A Meddle of Wizards. Alexandra Rushe

bent over her and pressed the tips of his fingers upon her torn eyes.

      “What are you doing?” Glory’s slim form tensed. “Raven? Raven.”

      Raven concentrated, letting the healing force slowly build within him.

      Glory bucked like a wild thing on the bed. “Stop! Let me go.”

      “Stop fighting me,” Raven murmured. “You’re only making it worse.”

      He released the energy pent inside him and poured it into Glory’s ravaged eyes. She screamed and arched in agony. Raven staggered. Pain, white hot and excruciating, swept over him. Gritting his teeth, he threw all his strength into the task, willing Glory’s mutilated tissue and nerve endings to regenerate. It had been a long time since he’d used his peculiar talent and never to restore someone’s vision. For a dreadful moment, he feared he’d lost his touch. Gradually, however, the terrible torment receded and was replaced by the tingling itch of new growth. Long moments passed, but Raven did not release Glory until the last prickling sensation had faded from his fingertips.

      At last it was done, and he straightened, swaying. He felt empty, hollowed out, his limbs robbed of their customary strength.

      Glory opened her eyes and stared up at him. “I can see.” Her green gaze moved around the room in wonder. “Raven . . . you healed me.”

      “Move, Glory,” Raven croaked. “Now.”

      She obeyed for once, thank the gods, and rolled out of his way. With a groan of relief, Raven crashed onto the mattress, downed like a mighty oak by a woodsman’s axe.

      Chapter 4

      Through the Portal

      “Answer me, Bree.” Gertie stalked to the altar and grabbed Brefreton by the shoulders, giving him a shake. “What brings you here?”

      “Ow, not so rough, Gertie. My head aches like the devil.” Brefreton groaned. “Where am I?”

      “Shad Amar. A few leagues south of one of Magog’s temples.”

      “What? Reba’s girdle, Glonoff catches me and I’m a dead man.”

      “You, too?” Mauric looked interested. “How’d you get on the Dark Wizard’s list?”

      “It’s a long story.”

      “Never mind that.” Gertie poked Bree with her claw. “Out with it. What have you been up to?”

      “Me? What about you? Glonoff will skin you for a rug.”

      “You first,” Gertie said. “Talk.”

      Bree sighed. “Reba visited me a few nights ago.”

      “I’m not surprised.” Gertie rocked her hips in a lewd gesture. “Reba’s been trying to bed you for centuries.

      Brefreton reddened. “Don’t be crass. It wasn’t like that. She came to warn me. The Eye has been stolen.”

      “We know,” Mauric said. “Glory sent word to Gertie from Shadow Mount. We sneaked across the border to kidnap Hara.”

      “You what?”

      “It was a good plan.” Gertie bristled. “Nobody knows where the Eye is, but we trodyn well knew where Hara was, so we decided to grab her. I figured that way, even if Glonoff recovered the Eye, he wouldn’t be able to use it.”

      “Sweet Rebe,” Brefreton swore. “What scares me most is that it makes sense . . . in an insane kind of way. Did you get the girl?”

      “No.” Gertie made a face. “Magog woke up and we ran. What else did the goddess of fruits and twigs have to say?”

      Brefreton ignored the dig at Reba, and that made Gertie’s ears prick. Bree adored his goddess. The old boy must be seriously rattled not to come to her defense.

      “Hara has a twin,” Brefreton said. “Her name is Raine. Reba told me.”

      “Nonsense,” Gertie said. “Reba has played you for a fool. What have you been smoking in that pipe of yours? If Hara had a twin, the seers would know. And you can bet my hairy snout Glonoff would have found her by now.”

      “Not if she wasn’t here. The girl’s been living in a place called Earth since she was a babe.”

      She rolled her eyes. “Let me guess. You went to this Urp to find her.”

      “Yes.” Brefreton dropped his head in his hands. “I used Reba’s god stone to open the portals between our worlds. I found the girl, but I . . . I—”

      “You what?”

      “I lost Reba’s god stone.”

      “Bree. You never.”

      “It wasn’t my fault. She hit me.” He rubbed his nose. “It hurt.”

      “Reba?”

      “No, the girl. Reba doesn’t know I lost her god stone.” He swallowed. “Yet.”

      “I’d love to be a fly on the wall when you have that conversation. Did you have the girl transfixed?”

      “Of course I did. I’m not a gester, casting my first spell. Something went wrong. There was a noise. The next thing I knew, she was free.”

      Gertie gave him a sharp look. “The girl has talent? That’s how she got away from you?”

      “I don’t think so. She seems an ordinary drab to me.”

      “The god stone is still on Urp?”

      “I’m not sure.” He hung his head. “She knocked it out of my hand. Next thing I know, we’re in the portal.”

      Gertie tugged on her chin whiskers in thought. “It’s possible the god stone made its way back here. Still, Reba is not going to be happy.”

      “I know.” Brefreton looked so miserable that Gertie felt sorry for him. “But, at least I got the girl.”

      “You did?” Gertie looked around. “Where is she?”

      “On the altar.” Mauric pointed. “By the way, Bree, something wispy followed you out of that hole. Thought you’d want to know.”

      Brefreton jumped off the slab of stone and looked around, his expression wild. “Where?”

      “I don’t know,” Mauric said. “Whatever it was, it flew away.”

      “Great.” Brefreton began to pace. “What am I supposed to tell Reba? Sorry, Goddess. I lost your god stone. Oh, and a creature from the nether regions followed me home. “This is a disaster.”

      Gertie listened to his whining with half an ear. Brefreton had ever been excitable. If he hadn’t been born with talent, he’d have made a fine troubadour with his handsome good looks and flair for the dramatic.

      Moving closer, she nudged Hara’s “twin.” The lump moaned and rolled over, giving Gertie a good look at her face. It was a girl, all right, and she was obviously ill, all knobs and angles, her skin the unhealthy gray of the severely diseased, her long, curly hair dull and lifeless.

      “Too skinny,” Mauric pronounced, joining Gertie at the altar. “She needs fattening.”

      “She needs more than that. She’s ill.” Gertie glanced over her shoulder at Brefreton. “What ails the child, Bree?”

      “I don’t know. She says she’s dying.”

      “Tro.” Mauric jumped back like he’d been bitten.

      “Calm down, boy,” Gertie said. “You can’t catch it. Finlars don’t get sick. Go somewhere else if you’re going to have the vapors.”

      “Your pardon, mor. It was the shock. I’m better now. Promise.”

      Gertie