked in shifts, pouring as much healing magic as possible into the unconscious magician. Only exhaustion forced them from his side.
Nakor returned from another half-day spent healing Pug, and sat down heavily next to Macros and Miranda, who were eating their supper next to a fire.
‘How is he?’ asked Miranda.
‘The same,’ said Nakor, shaking his head slightly. ‘I fear he grows weaker.’
Miranda’s grief was openly revealed as tears gathered in her eyes. ‘He’s not going to live, is he?’
Nakor shrugged. ‘I do not know. It may be a long time before we do know.’
Macros placed his hands upon his daughter’s shoulders. ‘And we don’t have a long time, do we?’
Nakor shook his head. ‘No. And again we find another mystery.’
Macros said, ‘Yes.’
Nakor said, ‘I’m going to sleep awhile, then I think we need hold council with the Queen and Tomas.’
‘I agree,’ said Macros.
The three of them rose to find places to sleep and parted company. Nakor couldn’t help returning to the clearing a moment and looking at Pug. The magician remained motionless, the only sign of his still being alive the slight rise and fall of his ribs as Sho Pi continued to keep his hands upon Pug’s charred chest. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but Nakor thought Pug’s breathing might be slightly deeper and more regular than before. Again he wondered at the small magician’s strength and will to live.
Aglaranna looked around the circle and said, ‘Tathar says Pug will live. It will be a long time before he regains consciousness and longer still before he heals, but with our arts we can restore his damaged skin and hair, heal the broken bones and burned tissue.’
The relief was almost tangible in the council, especially on the faces of Tomas and Miranda.