The agony of the short submerged journey showed on his features as Kaylan surfaced, grey and not far from a dead faint. "My leg is done, my lady. Please go." "Shut up," she told him, dragging his wounded leg to the surface to see more clearly while the light of the spell she had cast endured. It was a nasty injury, two deep bites the first of which had torn a lump of muscle from the back of his leg. She pressed the crescent symbol against the wound and closed her eyes as she repeated a familiar mantra. " Sanaret servum tuum carus dea, sanaret servum tuum carus dea, sanaret servum tuum carus dea, sanaret servum tuum carus dea." Each repetition drained her of energy as though she had run a sapping mile and by the fourth one she was panting for breath. But when she opened her eyes she was rewarded with the sight of a wound
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