Page 165 of Alchemised
“What happened?”
She went forward but was afraid to touch him. He looked like he might crumble into dust.
He drew a shallow breath. “Well, you may have noticed, the High Necromancer wasn’t pleased about the ports.” He drooped, his head dipping, but then he jerked up sharply, face contorting in pain. “Bad luck—for the commander in charge.”
Helena’s head went light. No … that wasn’t possible. He’d been gone, with Morrough and the others to Hevgoss.
She shook her head. “But you’re not in command there. It’s—they were commanded by—by—”
She couldn’t remember the name, but it was someone else. She would have remembered if Ferron had been the one in charge. He wasn’t ranked high enough for a position like that.
“It was a recent change in leadership,” he said. There was hoarseness to his voice. “Doesn’t matter. Did it work? The attack? Obviously you got the island, but—” He swallowed. “—you’ll keep it? You have enough men for that still?”
She wasn’t supposed to tell him anything, but he was so clearly in pain, she couldn’t help herself.
“More than we hoped,” she said.
He swallowed and gave the barest nod. “Good.” His eyes fluttered closed for a moment. “That’s something, I guess.”
He drew an unsteady breath. “I should go. Just—wanted to know … Won’t be making this trip again.”
He tried to straighten but collapsed. He caught the chair and fell onto it. A low, almost screaming gasp escaped him. He tried to stand again but couldn’t seem to put weight on his arms. His breathing was growing increasingly ragged.
“Ferron, what’s happened to you? What’s wrong?” Her voice rose sharply as she hovered, not sure what to do.
His eyes shut. He was breathing shallowly. “F-Fuck off, Marino.”
She approached like he was an injured animal, her hands outstretched and visible.
“Ferron—I know you’re hurt. Maybe I can help,” she said as gently as she could.
He gave a rasping laugh. “There’s nothing you can do.”
“Let me try.” She was close enough now to see the veins beneath his skin along his neck, not blue but almost black like poison. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
His eyes snapped open, anger lighting his face.
“Don’t pretend to care,” he spat. “You expect me to believe you didn’t know this would happen?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t. I would have come back sooner if I’d known.”
Based on his appearance, this was not quick deterioration he was suffering from. He’d reached this point slowly, over the course of weeks.
If he was telling the truth, if he’d been in command at the ports during the attack, then all the information he’d passed on would have been to his knowing detriment.
“Please.” She held out her hand. “Let me try to help.”
“Your marsh herbs aren’t going to fix this,” he said, grimacing as he tried to stand again. “A medic like you can do fuck all.”
She swallowed hard.
“That’d be true if I actually was a medic.” She touched his cheek with her fingertips, and didn’t hide her resonance.
She knew that she was sabotaging her mission, but that wouldn’t matter if he died; the mission was already a failure on every level. When her resonance connected with his body, she almost snatched her hand back. The talisman in his chest was emitting so much power, it threatened to burn her nerves touching him. Every cell in his body was singed from it.
He was dying. Over and over. His body pushed so far over the edge that it failed, only to be instantly regenerated, and fail again. He was simultaneously dead and alive because it was a sort of repeating cascade of regenerative failure.
Ferron jerked away as if he were the one burned. “You conniving little bitch. I knew I felt your resonance when I lost my arm.”
