Healer's Touch

by Deb E Howell

“She’s Aenuk, Aris.”

  There was a long silence.

  “And yet here she sits. Alive and, it seems, well.”

  Jonas didn’t answer.

  “So who cut you?”

  Llew and Jonas looked at Aris, both taken aback by the simple question. Neither of them had even stopped to wonder about her assailant. Llew hadn’t seen anyone, only sensed a shadow cross her. Suddenly she felt as if she was being watched. She glanced up and down the street not even knowing what she was looking for. Few people walked the streets of Stelt this early in the morning, but Llew was suspicious of them all: one of them had run a knife across her throat.

  Maybe. She hadn’t seen anything. She didn’t even know if what she thought she’d seen had been real.

  “You don’t think it was . . . ?” Jonas gave Aris a meaningful look. When the older man didn’t seem to understand, he flicked his head and eyes back at the inn.

  “Braph,” said Aris. He turned to Llew, looking her up and down. “From the blood I can see you must’ve been cut bad.” He nodded. “And why would Braph have you attacked and try to kill you?”

  “Aenuks don’t come back from the dead,” Jonas muttered.

  “No. Aenuks don’t. Just how bad was it?”

  “I think I died. Again.”

  “Again?” said Aris and Jonas in unison.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “It’s you,” Aris said. “Oh, lordy, you’re in trouble, girl.”

  “I figured that out when Jonas told me what he did to people like me.”

  “I’m not talking about Jonas. Ever since we lit out o’ Cheer, the Aghacian telegraph’s been frenzied with news of a witch surviving a hangin’. I should’ve known when we found out you were a girl. My guess is that Braph is here for his own purposes, because there’s no way he’d be this far south already if he was working from the news of your surviving the hanging. But Turhmos will be sending troops now, there’s no doubtin’ that.” He watched Llew, his eyes narrowed. “I can send word ahead to Quaver, but they’re already too many days behind. And tryin’ to explain the need to protect an Aenuk in a telegraph . . . ”

  “You think Braph is here for me?”

  Aris nodded. “We may regret your hesitation, Jonas.”

  Llew looked down. She shouldn’t have been surprised, she knew Aris didn’t like her kind – but it still felt all kinds of wrong to hear them talk so casually about killing her.

  “Then again . . . ” Aris said, staring past Llew. “Perhaps Quaver can make use of her.”

  “Hey, I’m right here. And I’m a person. What do you mean ‘make use of’?”

  “Don’t you see, Jonas?” Aris asked, as if Llew hadn’t spoken.

  “I’ve hardly slept, Aris. You’re gonna have to tell me.”

  “How many Aenuks have you seen come back from the dead?”

  “None. But they usually have my knife in ’em. What’s your point?”

  “My point is that Aenuks don’t come back from the dead. Not alone, anyway. One Aenuk might be brought back by the combined efforts of six, maybe ten, other Aenuks. Maybe. But I’ve yet to hear of it. My point is that your brother –”

  “Half-brother.”

  “Half-brother, wants her. Why, when he must already have a supply of Aenuk blood?” Aris said. “My point is, Jonas, that just as the Karan race has the Syakaran, the Aenuk race has the Syaenuk, capable of feats even their closest relatives cannot hope to try.”

  Jonas peered at Llew.

  “My point, Jonas,” Aris said, slow and deliberate, “is that we have, in Llew, quite possibly the greatest discovery since, well, since your own family was rediscovered. We, as representatives of Quaver, have something that Turhmos and your half-brother would do just about anything to get their hands on.” He looked at Llew and Llew drew back. It was as though he didn’t see her as a person but as a thing: a commodity. She swallowed hard. “My point is, Jonas, we have two choices. We kill her so no one can have her, or we keep her out of Turhmos’ and Braph’s hands and get her safely to Quaver.”

  Jonas didn’t meet Aris’ gaze, and the muscles in his jaw twitched as he clenched his teeth.

  “And what would Quaver want with me?”

  Aris shrugged. “My guess? They’ll probably kill you soon as risk trouble. But . . . ” He hesitated. “It’s possible we could find a use for you. Destructive as it is, you have immense power. You could tip the balance in our favour.” He looked back to Jonas, who still refused to look at either of them, and nodded. “I guess she lives, then. In which case, I’m putting you, Jonas, in charge of keeping her safe. Alvaro and Cassidy are fully capable of dealing with whatever elements show an interest in Anya. Llew, on the other hand, is going to attract real trouble.”

  Alvaro pushed his way through the inn door, carrying the shirt Llew had stolen on her way out of Cheer. Seeing the three of them, he stopped a few yards away, not saying a word.

  “That means you don’t leave her side until we get her safely into the custody of the Quaven authorities. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  Jonas looked up at Aris. His mouth opened as though to protest, then it clamped shut. He nodded.

  “One condition, though.” Aris looked pointedly at each of them. “There will be no funny business.” Then to Llew he said, “Jonas is more important to Quaver than you will ever be. I won’t put him at risk. There will be no . . . canoodling.”

  Llew blushed. What would Aris say if he knew what they had been up to the night before?

  “Won’t be a problem,” said Jonas. He wasn’t looking at any of them, just focused straight ahead, jaw working. The loss of his friendship was like a kick in her guts. She wished she could have told him sooner, but it was so hard to believe she would be sitting there, still alive, if she had.

  “And the second you raise a finger against him,” Aris continued, “I expect that knife to be so deep in you we can hang our coats off your back. Understand?”

  “Hey–” Alvaro took a step forward but stopped when Aris raised a hand.

  Llew nodded.

  “We have to move,” said Aris. “There’s a man of incredible power out there who knows what Llew is. And the folk of Stelt are about to start askin’ questions about all the dead vegetation in their town. There’s a reason few places outside Turhmos tolerate your kind.”

  “Maybe I should move to Turhmos, then.”

  “Don’t even joke about it, Llew,” Jonas said in a flat tone, finally affording her a brief glance.

  “I’ll have a wash basin sent to your room, Llew. Wash and change quickly. The rest of us will be waiting.”

  Llew got up from the bench seat and took her shirt from Alvaro. Jonas pushed himself off the wall, winced and, hands on hips, set about stretching his back, a grimace on his face.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Aris asked.

  “Nothin’, I– Just stiff after helpin’ Llew, s’all.”

  “You what? You helped heal her?” Aris said sharply. Alvaro looked from Aris to Jonas and to Llew in confusion, trying to piece things together.

  “I helped. It was taking so long–”

  “Don’t you ever do that again. I will not sacrifice you for her. Got that?” He turned to Llew. “Get!”

  Llew scooted inside as Jonas agreed not to risk his life for hers again. She hadn’t realised he had done that, that he had touched her while she was healing, giving his ghi to help her heal. She had only healed from other people a few times, and never for anything more than a cut or tear. It must have cost him something to do it. Now she really was confused. He was supposed to kill her, but instead he’d helped her live.

  Heading up the stairs, she found herself smiling awkwardly at a confused and questioning Anya, Emylia, and Cassidy as they made their way down with their belongings.

  * * *

  They left Stelt at a trot – a gait Llew found uncomfortable. She wished she had the time to learn how to ride properly; there hadn’t been much opportunity in Cheer. Her
mount must have felt the same way about her abilities, for he switched into a slow, rolling canter, making the journey considerably more pleasant for the both of them. She rode up front beside Jonas, where Aris could keep an eye on her. He clearly felt that any trouble they struck was most likely going to be directed at her, and while there was little they could do that would be risk free, he wanted to reduce the chances of Braph swooping in and grabbing her.

  Aris hurried them past the devastation caused by Llew, across the bridge and out of town, leaving little time for questions from the others. Those that did come he deflected or ignored.

  They rode the horses hard during the morning and then stopped midday for a brief meal. There was nothing they could do to stop Braph from following, and they couldn’t out-pace him with a lumbering carriage in their party. Keeping moving was the only option. Aris hadn’t told the rest of the group the reason for their haste but, after seeing the state of Llew’s shirt, they needed little encouragement to move. They eased the pace for the afternoon; ruining the horses would be far more dangerous than simply travelling slowly.

  About mid-afternoon, a change from the normal rhythm behind her had Llew turning to see Cassidy up by the carriage, talking to Aris. Aris signalled them to pull up.

  “Riders,” Aris said as Llew and Jonas rode back.

  “How many?” Jonas asked.

  “Could be half a dozen, or more. But they’re nearly on us,” said Cassidy.

  Jonas cursed. “Where does he find these men?”

  “Who?” asked Anya.

  “Everybody’s got a price,” said Aris, ignoring her.

  “We’ll take care of it.” Cassidy’s voice was filled with confidence as he detached the bow from his saddle and readied his quiver of arrows. “Might be best if you took the ladies down the road a bit.” His horse pranced, sensing the change in its rider. Even Llew was unsettled by the now sober – yet eager – Cassidy who had replaced her usually carefree companion.

  Aris didn’t look happy.

  “I’ll help,” said Llew. “Besides, if we fail, they’re after me. Don’t put Anya in danger she doesn’t need to be in.”

  Aris considered the situation briefly, but whatever advantages there were in having Llew along with them, she was a liability as far as their getting Anya safely to Rakun. He nodded. “We’ll carry on to Osurnu, boys. I expect to see you later.” He straightened in his seat and urged the horses onward. As the carriage pulled away, Anya made an appearance out the back, her eyes big and her face worried, until Emylia pulled the girl under the cover.

  “Take this.” Jonas pulled a knife from his vest. “Just in case.” Llew took the knife and slid it into the back of her trousers.

  Alvaro drew his sword from its scabbard attached to his saddle and urged his horse closer to Llew’s.

  “You really should go, too,” said Alvaro. “This could get messy.”

  “I expect it will,” she stated coolly. “But Aris took me on to help, so I’m helping. Besides, four against however many is always going to be better than three.”

  “Damn it, Llew! You’re as pig-headed as any boy, but I’ll not have you getting hurt again. Those ain’t street urchins back there–”

  “You won’t have what?” Her voice reached an octave she would not have imagined herself capable of. “If you hadn’t noticed, I’m fine! And for your information–”

  “Children! Enough!” Jonas shouted, his gruff voice making Llew jump and feel as if she really was a child.

  Alvaro slapped the flat of his sword against the rump of Llew’s mount, and it whinnied in protest and bolted – unfortunately, back toward Stelt. Somehow Llew managed to maintain her seat and, grabbing her horse’s mane, tried to pull in the slack reins. The horse wrestled against her efforts, fighting to regain his head. She finally pulled him up a few yards from seven riders coming from the direction of Stelt.

  As she looked into the startled, angry eyes of one of the men, Llew was flanked by Alvaro and Jonas; she sensed Cassidy approach from behind.

  “We just want the girl.” The front rider looked a little confused as he took in the group, finally nodding at Llew.

  “I suggest you keep ridin’,” Cassidy said softly.

  The man looked past Llew.

  “You killed many men, boy?”

  “Have you?” Jonas asked. He raised his loaded crossbow until it pointed directly at the leader’s head.

  The man swallowed. “You got to understand. There’s a lot o’ money involved, and he said he weren’t gonna hurt her . . . ”

  Out of the corner of her eye Llew caught the slight shake of Jonas’ head.

  “But there are seven of us,” the leader said.

  “That’s what the last lot said,” said Cassidy. “You remember how many of them survived, Al?”

  The leader was starting to look nervous.

  “I dunno, two?” said Alvaro.

  The leader half smiled, apparently liking those odds. Llew guessed he was forgetting that it was often the leader of a group that went down first. At that thought, Llew wasn’t so fond of her position front and centre.

  The group of riders split as though at a pre-arranged signal to encircle Llew and her friends, and Llew realised she was between Jonas and the leader of the Stelt riders. She spun to look at him, and a chill ran through her. The crossbow was pointed directly at her.

  He fired and the bolt breezed by her ear. She turned to see the crossbow bolt sunk deep in the skull of the leader. The man’s eyes lost focus and he slumped in his saddle. His horse took fright at the change of weight and bolted down the road, with the dead man sliding from the saddle to be dragged like a rag doll toward Osurnu.

  Jonas threw down the spent weapon so that it hung from the strap attached to his saddle, grabbed two knives from his waist coat and threw them into two riders closer to him.

  Llew tried to get her bearings. She held the knife Jonas had given her at the ready and turned her horse, looking for a target while trying not to become one. Alvaro was locked in a sword-fight with one of the Stelt riders. Llew was enthralled as Alvaro disentangled his sword from his opponent’s and took a swipe at the man. The Stelt man parried the blow and swiftly brought his own sword back into play, aiming a strike at Alvaro’s body. Alvaro’s horse swung him out of harm’s way, giving him time to regain his balance and deflect the strike. An arrow pierced the chest of Alvaro’s assailant and the man slid from his horse, hitting the dusty road with a dull thud, followed by the metallic clatter of sword and coins. Alvaro nodded to his cousin and engaged the next opponent.

  Cassidy threw his bow aside, now useless in the close fight, but even as he drew his short sword one of the men rode in and swung at him, hacking a blade into his side and slicing it out again. Llew gasped and her own insides wrenched as a look of shock entered Cassidy’s crystal blue eyes. He fell from his saddle. His horse moved out of the fray, but remained close. At once a knife shot through the air to pierce the throat of Cassidy’s attacker. Blood spewed from his neck and mouth, his sword clattered to the road and he soon followed. Bile rose in Llew’s throat. This was far bloodier than anything she had seen before.

  One of the last fighters rode hard at Jonas, sword raised ahead like a lance while a suicidal scream issued from a face contorted in fear and rage.

  Llew hefted her knife as she had seen Jonas do and threw it. Handle first it hit its target and fell to the ground. The distraction was enough to cause the man to waver from his course and Jonas knocked the sword aside with his forearm and drove his knife into the man’s ribs. The rider bellowed and fell to the ground as Jonas grabbed his knife and looked for the next target.

  Llew swept her eyes over the scene. Six bodies littered the ground, with the leader of the band some yards along the trail, and Alvaro was about to add the last. She looked back to the heap that was Cassidy and felt a chill run through her. He hadn’t moved. She kicked her horse into action and steered him closer, before swinging down from the saddle. She knel
t by him and was reassured to see he was still breathing. He opened his eyes and turned his head, trying a weak smile; then he grimaced in pain. Blood pooled on the road by his midriff.

  Jonas and Alvaro joined her and Alvaro lifted Cassidy’s shirt, revealing a gash at his waist steadily seeping blood. There was no doubt it was a grievous wound. Llew looked to Jonas, and found no comfort. Cassidy laughed, and grimaced again.

  “How bad?” he managed, as Alvaro pulled his own shirt over his head and pressed the material to Cassidy’s wound.

  “It might not be fatal,” Jonas said with clinical steadiness. “Depends how much blood you lose.”

  “Aris will be wondering . . . what happened . . . to us.” Cassidy moved to rise.

  “Stay down!” Jonas and Llew both reached out to push Cassidy back. “You’ll bleed to death.”

  As Llew pushed Cassidy down, a ringing began in her ears. She looked at her hand on his collarbone: the palm tingled. She pulled it back and her ears and skin fell silent. She didn’t know what it meant, but she was willing to try anything for Cassidy, so she reached out to touch his skin again.

  Cassidy looked at her questioningly as her fingers began to burn. Her ears buzzed again, and her eyes ached so she squeezed them shut. A bizarre sensation of hot and cold extended from her fingers, up her arm, across her chest and through the rest of her body. Her heart pounded erratically and her breathing became laboured, but she couldn’t pull back. For a moment she felt as though all the blood in her body was alternately boiling and freezing; then she felt herself fall backwards.

  Nausea filled her throat, so she twisted herself onto her shoulder, supporting herself with one hand as she coughed up bile. Everything ached and her body heaved. Between dry retches she breathed heavily, almost panting. She tried to open her eyes, but they were already open. She couldn’t see. As her breathing settled the solid black became black splotches.

  Exhaustion overcame her and she lay back on the road. Her body hurt all over, but if she just lay back it would go away, she told herself. She closed her eyes and her breathing eased further, becoming slow and shallow. There was pain, but it would be gone soon.