In the middle of her story about Uhs, the werelion-healer, Viran stumbled and dropped to one knee. Keriya crouched beside him.
“No,” she breathed, gazing at him in horror. A yellowish discharge was leaking from the wound beneath his filthy bandage. Infected veins spiderwebbed across his skin. She placed a hand on his forehead to find he was burning with fever. If he was this far gone, he wouldn’t have the energy to spare on even the simplest lifemagic spell to heal himself.
On instinct she looked around, but they were in the middle of nowhere. The sandy road that ran parallel to the Sayrune was deserted, and beyond it stretched an endless expanse of cracked red dirt, burnt bone-dry by the Jidaelni summer.
Keriya grasped Viran’s right arm and slung it over her shoulder. She dragged him t
