The cursed towers 224
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Every part of his body was crushed and broken and it seemed a miracle that he lived. Trembling and
weeping still, Tomas knelt and laid his thin little hands on the bloodied head, and slowly each cut and
stab-wound healed over. The captain did not regain consciousness and Tomas was visibly harrowed by
the effort to heal him. The little boy shook and retched, trying to catch his breath. Johanna knelt behind
him and supported his frail body, giving him some restorative potion to drink. At last some of his strength
seemed to return to him.
"He be strong," the little boy said, slumped over, his shoulders still heaving. "He will recover, though I had
to take much o' his vitality for the healing."
"And too much o' your own," Johanna scolded. "Ye will kill yourself in trying to save others. Ye must
have a care for yourself."
Tomas stared around at all the torn and bloodied bodies and said with a break in his voice, "I can feel
their pain, I can feel it!"
Suddenly a flock of nisses swooped down, buzzing around the healers' heads like hornets, scolding them
in their high-pitched voices. Most had never seen a nisse before and they stared at the rainbow-winged
little faeries in wonder, half afraid. Then Lilanthe emerged from the trees, her green dress torn and
blood-stained, her narrow face smeared with dirt. The healers stared at her, drawing back a little, but
Johanna knew her and started forward with a cry.
"What has happened?" she begged. "Was the Righ ambushed? How did they ken where the Graycloaks
rode?"
Lilanthe said somberly, "The Righ was betrayed. Come, Tomas, the Keybearer will be glad indeed to see
ye, I ken. The Righ is sorely hurt. He needs your powers desperately."
Johanna exclaimed in consternation and seized the little boy by the hand as he struggled to touch another
of the thousands of bodies littered through the trees. "Come, laddiekin, ye canna touch them all. We shall
do what we can for them and once we ken who are quick and who are dead, we shall bring ye back, I
promise."
Tomas was too weak to walk and so Dillon carried him on his back, leaving Parian and Anntoin to watch
over Duncan. They followed Lilanthe up the road, unable to control their cries of shock and dismay as
they saw the extent of the carnage. They found Meghan stooping over the still form of Lachlan. Her face
was ravaged, her eyes red-rimmed. The donbeag was huddled into her neck, crooning miserably, but for
once the old witch paid him no heed. She was trying to staunch the wound in the Righ's breast, but there
was little she could do. She saw Tomas and her black eyes lit up with hope.
"Thank Ea!" she cried. "Oh, Tomas, my lad, can ye save him? His back and wing is broken, and his
head. He is close to death indeed."
Dillon set the little boy down. Tomas could not stand unaided, his sticklike legs folding beneath him. He
drew a trembling breath and looked up at Meghan. "I do no' ken," he said, "but I will try."
He leaned over and placed his hands on the Righ's forehead. For a long moment nothing happened and
then the lips of the bloody wound at Lachlan's breast began to knit together. The little boy frowned and
made a grunting noise, and his hands began to shake. The broken arc of the wing slowly wove back
together; the bruising on Lachlan's temple sank and faded, the jagged cut in its heart slowly congealing.
Tomas breathed harshly, swaying. Suddenly he went limp and fell sideways.
"Is he dead?" Dillon cried as Johanna screamed and scrambled to the little boy's side. Jed whined and
