Title: Of Healing and Love
Author: I Dream of Peace
Category: drama, missing scene, pre-romance (pairing Numair/Daine)
Rating: PG-13, there's going to be a bit of violence, nothing too intense, but definitely some blood, and blink-and-you'll-miss-it reference to non-graphic sexual assault
Spoilers: all the Immortals books, but really, you wouldn't be reading this if you haven't read those
Archive: anyone can have it, just please tell me so I can come and visit
Feedback: I know you are all capable of pushing the review button…
Series: stand-alone
Summary: When Daine is gravely injured, Numair comes to see how much she means to him
Disclaimer: You all know the drill. All this wonderful stuff belongs to Tamora Pierce. I'm obviously not making money off this, because if I were I would have a better computer! It's all just for fun.
Author's Notes: See chapter 1 for the quote that inspired this fic.
Numair charged Spots straight into the village commons of Ravenswood, townspeople scattering to get out of his way. With a swift gesture Numair ended the spell and dismounted, reaching back up and lifting Daine into his arms, demanding of the cowering villagers someone fetch a healer. When a young copper haired woman introduced herself as Devika, the local hedgewitch, Numair wasted no time asking for her help.
"Of course," she answered. "Follow me." She strode off towards a moderately sized, whitewashed cottage, the locals quickly getting out of her way, and Numair followed gratefully behind her. Pushing open a side door, Devika motioned Numair into a brightly lit, cheerful looking room with plenty of large windows, a warm fire, and many potted plants. Dried herbs were suspended from the ceiling rafters; obviously, this was the young woman's workroom.
"How did this happen?" she questioned.
"We were on king's business, and we were waylaid by bandits in the moors south of here," Numair answered wearily. "Daine, my student here, was shot by a barbed arrow coated in contaminants." The young healer paled a bit at this last part.
"I didn't catch your name?"
"Numair Salmalìn."
This shocked the young woman, "The Numair Salmalìn who escaped Carthak? The black-robe mage?"
"Yes," Numair responded shortly.
"Then this would be Veralidaine Sarrasri, the wild mage?"
"Again, correct." The young woman looked quite intimidated now.
"Sir, this is a bit out of my league. Perhaps you would do better to take her to Corus."
"That is where we agree," Numair answered, sighing and fingering the bridge of his nose. "Unfortunately, I drained my Gift dealing with the bandits. I need a few hours rest before I will have enough power to attempt such a working as a teleportation. If you could just hold her stable for a few hours while I rest, we'll leave this evening. Try to keep any infection from getting a foothold," Numair instructed.
"But I can't—" the young woman protested, wringing her hands.
"Burn it from her with raw power if you must!" Numair yelled. Regaining his temper, Numair said, more calmly, "I'm sorry. Anything you can do will help; in any case it will only be for a few hours." Devika nodded grimly.
"Now, is there somewhere I could lay down?" Numair queried.
"Over there," the young hedgewitch said, pointing to a row of doors against the far wall. "I don't have any patients here right now, so choose which ever you like." Numair thanked her and headed for the closest door.
"Devika?" he said gently, turning as he reached the doorframe, "I greatly appreciate this. Will you wake me in three hours?" The young woman smiled slightly and nodded. Numair shut the door behind him and sank to the small cot. Lying down, Numair quickly put himself into a deep trance. Half way between deep meditation and true sleep, this type of trance was designed to restore strength more quickly than sleep. As his breathing evened out, Numair allowed the blissful nothingness of meditation to settle over his mind.
Sooner than he realized, Devika was shaking his shoulder.
"Master Salmalìn?" she asked uncertainly. Numair opened his eyes and sat up.
"How is she?" he immediately asked. Devika looked uncertain.
"I tried to hold it back for as long as I could. For the first two hours I keep it away from the wound itself, but I could feel it in her blood even then. The last hour though, it—it broke away from me," she blurted. Numair swore colorfully. The young hedgewitch looked shocked.
"I slowed it down as best I could, but if you don't get help soon…These sort of things can get out of control very easily, Master Salmalìn," the young woman continued. Numair nodded woodenly, already heading out to the main room. Upon seeing his student, however, the mage froze in shock.
The flush of fever painted Daine's otherwise deathly pale face. More sweat beaded upon her brow, and her eyes roved restlessly beneath their lids. Similarly, Daine twitched restlessly, muttering under her breath. Numair was badly frightened; the Black God seemed to stand beside his student, already marking her as one of His. Numair was determined to do battle with all the Great Gods if necessary, if it would help Daine.
Gathering his student in his arms, Numair thanked Devika and strode outside. As soon as Numair judged himself to be far enough away from buildings to avoid any mishaps, he began the preliminary ritual for the teleportation spell. Invoking the Threefold Goddess, Numair picture the capital ccity of Tortall, and before he consciously thought to finish the spell, his mouth had shaped the words, and they were on their way to Tortall.
