A/N: I've made a rough edit tonight but I'm exhausted so I'm crashing. I'll give it a more serious edit tomorrow morning when I'm cognizant.
Chapter summary: In which Lan Xichen and the Companions help Herald Dirk and Princess Elspeth Fetch Talia from her captors, and suffers the consequences of taking too many risks at one time.
9: A Slight Deviation
Lan Xichen's fingers continued to pluck through song after song on his zither without any sign of exhaustion or boredom. Elspeth was secretly beginning to wonder if his fingers were aching. She touched the zither strings earlier when she pushed the zither from Lan Xichen's lap. She could only imagine the calluses the young prince must have developed over the years to not feel anything after playing for so long.
That said, she was truly grateful for his music. She felt more calm and relaxed than she had in a long time. Her thoughts were smooth and clear. She no longer felt her heartbreak and fear as strongly. She wondered how much of her current state of mind was due to Lan Xichen's music and how much was due to his Empathy.
The sky was darker now, but not from sunset. Sometime after lunch, clouds had once again moved in and she could smell rain in the air. The wind had begun to pick up, rustling the tent flaps and distant thunder rumbled low and threatening. She could hear voices of people outside rushing to ready the camp for a coming storm.
Then the music stopped.
The sudden silence after so long listening to the constantly ebb and flow of Lan Xichen's music was startling. She sat up from her relaxed slump against Dirk's bed and looked at her new friend curiously. She watched as the young man swept his right hand over the zither and it vanished into brilliant blue sparks which faded away just as quickly.
She really wanted to know how he did that.
"If you still plan to attempt the rescue of Herald Talia," Lan Xichen said, raising his amber eyes to hers then Dirk's, "then we should leave now before the rain begins."
"Then we'd better get going," Dirk said, sitting up and getting to his feet.
Elspeth got to her feet as well. Lan Xichen flowed to his feet and Elspeth was forced to bite her cheek in jealousy. There was just something… other about Lan Xichen. Gwena said he wasn't a Mage and Lan Xichen himself confirmed he didn't use magic. But something about him just… She didn't know. She felt like she was looking at a spirit or something. Not that she'd ever seen one before, but well, that's what she thought.
Odd. She hadn't noticed this before. Why was she noticing this now?
She pondered this curious realization as she, Dirk, and Lan Xichen moved out of the tent and into the open air. Then Elspeth took the lead. Casting a wary look at the darkening sky above her, she turned and led her small group through the camp and to her tent.
She knew Gwena suspected her plans but her Companion had been suspiciously silent since that morning. Idly, she wondered if Dirk's Ahrodie and Lan Xichen's Gala were aware of their harebrained scheme. Probably.
But no one had stepped up to stop them from trying. That was all that mattered. Either their Companions didn't know or they knew and were choosing to not act. Elspeth hoped it was the latter. However much she wanted this to stay a secret, she didn't want to fail and have no help coming. Or worse. They succeed and were too exhausted from the mental strain to call for help for themselves of Talia.
But she wouldn't call for help yet. She couldn't risk being stopped. It was probably a foolish decision but at least she wasn't alone. She had two co-conspirators, one of whom was an adult. They could do this.
"This is it," she said as they approached her tent.
It was about the same size as most of the other single occupant tents in the camp. It wasn't fancy or embellished in any way. She'd brought some of her own personal comforts since she'd been expecting an extended stay in Hardorn. That wouldn't be happening anymore, of course. But those comforts were would certainly make this a bit easier.
She entered her tent first followed closely by Dirk then Lan Xichen. Grabbing several of the pillows from her bed, she tossed them onto the fabric covering the floor. This would take time and sitting on pillows was infinitely more comfortable for long trances than the hard ground.
"Take a seat," she said, gesturing to the pillows. "I'll tie the flaps shut."
Without waiting for her guests to obey, Elspeth moved back to the flaps and tied them shut so that one flap overlapped the other. That should keep the rain out as well as any overly curious eyes. When she was finished, she paused to draw a deep breath, releasing it slowly.
"Alright." Turning, she sat on the only empty pillow left, the one closest to her bed, and looked between her two guests. "This is your plan, Dirk. How do you want to do this?"
Dirk took a steadying breath and shifted on the pillow closest to the tent wall opposite her bed. "If you can find her," he said, looking directly at Elspeth, "then I'll follow your line and Fetch her."
She nodded, then turned to Lan Xichen. He sat on the pillow closest to the tent flaps with his back to the entrance.
"It would be easier if I was touching you both," he said, looking between the two of them. "That way I can keep a steady flow of spiritual energy and keep an eye on your physical health."
"You won't try to stop us, will you?" Dirk asked warily.
Lan Xichen offered Elspeth's teacher a wan smile. "Only if I believe it endangers your life or the life of Princess Elspeth," he said. "If you die, then your people will be worse off than you started and Herald Talia will still be gone. If you live, then you can try again."
The tension in Dirk's shoulders melted and he nodded reluctantly. "Alright."
Elspeth and Dirk scooted their pillows closer so they sat cross-legged, their knees brushing form proximity. She held out her hands and Dirk took them. Lan Xichen sighed once then placed one hand on her shoulder, his fingers resting at the back of her neck and his thumb pressing lightly against the tendon in the front of her throat. His other hand settled in an identical position on Dirk's shoulder.
"Ready?" she asked softly.
"Ready," Dirk replied.
Lan Xichen nodded silently.
Together, they closed their eyes and fell into a trance.
Elspeth reached out with her FarSight, searching for Talia, seeking her dear friend's location with every fiber of her being. Cool energy like an icy river flowed through her from Lan Xichen's touch, circulating through her body and taking the edge off the strain. Then she felt a gentle blanket of Empathetic calm and encouragement drape over her.
Yet, even with Lan Xichen's boost, it took longer than she preferred but given the distance, she wasn't surprised. No. It was what she saw that surprised and horrified her.
She had to catch her breath when she beheld the terrible vision before her. Talia lay sprawled on a stone floor surrounded by stone walls and darkness. The way she lay was just… wrong. Legs should never bend that way. Every inch of skin Elspeth could see was covered in bruises, cut, and blood. Talia's messy hair was tangled and matted with blood. Her friend's chest was much too still. It was awful.
"I found her," Elspeth whispered aloud, her horror and sorrow causing her to half sob the words. "I found her. Dirk, please. She's not moving. Oh, I think I'm going to be sick. We have to do something. I-"
"I'm following," she heard Dirk declare distantly.
The sensation of Dirk following her FarSight tether was odd but not uncomfortable. Then her tether tightened as if it was yanked from both directions. It hurt it hurt it hurt! She gasped a sob as pain wracked her brain and squeezed her chest forcing the air out of her lungs and cramping her muscles. Her vision blurred and she lost the tether a moment after she felt she might break.
Immediately, her eyes burst open and she slumped forward, gasping and trembling. Dirk was worse off. His entire body was shaking from exertion and from tears where he leaned heavy against Lan Xichen. But Talia was nowhere to be seen. They'd failed.
They could try again. She latched onto that thought with all her might and clung to it. They could try again. They could.
"Is he…." She swallowed nervously, forcing down her own fear and pain. All she did was hold a FarSight tether. It had been Dirk doing the hard work. She could wait. He couldn't.
"He's unconscious," Lan Xichen said.
His amber eyes were narrowed in on Dirk, blue energy glimmering where Lan Xichen's fingers pressed against Dirk's shoulder. From the looks of it, Elspeth wouldn't be surprised if tomorrow morning there were bruises where Lan Xichen's fingers had been.
"I think it would be wise if you did not try that again tonight," the foreign prince said, his gaze shifting to her.
No. No, they had to do this tonight.
"No."
Both Elspeth and Lan Xichen's attention shifted back to Dirk. The older Herald was blinking and struggling to sit back up. His dark eyes were heavy with tears and glazed with exhaustion and determination. Elspeth knew that look. There would be no changing Dirk's mind.
"I would highly advise against it," Lan Xichen insisted gently. "I had to pull you back. You were going to drain yourself dry if I had let you continue." His expression softened. "You don't have the strength to do this. I doubt the three of us combined have enough power to do this."
:If you'd just waited a few more minutes, you wouldn't have needed to try it alone.:
Elspeth blinked at Gwena's mental voice. She noticed that both Dirk and Lan Xichen stiffened at the mental intrusion at the same time. Did Gwena BeSpeak them all?
:I most certainly did, Chosen,: her Companion huffed. There was a horsey snort from outside Elspeth's tent. :Now if you'd be so kind as to open up and let us in, that would make things much easier.:
"Us?" Elspeth breathed.
Using the bed to steady herself, Elspeth staggered to her feet. Her legs wobbled a bit from tension and the wellspring of hope that threatened to overwhelm her. She approached the tent flaps and untied them, pushing them open to reveal Gwena and…
Oh. The entire area was filled with Companions. She took a wobbly step out of her tent and looked around. White equine faces and glittering blue eyes stared at her from all directions. There wasn't a single empty spot that she could see. Anywhere not occupied by a tent was filled with Companions.
All of them were looking directly at her.
:We're here to help,: Gwena said, stepping closer to her Chosen and pressing her nose to Elspeth's chest.
"Is… Is every Companion in the entire camp here?" Elspeth breathed, half in jest.
Gwen flicked her ear and replied dryly, :Yes actually. We're all here.: She shook her head so her mane swished through the windy, rain-heavy air. :Did you think we'd let you three have all the fun? Besides,: she bumped Elspeth had enough to send the young princess back a step, :at least one of you had the brains to ask for help.:
"One of…"
Elspeth whirled around and was met by a pair of amber eyes that glowed eerily in the darkness of her tent. Lan Xichen?
"I promised I would tell no one," he said softly, the hand not funneling energy into Dirk helping to support the Herald instead. "I made no promise against letting Gala listen."
That- That was cheating! And yet, Elspeth couldn't even find it in herself to be mad. It might have been underhanded and went against the spirit of the promise, but she wouldn't argue against their need for help.
:And listen she did,: Gwena said, using her nose to push Elspeth back into the tent. :She heard and she passed on the message. We've kept our proverbial mouths shut except to each other. We're here. We'll help as best we can.:
Lan Xichen dipped his head in a bow before shifting to make room for Gwena equine form inside the tent.
:Don't worry about that,: Elspeth's Companion said. :I can barely fit as it is. We don't need to be in physical contact with you to share our strength. Just try again and we'll lend you our strength as well.:
"Thank you!" Dirk cried, his earth brown eyes gleaming feverishly. "Ahrodie?" His shoulders drooped in relief when he received his Companion's mental reply. "Thank you," he repeated in a softer voice.
Lan Xichen, however, appeared hesitant. He said nothing, but there was a heaviness to his amber gaze that said everything his voice would not. Then he closed his eyes and sighed in resignation. Silently, he shifted back to his previous position and waited for Elspeth to take her seat.
"Ready?" Elspeth asked, looking directly at Dirk.
Her teacher and friend met her gaze with his own and nodded. She took his hands in her own once more, closed her eyes, and reached.
:Can you hold out?:
Xichen placed his hand back on Princess Elspeth's shoulder, pressing against several accupoints, and sighed. Yes, I can. But it's not me I'm worried about. He glanced at Herald Dirk and bit back a grimace. He is strong, but this isn't easy on his mind. If he was a cultivator, I would be surprised if he didn't cough up blood after expending so much energy at one time.
Gala snorted in his mind and he felt her send comforting emotions and the firm belief that they could do it through their shared connection. :We're here,: she said. :Lean on us when you feel you need to. That's what we're here for.:
His spirit is strong, Xichen said, glancing at Herald Dirk as the man focused on settling back into a trance. But even strong spirits can break if stretched too thin.
:Just focus on anchoring their souls in place, Chosen,: Gala said firmly. :If you can do that, then we'll handle the rest. You're power is more suited to that task anyway. Our power is more focused on the physical world. We can only influence the spirits of our own Chosen. No one else.:
Xichen grimaced. He really was alone then. Although he suspected, he had been hoping the Companions could boost his own cultivation and grip on the two Heralds' souls. It seemed that truly wasn't the case. He would need to use his cultivation as an anchor all on his own while his Empathy received the boost.
Closing his eyes, he began funneling spiritual power into both Herald Dirk and Princess Elspeth. It required most of his concentration to funnel power into two people at a steady rate, monitor the state of both of their meridians and souls, and adjust the flow accordingly.
Giving spiritual energy to someone without a golden core was tedious. It could be done, but it was nowhere near as efficient. A golden core could receive the energy, absorb it, integrate it, and control the circulation throughout the body's meridians. Without a golden core, some of the spiritual energy flowed through the meridians while the rest was breathed out much too quickly by the recipient. Like a leaky basin, it required more energy be given to overcome the imbalance.
The fact the two Heralds' meridians clearly weren't used as often as a martial artist's, let alone a cultivator's, Lan Xichen had to carefully regulate how much spiritual power he gave to each. The last thing he wanted was to accidentally damage those raw, fragile meridians. Herald Dirk might be passed the age of cultivating his meridians to a respectable level, Princess Elspeth was not.
He could feel Princess Elspeth's breath pick up as horror, disgust, and heartbreak washed over her. He soothed her ragged emotions with his Empathy, easing a bit more spiritual energy through her meridians to anchor her in the here and now. The princess's own Qi rippled sluggishly at his gentle encouragement, moving like debris in a small, rocky creek. His own Qi flowed around Princess Elspeth's like water, pushing, tugging, and entangling with her own to both boost her strength and give him something to hold onto should she slip.
Then Herald Dirk's determination spiked and Xichen tightened his hold on the Herald's slow-moving Qi and rough meridians and held on. Yet, no matter how hard he held Herald Dirk's Qi, it felt like the man continued to drift further and further away. If Xichen didn't know for certain they were still in physical contact, couldn't feel the other man's skin beneath his fingers, he would be sorely tempted to open his eyes. Because everything, including his own Empathy, told him that Herald Dirk wasn't here at all.
It became a strain to funnel spiritual energy into the two Heralds as well as act as an anchor for them. So instead, he stopped circulating their Qi, tangled his own Qi with theirs as tightly as possible, centered himself by circulating his own Qi through his golden core, and clung to them. His golden core pulsed with power, pulling in ambient spiritual energy from the air with every breath he took. The earth beneath him was suddenly harder, the air felt cooler as it rustled the tent around him, and the smell of the rain that threatened to pound the camp was viscerally overwhelming.
When strength suddenly swept through him from Gala, he felt the strain ease somewhat. More strength, living energy from the other Companions joined his own, Princess Elspeth's, and Herald Dirk's. His physical body remained tensed, but the growing ache in his head began to ease as Gala and the Companions took on some of the strain from juggling his Empathy and cultivation at the same time.
It became easier to sooth the Heralds' stress and emphasize their already fierce determination with his Empathy. He could feel them drawing strength from his Empathetic push and striving harder to reach their goal. Something twinged in his mind, like a guqin string fraying threateningly as he plucked through a song.
Focus.
Breathe.
It will pass.
Princess Elspeth's Qi twitched in his grip, but he refused to allow it to slip. It held firmly in place. Distantly, he could hear her gasping and feel her heartbeat race beneath his fingers. Gently, he applied for force behind his spiritual energy counting the pulse rate to be sure it didn't reach dangerous levels. The princess's muscles tensed but she held firm. Her own self-control was admirable.
Herald Dirk's Qi slipped.
It was so jarring that Xichen felt his heart stutter. He was losing the Herald. Without pausing to consider his options, Xichen withdrew his Empathetic and spiritual influence from Princess Elspeth and forced it all on Herald Dirk. When he was certain he had fully withdrawn from the princess, he released his hold on her and grasped Herald Dirk with both hands.
His right hand tightened minutely on Herald Dirk's shoulder while his left hand fumbled blindly for the man's wrist. The moment he found it, he gripped it and pushed more of his spiritual power into Herald Dirk's meridians. He latched onto the man with all of his Empathy and spiritual power, calling the man back to his body and using his Qi to anchor the man's spirit in place.
If Herald Dirk slipped any further, Xichen would lose him.
The man's spirit wavered even as his emotions remained determined and stubbornly refused to give in. Yet, like a slow, steady trickle, Herald Dirk's spirit continue to slip Xichen's grasp. No matter how much spiritual power Xichen pushed into the man's meridians or how desperately Xichen used his Empathy to pull the man back to his physical body, Herald Dirk would not budge.
Forcing back his own growing fear, Xichen cleared his mind and felt. Herald Dirk was a mess of determination, love, hope, and desperation that reminded Xichen of Uncle Qiren that fateful day when Cloud Recesses burned. The remembered scent of smoke permeated the memory as did the heat of the flames as they encroached on his vulnerable body.
No. He couldn't lose him. He didn't have enough strength to hold him alone so…. Extending his spiritual power deep into the earth below, he searched for a blazing light. It took some effort before his Qi found what he was looking for. The Dragon Line here was much weaker than the ones feeding the Vortex under Haven. It felt more like a creek than a river. Hopefully it wouldn't be as deadly as a river either.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, Lan Xichen touched the blazing energy with his spiritual Qi. It took his years of self-discipline to not flinch from the burn of the raw living energy. With as much care as he could, Xichen siphoned off a small tendril of the raw energy through his Qi, channeled it through his meridians and into his golden core, converted it to spiritual energy, and pushed it back out his fingers and into Herald Dirks' body.
He felt his own chest ache and his head begin to pulse as the raw energy burned him from the inside out despite Gala's near frantic attempts to temper the burn and maintain the careful balance of spiritual and living energy. His breathing became unsteady as he clung to Herald Dirk's spirit with all his might. He felt the living energy from the other Companions join his own borrowed power, flowing into Herald Dirk's mind and body, and together they pulled!
Something snapped.
The Dragon Line's living energy rushed through Xichen's spiritual grasp on Herald Dirk's Qi, burning as it went. Instantly, the Herald's spirit was back where it belonged, here in this tent, firmly in his body.
Relieved, Xichen meticulously eased his connection to the Dragon Line, allowing the raw living energy to slow to a trickle, then stop entirely when Xichen's spiritual power retreated from the blaze below. The burn faded from what felt like a fire burning his meridians to a dull ache like a bad sunburn. He panted as the strain on his spiritual power immediately eased. It took him a moment to catch his breath and process what just happened.
Fabric and sweat pressed against his head but he didn't have the strength to open his eyes quite yet. He wasn't ashamed to admit he leaned into the firm body pressing against his forehead. His chest heaved as if he'd been holding his breath. His head ached worse than he could ever remember. He felt tired and drained.
Just passively feeling with his Empathy felt like rocks scraping against a fresh wound. Every flicker of emotion, no matter how fleeting or gentle stung his sense. He couldn't raise his shields. He was too tired.
Through their shared bond, he could feel the echoing exhaustion from Gala. She too tried to help him raise a semblance of his shields, but it wasn't enough to matter much. He felt as if he was burning alive and freezing to death. He shuddered and something cool and familiar pressed harder against his forehead.
Frantically, Xichen sat up. Humiliation and shame filling his mind as he finally began to comprehend what just happened. His ribbon. He'd pressed the medallion on his ribbon against someone other than Nie Mingjue.
It was an accident. He hadn't mean to. He truly hadn't.
Shame flushed his face through the cold sweat dripping down his neck. His hands twitched where they still grasped Herald Dirk, the muscles cramping from holding so hard for so long. His fingers tingled where spiritual energy still flowed through Herald Dirk's meridians. Their Qi swirled together, healing any damage he could find.
Pain. Relief. Hope. Love. Adoration. Horror.
Swallowing over his dry throat, Xichen blinked. Herald Dirk sat hunched over. Xichen's hands still grasped his shoulder and wrist, but the man didn't pay the contact any head. Instead, his eyes were open and staring at the thing in his lap, half wrapped his arms and half sprawled across the floor.
It took Xichen a couple seconds to realize the thing in Herald Dirk's grasp was a person. It took him even longer to process that the person was alive. The person might have been female, but it was hard to tell at the moment. There was no part of their body that wasn't covered in bruises, open wounds, or blood. Their clothes were ripped apart and barely offered any semblance of decency. Several of their fingers were broken as were both of their legs. Their hair was matted and had patches missing.
Their eyes were closed and a part of Xichen firmly wished they stayed that way. He wasn't sure if he wanted to see the potential mess that might be hidden under those bruise darkened eyelids. Blood dribbled from the corner of the person's mouth but no sound escape those cracked and bleeding lips.
No cry. No whimper. No moan. Not even the sound of breath. Xichen had to look directly at the person's chest to be sure they were still breathing. The barely clothed chest did indeed rise and fall in slow, shallow breaths. But there was no color in the person's cheeks. Indeed, there was very little evidence of life other than the breathing.
That was when Xichen noticed something he'd missed. He couldn't feel anything from them. There was nothing. No pain. No fear. No sadness. No emotion whatsoever.
Nothing.
Like a puppet.
The realization drove Xichen to act before he had time to fully comprehend the thought. He carelessly released his hold on Herald Dirk, cutting of the flow of spiritual power before he'd fully withdrawn it back into himself, and scrambled across the ground to the injured person. He would feel that mistake later, but it wasn't important right now.
Ignoring the rocks digging into his knees and hands through his robes as he crawled, Xichen hauled himself to the person's side. A quick brush of fingers against Princess Elspeth's wrist told him she was alive. Weak and unconscious, but alive. She would be exhausted, but she would live. Herald Dirk would have the worst headache he probably ever had in his life, but he too would live.
However, this new person, whom Xichen could only assume was Herald Talia, was barely alive. Hesitantly, Xichen lifted a shaking hand and tugged the rest of the tattered remains of Herald Talia's bloodstained clothes aside, whispering a soft apology in his native tongue as he did so. He had to know. He had to see to be sure.
Nothing. Just bruises, wounds, and blood. The tell-tale veins resembling active lava flows from an active volcanic crater were absent. Just to be absolutely sure, Xichen shifted his aching body and lifted each bruised eyelid with unsteady fingers. They weren't veiled in milky white. They were whole.
The brown irises were slightly rolled back but still visible. However, they didn't contract in reaction to the from light from the tent. The black pupils remained large and blind, staring unseeing up at him.
Not a puppet.
The relief that flooded him was enough to leave Xichen tingling and shaking from more than just exertion and power drain. Herald Talia was alive and not a puppet. He slumped forward, allowing his head to hang and his hair to drag on the ground. Reaching out, he pressed his shaking fingers to Herald Talia's wrist, feeling her pulse. It was weak but there.
Even as he began funneling spiritual energy into her severely damaged body, he knew it was stupid. She needed a doctor. Xichen was a healer but however experienced he was with healing cultivation, his cultivation could only go so far before a doctor would need to step in. But if he could just give Herald Talia enough spiritual energy to maintain her life long enough for someone to get a doctor, or one of Valdemar's Healers, then that would be enough.
:…Chosen…:
Gala's voice was faint and trembled with the same exhaustion Xichen felt.
:Chosen, are you alright?:
He couldn't muster up the energy to form clear words, but he managed a weak nod and hope she understood.
"Thank you."
The new voice should have startled him, but he was too exhausted to be surprised. Instead, he just lifted his head and looked around for the owner. The voice didn't sound like it was solely in his head, but he couldn't be sure.
Princess Elspeth's Companion Gwena was standing on trembling legs half inside the tent, her head hanging low and her crystal blue eyes heavily lidded. The Companion looked just as drained as Xichen felt and like Gala sounded. He wondered briefly if the other Companions were in the same sorry state.
Their little adventure ended up being much more draining than probably would have been. Though, granted, he knew it would have failed if the Companions hadn't come to their aid. Xichen had been cultivating long enough to know his limits. He had almost reached them and he could tell Herald Dirk and Princess Elspeth had both reached theirs. Would they have died alone in this tent if he hadn't been brought onto their scheme? Would they all have died if the Companions hadn't come to join them?
He didn't know. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know.
"Lan Xichen," the voice said, sounding both like it was right by his ear and inside his head.
Shifting so he could turn his head towards the sound, Xichen blinked. The person kneeling by his side certainly hadn't been there when they started. How long had this person in white been there? Was he a Valdemaran Healer?
"I'm not a Healer," the person said, smiling grimly. "Even if I was, I doubt I would be able to help now."
Oh. Xichen blinked slowly and actually considered the stranger's appearance. White clothes in the style of the Heralds, blonde hair that curled around a boyishly handsome face, and eyes that shone with a light only seen in the dead.
"Spirit…" he whispered, nodding his head in the best semblance of a bow that he could manage.
"You kept your word, Lan Xichen," the spirit said. "You helped save her." The spirit placed a ghostly hand on Herald Talia's matted hair. The woman's dull red hair barely visible through the spirit's fingers. "Thank you."
Ah. "Herald Kris," Xichen said.
The spirit nodded. "I'm sorry I couldn't explain before" he said. "I couldn't leave her side."
Xichen nodded but said nothing, siphoning just a little more spiritual energy into Herald Talia's body.
"I wish I could help you," Herald Kris said, genuine sorrow in his voice accompanied the faintest ripple of sorrow against Xichen's raw senses. "You all need Healers."
Xichen reached for Gala through their bond and found only a vague flicker of thought. She must be unconscious too.
"The Companions used all of their strength to help," Herald Kris said, lifting his eerie gaze to where Gwena stood feebly in the tent. "One Groveborn wasn't enough, I'm afraid. Without Companion Rolan, this venture was bound to be difficult."
"…Rolan?" Xichen managed.
"Herald Talia's Companion," Herald Kris explained patiently. "He's a Groveborn Companion. They're rare. They're stronger and more powerful than a normal Companion. He was separated from Talia when she was captured after my death. He's coming. He should be here soon."
Xichen sighed and continued to give Herald Talia his spiritual power. There was something resisting his efforts. He couldn't think clearly enough to place it but it felt like-
"Poison?" he whispered.
"Argonel," Herald Kris confirmed. "I tried to stop her."
Argonel. Xichen had never heard of that poison before. Definitely needed a doctor.
Suddenly, Herald Talia shifted and Xichen lost his grip on her wrist. The shock of the unexpected severance dragged a pitiable whimper from him. A ghostly hand reached out instinctively to catch him before he fell face first on the ground. Pinpricks of ice danced across his skin where Herald Kris touched him, holding him upright.
Shuddering, Xichen tried to reach out and grasp Herald Talia's wrist again, hoping to reestablish the connection long enough to make a clean break. But she was no longer within reach. Herald Dirk must have woken up while Xichen was distracted because the man was staggering past Gwena with Herald Talia in his arms.
Fabric rustled behind him and Princess Elspeth stumbled into his view following behind Herald Dirk. The princess looked just as sickly as Xichen knew his himself did. She brushed her hand against his shoulder in silent thanks before stepping away.
Xichen barely managed to catch her hand in his before she too left his reach. She paused and glanced back at him with glazed eyes.
"Argonel," he whispered. "She's been poisoned with… argonel."
A sparkle of clarity flashed through Princess Elspeth's violet eyes and she nodded. Xichen let his hand fall from hers and watched as she picked up her weary pace, stepping out of the tent and into the darkness beyond.
"You need a Healer too," Herald Kris said quietly, a hand rubbing soothing circles on Xichen's back. "Your cultivation keeps you too close to my Plane for comfort. You need something to pull you back to the Material Plane."
Planes…
Doctor. He needed… Wangji.
Just the thought of his brother clenched his heart and brought tears to his eyes. Wangji. He had to live. He couldn't leave his brother behind. Wangji. His fingers twitched and a tiny golden butterfly fluttered across the floor and out into the night. Whether it found its recipient or not, Xichen may never know.
Biting back a groan, Xichen pushed himself to his feet. He couldn't tell if he was standing straight or not, but he was standing. With Herald Kris's guidance, Xichen stumbled out of the tent and into a wall of wind and pouring rain. All around him, Companions stood huddled together against the wind. Some were no longer standing but laying on the grass. They all looked exhausted.
One Companion standing to his right lifted her head and stretched her neck out to him. Gala. He placed a hand on her nose and felt her. She was so tired and drained. She was barely standing as it was. Yet still she trotted closer until she could press her flank against him. Her warmth was comforting, even as the love and relief grated against his raw senses.
"Lan Xichen," Herald Kris said urgently, his form dimming even as Xichen watched. "You need a Healer."
He did. He knew he did. But- "I don't know… where to…"
"Follow me. Quickly."
Xichen lifted his head and watched Herald Kris' ghost drift through the Companions, the white of his clothes flickering like a candle in the heavy wind and rain. Reluctantly, Xichen put one foot in front of the other and followed.
His body felt heavy and his Qi was flowing through his meridians quite right. It wasn't like when he first arrived in Valdemar. This was different. This was… wrong.
A part of him began to suspect the source of the problem and trembled at the possibility. But the rest of him was just too tired to care. He had to tell someone that Herald Talia was poisoned and with what. The Healers needed to know so they could treat her properly.
"You can tell them when you get there," Herald Kris whispered, his voice barely audible through the rain. "But you must get there first. I'd call for help if I could. But you're the only one who can hear me right now. Talia is… beyond my help."
The wind tugged at Xichen's robes like children begging for attention. The rain he loved plastered his hair to his face and made his robes heavy and stiff. The lightning lit his path when it streaked across the sky followed closely by booming thunder.
He followed Herald Kris through the camp, his vision blurring due to the darkness and pouring rain. He should be cold. He should be. But he wasn't. He was hot. His meridians felt like they were singed from the raw living energy. His skin stung like sunburn. His head pulsed as pressure built up behind his eyes. His chest felt tight and breathing was a chore that scraped air past his dry throat. Every flicker of emotion he felt was like dragging nails across an open wound.
Everything hurt and he was so, so hot.
Light flickered up ahead, shining through Herald Kris's ghostly visage. He could barely see the spirit now. He could barely see anything but blurs now. His Qi was fire in his meridians and he couldn't see past the pain.
Herald Talia was poisoned.
With what?
With… what?
"Argonel."
Right. That.
:Chosen?:
A dark blur moved past his vision. Sounds muted as if by distance rumbled in his ears. Strong motions of fearshockhorror scoured his senses. He tried to breathe and tasted blood.
He could smell something burning in this lit place he stood in. Wood? Was that what was causing the light? It was so warm in here. So hot. He was sweating.
Another shadow darkened his vision and he reached out blindly, hoping to touch it. Something that felt like leather brushed his fingers and he grabbed it. He could feel a pulse under his fingertips. A person.
He had to tell them. He had to warn them.
He had to form the words. He couldn't remember the words.
Sound almost like a voice rumbled low and deep as if spoken into a pillow. It was so hot. He was burning. Breathing was so difficult.
"Herald Talia…" he said deliberately, forcing himself to speak each word as clearly as possible in Valdemaran and not his native tongue. "Poisoned… Can't remember…."
"Argonel," Herald Kris's voice said clearly by his ear.
"Argonel," Xichen repeated.
"Good. Now ask for a Healer."
It was too hot. He couldn't stay here. He released his hold on the leather and watched the shadow move quickly away from him to join other blurred shadows.
"Lan Xichen."
He couldn't stay. He couldn't breathe in this heat.
"Wait! Lan Xichen! Come back!"
He needed to find somewhere cool. Somewhere safe. He just needed to move to get there.
It was so unbearably hot. The heat draped over him like a heavy, damp blanket, hugging his every curve and never letting go. His hair was plastered against his face and neck as sweat dripping down his face. His clothes clung to him like a second skin offering no relief from the heat and humidity.
It was so hot, the very air was heavy and difficult to breathe. He felt like he was breathing old, stale air. If filled his lungs but did nothing to relieve the burning need to breathe. It was just moving air, nothing more. He was suffocating.
He blinked his eyes, trying to distinguish the world around him through the flickering light and dancing shadows. Nothing was clear. Blurs moved across his vision with no rhyme or reason. Nothing made sense.
Voices he knew and many he didn't murmured just far enough away to be heard but not understood. Some sounded panicked, others hushed and secretive, some furious and loud, other soft and comforting. It was nonsensical and deafening.
He reached out, his blurring fingers seeking something, anything to guide him, ground him, get him out! There was nothing.
Then his searching fingers brushed something hard and sturdy. Raised grains in the wood pressed against the pads of his fingers, familiar and comforting. He fell towards it, leaning his full body weight against it. It stood strong, supporting him as he struggled to get his feet back under him.
Then it was gone. The comforting support beneath his arms crumbled under his weight and he collapsed into something bright and hot and burning.
Fire?!
Terror thrilled through his veins and panic clouded his mind as flames licked up his skin, devouring him as they went. His clothes did nothing to protect him or dampen the hungry flames. The red and orange fire simply devoured them too. His hair was hot and singeing him where it touched his bare skin.
He screamed, but it came out as a raspy, breathless cough that scraped his throat raw. He couldn't catch his breath. He couldn't breathe!
The tell-tale sound of creaking wood resounded in the burning air, louder than his gasping coughs and soundless screams. He looked up and could barely see the dark wood of the ceiling through the dense, dark smoke and bright, hungry flames. As he watched, the dark wood caved and collapsed, the burning timbers crashing down on top of him, crushing him between the burning remains of the wooden shelf and the floor.
He couldn't move. He couldn't get out. He couldn't scream. He couldn't cry. He could just lay there, crushed, alone, and burning.
He promised! He promised he would live. He promised! He promised!
:Chosen!:
White blinded him in the darkness. Terrified, Lan Xichen threw himself backwards, overbalancing and thudding on the hard ground. Scrambling to his feet, Xichen clawed his way out of the stifling heat and still air and outside. It was still dark, but here the air moved. A gust of cool air that whispered of rain and tasted of lightning stung his face, tearing at his robes and stirring his long hair.
He didn't know where he was. Nothing was familiar. His feet carried him down a rain-soaked pathway that turned sharply and unexpectedly. He didn't care. He had to get away. He had to breathe. The mud sucked at his feet, slowing him down and compromising his stability. Then the ground gave way beneath him and he sprawled on the ground, barely catching himself with his hands before he could smash his face in. Coughing, he lifted his head and tried to find something, anything remotely familiar.
The black and gray expanse of grass and strange tents in Clan colors he didn't recognize completely surrounded him, arching down from the hill he knelt on and stretching out in a vast, open plain far towards the horizon. Trees rose on either side of the hill, framing a wide dirt road and one side of a walled fortress in the distance. A few golden lights -fire!- flickered along the top of the wall and within a handful of windows.
The shadowed silhouette of the walled fortress was similar to the Unclean Realm. But it wasn't the same. He knew it wasn't the Unclean Realm. It was achingly familiar and yet so utterly foreign. Hot trails streaked down his cheeks, burning him where they touched. It wasn't the same burn as the flames, but it still hurt.
Everything hurt.
His chest ached, as if an unbreakable thread looped around his heart and yanked at him, pulling him to some unknown end. Even as his soul whispered that he knew where that fine thread led. Even as his eyes burned and his throat rasped another chest-deep cough and his hair stuck to his face and lips.
His muscles quivered and strained against the terror that still held him in its uncompromising grasp. He was so afraid and so alone and he just wanted his brother. Wangji. Wangji! Didi!
He coughed, and coughed, and coughed. Clammy fingers reached for his throat, his nails scraping the pale flesh in a desperate attempt to clear his airway from the outside. He couldn't breathe. He needed to breathe. He couldn't. Every time he tried, he coughed and gagged on remembered smoke.
Wangji! Wangji, please!
His head hurt! He hands scrabbled at his head, pulling something that gleamed free ignoring the stinging pain on his scalp. His head still hurt. Frantically, he tangled his hands in his hair, pulling it free from the topknot and feeling for the wound he felt but couldn't find.
Voices. A voice called in the distance, barely audible over the ringing in his ears and head. It sounded afraid. He didn't want them to be afraid. He didn't want to die alone. But if that was his fate, then he wouldn't let anyone else suffer with him.
It took more concentration than it usually did to reach out with his Empathy and try to soothe away the voice's terror. The agony of the seemingly simple act ripped rasping groan from his throat. He coughed and his tenuous grasp on his Empathy stuttered. He was getting lightheaded and dizzy, pinpricks of white flashing across his vision.
No. No! He was a cultivator! He couldn't give in to this.
He couldn't breathe. He couldn't focus.
His Qi scorched his meridians as it moved through him. Distantly, he shouldn't try to use it in this state. But that voice was still blabbing incoherent sounds a distant part of his mind knew were words and he couldn't let that continue. Not if he could help them.
Blindly, he threw out a hand, flailing and sweeping through the air for the owner of that voice. He found nothing. Was it really there? Was he really hearing it? But no, the fearpainsadness he was feeling was real and it wasn't his own. Touch made things easier. It was required for sharing spiritual power. It wasn't required for Empathy.
Pulling his scorching Qi through his meridians, he reached out with his Empathy like a fishing hook tossed haphazardly into a murky river. The hook latched onto the voice and he forced his spiritual power-backed Empathy on them.
He couldn't breathe! He was burning alive from the inside out and he couldn't catch his breath between coughing through remembered smoke and the warm, vicious heat that trailed down his lips. Flames blazed through his body, searing his meridians, incinerating his veins, and killing him!
A hand, heavy and hot and unknown touched his shoulder. Strong, calloused fingers gripped him at the same time a new voice, deeper, clipped tones, and foreign words demanding something. The hand shook him, tried to move him, tried to take him-
Wen Xu!
Shuoyue!
The grip on his shoulder suddenly tightened and he would not go with Wen Xu! He promised his Clan he would live. He promised!
With the desperation of a child and the fraying sanity of a panic-stricken mind, he snatched the hand clutching his shoulder, dug his nails into the skin, and pushed his Empathy into it with all his might. TerrorFearRunDangerGoAwayHelpStopDon't- He flooded Wen Xu's ensnaring hand with every ounce of his spiritually backed Empathy hoping to drown them in terror so they'd release him, let him go, let him flee, let him get away, help!
Wen Chao's smoke-tinged laughter rang through his ears and the thread in his chest yanked again accompanied by agony that wasn't his -A-Jue!- and he clamped his hands over his ears. Wen Chao was laughing. Wen Chao was in his private home and he was alone with him and Wen Chao was laughing and Wen Xu was burning down Cloud Recesses and killing them!
No! Please! Don't! Stop! Stop killing them please! I surrender! Wen Xu, I surrender! Stop!
A-Jue! Don't die! Wangji! Didi, live!
Something broke. His spiritual power snapped back into him and he was burning alive and unable to scream and everything was a tangled, scorching mess, someone make it stop A-Jue ple-
Steel as cold and unforgiving as ice clattered to the ground and Alberich finally allowed himself to breathe. That had not been what he'd been expecting when he'd watched Lan Xichen walk slowly out of the queen's tent as if in a daze. It hadn't been a few minutes later that his limited Foresight screamed at him to do something! He'd only had time to race out of his tent and get his bearings in the darkness of the queen's camp before emotion as solid and unforgiving as a stone wall slammed into him with the force of a battering ram.
It hadn't lasted longer than a few seconds before it vanished again, but those few seconds were enough to shock his consciousness to full battle readiness and leave him shaking with adrenaline. All around him, sounds of other people stunned awake by the same forceful wave of emotion filled the air. Cries of surprise, whimpers of fear, and sobs of heart wrenching sadness grew louder accompanied by the uneasy whinnies of Companions as they tried to comfort their Heralds.
Kantor was no exception. :That… was the worst wake-up call I have ever had,: Kantor groused in Alberich's head, sounding unexpectedly exhausted. He got the vague image of the warhorse shaking his mane and pawing at the ground as blue eyes cast around for the source.
:Do we even know what caused that? Was it a Herald?: Alberich asked, taking the first few steps away from his tent to begin directing the burgeoning foot traffic back to their tents. The last thing they needed was a stampede of confused people wandering the camp, confusing the situation, and possibly making it worse.
Kantor's reply was curt and swift. :It was. We're trying to- Havens!:
:What?:
:It's Gala's Chosen, Lan Xichen.: Kantor's words came out in a rush. :He's awake but he's not cognizant. He's having a breakdown of some kind and she can't break him out of it.:
A Companion couldn't break her Herald out of… It only took a moment for Alberich to pull up the location of the Lan Xichen's tent and he began running in that direction. When he neared the end of the lane of tents on the southern facing side of the hill near the edge of camp, Alberich turned the corner.
He wasn't sure what exactly he expected to see, but it wasn't this. A person draped in blue and white, long black hair staining the sodden silk and spilling over his shoulders onto the ground below, knelt in the mud. Pale fingers clutched at blue sleeved arms tightly enough to leave wrinkles in the cloth and what would be red crescents on the skin beneath. The youth didn't scream or cry in distress. Considering how badly they were coughing, it was a wonder the young man was breathing at all.
Because despite the situation and dim light, Alberich recognized the pale, shivering form of Lan Xichen. Even if he hadn't, the snow-white Companion standing just a pace or so away would have made the young man's identity clear. Curiously, Gala stood still, her head hanging so low her nose brushed the grass and muddy ground and her bright blue eyes wide and staring. Her ears were pressed flat against her head and her tail hung still, unmoving. She was within touching distance of Lan Xichen, but she didn't move to touch him.
As if she couldn't touch him.
She almost looked eerily calm.
Almost.
Ah. Lan Xichen was an Empath.
:Kantor, can you reach Lan Xichen's Companion?:
:I'm trying, Chosen,: his Companion growled in annoyance. :She's not making any sense. She keeps begging for help, but she sounds-:
:Calm perhaps?:
:Yes! Like she's- Good gods! I'm coming over there!:
Good. Alberich would probably need Kantor's help dealing with this.
With a wary eye on Gala, Alberich made his way to where Lan Xichen knelt. The coughing was only getting worse. The ragged sounds ripping themselves from the young Herald's throat making Alberich wince in sympathy. As carefully as he could, Alberich crouched by the young man's side.
"Lan Xichen," he called, pitching his voice just loud enough to be heard over the young man's coughing fit.
No response.
"Zewu-jun, can you hear me?"
Again nothing.
He reached out and placed a gentle hand on Lan Xichen's quivering shoulder. Instantly, Lan Xichen's entire frame tensed. Half a second later, Alberich found his body paralyzed by such an intense waved of terror it stole his breath away. For several precious moments, he couldn't move.
:Chosen!:
Then it was a battle of wills to keep from moving as every single instinct he'd honed over the years living in the dangerous land of Karse demanded he leave. His senses yelled at him to run away because here wasn't safe. His body desperately wanted to obey such a powerful and base instinct. But his logic and war-trained mind knew fear, it was an old friend. He would stand his ground.
It wasn't easy. The pressure was constant and forceful as if a boulder had been dropped on his shoulders and, if he should give even the slightest bit, it would crush him mercilessly beneath it. He tightened his grip on Lan Xichen's shoulder and bit his lip, the pain grounding him against the crushing force of the young Herald's Empathic demand.
Because that's what it was, he realized. This crushing force of fear and the dominating command to run away was definitely coming from Lan Xichen. Gods, was that why Gala wasn't moving either?
:Kantor!: he called, concentrating on each word as he commanded his body to stay where it was. :Lan Xichen has his Companion in an Empathic grip. Can you break her out of it?:
:Looks like he got you too, Chosen,: Kantor said, sounding like he was running. Hoof beats pounded the earth nearby until the enormous white Companion appeared, taking in the tableau with the eye of a seasoned soldier. :I'm on it.:
The coughing got worse and Alberich grimaced. It sounded like the young Herald was trying to cough up his damned lungs. With extreme effort, he managed to shift his position just enough to raise his other hand. He meant to grasp Lan Xichen's hand and try to shake him out of his panic.
He never made it that far.
Metal sang and Alberich found himself staring down a gleaming, moon-pale blade that glinted an icy blue around the edges. There was no hand holding the handle of the sword. There was visible guide to the sword. It was just there, hovering in the air, the tip of its blade touching Alberich's vulnerable neck.
Gods!
A magic sword? Or… Fetching? Lan Xichen never mentioned a Fetching Gift.
She. Alberich frowned. When he'd handed the sword back to Lan Xichen after speaking to the queen when the young man first arrived here three days ago, Lan Xichen had referred to the sword as she. Was it a magical sword? Was it sentient?
If it was…
"Your master, panicking is," Alberich said in Valdemaran, hoping the blade could understand the same languages as its master. "This must end. Let me help him."
The blade hovered, glowing dimly in the darkness of the night like… like a Companion's glistening white coat. Then the sword hummed a tune that sounded almost sad to his ears and the razor-sharp blade slipped away from his throat. That was all the permission Alberich needed.
Snarling against the onslaught of Empathic demands that he run away and he raised his hand, and struck Lan Xichen in the back of the neck. The young man crumpled limply to the ground unconscious.
As if invisible strings had been cut, Alberich too slumped, gasping and sweating, when the Empathic demands vanished as abruptly as they had manifested. The gleaming sword also clattered to the ground where it lay still and dull in the storm. Behind Alberich, a Companion whinnied and several strong white legs trotted into view. Kantor took up a protective position by Alberich's side while Gala made distressed sounds as she lowered her nose and snuffled at Lan Xichen's unconscious body sprawled across the mud and grass.
"What happened?" Alberich gasped, sitting back on his heels ad resting his hands on his thighs.
:I don't know!: Gala's mental voice said, sounding worried and confused and a bit frightened. :I could reach him at first but he wasn't making sense. We were all tired from helping Dirk Fetch Talia here, but Xichen…:
Her ears flicked back and forth as if searching for a sound. :He kept talking to Herald Kris but Herald Kris is dead! His channels are in tatters and he used- He hurt himself to help Dirk and I think it's done something to his mind. He didn't know where he was and he burned himself by accident and just panicked and I lost him!:
"Burned? How?" Alberich demanded, shifting Lan Xichen's form so he could more easily scoop the young man into his arms.
:He was dazed and knocked over a torch,: Gala said, keeping pace with Alberich and Kantor as they made their way back to the queen's tent where Herald Dirk, Talia, and Elspeth were receiving urgent medical attention from the Healers. :The fire was already guttering in the rain and went out when it landed in a puddle, but he burned his hand in the flame and-:
She stuffed her nose over Alberich's arm so her chin rested on one of Lan Xichen's knees. :I'm not sure what happened but I lost him. I thought it was a flashback from his trauma and maybe it started that way. But there's something wrong. He knew it and was trying to get away from people but he wouldn't tell me what was wrong or why or how I could help. He stopped talking to me entirely and just…:
Alberich frowned. Lan Xichen was young, but Alberich had known younger people who knew the horrors of battle. They would need more than a Healer then. They would need a MindHealer.
The Weaponsmaster sighed. In the span of one night, they had the Queen's Own Herald Talia back alive. But it had cost the Companions exhaustion, Herald Dirk and Princess Elspeth a serious case of backlash, and whatever Lan Xichen was suffering from now.
A fortuitous night, this might have been had the price not been so steep.
A/N: For anyone wondering, 1) yes, Valdemar does canonically have at least 6 different Planes of existance, and 2) yes, Lan Xichen did just suffer a Qi Deviation.