Smoke and Memories (The Dark Sorcerer #3) - D.K. Holmberg Page 0,59

that it was weak.

Pressing her hand on the woman, she focused on what she already knew of healing, wishing she had focused more on that after having gotten the spellbooks from Char. She hadn’t really had the need to heal all that often, but she needed to now.

As she focused, pushing power down, she felt a trembling. She had to try to trace out a quick pattern and activate it, pushing her connection to sorcery through the woman until the spell triggered something within the woman and her own sorcery took hold. This would link the two and allow the woman’s natural abilities to take over, helping her to heal herself.

It was similar to a linking spell, but not quite the same. It wasn’t true healing, but it should buy the woman enough time until the others from the Society arrived.

The man was going to be more difficult. He had a puncture wound in his belly.

As she focused on him, she felt something coming toward her and she looked up.

A pair of dular were approaching.

“Back away,” Jayna said.

She twisted to face them, grabbing for an enchantment in her pocket that wouldn’t harm them. She found the wand she’d made instead.

“Are you with them?” one of the dular asked.

“Back away,” Jayna repeated.

One of the men surged forward, and Jayna raised her hand. She focused on the power within the wand and drew that through her, blasting him with a burst of pale vapor that sent him flying back across the street where he crashed into a nearby building. The other man looked at her, then darted away.

She looked at the wand—more useful than she’d expected—and tucked it back into her pocket.

She pressed her hand on the sorcerer and he moaned.

She traced a quick, circular healing pattern—a series of circles that, when joined together, might allow her to help him—but she wasn’t going to be able to link him to his own magic. There was the possibility that she could use her Toral power to help heal, but Jayna wasn’t even sure if that would be enough.

The only other option was to keep trying traditional sorcery.

She moved around him so that she had space. The street was wide enough for her to work, and she was left alone as the crowd cleared.

She traced three interlocking triangles near his head, then moved to his feet, doing the same. She then linked those, sending the energy of her healing spell through him. It was blunt, simple power that flowed through him—and it was all she could do.

She wanted to try to help him as much as she could. He didn’t deserve to die because of some dark sorcerer attacking, but that wasn’t even the reason she did this.

What if it had been Char?

She couldn’t shake that feeling.

And so, as she poured power through her, she gritted her teeth, focusing on the spell, and nearly forgot about the Society.

Until she heard a shout.

She looked up as three maroon-robed people strode toward her.

Jayna glanced down at the man. His color had improved, and the spell had stabilized him. She could tell the Society she had been trying to help, but she wasn’t sure they would believe her, so she got up and scrambled away. When she reached the corner where she had felt the dark magic, she paused, hiding there for a moment. Two of the sorcerers who had just arrived began to work on the same two fallen sorcerers whom Jayna had tried to heal, obviously recognizing the third one was beyond any help.

Jayna shook her head before turning away.

There was too much happening.

She needed to help, but right now, what she really wanted was to have a drink.

She passed others as she made her way to the western edge of the city, and many of them had something of a dazed expression. Were they aware of the influence of the dark magic that had touched them, or did they simply get caught up in the riot? Without testing, using her own connection to sorcery, Jayna wasn’t going to be able to find out.

She was tempted to return back to her home, but not yet. She didn’t want to go back. She wanted to go somewhere to get something to drink instead.

Jayna had visited quite a few other taverns during her time in Nelar, but none of them were as comfortable as the Wicked Pint. Maybe it was because it had something of a rougher feel to it, or perhaps it was that she had