Touch of Power

I drew in a deep breath, testing my lungs. The drowning sickness had finally gone. “Yes.”

“Good.” He took my hand.

A tingle spread up my arm. I debated breaking his hold, but Kerrick moved through the forest with confidence. Once the moon set, the trail disappeared. Kerrick slowed our pace, but otherwise he continued on as if he could see in the dark, leaving me stumbling in his wake.

By the time the sun rose, I had lost all sense of direction, I was frozen and exhausted. Trusting this stranger seemed like a good idea in the middle of the night, but in the light of day, I questioned my judgment. What would stop Kerrick from turning me in for the bounty after I healed his friend? Nothing. His promise not to hurt me hadn’t included his accomplices. Still, for now, my head remained attached to my shoulders. A positive thing. I decided to stay alert and stick to my own survival instincts—taking it one problem at a time.

As daylight lit the red, yellow and orange colors of the forest, Kerrick increased his pace. I dug in my heels and tried to extricate my hand from his, but he wouldn’t let go.

Stopping to glance at me in annoyance, he asked, “What’s the matter?”

“I need to rest. Healers are not indestructible. If I’m too weak, I won’t be able to cure your friend.”

While he considered, I studied him. The color of his eyes matched the forest—russet with flecks of gold, orange and maroon. Blond streaks shot through his light brown hair. Most of his shoulder-length locks had escaped a leather tie. He was five inches taller than my own five-foot-eight-inch height. And I guessed he was five to ten years older than me.

“It’s too dangerous to be out in the open. We’re not far from the rendezvous point,” he said.

“How long?”

“Another hour. Maybe two. If you’d like, I can carry you.”

“No. I’ll be fine.”

He quirked a smile at my quick reply, causing his sharp features to soften just a bit. Some women might think him pleasing to the eye in a rugged way. Four thick scars—two on each side of his neck appeared to be bite marks from some beast.

As he pulled me along, I wondered what animal had had its teeth around Kerrick’s throat. The ufa were reported to be thriving and breeding like rabbits. Feeding off the plague victims’ dead bodies, the large carnivore possessed the strength and pointed canines to rip open a man’s throat. Packs of them lived in the southern foothills of the Nine Mountains.

After another hour of hiking, I lost all feeling in my feet. I stumbled. Kerrick grabbed my arm, preventing me from falling.

“Another two miles,” he said.

“Just … give me … a minute,” I puffed while he didn’t have the decency to even appear winded. “Aren’t you tired?”

“No.” He gazed at the surrounding forest. “In the past two years, I’ve walked thousands of miles, searching for a healer.”

“No horses?”

“No. They’re too big to hide.” Seeing my confusion, he added, “We didn’t want anyone to know about our mission. Healers are skittish.”

“Most prey are.”

“True.”

“How many healers did you find in those two years?” I asked.

He met my gaze. “One.”

My heart twisted. “But you heard of others. Right?”

“Yes. Pattric of Tobory, Drina of Zainsk, Fredek of Vyg and Tara of Pomyt.”

Tara had been my mentor. I had lost track of her whereabouts during the awful plague years. “And?” I dreaded the answer.

“Executed before we could reach them.”

Even though I’d braced for it, the news slammed into me. I sank to the ground and covered my face with my hands. My little delusion that the healers had been holed up together burst. They hadn’t deserved their fate. Grief rolled through me, jamming at the base of my throat.

When the waves settled, I asked, “Anyone else?”

“Just you.”

“How did you find me?”

“Later. We need to keep moving. It’s not far.” He pulled me to my feet.

In a daze, I followed him. My hands and feet were numb. It was a shame I couldn’t say the same for my heart. There hadn’t been many healers before the plague—about a hundred. When my family had learned that Tara agreed to take me in as her student, we’d all been excited. My tattooing ceremony had been the best moment of my life.

Kerrick’s voice jerked me from my memories.

“In here,” he said, gesturing to a narrow opening between two oversize boulders.

I glanced around. The stones were part of a larger rock fall, resting at the base of a steep cliff.

Kerrick grabbed my wrist, tugging me along as he squeezed through the gap. Probably afraid he’d lose me. I guess I couldn’t blame him. If I had been searching so long, I’d be extra-protective, as well.

We entered a dark cave. The wet smell of limestone mixed with the acrid odor of bat droppings. Lovely. Kerrick paused to let our eyes adjust. After a few minutes, I noticed a yellow glow coming from our left. He turned in that direction and soon we arrived at a small chamber.

A campfire burned in the center of a ring of stones. The two leg-holders from last night’s rescue sat beside it. They scrambled to their feet with wide smiles when they noticed us.

“Loren, why didn’t you post a guard?” Kerrick asked the man on our right.

The men exchanged a glance.

“I did,” Loren said.

Kerrick flung me at him. “Watch her. Quain, you’re with me.” He pulled his sword and left with Quain right behind him.

In the tense silence, Loren studied me. “I’m watching. Are you going to do any tricks?”

I searched his expression, gauging if he was serious or not. “I can juggle.”

Interest flared in his blue eyes. “How many balls?”

“Five.”

“Impressive. Anything else?”

“Six scarves, but it can’t be windy. And three daggers.”

“Ohh. That would be something to see. Too bad Kerrick would never allow it.”

“Why not?”

“You might cut yourself.”

“So? I’m a healer.”

“Exactly. You’re the last one. From now on, our sole purpose is to protect you.”

The last one. Loren’s words sliced through me. Hard enough to be a healer, but to be the sole survivor increased the pressure and the fear. At least these men appeared to be safeguarding me. After all, they had rescued me from certain death. Loren’s pleasant expression seemed genuine. He was older than Kerrick. Maybe thirty-five. His black hair had been cut so short, the strands stood straight up.

“What happens after I heal your friend?” I asked.

“You’ll be a hero,” he said.

CHAPTER 3

“Everyone hates healers, so why would healing your friend make me a hero?” I asked Loren.

“We don’t hate you. And when he’s better, he’s going to—”

Loud voices interrupted him. Kerrick and Quain returned with the young man who had pulled me from the jail between them. The boy’s long brown hair hung in his eyes, but it didn’t cover his chagrined expression.

“What happened?” Loren asked.

“He fell asleep,” Kerrick said. “Why would you assign him first shift?”

“He offered.”

“He’s sixteen, Loren. He’s been awake all night.”

“And so have we.”

“Yet you were still awake when I arrived. Why’s that?” Kerrick’s flat tone was scarier than if he’d been shouting.

“We couldn’t sleep. We were concerned about you and the healer,” Loren said.

“So was I,” the young man said.

“Yet you were fast asleep,” Kerrick said. “You’re growing, Flea. Don’t volunteer for the first shift until you’re twenty. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

Kerrick glanced around the chamber. “Has Belen arrived?”

“No,” Quain answered. He swept a hand over his bald head as if he could smooth away the lines of worry etched into his brow. He had no visible weapons, yet Kerrick had taken him as backup. Perhaps the thick muscles barreled around his chest, shoulders and upper arms were all the weapons he needed. I guessed he was close to my age.

“Everyone get a few hours’ sleep. Flea, make sure our … guest is comfortable. I’ll stand guard,” Kerrick said. He strode from the room without waiting to see if his orders were obeyed.

Flea shot me a lopsided grin. Between the locks of unkempt hair, humor sparked in his light green eyes. “Would you like to sleep on the right or left side of the fire, ma’am?” he asked.

“There’s no need for formalities. My name’s Avry.” I stood near the fire, letting my hands and feet soak in the warmth.

“Oh, I know,” Flea said. “Avry of Kazan Realm. We’ve been looking for you for ages.”

The three men stared at me. “Should I juggle now?” I asked Loren.

He laughed, breaking the awkwardness. “Sorry, but it’s hard to believe that we caught up to you. That you’re standing here. With us. We’ve been following your, ah, adventures for almost a year.”

I hadn’t suspected. That alarmed me. “How?”

“Rumors, mostly,” Quain said. “We’d hear about a child being healed in various towns across the Fifteen Realms. By the time we’d arrived, you were gone. A couple of times you were spotted leaving so we at least had a direction to follow. Sometimes we just had to guess which way you’d go.”

“Pure luck we were in Jaxton when you were arrested,” Flea said.

“Not really,” Loren said. “Kerrick started catching on to her pattern a few months ago.”

“My pattern?”

“Heading generally northwest, and stopping only in the bigger settlements. You’d last about … six, maybe eight weeks before healing a child and taking off.” Loren settled on his bedroll next to the fire.

When I thought about it, he was right. A zing of fear traveled up my spine. If I survived this mission, I would have to be extra-vigilant.

“We’re really surprised you weren’t caught by the locals sooner,” Quain said. He unrolled his blankets.

“Why?” I turned my back to the flames, hoping to dry my damp clothes.

“We had a list of healers,” Loren said. “But by the time we learned of their location, they’d been executed. We always heard the same gossip. That they had been caught by doing something stupid.”

“Like healing a child,” I said. My obvious weakness. Although I’d tried hard to avoid it by keeping to myself and limiting how much time I spent with other people.

“Not that at all.” Flea fussed with his bedroll. “You’re the only one who was smart enough to take off after you healed a kid. The other healers figured the grateful person or parent wouldn’t turn them in. They didn’t bother to disguise themselves like you, either.”

I tucked a short strand of blond hair behind my ear. Some disguise. I cut my hair and dyed it. I still used my own name. It was amazing I hadn’t been arrested sooner. But then I remembered what Loren had said. “How did you get a list of healers?”

He shrugged. “Kerrick had it. He probably raided one of the old town halls for the records. Didn’t the healers have a guild before?”

Before always meant pre-plague. “Yes.” But my name shouldn’t have been on it.

My apprenticeship with Tara had started when I turned sixteen—mere months before the first outbreak. Once the sickness raced across the Realms, she stopped teaching me. Instead of earning my membership in the Guild, I returned to Lekas, my home town in Kazan, to find my family gone. They were either dead or had left. None of the living could tell me. And when the rumors about the healers grew into accusations and turned into executions, no one wished to talk. I had spent my seventeenth birthday hiding in a mud puddle as my neighbors and former friends hunted for me. After three years with no word about my family, I’d lost all hope of ever finding them or even knowing what happened to them.

I glanced around the small cavern. A couple of leather rucksacks slumped in a corner, but other than stone walls and a fist-size opening in the ceiling high above our heads, there was nothing else.

At least the cave was warm and dry. However, I eyed the hard ground with dread, longing for my knapsack. It had held my thin bedroll, money, some travel rations and my cloak.

Flea finished setting up his blankets. But instead of settling in, he swept an arm out. “Ma’am, uh, Avry, your bed awaits.”

I jerked in surprise. “No need to give up your—”

“Kerrick said to make you comfortable. If I don’t, he’ll kill me. Besides—” he flashed me that lopsided grin again “—these are Kerrick’s.”

“Won’t he be mad?” From the way his men acted, he appeared to be someone you don’t want to be angry with you.

“No,” Quain said. “There is always one of us on watch. When he wakes me to take my turn, he’ll just sleep in mine.”

Loren hooked a thumb at the packs in the corner. “He can also use Belen’s.”

The men all sobered at the name.

“He’s the one who provided the distraction last night,” I said, guessing.

“Yeah,” Flea said. His shoulders drooped and he hung his head so his hair covered his eyes. “He probably got lost or something.”

“Belen doesn’t get lost,” Quain said. “He’s probably leading the town watchman on a merry chase.”

“How long will we wait for him?” I asked Quain.

“Not long.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re more important than him. Hell, to Kerrick you’re more important than all of us, and the longer we stay here, the greater the danger.”

As I lay on Kerrick’s bedroll, I breathed in his scent. That same mix of spring sunshine and living green. It felt as if the earth embraced me in her warmth. I cuddled deep into the blankets, letting the shock of being the last healer fade into an ache under my heart. And allowing all the questions I had for Kerrick and his men to be pushed aside for now.

A shout woke me from a deep sleep. I felt safe, which was odd considering my circumstances. The fire had died to embers and the other bedrolls were empty. Alarmed, I jumped to my feet. Voices yelled and echoed from the only direction of escape. I was trapped.

As the noise level increased, I backed away until I stood at the far wall. Something large and dark blocked the narrow entrance. If I could, I would have climbed the rough wall. My first impression was that an angry bear had returned to his cave and he wasn’t happy to find it occupied. The second and more accurate but no less terrifying was a giant man who looked like he could wrestle a bear one-handed and win.

When he spotted me … not quite cowering against the far wall, he grinned.

“There you are,” he said in a reasonable tone. He crossed the cavern in two strides and held out his hand. “Belen of Alga.” Kerrick and his men followed behind him. All sported smiles.

As I shook Belen’s oversize paw, er, hand, I noted he was from Kerrick’s Realm. “Avry.”

“Nice to meet you finally. Here.” He thrust my knapsack into my hands. “I hope this is yours. Otherwise, I went to a lot of trouble for nothing.”

“You shouldn’t have risked going back for her pack,” Kerrick said.

Belen frowned at him. “Nonsense. She needs her things.” He gestured. “Winter’s coming and she doesn’t even have a cloak. You probably didn’t even think to give her yours.”

“I was a little busy saving her life.”

Loren and Quain hid their amusement at Kerrick’s annoyed and slightly peevish tone.

“Well, she’s going to need what little she has if we’re going to travel through the Nine Mountains before the first blizzard.”

I clutched my pack to my chest. “The Nine Mountains? Why?” The plague had destroyed all form of organized government in the Fifteen Realms. It had taken a couple years before the survivors had grouped together to form the small clusters we had now. Law in Realms like Kazan and most others had ceased to be.

Too busy dodging bounty hunters, I hadn’t paid attention to our current political situation, but even I’d heard that marauders had settled into the foothills of the Nine Mountains. Gangs who warred with one another and set their own rules to suit themselves. And if you managed to avoid them, the ufa packs would hunt you down.

“Didn’t he tell you?” Belen jerked a thumb at Kerrick.

“No time last night for idle chat,” Kerrick snapped. “Our sick friend is on the other side of the Nine Mountains.”

It would take us more than two months to reach him. “How sick? He might not last.”

“He’s been encased in a magical stasis.”

Interesting. There weren’t that many magicians left. I wondered how long it took Kerrick to find one. “By a life magician?”

“No. A death magician.”

Even rarer. I considered. “How bad is your friend? If he’s on the edge of dying, I won’t be able to help him.”

“He’s pretty healthy. Sepp was able to pause his life force just after he began the second stage.”

The second stage? Dread wrapped around me. Had the plague returned? As far as I heard, there hadn’t been any more victims in two years. Then I remembered Kerrick had been searching for me at least that long.

“He has the plague. Doesn’t he?” I asked.

“Yes,” Belen said. “We know you can heal him. With the whole world dying, how could a hundred of you save six million of them? You couldn’t. The Healer’s Guild sent that missive so they could organize their healers, set up a response based on need, but that’s all in the past, Avry. It’s only one sick man.”

“But—”

Kerrick interrupted, “Belen, do you need to rest?”

“No, sir.”

“Gentlemen, prepare to go,” Kerrick said.

His men scrambled to pack. I checked my knapsack. All my belongings remained inside. I removed my cloak, draping it around my shoulders.

Should I tell them the real truth about the plague? They had saved me from the guillotine and I owed them my life. They seemed receptive to reason, unlike all the other survivors I’d encountered, who, at the mere mention of a healer, spat in the ground and refused to acknowledge the truth. I’d almost been caught a number of times defending healers so I’d stopped trying.

However, Belen was right. I could heal their friend of the plague, but then I couldn’t heal myself.

What they asked of me would be essentially trading one death—swift and certain—for another—slow, painful and just as certain.

I decided to wait and learn who their friend was. Perhaps he would be like Fawn, worth my life to save. Hard to imagine. Children deserved to be saved. They hadn’t lived, hadn’t made bad choices and hadn’t had time to harm others. That couldn’t be said of a grown man, but I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Kerrick set a quick pace through the forest, heading north. Rays of the late-afternoon sun pierced the tree canopy, leaving pools of shadows on the ground. The crisp air smelled clean and fresh.

We walked in a single line. I stayed behind Belen, and Flea trotted at my heels like an overeager puppy. No one said a word. Leaves crunched under my boots, drowning out the slight noise the others made. The men held their weapons ready as if expecting an ambush at any moment. Kerrick and Belen held swords, Loren kept an arrow notched in his bow, Quain palmed a nasty curved dagger and even Flea brandished a switchblade.

Traveling through the Fifteen Realms was difficult, if not impossible, for small groups. When I moved to a new town, I’d try to hook up with a pilgrimage—a caravan of people searching for lost friends and relatives, collecting needed items from abandoned houses and burying any dead bodies left behind. Even well armed, a pilgrimage still kept to the major roads between Realms.

So it wasn’t a surprise that in the middle of the forest, we encountered no one. No Death or Peace Lilys grew near our path, either. Odd that the gigantic flowers were nowhere to be seen. With the lack of manpower to cull them, they had spread like weeds everywhere, and had invaded farm fields, adding to the survivors’ struggle to feed ourselves.

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.