Pursued - Entire book

Chapter 55

 "Stop the dogs! They're eating him!" Klair bellowed as he woke.

The afternoon sun was bleeding through the shutters when Klair looked about to find Ilock sitting in a chair near the bed. Had he ever left? Klair wanted to howl in sorrow over Bejja's loss, but not here in front of a stranger. Seeing the healer, he clutched rigid control to force his silence.

The weight of such restraint pressed on him. His entire body remained tense, like a string drawn tight, pining for release.

The healer looked up, "Ready for the chamber pot?"

Klair hesitated, and then nodded.

Ilock looked toward the chamber pot positioned under the far table. As if by its own accord, it floated from beneath the table to the middle of the room. The lid opened with a magic flick. Ilock's hand hadn't moved at all during the action.

Could I ever do that? Klair wondered.

"This is one of the greatest advantages to magic," Ilock announced, noting Klair's rapt attention. Klair's gaze flickered as he realized he could have used magic ever since the removal of Sheenay.

As if reading Klair's self-reprimand, Ilock chuckled. "You've spent your entire life hiding your magic. It will take time to feel comfortable in using it openly in everyday life and knowing what to do to avoid getting sick each time." His gaze settled upon Klair.

The Seedling's body rose from the bed and floated as if he were standing in air. He began to float over to the pot and he was lowered gently. Klair winced in pain as he relieved himself into the pot.

"Glad to see that body part is still working." Ilock murmured.

Klair blushed; stopping his water flow temporarily then finished. He was still tender, down there. Klair was dressed only in bandages around arms, legs and torso with a loin cloth to cover his privates. Klair was able to complete the necessary bodily needs with his back against the healer, without as much pain as he expected since he didn't have to put weight on his legs. He even performed a quick sponge bath from the bowl of cool water, soap and cloths resting on the table.

He donned the new loin cloth waiting for him on the table.

While keeping Klair levitated, the healer changed bedding with more magic, putting the old in a pile in the corner while he floated a new collection to the bed. Klair settled back into a sitting position.

"So who welted your back side?"

Klair grimaced; he'd forgotten the scars from Trenny's leather strap of a year ago. At nearly sixteen, how many scars did he have now?

"Not my mother," he defended.

Ilock waited, prompting for more but Klair turned silent. Klair pressed his lips tighter in defiance.

Ilock shrugged, changing the topic. "You'll get so comfortable using magic you only have to think, and it'll happen. Doing something with a major blast of magic is easiest isn't it?" He thrust out his hand and fingers like an explosion.

Klair nodded before he could stop himself but the healer continued as if he hadn't noticed. "Though the bigger the task, the more it saps the energy. You may have learned that already." He pressed on. "You find it's sometimes the small, precise activities are the hardest, such as moving something small and putting it at an exact location. Some wizards take years to refine that skill." He smiled at Klair. "Though I doubt you will be held back for long."

Klair's lips twitched at the compliment. Ilock lowered his voice in a conspiring tone. "Have you noticed that whenever we—"

Klair leaned forward.