The Raven's Shadow by Elspeth Cooper Page A

was on his feet, sword held aloft in salute. She slowed, raising her own hand in acknowledgement, and saw the line of charging horsemen rise behind him like a breaking wave.
    Even as she drew breath to shout a warning, a spear-point burst from the man’s chest. A flicker of stunned incomprehension crossed his face, then he was gone, ridden down without a cry.
    ‘No!’
    The pillars loomed either side of her and the world flashed silver to black. Disoriented, dragged forwards by the rope around her wrist, she fell to her hands and knees in the leaf litter of the clearing. When she looked over her shoulder again, the battlefield had vanished and all she could see through the stones was the far side of the glade.
    Panting for breath, she let her head fall. Despite her best efforts, her patient was dead.
    Every Healer knew that sometimes a patient would not survive, that sometimes fate or time or sheer blind chance meant there was nothing a physician could do except ease their passing. She had experienced it before, more than once. It was the curse that came with the gift, the shadow cast by the light of the Healer’s power. But she had never saved a life only to see it wrenched away again by violence so quickly. It was a wrong so vast she could scarcely wrap her mind around it.
    Then she saw her dagger in the dirt, its blade bright and clean. No blood. There was none on her hands either, yet she’d felt the man’s raw flesh, the heat of his life slicking her fingers as she cut out the arrow-head. Disbelief chilled her.
    ‘Did it really happen?’ she asked, rocking back on her heels.
    Owyn had heaved Ailric down onto his bedroll and was spreading a blanket over him. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘And no.’
    Tanith frowned. ‘I don’t understand. Either it did or it didn’t.’
    He tucked the blanket around the Astolan’s legs.
    ‘How do we ever know that something has happened? We know because once it is done, the world as it was is no more. The event has changed it. For that warrior, nothing changed.’
    ‘But I saw him. I touched him.’ I felt his pain smelled the fear-sweat on his skin oh spirits I Healed him why couldn’t I save him?
    ‘Then for you, it was real.’ The forestal straightened up, sliding the noose off his wrist. His face was grave. ‘You should have left him, lady.’
    Tears threatened and Tanith tilted her chin defiantly, determined they would not fall. ‘I will not betray my Healer’s oath. I will render aid wherever I can.’
    ‘Even when it is hopeless?’
    ‘Even then.’ Damn it, no! I will not cry! ‘At least this way he died quickly instead of drowning in his own blood.’ At least I know I made a difference, however small.
    He cocked his head on one side. ‘But he is still dead.’
    To that, she had no answer. The helplessness, the sheer unfairness of it, yawned like an abyss, and she stood on the very edge. Owyn watched her for a long moment, until she had to look away or she really would cry, no matter what she did.
    Back on this side of the stones, dawn had given way to a dull and cheerless day, and despite the warmth of the air she began to shiver. The shock, she realised, combined with the run, the change in temperature. Oh, spirits, she couldn’t stop shaking.
    Hunkering down at her side, Owyn draped her blanket around her shoulders. She thanked him and he reached into his jerkin and took out a small silver and leather flask.
    ‘Here,’ he said, offering it to her. ‘This will help warm you.’
    When she unscrewed the cap, the smell of some kind of spirits made her head spin. Gingerly she took a sip and gasped as the stuff seared down her throat.
    ‘What is that?’ she asked when she could see straight again. The shuddering had stopped and her stomach was aglow.
    ‘ Kavit. We make it from birch leaves.’ Owyn took a sip himself, then sealed the flask and stowed it away. ‘Better?’ he asked.
    ‘Better.’ She was, in a way; the jolt of strong spirit had anchored her in