Birthright (The Technomage Archive, Book 1) - Complete Novel

Chapter Thirty-Three

"I can't hold it for much longer," Chuckie said.

"Can you give me two or three minutes?" Harlo yelled.

He panted. "I doubt it."

Harlo went to work quickly. She placed her fear into the nanites, urging them to work faster. She needed to help Saryn, and Chuckie was giving everything he could so that would happen.

Then something changed. It took a moment for her to figure out what had happened. Harlo whipped her head toward Chuckie, who still held his palms to the ground, panting and shaking. She was pretty sure he was drooling, too, but she wouldn't mention that to him. He said between pants, "I think Ceril did it."

Harlo pursed her lips and turned back to Saryn. Regardless of whether that was true, Chuckie kept his Conjured shield up, and she worked more quickly, just to be sure. She was just putting the finishing touches on healing Saryn's burns when the shield disappeared, and Chuckie collapsed.

The Conjured fire from the stakes was gone, and Harlo looked around. She was the only conscious person in sight, which had its own special way of creeping her out. Saryn seemed to be stable for the moment, so Harlo took a few seconds of downtime to breathe and try to stop shaking. As she glanced around, she saw Ceril against the far wall. He looked like he was in bad shape.

Rest be damned, she rushed to him. She had seen a lot of things, had helped patch up some people who everyone but Professor Howser had said were too far gone, but when she looked down at Ceril, she was thankful she hadn't eaten in a while. Both her hands covered her mouth, and she dropped to both knees.

He was missing his left arm, and the wound was oozing blood, but not pouring it. He was lying in an unnatural sitting position, which indicated that more than one of his leg bones had been crushed. If she was correct and his posture was any indication, the right leg had sustained the worst injury. Harlo examined his arm more closely and saw his nanite sleeve covering as much of the arm wound as it could. That explained the lessened blood flow, but it would not keep him alive forever. She had to do something, but she had just spent everything she had—both in terms of her energy and her nanites—stabilizing Saryn's burns. There was no way she could help Ceril with this magnitude of injury with a depleted nanite sleeve and no other supplies. They had to get him out of there.

Chuckie stirred eventually from his position on the floor. His breathing was hard and ragged, but he forced himself to stand and go over to Swinton's body. He knelt down beside his friend and said, "I'm sorry, man." The high priest's Conjured fire had incinerated Swinton alive. The corpse could barely be recognized as having once been human. Chuckie was careful not to disturb the figure; the slightest touch could easily make it crumble, and for the moment, those ashes were still Swinton. Chuckie spoke slowly, quietly. "I'm sorry it was you, man. I am. But thank you. For letting it not be me."

Chuckie stood up and wiped his eyes. He moved beside Harlo and asked, "Did you see Swinton?"

She shook her head.

"He's gone." The words were harder to say than they were to think. "Ash."

Harlo understood. She pointed at Ceril.

"What the hell?" Chuckie said. "Is he—?"

"Not yet," she said. "He will be soon, though. I can't do anything for him, Chuckie. Not with him like...that." She swallowed audibly.

"This is a temple, right?" Chuckie asked.

"I would assume. Or a prison or something. I don't know. Sure, temple sounds good."

"Well," Chuckie said, "that means there very well might be something that can save him here. Some healing magic or some kind of mojo the priest had."