Stormaway kept his voice steady and low. “Don’t concern yourself with repairing the rib for now. Just make sure it is clear of the lung.” He waited until he saw a minute nod from the prince. “Now, move your attention to the wound in your lung. Can you see it?” Another tiny nod. “Focus your will on the wound. Use the same power you used to grow the sapling from the staff. Draw on your life source, your esse, and knit together the damaged blood vessels. If you can, use the blood that is in your lungs as material for the repairs.”
Tarkyn’s chest rose and fell in great heaving motions. He was struggling to get any breath at all. Each breath brought fresh blood. Still he kept his focus, but he was already living on borrowed time. Stormaway looked around at Waterstone, Thunder Storm, Autumn Lea
