Twelfth month, twelfth book of The Academy of the Accord series, bringing us to the end of a year of The Academy of the Accord.  I’ll still be working on editing, but probably not posting much from it until it’s ready to release.  That was going to be 2018, but don’t anyone hold your breath – there’s still a lot of work to do on this series and I’m now rather optimistically hoping for 2020.

I had a really hard time deciding what to post from this book.  Parts of this book have several different versions, so I have no idea if this will make it into the final version or not, but…

Just skipping a few lines from last week. Iprain sent Jorsen out to help with Autheren.

“Brythel said he was convulsing,” Dovrek said.  “So when I end the stasis spell be prepared to hold him down.”

Torlew nodded and Wellhym drew Jorsen over to the bed.  “We’ll hold him,” he said. 

Dovrek nodded, not really paying attention, his energy focused on the spells running through his hands.

Wellhym’s strong hands kneaded Jorsen’s shoulders for a moment.  “He’s going to be all right, Jorsen.  Dovrek would be a lot grumpier if he wasn’t.”

Jorsen choked back a laugh.  It had never occurred to him to rate the severity of an illness or injury by the state of the head healer’s attitude, but the description was so fitting he was surprised he hadn’t thought of it.

“That’s better,” Wellhym said at Jorsen’s barely concealed snicker.

Jorsen turned to face him.  “It’s my fault,” he whispered hoarsely. “It’s my fault he got bit.  I’m supposed to protect him and I didn’t see the web in time and…”  And Jorsen wished he was ten years old again and able to cry and be comforted.

Wellhym smiled and shook his head.  “Protecting your wizard from himself isn’t always possible, son,” he said.  “Sometimes they go out of their way to get into trouble and sometimes, well… We’re only human, too.”

“Does this mean you’ve finally forgiven yourself for Vinadi getting attacked by that troll?”

“No. I should have protected him. It was the troll I was fi–” He broke off as Kordelm burst into laughter.

“Pay attention, Jorsen,” Kordelm said.  “Not only is it not always possible to protect a wizard from himself, and it’s also not possible to forgive yourself for not doing it.”

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Twelfth month, twelfth book of The Academy of the Accord series, bringing us to the end of a year of The Academy of the Accord.  I’ll still be working on editing, but probably not posting much from it until it’s ready to release.  That was going to be 2018, but don’t anyone hold your breath – there’s still a lot of work to do on this series and I’m now rather optimistically hoping for 2020.

I had a really hard time deciding what to post from this book.  Parts of this book have several different versions, so I have no idea if this will make it into the final version or not, but…

Skipping ahead a bit from last week. Brythel has brought Jorsen and Autheren back to the school to get Autheren’s spider bite tended to.  Brythel has gone ahead to alert the healer on duty, Jorsen following more slowly, carrying Autheren.

The infirmary was flooded with light and Jorsen’s heart sank as he saw Dovrek  standing next to a bed.  He couldn’t deal with the healer’s attitude tonight, but he took a deep breath and tightened his grip on Autheren as he crossed the room; for his wizard, he would try.

“Brythel tells me it was a murti bite?”

“Yes, sir.  And a poultice of democ didn’t help,” he said, lowering the apprentice gently onto the bed and brushing his hair back to show the bite.  “He’s been feverish and getting weak.  Bry said he was starting to convulse so he put him under a stasis spell.”

“Boy’s got a good head on his shoulders.”  He frowned, observing the bite mark.  “When did it happen?”

“The day before yesterday.”

Dovrek nodded and reached out his hand.  A small knife floated to it and he made a quick cross cut in the bite mark and squeezed.  A thick vile-smelling blackish green pus oozed out.

“Iprain!” he bellowed.

The red-headed healer stepped out of another room.  “The drawing poultice is almost done,” he said mildly.  “It needs to cool a bit.”  He gave Jorsen a wink. 

“We need some tincture of bernisen too,” Dovrek said. “He’s had a bad reaction to the venom.”

Iprain nodded and motioned for Jorsen to come to him.  “Keep stirring this,” he said, nodding toward a bowl.  The stewed herbs in it didn’t smell much better than the pus that Dovrek had squeezed from Autheren’s wound and Jorsen made a face, but picked up the wooden spoon.  

Iprain chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder.  “Welcome to the wonderful world of Healers,” he said with a wink.  “Just stir gently, bringing the stuff from the bottom up to the top to help it cool. I’ll be right back.”

Selecting a bottle from a shelf he turned and left the room.  Jorsen ached to be out there too, holding his wizard, but at least now he was doing something that would help him.

He heard voices from the main room and nearly sobbed with relief as he recognized Wellhym’s.  The captain had been the first person to ever fully believe in him and knowing he was there made him feel as if everything would finally be all right.

Find more great reading
at the Sunday Snippet group.