25th Day of Goodmonth, 565 CY
The Dungeons of the Slave Lords
The Aerie, The Pomarj
"Talass, heal yourself!"
Again, that command.
But the voice was not that of her husband.
Talass couldn't see.
She couldn't even tell if her eyes were open or not.
She could hear. She could hear the voices of her friends, but she couldn't place any of the names to the voices. Sometimes, it seemed like they weren't even speaking to her.
Talass couldn't move. Not an inch.
And she couldn't feel.
It was like she had no body at all.
"Come on, my good lady; I saw you move. Don't leave us now; who can I annoy if not you and Aslan?"
"Weren't you supposed to be out of here by now, Bigfellow?"
"I'm a known liar, Sir Menn. That's why I'm not the team leader."
"Please, Talass; if you really do have one healing prayer left, use it!"
"Dammit, she's not responding- How's Elrohir?"
"I had a pulse, but I can't find it now!"
"Gods, there's so much blood…"
"It's even worse than it looks. They both have severe injuries under the skin. Many broken bones; I just don't know if…
"We're going to lose them both, aren't we?"
"Don't say that! Talass, listen to me; as one cleric to another. The prayers, the powers we carry within ourselves are not just gifts from our gods; they're a responsibility from them, too! You can't die with healing left unused, Talass- and I know Elrohir wanted you to heal yourself. Reach down deep inside and find that faith. Find that power. I- I know you can do this, Talass."
"Why in the Abyss isn't Aslan crossing the abyss?"
"The rope is useless now. It's been stretched out. It's too weak now."
"Then we'll make up the slack ourselves! All of you not working on these two, grab the rope and pull back; stretch it as tight as you can! Aslan, you stupid, stuffy, repressed shrimp of a paladin, grab that rope!"
The voices began to fade.
Talass could see now, but she knew it was only in her mind.
She was seeing Elrohir again for the first time.
She was giving up returning to her homeland for him.
They were laughing together.
They were dancing.
They were making love.
They were admiring their newborn son.
They were destroying the horror that was Kar-Vermin.
They were retiring. Their job was done.
It was time to enjoy life.
And now, they were…
Were…
Where were they?
She could hear Elrohir now in her mind. She could hear him speak.
"Talass, heal."
It was what he wanted her to do.
And she was going to do it.
Feelings and sensations began to return to Talass as she loosened her grip on the sanctuary her mind had taken her.
Pain. Blood. Both were everywhere.
Her left arm seemed to hurt the worst. She couldn't move it, so the cleric rolled over slightly onto her right side.
That triggered a new explosion of voices.
"She's moving; she's alive!"
"Talass, can you hear me? Can you speak?"
"I don't think she's seeing us. Her eyes. They're…
"Elrohir, please wake up. Please!"
"Anything?"
"He kind of choked once, and now- nothing. Sitdale, is there anything-"
"I am doing all I can, Lady Cynewine, but without divine healing…"
Healing.
The voices faded again.
"Talass, heal."
Talass reached out with her right hand.
There were more voices, but she couldn't distinguish them anymore.
Her fingers wrapped around the hair on the back of her husband's head.
She didn't know if the blood she felt was hers or his.
She took a deep breath. She might have cried out from the pain, but she wasn't sure.
Pain didn't matter anymore.
The Cleric of Forseti and Priestess of Truth twisted her husband's hair in her hand.
She could smell his scent.
She could feel warm sunshine on her cheek; a cool breeze.
She could hear running water.
A waterfall.
And Talass healed.