An Affinity For Fire

53. Heleonne

"That fire's getting aggressive," Leo warned, eyeing the wild flames and billowing black smoke rising from the pile of books. "Calio, hate to rush you, but would you mind keeping that under control?"

"Right. Of course." She rose from where she'd been crouching beside Tarragon and strode towards the fire.

Tarragon groaned, aiming a glare at Leo. "Fine. Make sure the burning books are being taken care of. Who cares about my burning flesh?"

"Hold on, I'll sort you out," Leo said, kneeling beside him. Calio had been part-way through wrapping a strip of her dress around his gash. Leo picked up where she'd left off, winding the fabric tightly around the length of Tarragon's forearm, covering the burn. The cauterization must have worked, because Leo couldn't see any blood seeping through the thin material. But then, it was a dark red, so he wasn't sure if he would even be able to tell either way.

When he was done, he met Tarragon's eyes. "How's that? Too tight?"

Tarragon winced. "I little. But then, I guess That's the point. The less blood flowing to that area, the better."

"It'll be fine soon," Leo assured him. "When we summon Merith, she can fix any remaining damage. Who knows, she might even be able to get rid of the burn scar."

Tarragan dropped his eyes, throat bobbing.

Leo frowned. "What is it?"

"Leo... what happens if this doesn't work?"

"What are you talking about?"

"What if Weyra isn't actually Chalcedony?" Tarragon said. "Or if Clover doesn't find her, or if one of the other items we collected is somehow wrong, or if for some other reason this just doesn't work."

Leo shook his head. "I'm not letting myself think like that. I can't. Not after everything."

"I understand that, and I promise that as long as we have even an ounce of a chance of this working, I'm not giving up. But however committed we are to seeing this through, we have to be prepared for the very real possibility that this isn't-"

"No," Leo insisted. "Clover is going to get here with Weyra, and the summoning spell is going to work. Let me have my comfortable delusions a little longer, they're the only thing keeping me sane, paradoxical as that may sound."

Tarragon didn't get a chance to debate any further before Clover burst through the library door in full sprint. She stumbled to a halt beside the fire, bending at the waist and panting heavily.

Leo shot to his feet. "Where's Weyra?"

Clover swatted a dismissive hand in his direction. "Don't need her." She looked up, narrowing her eyes at the discarded rags of Tarragon's shirt. "Whose blood is that?"

"Mine," Tarragon said. "I almost bled out just now."

"Perfect," Clover said, striding towards him and scooping the shirt off the ground.

Tarragon spluttered out a confused laugh. "Any particular reason you're so enthusiastic about my near-death experience?"

She didn't answer, swiftly returning to the fire and chucking in the shirt. Before Leo could stop her, she picked up the hair, dagger and tongue and tossed them in too.

"What are you doing?!" Leo said. "You can't burn them until we have-"

"Do it now," She cut in.

"But-"

"Do it now," she repeated, fixing him with a glare. The stone-hard conviction in her green eyes, ablaze in the light of the fire, said that if he didn't perform the spell, she'd do it herself. Uncertain but unprepared to argue, he conceded, stepping over to the fire and closing his eyes.

"Merith of Dormis, Mage of Light, I, Heleonne Monfort of Dormis, summon you," he recited, opening his eyes again when he was finished. "Look, Clo, I don't know what you expect-"

His words died in his mouth as a blinding shot of burning pain flared through every inch of his body.

Gasping, he collapsed to the ground, trying to scream, but unable to make a sound. It felt like someone was ripping his heart out through his mouth, while each of his ribs tried to crawl into his lungs. Clover and Calio dropped to their knees beside him, trying to hold him down or lift him up, he couldn't tell. He even spotted Tarragon dragging himself across the ground towards him with his one good arm. All of their lips were moving, probably trying to grasp what in all Hells was wrong, but all he could hear was a screeching whistle, so high he thought his head might explode.

Then, all at once, everything went black and silent.

A moment later, the agony in his lungs ebbed and he threw himself onto all fours, sucking in desperate, heaving breath after desperate, heaving breath.

The room was still black, but he could see his hands beneath him as clear as day. Lifting his gaze, he saw nothing in any direction.

Nothing, except a skeletal woman, dressed in filthy rags, with knotted hair that would probably be golden if it had been clean. She was crouching in a similar position to his, gasping for breath, and glaring at him with hateful, sunken, yet surprisingly youthful eyes.

"What reason do you barbarians have to torture me this time?" she croaked.

Leo staggered to his feet. Had he been conscious, which he doubted he was, he suspected he would have fainted. "Merith?"

"Obviously," she groaned. "What do you want from me?"

"Merith," he said again, less as an address and more as an attempt to convince himself she was real. "My name is Heleonne Monfort of Dormis, and my kingdom needs your help."

She blinked, brows drawing together. "Wait, you're not- how did you get to me?"

"Long story, best saved for another time," he said, struggling to keep his tone authoritative, instead of revealing the simultaneous fear and relief he felt. "For now, I need you to come to Dormis. Where are you?"

She didn't stand. Considering how frail she looked, Leo wondered if maybe she couldn't. "I can't help you," she said.

He frowned. "What do you mean? You're the great Mage of Light, The realm's greatest healer. You've saved thousands. Everyone knows your stories. You've sealed fatal wounds, you've cured blindness, you-" His breath hitched at the last, realising it might not be true. "You restored my friends' great-great-grandmother's fertility."

Her heavy eyes widened at that. "You know a descendant of Queen Heather?"

"Yes, more than one, actually," he answered, resisting the urge to cry with joy. She did it.

"What are they like?" She asked, a gleam of awe crossing her hollow, angled face.

"Er... Nice?" He shook his head. "Anyway, that doesn't matter. The point is, there's been a series of attacks, and there are a lot of people who need you to heal them. And one of them needs her fertility restored."

Her features darkened again. "I'm sorry," she said. "I can't."

"What do you mean?" Leo said, stomach tightening. "You've done it before. Surely you can do it again. We can pay you, if that's-"

"That's not the issue," Merith interrupted, shaking her head sadly. "Life cannot be made. It must be given. That isn't something I can do twice. And even if I could-"

She stopped, glancing around in fear as the ground shuddered beneath them both. Leo stumbled, barely staying on his feet. "What's happening?" he demanded.

"Whatever spell you used is waring off," she explained as Leo's vision began to blur. "Heleonne of Dormis, listen to me. I can't restore fertility, but I can still help others. But you have to help me first. Please," she begged, her last few words distorted, as if through water. "Please, help me. Save me."

Before she could say anymore, she vanished, as did whatever invisible floor had been beneath them, and Leo screamed as he dropped into black, empty air.