Burning Out

[Karuka]

Karuka hadn’t tried to calm Rayse; she could only imagine his frustration and despair. She’d simply crouched by the pale purple remains of long-dead plants, thinking. Where was the justice in this? Where was the balance? The desert had no mercy, she knew, but she also knew the earth was generous. And she’d felt in her soul that there might have been a way to save this man, or she’d never have agreed to go with him. If she’d seen a futile quest, she’d have simply refused to take it. Rayse was unwise in the ways of nature; he had slowed her down, caused her injury, and taken her far off of her path. He might have been the death of her. A man she’d written off as wicked and self-serving wasn’t worth the risk if there wasn’t a good chance to help him, body and soul.

So why this? Why had she gone so far for a Doitean as Cothromaicht if he was just going to perish at the final step of their journey?

Cothromaicht…

Karuka stood up, walking slowly over the cold sandstone to give her thoughts room to move. “Every element has its afflicted side and its blessed side,” she mused, mostly to herself. Taodoine chirped sleepily at her from under his wing, and she continued. “For earth, it’s Mórshuaitheadh and Tenalach. For water, it’s Bádh and Bronntóir na Beatha. For air, Caoin Gaoithe Ar and Anáil ag Canadh. For fire, it’s Doiteain as Cothromaitch and…” Karuka snapped her fingers. “CroÃ* na Luaith.”

She whirled around to Rayse. “There might be another way t’ save you.”

Rayse shot a side-long glance at her in disbelief, as if she was just trying to make him feel better right before his demise. But he knew she was serious. He wiped his eyes.

“You sure…. took your sweet time telling me…”

“Because it’s the exact opposite of what you want and it’s got more chance of killing you outright than saving you.” Karuka started speaking faster, syllables falling over and nearly merging into each other as her carefully supressed accent fought for dominance, and her hands started moving rapidly along with her words. “You were looking fer this herb t' maybe pull you back from the brink, t' make you all human, t' rid you of th' fire. Th' way I’m suggesting is t' push you through, burn away the rest of you and make you fire. You’d become the element that’s trying to consume you, bond to it as an equal, instead of watching it devour you whole.”

Rayse hesitated. “Would I still be… Alive? Human?”

Karuka waved a hand dismissively. “Being human is your habit, body and mind. You’ll probably still look human, and you’ll still probably have your human desires. You’ll still feel human.” She stopped for a second and sucked in a breath. “And you wouldn’t be dying anymore.”

Rayse took a deep breath, not sure if he was in a daze from his malady or because of how he was feeling. He didn’t care anymore, whatever new existence awaited him was better than this.

“Let’s do it.”

Karuka nodded and planted her feet. Her eyes closed and she took a deep breath, letting the cold air of the desert night bite into her lungs like a knife. On the exhale, she let out all her tension, all her fear, all her pity, all her despair. She let herself be empty so that she could hear the desert speak. The cold sands sang of the coming dawn, the dead oasis murmured sadly about Life-That-Was, but deeper than that, quieter, she could hear a hum of power. It surged beneath her feet and rose powerfully just beyond the next dune.

“Bring yer pack. We’ll need it.” Karuka’s eyes snapped open and she grabbed Rayse by the hand, barely giving him a moment to grab his belongings. He didn’t understand why she couldn’t just do whatever she needed to on the spot, but he didn’t question her aloud. She took off running and pulled him along with her, rushing for the spot she’d heard. They were on a leyline, and it converged with another to make as good a focal point as she could desire. With it, she only needed two things: the memory to correctly complete the ritual, and enough time to set it up and complete it.

If she hadn’t cured Rayse by the time dawn broke, he wouldn’t make it to the next sunrise.