Whispers (Book 3 of Wielder series)

Chapter 9 - The Researcher

Amidst the nightmare of constant darkness that swallowed Alie no matter whether she slept or woke, there suddenly appeared a calming light. At first she feared what would happen if she followed it: perhaps it was the light leading her away from her life into whatever lay beyond. But as the darkness closed in around her, and the light grew warmer and brighter, she couldn't resist. She chased it like a moth drawn to a lantern. And when she caught it, she woke up.

   Her entire body ached. Her leg throbbed. Her head pounded. Her throat scratched. Her skin burned.

   But she was awake, which meant she was alive.

   A soft, pale ball of light hovered in a corner of her cell, illuminating the space for the first time since she had found herself in it. Staring at it, her eyes filled with tears. She had spent so long in the dark, she had begun to fear she'd never see the light again.

   "Good morning," an unfamiliar voice greeted warmly.

   Though startled, she didn't even stir. Her body didn't have the energy for such a response. Instead she slowly turned her head, blinking sleepily and parting dry lips in an attempt to say hello.

   A man knelt beside her. He had soft brown eyes and fluffy blondish-brown hair. He wore a belted earthy green vest over a gray long-sleeved shirt, and dark cargo pants. His smile was bright and excited. "I wasn't sure that would wake you," he said, as she studied him. "But since you're so sensitive to magic, I figured it wouldn't hurt to try."

   Alie blinked at him. Her mind felt as lethargic as her body, causing her thoughts to lag. There were so many things to ask: Who was he? What was he doing in her cell? What had he done to wake her? Why had he needed to?

   But the only word that left her cracked lips was, "Sole?"

   The man's smile faded. His excitement dulled as disappointment overtook it. "Don't you worry about him," the man urged, gently squeezing her shoulder. "He can't hurt you like this again."

   Alie fought to keep her eyes open. Exhaustion pulled at her, as if she hadn't slept for days. "He's dead?"

   "Not quite." The man sat back on his heels with a sigh. "No, I'm afraid he's very much alive."

   "Then..." She licked her lips. "Then, what...?"

   "It's a long story." As his soft smile slowly returned, the man turned and picked up a thick syringe with a blunt, wide tip. "Here. You need to eat something." Tenderly, he brought the syringe to her lips. 

   The liquid that slowly trickled out tasted like actual food. It had flavor and spice and warmth in ways that nothing she'd put in her mouth since becoming the commander's prisoner ever had. Whatever it was - thick soup or stew or blended solids - it made her stomach growl.

   The man's smile brightened. "My name is Evan," he introduced, slowly administering the meal to her a small portion at a time. "I'm a healer and researcher of magic. I'm here to help you get better."

   A healer? Commander Sole had sent her a healer? Whatever for?

   Noticing her look of confusion, Evan gestured to her weak, aching body. "You were in pretty rough shape," he said with an unamused chuckle. "Multiple infections, wounds that weren't closing, malnutrition, dehydration..." He shook his head. "It was bad."

   "Was?" She gave an unamused huff of her own. "It's still bad."

   "Well. It's less bad." The sympathetic look he gave her made her stomach churn. "It'll take some time for you to recover fully."