Touch of Power (4 page)

Unused to the pace, I tired after a few hours. We stopped a couple times to eat, but it was always in silence and didn’t last long. My legs ached and eventually all I could focus on was Belen’s broad back.

The sun set and the moon rose. It had climbed to the top of the sky when I reached my limit. Stumbling, I tripped over my own feet and sprawled among the colorful leaves.

Before I could push up to my elbows, Belen scooped me into his arms. He carried me like a baby despite my protests, claiming I weighed nothing. Exhausted, I dozed in his arms.

By dawn, I had reenergized. That was when I felt his injury. I squirmed from his arms and pulled his right sleeve up to his elbow.

“It’s nothing,” he said, trying to pull the fabric down and cover the six-inch-long gash in his forearm before Kerrick and the others could see.

I stopped him with a stern look, then traced the wound with a finger as magic stirred to life in my core. The cut was deep and dirty—borderline infected. Belen kept his face neutral, although I knew my rough examination had to hurt like crazy. Impressive.

“Belen?” Kerrick asked.

“It’s just a cut I got stirring up the town watch the other night. Nothing to worry about.”

“It’s going to get infected if it’s not taken care of,” I said.

“Can it wait until we find shelter?” Kerrick asked me.

“I can heal him now. It doesn’t matter.”

“That’s not what I asked you. Can it wait or not?”

“How long?”

“A few hours.”

No sense arguing with him. “It can wait.”

There was really no reason to wait. I wouldn’t let Belen carry me, but I rested my hand on the crook of his right arm. As we walked, I let the magic curl around his forearm, healing his wound as it transferred to me. The cut throbbed and stung as blood soaked my sleeve.

By the time we arrived at another cave to rest for the afternoon, Belen’s injury had disappeared. Loren, Quain and Flea gathered around him, exclaiming over his smooth skin.

“There’s not even a scar!” Flea hopped around despite having walked for the past twenty hours. I suspected this behavior was linked to his name.

Kerrick, though, strode over to me and yanked my sleeve up, exposing the half-healed gash. I hissed as he jabbed it with a finger.

“Why didn’t you listen to me?” he demanded.

“There was no reason—”

“You don’t make those decisions,” he said. A fire burned in his gaze. “I do.”

“But—”

He squeezed my arm. I yelped.

“No arguments. You follow my orders. Understand?”

Silence blanketed the cavern as everyone stared at us.

“I understand.” And I did, but that didn’t mean I would obey him like one of his gentlemen.

“Good.” He gazed at his men. “Standard watch schedule.”

Once Kerrick left the cave, Flea bounded over to me. “Look at that! It’s the same size and shape as Belen’s was.”

Interesting how the men were more relaxed when Kerrick wasn’t around.

“How long until it heals?” Belen inspected the cut as if my arm would break at the slightest touch. Concern in his brown eyes.

“About two days for it to fade into a pale scar.”

Flea whooped and Quain looked impressed.

“You didn’t need to heal me,” Belen said. “It was just a minor cut.”

I pulled my arm from Belen. “And you didn’t need to risk capture by retrieving my knapsack. Consider it my way of saying thanks.”

Loren met my gaze with an amused smile.

“Better than juggling knives?” I asked him.

“I’d have to see you juggle the knives first,” he said.

“Gentlemen, your knives.” I held out my hands.

After a brief hesitation, Loren, Quain and Flea all provided me with a leather-handled dagger. Perfect.

“When Kerrick catches you, I’ll make sure to shed a few tears at your funerals,” Belen said. He shook his head as if distancing himself from the whole thing.

I tested the weight of each knife. My older brother, Criss, had taught me how to juggle. First with scarves, then balls, and then wooden sticks before he’d let me throw anything sharp. A pang of sadness touched my chest as I juggled the daggers. The firelight reflected off the silver blades as they twirled in the air. Flea enjoyed the show, laughing and begging to be taught when I finished.

“Not bad,” Loren said. “But most anyone can learn how to juggle. No one else can heal.”

Later that night we settled next to the fire. The men moved about in an easy routine, hardly speaking as they cooked the rabbits Loren had shot with his bow.

“Have you been doing this every night for two years?” I asked them.

Loren and Quain exchanged a glance with Belen.

“Not quite,” Belen said. “Kerrick and I started searching for a healer right after the magician encased our friend. Six months in, we encountered those two monkeys in Tobory.” He jabbed a thick finger at Loren and Quain. “Getting the snot beat out of them.” Belen chuckled. It was a deep rumbling sound.

Quain jumped to their defense. “We were outnumbered!”

“Didn’t stop you from rushing that whor—” Belen shot me a look. “That brothel.”

“It’s not a brothel when the girls are
forced
to be there,” Loren said with a quiet intensity.

Another reminder of our world gone mad. Not all survivors desired a return to normal. Some took full advantage of the depleted security and turned small towns into their own playgrounds.

“What happened?” I asked.

“We lent a hand,” Belen said. “Helped clean out that nest of nasties, got the town back on track and picked up those two for our trouble.”

“We’re returning the favor,” Loren said.

“Uh-huh.” Belen stretched out on his blankets, sighed and was soon snoring.

Considering how long he’d been awake, it was amazing he’d lasted that long.

My bedroll was close to Flea’s. He had been practicing the first step in learning how to juggle, tossing a stone from one hand to another. Flea mastered the motion of throwing the rock up to his eye level and letting it drop down to his other hand, making a path through the air like an inverted V while keeping both hands near his waist. I showed him the next step. Same motion, but using two rocks—trickier.

After a few tries, he started to get it. “That’s it, Flea. When the first stone is at the tip of the V, you throw the second.” I made encouraging noises.

He worked a while longer, then flopped back onto his blankets. “It’s too hard.”

Flea reminded me of my younger sister, Noelle. She would give up right away if a task proved too difficult. I wondered if she had gotten the plague and died just as quick.

No one who contracted the disease survived. Except those very first people the healers cured before they in turn died. Back when we hadn’t known it would become a plague. There had been enough sanity for the Healer’s Guild to send out notice to their members
not
to heal anyone who had those symptoms. Not even if there were a couple healers to share energy. It had been a logical decision. There were more sicknesses than healers. And it made sense to heal the ones we could. But that notice had been what condemned us all to death. Or rather, the wording of that missive. It hadn’t clearly stated that a healer would die if he helped a plague victim. It had said, “Success was unlikely at this time.”

I suppressed those dark thoughts, concentrating instead on the positive. Being with these men had renewed my interest in life. They’d been traveling throughout the Fifteen Realms, perhaps they’d heard of my family. Except Loren and Quain had also fallen asleep. Only Flea stared morosely at the cave’s ceiling.

“Don’t fret,” I said. “With more practice, you’ll be juggling in no time.”

He groaned. “That’s what those guys say all the time. Practice, practice, practice. It’s boring!”

I hid my smile. “You’re right.”

He sat up. “I am?”

“It’s very boring. Unfortunately, it’s necessary.”

Groaning, he plopped back onto his pillow. He waved a listless hand. “You can stop the lecture. I’ve got four fathers. I don’t need a mother.”

I gasped in mock horror. “You’re right. I’m sounding like my mother! I promise never to do it again.”

“Really?” Flea squinted at me.

“No. Sorry. An overdeveloped nurturing instinct comes with being a healer.”

He shrugged. “Oh, well. I guess everyone has their faults.”

“True.”

He pushed up to an elbow and looked at me for a moment. “Do you like being a healer? That cut you took from Belen had to hurt.”

“It does, but for less time than it would have hurt him.” Plus there was the satisfaction of helping another.

Flea huffed. “I don’t think Belen feels pain. I kicked him hard in the shins one time and he didn’t even blink.”

“Why did you kick him?”

“He wouldn’t let me go.” Flea’s eyelids drooped and he yawned.

I sensed a longer story, but I stifled my curiosity. Instead, I gently pushed him down and pulled the blanket up to his chin.

Flea gave me a sleepy half smile and said, “Belen won’t let you go, either.”

It was an odd statement and he noticed my concern.

“Not like that… Once you heal Prince Ryne, you won’t
want
to go.”

I jerked wide awake. “Prince Ryne of Ivdel Realm?
He’s
your friend? The one who’s sick?”

“Yeah, he—”

“Flea, go to sleep,” Kerrick said from behind me.

Flea grimaced an oops and turned onto his side.

Oops
was putting it mildly. I gathered my belongings.

“What are you doing?” Kerrick asked. His voice low and deadly.

“Leaving.”

“No.”

“I’m not asking. I’m going.” I rolled up my thin mat and stuffed it into my knapsack.

“No, you’re not.”

Slinging my pack over my shoulder, I faced him. “There is no reason for me to stay. Go find another healer.”

“No.”

It was like talking to the rock wall. I raised my voice. “Let me make this perfectly clear. I will
not
heal Prince Ryne. Nothing you do or say will change my mind.”

The men stirred awake. Fury sparked in Kerrick’s eyes.

“Easy, Kerrick,” Belen said, sitting up.

“You
will
heal him.” Kerrick’s dangerous tone warned me not to argue, but I wouldn’t back down.

“Never.”

“That’s enough, Avry.” Belen stood. “We can discuss this in the morning.”

“There’s nothing to discuss,” I said. “I’m not healing him. In fact, I’m glad he’s locked in stasis where he can’t hurt anyone ever again. The only thing that would make me happier is his
death
.”

I’d gone too far. With a strangled cry, Kerrick lost his temper. Belen lunged toward Kerrick and I raised an arm to block Kerrick’s strike, but we were both too slow. Kerrick backhanded me across my cheek. The force of the blow sent me to the ground.

Chapter 4

My cheek stung and throbbed. I remained on the floor of the cave. Belen stood between me and Kerrick.

“…temper in check. She’s a sweet girl,” Belen said.

“She’s a healer, Belen. And no longer a girl. Healing Ryne is
all
I care about.
All
you should care about, as well. You know—”

“Yes, I know what’s at stake.” Belen spat the words. “But if you raise your hand to her again, I’ll rip your arm from its socket.”

Wow. I tilted my head to catch Kerrick’s expression.

A flicker of surprise flashed across his flat gaze. “Make sure she keeps her opinions of Prince Ryne to herself and I won’t have to.” Kerrick glanced at me.

I met his cold gaze and realized I meant nothing to him. Unlike Belen, Kerrick must know I wouldn’t survive healing Ryne and he didn’t care.

“You
will
heal Ryne,” he said before turning away. “Loren, your watch.”

Loren shot to his feet. “Yes, sir.” He dashed from the cavern. And I wished I could follow him.

Belen knelt next to me. He pressed a wet cloth to my cheek. “I’m sor—”

“Don’t apologize for him,” I said, leaning into the cool comfort of the cloth. I glanced around. By the rigid way they lay under their covers, I knew Flea and Quain pretended to be asleep. Kerrick shucked off his boots and settled into Loren’s spot, ignoring us.

Belen played nursemaid, fetching me a drink of water and setting up my bedroll. I liked him. Too bad, I wouldn’t be staying with them for long.

I waited for an opportunity to escape. It took two days. Two days of walking through the forests in silence and one night in yet another cave. A night I kept quiet and just listened to the men, nursing my bruised ego.

The second night’s stop was far from ideal since Kerrick stopped at a big echoey cavern. I suspected he knew the location of every single cavern in the forest. But I couldn’t stand being with him any longer.

“Remember when those three drunks challenged Belen to a fight?” Quain asked no one in particular during dinner and when Kerrick was out on watch.

“And Kerrick gave strict orders. No fighting or we wouldn’t be able to go near a tavern again,” Loren said.

Flea rolled his eyes. “I’ve heard this story a dozen times.”

“Only a dozen?” Belen asked. He had stretched out on his back by the fire and rested his head on his crossed arms. “For some reason those two monkeys—” he gestured to Loren and Quain “—think that story bears repeating over and over again. Perhaps it’s just an unfortunate manifestation of their low intelligence.”

Quain snorted. “Manifestation? Oh, boy, look who’s trying to impress the healer.”

“He doesn’t want us to finish the story. He’s afraid we’ll scare Avry,” Loren said, trying to draw me into the conversation.

All four of them had been overly solicitous as the bruise on my cheek swelled, turned red, and faded to a mere smudge of greenish black. I reminded myself that
they
hadn’t struck me. No need to hate
them.

“I’m not that easy to scare,” I said. “What happened with the drunks?”

“He clapped all three of their heads together, knocking them out. Thus, no fight,” Quain said.

“Thus? Now look who’s flinging the fancy words around,” Loren said.

“
Thus
is not fancy,” Quain shot back.

Flea sighed elaborately. “Here we go…again.” He picked up his two rocks and practiced juggling them despite his claims of giving up the other night.

I had made sure my bedroll was close to Flea’s. While Quain and Loren launched into a debate about the fanciness of certain words, I asked Flea about his name.

Keeping his gaze on the stones, he pointed his chin over to the others. “They, ah, gave me the name. Seems it was nicer than being called a parasite.”

“What’s your given name?” I asked.

“I don’t have one. At least, not one I remember.” Flea missed a stone and muttered a curse. “I grew up on the streets, thieving to survive. I’ve been called
boy, thief
and other uncomplimentary words.” A flash of his lopsided smile. “How’s that for a fancy word?
Uncomplimentary.
”

“I’m suitably impressed,” I said.

He managed to keep the rhythm of the throws consistent for a number of exchanges before the rocks collided in midair. Another curse and he started again.

“How did you get involved with this group?” I asked.

“About a year ago, they came to my town, asking questions about healers. They were discreet, but still word gets around and the local muscle didn’t like them or me for selling information to Kerrick. Stealing secrets was one of my most lucrative abilities.”

“It almost got you killed,” Belen said.

“
That
time. I had a whole network of informers and these guys showed up and just blew it apart.”

“Funny, I remember it differently.” Belen tossed another log on the fire.

“You would.
Your
life and livelihood weren’t at stake.” Flea scratched his temple with the edge of one of his stones. “When things grew too hot, I helped them slip out of town and…” He glanced at Belen with affection, but masked it before the big man could see. “I just stayed.”

“Ha. We
rescued
him from the stockade before they could hang him as a traitor. And then we stopped the idiot from going back.”

Which would explain Flea’s comment about kicking Belen’s shins because he wouldn’t let go.

“So who gave him his name?” I asked.

“Kerrick,” Belen answered.

Not who I’d expect. “Why ‘Flea’?”

A full-out grin spread across Flea’s face. “’Cause I’m fast and hard to catch.”

“Because he’s a pest and hard to squash,” Belen said.

“Because he jumps about three feet in the air when you scare him,” Loren added.

“Because he’s annoying and makes us itch with impatience,” Quain said.

“Thanks, guys. I love you, too.” Flea made exaggerated kissing noises and patted his ass.

They threw pieces of bread and pillows at him, laughing. I realized they had formed into a tight family. Guilt at what I’d planned welled, but it shattered the moment Kerrick entered.

I bided my time, keeping awake while Loren woke Quain for his shift and Quain roused Flea for his. After Quain’s breathing settled into a deep rhythm, I crept from my covers. With one mournful look at my knapsack, I tugged my cloak around my shoulders and tiptoed away from the fire. If anyone woke, I hoped the presence of my knapsack would make them assume I had just gone to the privy—which was a stinky side cavern I hated to use.

Flea sat on the top of a large boulder a few feet away from the cave’s entrance. As soon as he spotted me, he immediately slid down the side.

“What’s wrong?” he asked in a whisper.

“Nothing. I just needed some fresh air.”

“You shouldn’t be out here.”

“Is there anyone around?” It would be a surprise if there were. Since I’d been with Kerrick and his men, I’d seen no one at all, yet they still carried their weapons at the ready.

“Not close, but there’s a group of merchants—we hope—about two miles due east of here. See the fire?” He pointed.

I squinted into the darkness. We stood on a slight rise. A tiny pinprick of orange-yellow dotted the mound of trees.

“How do you know they’re merchants?”

“Wagons loaded with goods, horses and armed guards. They could be mercenaries, but they have too much…stuff. Mercenaries usually travel lighter.”

“How do you know all this?”

Flea grinned. “Kerrick’s already checked them out and determined they’re probably harmless. We have to be more careful now. I’m sure the rumors about your rescue and our involvement have spread faster than the plague. Twenty golds is a huge sum. There are a few mercenary groups who would love to take you from us.”

Curious, I couldn’t help asking, “Can they?”

“Not many,” he said with pride. “But don’t worry, Avry. We’re too smart to walk into an ambush.”

My heart squeezed with guilt and I hesitated.

“You better get inside. If Kerrick finds you out here, I’m a goner.”

“All right.” I turned to go, but stopped. “Flea, don’t move.”

He froze. “What?”

“Kissing Spider. Hold still.” I touched the back of his neck with my hand. I found the small area between the vertebrae and shot my healing power into his spine. He arched back in silent surprise before collapsing.

Catching him, I laid him down. I arranged his limbs so he would be comfortable. My stomach twisted as I pushed a lock of hair from his eyes. Healers had a few ways to defend themselves, but we hated to use them. And some, like the one I used on Flea, needed to hit the precise location or it wouldn’t work.

I considered his size. He’d wake in two, maybe three hours. However, Belen’s watch shift would start within an hour. I needed to go. Now.

Should I head toward the merchants and hope they’d protect me?

No. Basic survival—trust no one. I ran west.

I discovered within minutes that running full speed through the forest at night wasn’t my best idea. After I wiped the dirt from my face and hands and regained my feet, I slowed my pace. It would be hard to follow my trail in the dark so I hoped Kerrick would wait until dawn.

If I was lucky, I’d have a three- or four-hour head start and wouldn’t stumble into a Death Lily. If I wasn’t, I’d have one hour at most or become plant food. I focused all my energy and concentration on putting as much distance between me and Kerrick as possible.

My luck held for once. When the sun’s rays diluted the darkness, I was able to see better and I increased my pace until I smelled smoke. Skidding to a stop, I turned in a slow circle, seeking the direction of the fire. When I found it, I crouched and crept toward the source.

It wouldn’t be good if I accidentally ran into a band of mercenaries. Better to know where they were and how many than try to guess. My progress through the underbrush was far from utter silence. However, aside from a few rustles, I managed to get close enough to see into a clearing.

I counted ten sleeping bodies around the dying fire. No horses. But one guard slumped against a tree trunk with his mouth hanging open—also asleep. Would they set two guards? I searched the surrounding woods, seeking movement. Nothing.

Satisfied, I backed away and bumped into someone. I froze as the edge of a sword touched my neck.

“Gotcha.”