Chapter 37

A/N I know the last chapter was a short one, but I felt it was an event that pretty much needed to stand on its own. A note – Kyminn has a pretty dark time in this next bit. Might not be for everyone.

Smells. Sun warmed canvas. Dust. The smell of an old wool blanket, along with the unexpected scent of clean cotton and herbs. It's a discontinuity, this sense of what should be and yet what is not. He tries to remember, but it's elusive: a name, a white form in the darkness. He struggles to recall, to understand, but it's easier to surrender to sleep. His breathing deepens again.

This time, the weight of self is less, more easily borne. This cage has a name – body, and it has become more ally than enemy. Even the darkness feels more natural, more penetrable. Something niggles at him, something he should do. Ah, yes, eyes. He has eyes. He tries to open them but they are hot and gritty, rusty from disuse. Irritably, he tries to raise his arm to rub them, but it's astonishing how difficult it is. His attempts to force the limb to move are trifles, a kitten trying to move a house. His growl of frustration emerges as a hiss, which turns into a cough. He's so weak! Why is he so tired?

"Healer?" The voice was unfamiliar, a woman's. A brief, teasing memory, a woman he should know, should follow…the thought slips away.

The attempt to speak resulted in a guttural croak, but the unfamiliar voice seemed to understand. "Be easy, Healer. You've been abed for a little bit now. I'll get you a drink and let the others know you're awake."

The straw against his lips told him to drink and he did, astonished at how parched he was. When he twitched his head aside, the straw withdrew. A clatter, a splash and then a dripping sound, so he was unsurprised by the warm cloth that bathed first his gritty eyes, then the rest of his face. Blinking, he opened his eyes, only to squeeze them shut again.

"Here, Healer, try this." 'This' was a cloth shading his eyes, this one dry and dense. "You're in the shade, but even that much light might take some getting used to. You wait now; I'll tell someone you're awake."

He was too busy squinting, trying to open his eyes without being blinded, to notice that she'd left. He'd succeeded, finally, in opening his eyes enough to take in the light that made its way through the coarse fabric.

"Kyminn!" Kyminn was surprised at his own disappointment when he heard Tysen's voice. Somehow, he'd been expecting…hoping?...for someone else.

"Ty?" It was a rough croak.

To Kyminn's astonishment, Tysen wrapped him in a bear hug, and Kyminn heard a funny catch in his friend's breathing for a few moments.

"Ty? What's wrong?" the more he used his voice, the better it got.

"Nothing's wrong, not anymore." Tysen's was oddly emphatic.

"Ty…what happened? What's going on? Was I sick?" Even as he said the last, Kyminn knew he hadn't been sick, knew that it was something else, something terrible.

Tysen had always been a terrible liar, but he was quite willing to hedge when the occasion required it. "Let's get you sitting up. You're probably as weak as a day old kitten," unconsciously, his words mirrored Kyminn's own thoughts. The Healer removed the no-longer required fabric from Kyminn's eyes and helped Kyminn sit up, taking care to prop him up carefully. He seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time getting the pillows just right.

"Tysen." Tired though he was, Kyminn was awake enough to recognize a stall when he saw one.

Tysen simply offered the straw again, refusing to set it down until Kyminn had given in and drunk some more water. Kyminn drank, his eyes demanding answers.

"What do you remember?" Tysen was gentle, almost cautious.

Kyminn tried to think back, something he realized he'd been avoiding ever since he'd woken up. His memories seemed oddly disconnected, as though they had happened to someone else. It was like viewing a painting – a scene viewed, but without touch, without sensation or feeling.

"There was an accident…" he prodded that memory again, carefully. "No. Not an accident. An attack. The Tedrels attacked a Companion." He froze for a moment, like one does when striking an already broken toe – waiting for the bloom of pain to follow. Nothing. Numbness. Numbness and a strange hollowness.

Tysen was watching him carefully, almost as though he was afraid Kyminn would…what? The other Healer nodded for Kyminn to continue.

"The Herald…Rosen", why did his voice have such a funny catch to it when he said that name? "Her legs were badly broken and she'd broken her back. We Healed her." He searched his mind again. This next part, these images, they were elusive, as though part of him didn't want to see them. "Her Companion Zayle was injured too. Delassia and I were Healing her. I…" he stuttered to a halt, trying to put words to what had happened. "Zayle…"

Tysen grasped both of Kyminn's hands, whether in reassurance or restraint was difficult to tell. "Kyminn, Herald Rosen died. She died when you were linked to the Companion Zayle. Companions don't…stay…when their Chosen dies. When Zayle tried to go…you went with her. You were…not here and we thought we'd lost you. They couldn't break you out of it."

Memories swirled. Shattered shards of sapphire blue. A white shape disappearing into the darkness. Kyminn stared at Tysen, appalled. "What…how…?"

A slow shake of his head and Tysen looked bitter. "It was an embolism. A blood clot from the injuries to her legs. It happened very quickly while she was resting in a Healing sleep. The closest Healer Felt something go wrong, but by the time help got there, it was too late." His eyes were haunted. "More than thirty of us here, Kyminn. Thirty Healers and we couldn't save her. Most of us were at the front and those that were here couldn't reach her in time." His eyes begged Kyminn to forgive those who had been faced with an impossible dilemma: the life one held – literally – in one's hands while desperate to save the Herald dying a few feet away. It's a poisoned coin, to count how many lives a will Herald cost.

A bitter twist of the lips – not a smile, but something that told Tysen that Kyminn understood – understood and forgave. Kyminn tried to raise his hand, forgetting both his weakness and that Tysen still held them. "How long has it been?"

Tysen drew in a deep breath. "Kyminn, you were injured…in a number of ways. First off, tell me this – what do you feel when you use your Gifts?"

A blink, then Kyminn tried to reach out, feel his shields. Carefully, cautiously, he reached and felt…nothing. In growing alarm, he tried again, feeling for each of his Gifts. Only Tysen's repeated reassurances prevented Kyminn from utter panic.

"It's alright! It's supposed to be like that! Kyminn!" the sharp bite in Tysen's voice at last penetrated and Kyminn subsided.

"Kyminn…in addition to very nearly dying outright, you also nearly completely drained your Gifts. Permanently. Your channels were badly damaged and the Mindhealer said that it's a good thing you were already knocked out because the only thing that will allow you to recover is to not use your Gifts for at least another moon. She also said you're lucky someone wrote and asked for Mindhealers, because your channels were damaged beyond any other form of help." Tysen released his friend's hands and grasped Kyminn's shoulders, shaking him lightly to emphasize his point. "IF you rest, you will recover. In aid of that, the Mindhealer has completely blocked your Gifts – and yes, that includes your Foresight. In addition, we have taken it upon ourselves to take turns in keeping shields on you at all times. We don't want anything getting into your head either."

A faint, relieved nod. Automatically, he tried to reach out, to test the shields around him. It was like trying to pick something up with an amputated limb. His mind told him it should be there; that there should be action, but there was nothing. Like when one miscounts and stumbles over the step that isn't there, it brought him up short. It was an altogether disconcerting and unpleasant sensation.

"What else?" Kyminn finally succeeded in raising his hand, rubbing his sore eyes. He paused and frowned slightly as his fingers encountered an unfamiliar, still-tender scar. Cautiously, he traced it, from a point on his cheek just below his eye into his hairline and across his temple. "What…?"

"A Guardsman heard you both screaming. Zayle was…thrashing violently. The place was a shambles and he said you were just standing there, hands out, screaming. He tried to get through to you, but he said it was as though there was no one there." Tysen was somber, "He was more right than he knew. He did the only thing he could think of; he picked up a shovel and whacked you on the head with it. He told us later that he was afraid you were 'gone from your own self', was how he put it, and that being unconscious might make it impossible for you to get back, but he was afraid you were dying."

Kyminn looked away, his gaze inward and dark. "I think I was; that we were. I remember terrible, terrible pain, and feeling separated from myself. She was leaving and I wanted to be with her, needed to be with her. She was going somewhere…where it didn't hurt any more. I wanted to go too."

"Kyminn?" Never before had Kyminn heard that note of fear in his friend's voice.

Kyminn's smile was watery, his voice rough. "I'm alright. I just…I remember it hurting and knowing there was somewhere that it wouldn't hurt anymore. I remember it being the only thing I wanted." A shaky breath. "I remember feeling it, but I don't feel that way now." He paused, searching for words to convey something unexplainable. "It's strange, actually. I remember what happened, I remember how it felt. Only I don't still feel it. It's as though there's a scar and I can remember getting hurt, I remember that it was painful, but I can't remember what that kind of pain felt like."

"That's the Mindhealer's doing." Tysen shifted uncomfortably. "There was a lot of discussion as to whether or not to attempt it. I'm surprised the shouting match itself didn't wake you up." He sighed. "The Mindhealer wanted to put a…shield…of sorts around the emotional part of those memories. She believes that since the feelings weren't actually yours to begin with, you have no real context for processing them. She believes very strongly that experiencing them will do more harm in the long run."

"I take it not everyone agreed with her?" Kyminn wasn't sure he was comfortable knowing someone had interfered with his memories.

"Several other Healers thought it was a good idea. However, ALL of your friends disagreed with her - Eiven, me, Cydris, Avi, Betra, everyone. We know you; we know how your Gifts work and we had a good idea of how this affected you. We knew you'd want to decide this for yourself. Kyminn, you should have seen Delassia and the Mindhealer going at it. I thought we were going to have a fistfight right there over your bed. To hear Delassia tell it, it was interference of the most pernicious kind. She didn't straight out accuse the Mindhealer of abusing her Gift, but she came awfully close."

"So how did the Mindhealer get her way?" Delassia had fought for him?

Tysen sighed. "They'd probably still be going at it, hammer and tongs, if the Herald hadn't showed up." A sour grimace. "He just appeared, right about the time Delassia was ranting about meddling, free will and how are you supposed to 'process' feelings you aren't allowed to feel. None of us had ever seen him before. He actually had to shout everybody down, which took longer than you'd think. He asked everyone their opinions and when everyone had had their say, all he said was 'The Companions support the Mindhealer.' After that, the only hold outs were the six of us so the Mindhealer got her way."

"Hold outs?" It was all he could think of to say. The Companions had weighed in? What on earth for?

Tysen shrugged, unrepentant. "We think the Companions are wrong. Frankly, we're not sure why they stuck their noses into this in the first place. Yes, it was a tragedy involving a Companion, but now we need to focus on helping you heal. To be honest, I wonder if they aren't feeling guilty about it."

Kyminn shook his head slowly. "I've got no more idea on it than you have. But I do know that I want to talk to this Mindhealer. I am willing to admit it's not an area I know much about, but I want to know why she thought it was the right decision. Right now I feel like part of me is missing, inaccessible. I don't care for it and the notion that someone can do this to me makes me awfully uncomfortable. But," and it was grudging, "I am willing to hear her out. Presumably she wouldn't be here otherwise."

Tysen nodded his understanding. He hesitated a moment, then said, "How are you doing?"

"Exhausted," Kyminn said frankly. "Confused. It's a lot to take in." A gusty breath. "And why do I have the feeling you haven't told me all of it yet? The others, they're all alright?"

"Everyone's fine, mostly just worn out worrying about you. You've been in a Healing sleep for quite a while now – we brought you out enough to eat a bit, but that's all. That's why you're so exhausted Kym, you've been a patient for twenty-six days now." Tysen saw the look on Kyminn's face and shook his head to head off the protest.

"Your channels were – and still are – badly injured. The head injury from the shovel was fairly straightforward, although he did manage to fracture your cheekbone. The scar will fade in time – Avi does good work – but I'm afraid you're stuck with it. The Mindhealer was adamant that you remain in a Healing sleep for a good portion of her treatment. Much as I disagree with her on the one point, I have to admit that you did improve under her care."

Tysen wasn't sure if he'd ever tell his friend what those early days had been like: Kyminn ranting and incoherent, alternately calling out for Zayle and Rosen, begging to be allowed to go with them. Even drugged and unconscious, Kyminn's body would be racked with sobs, tears flowing down his cheeks, convulsing as he tried to escape his grief.

"I'm sorry to have to add to this Kyminn, but there were other injuries too. When Zayle…collapsed, you were right beside her. She fell on you, Kym. She broke your leg when most of her weight came down on your knee." Tysen reached out, his Healer's touch withdrawing the last pain block. They had all agreed this was the best way, to let him discover things one at a time, to give him time to cope. Otherwise, they'd feared, waking to discover all in a rush that he was scarred, numbed, gift blind and permanently lamed…the memory of Kyminn lying there, begging to be allowed to not hurt anymore…that memory was all too fresh and they frankly feared for his sanity if his recovery were to be mishandled.

The sudden ache in his leg made him catch his breath in surprise. How had he not noticed its absence before? At Kyminn's nod, Tysen folded back the blankets and rolled up the legging. Had it not been for the fact that it was, quite clearly, still attached and assuredly painful, Kyminn would have wondered if the leg in question was his own.

Instead of a straight, hale, young man's limb, this was a gnarled mottled thing, an old man's leg. Ropy red scars ran over and around the knee, marking the places they'd tried to put the pieces back together. He could tell by the shape of the knee that it would never bend fully again, and already the muscles around it had begun to shrink and atrophy. Time and exercise would bring some of that back, but it always be weak and twisted. Kyminn stared at Tysen, his face an open question.

"You will be able to stand, and walk. You'll even be able to ride. We're hoping that you'll be able to walk without a cane, but we're not sure of that yet." No flinching, no apologies, no lies. Gentle, crushing honesty.

Cast adrift, Kyminn floundered. He was head blind and numb, maimed in ways no one could yet explain to him, cut off from his memories and not able to grieve a loss he knew he should feel acutely. This though, this was a grief he understood, a grief he could access. Frozen, he simply sat there, tears coursing down his cheeks as he struggled to understand it all.

"Tysen? I think I'd like to be alone now please." He was too weary, too exhausted to be present for anyone else. He was suddenly desperate for peace, for silence.

"I don't think I can do that." Tysen's words were strangely gentle and Kyminn finally realized the last part of it, the unseen wound they feared he carried within. Kyminn buried his face in his pillow and wept.