by Deb E Howell
Sobered, she turned back to her pile of bloodied clothes, and the oh-so-white knickerbockers. She shook her head, but then imagined a gust of wind catching the dress and having nothing underneath. No. That would not be suitable. Not that she loved the idea of a gust of wind showing those things off, either, but they would have to do. So she put them on, then gathered up her clothes and boots, paused to take a deep breath as she prepared to face Jonas and Alvaro, and pushed her way through the door.
She walked a few steps and turned back to face the men standing either side of the doorway. Both were silent for several moments.
“Llew,” Alvaro said.
“Llewella,” Jonas corrected him quietly.
She dropped her gaze, trying to control her blush and the almost irresistible urge to grin at Jonas. Somehow, his using her full name was exactly what she needed to feel comfortable in that dress. For the first time in years it felt good to be a girl.
Alvaro’s irritation was brief; he couldn’t take his eyes off her.
“Stop staring or I’ll punch the both of you. Let’s go.” The admiring looks were welcome, but they were already making her feel uncomfortable. She turned on her bare heels, with both boys – for that was how they were behaving – falling in behind.
Walking through the reception again, they were greeted with a friendly acknowledgement from the distracted manager, followed by a look of wide-eyed wonder as recognition struck him. Llewella smiled shyly and started up the stairs.
At Aris’ door, she readied herself for the reactions to come. It wasn’t a big deal. So she was a girl in a girl’s dress. Nothing to get all worked up about. But they would. She knew they would.
Jonas leaned past her and knocked.
“Well, well,” Aris said, opening the door. He continued to open the door wide and graciously gestured for Llewella to enter. Jonas and Alvaro followed close behind.
Cassidy stared. “Wow, Llew.”
Anya beamed, taking full credit for Llew’s appearance. Anya had also thought to dig out a spare shawl and dress shoes for Llew to wear to dinner.
Llew – Llewella – found walking down the cobbled streets of Osurnu in a dress very strange. The few people out in the evening looked at her differently. She was so used to moving through Cheer with the aim of being unnoticed that she felt like some sort of floral beacon. Cassidy and Alvaro were fascinated by her, and for the first time she drew more of their attention than Anya. The other girl didn’t seem to mind, and she chose to walk with Emylia and Aris.
They enjoyed a dinner at a tavern a little way from their hotel, a reputable establishment by all appearances with surroundings to match their accommodation and even, Llew was surprised to find, cushioned dining seats. She had never experienced such luxury.
Warm bread rolls were brought to their table, and suddenly the fact that they had not eaten for far too many hours overtook them. Politeness be damned: they all dived into the meal with enthusiasm.
Once their initial hunger was sated and they were settled in the more civilised nibblings of their meals, Aris informed the group of their situation. Llew was a Syaenuk. They’d all heard of the Aenuks of Turhmos, a fearsome race notorious for the devastation they caused when they healed. But to achieve the kind of healing Llew had done, it would have taken at least half a dozen ordinary Aenuks.
“So, what’s a Syakaran?” Llew asked during a lull in the conversation.
“Ah,” said Aris, sitting back and linking his fingers across his belly. “While the Aenuks are traditionally from Turhmos, Kara are native to Quaver. They have somewhat superior strength and speed over the rest of us. Syakara are, or were, the more pure bloodline – stronger and faster again. Unfortunately, it seems Jonas is the last.”
“You hope to find more, ain’t that right, Aris?” Alvaro piped up. “A woman?” While he directed the comment to Aris, he looked at Jonas as he spoke.
“That’s right.” A little warmth returned to Aris’ voice. “I heard there was a family moved overseas some years back, just as your family managed to leave Turhmos. We’re hopin’ their blood is still good. But it’s complicated. I mean, if it was simple, we’d get a Syakaran born to a pair of Kara now and then, wouldn’t we? But it just don’t seem to work that way.”
“So one of my folks must have been a Syaenuk, too?” asked Llew.
Aris nodded. “At least. I’m unfamiliar with the Aenuk lineage, so one or both.”
An unpleasant thought was forming in Llew’s mind. If they were Syaenuks, it would have been very difficult for someone to kill them. And her mother had gone missing in Quaver.
“Are there other knives like Jonas’?”
“Yes,” Jonas said, looking directly at her. He knew what she was asking. Relief washed through her. So the chances of Jonas being the one who had killed her mother were slimmer than if he’d been the only one with a knife like that. It didn’t rule him out, but it was something.
“I must dig out my book of legends for you, Llew,” said Anya. “I know I brought it with me, but I think it might be tucked in the bottom of a bag. Had I known I would be meeting a Syaenuk, I might have packed with more care.” She smiled in bright-eyed awe. “However did you get by in Cheer without anyone knowing you were there? I never even heard a rumour.”
Llew shrugged. “I never died until a couple of weeks ago.” She almost laughed at herself for being able to discuss it so offhandedly. “Small cuts and bruises don’t cause anything like the mess we had back there on the trail.”
“What I want to know is how your folks ever got out of Turhmos to begin with. There must’ve been an almighty hunt when they lit out,” said Aris.
“I was born in Quaver. I guess it would’ve been hard for Turhmos soldiers to follow them there.”
Aris laughed. “Undoubtedly. What worries me is how they managed to cross the border in the first place and how many have managed to before or since.”
It was yet another question Llew couldn’t answer. But while she had the opportunity, Llew was going to ask her own.
“Can all Aenuks heal others?”
“Not like you did.” Aris shook his head. “One Aenuk could heal a minor flesh wound alone without too much trouble. A knife wound – like a cut? Sure. One Aenuk could do that. But when the wounded person is at death’s door . . . ” Aris shook his head as he spoke.
“I ain’t never seen what you did today, Llew,” said Jonas. “Turhmos have a lot of Aenuks. I’ve killed . . . dozens, hundreds. I’ve seen the way they swarm to heal injured Turhmos soldiers. I’ve seen them use their injuries to drain Quaven soldiers. But I ain’t never seen what you did. That was – Thank you.”
“Yeah, thanks,” Cassidy finally found his voice. He had been listening intently, realising for the first time how close he’d been to death and the debt he owed to Llew.
“So, who’s Braph?” asked Alvaro.
Aris and Jonas shared a look before Aris nodded.
“He’s Jonas’ brother.”
“Half-brother,” Jonas said under his breath. Aris’ eyes shifted to Jonas briefly, but otherwise it went ignored.
“Of course,” said Alvaro, sitting back in his seat.
“Braph’s mother was Jonas’ father’s first wife, but she died in childbirth to what would have been Braph’s sister,” said Aris. “Braph’s mother wasn’t Syakaran, so he was never going to be more than Karan. And, I’m afraid, Braph was never going to be Jonas’ biggest fan.”
Jonas dropped his head, scowling.
“After their father and Jonas’ mother were killed,” Aris continued, “the boys were separated between relatives and it seems Braph went on to spend a great deal of his time inventin’ things. He didn’t find much appreciation for his creations in Quaver, so it seems he works for Turhmos now.”
“Great,” said Alvaro. “That’s just great. So, we’ve got a crazed Karan after us, who wants Llew for some reason.”
“Yes, why is he after me?”
Aris and Jonas shared
a look before Aris answered. “Did you see the device he wears on his wrist?”
Llew nodded.
“Well, it seems that device allows Braph to perform magic.”
“Magic? How?”
“We don’t know how it works,” said Aris.
“Well, what does he want me for?”
“I don’t think you want to know,” said Jonas.
“Yes,” she said firmly, holding his gaze. “I do.”
Jonas gave a small shrug. “From what we’ve heard, he would drain your blood.” Jonas watched her, gauging her reaction. She didn’t flinch. “Then he would process it, condense it, and use the resultin’ crystals to power the device, allowin’ him to do . . . well, just about anythin’.”
“So, he’s not just a crazed Karan, he’s a magician, too.” Alvaro glared at Jonas, making it abundantly clear who he thought was to blame for Braph.
“He’s ambitious, I’ll give him that. But he’s not known for making friends,” said Aris. “That he seems to be here on his own is a good sign for us. If he was working with Turhmos, I can’t promise you’d still be here with us right now.”
“Lucky me.”
***
They returned to their hotel in two groups, Anya with Aris and Emylia, and Llew surrounded by Jonas, Alvaro and Cassidy. Llew and the boys didn’t talk, all seemingly too caught up in their own thoughts. Cassidy gave her a smile now and then, still unable to put his gratitude into words. Llew didn’t mind. She was just as grateful to have been able to help him, to do something good, and she thought she would be embarrassed if he did ever manage to find the words. She knew that Jonas had a lot of thinking to do. He’d dealt with Llew’s kind before: fought them, killed them, hated them. But now Llew had healed his friend from almost certain death. Their friendship had started rockily enough, with the theft of his knife. And she was sorry she hadn’t been able to tell him what she was earlier. Things had been going so well up until the incident in Stelt. She hoped that helping Cassidy was also helping to heal the rift between them.
Maybe Jonas sensed her glancing at him, for he lifted his head and looked at her, giving a small smile before turning away again. Llew’s eyes were drawn to the fingers of the hand-shaped scar on his throat under his jaw.
“Was that –?” She tentatively pointed at her own throat when he turned to her again. “Did an Aenuk do that?”
He gave a wry smile and a nod. “That’s what happens when you stick a Syakaran knife in an otherwise healthy Aenuk. Like I said, I may regret not killing you in Stelt.” His smile broadened, then dropped when he saw she wasn’t getting the joke. He reached out and squeezed her shoulder and she smiled cautiously. She supposed they had to laugh about it. Or cry.
“So how does it work? Are you a virgin forever?” Alvaro asked, unable to contain the question any longer. Cassidy punched him in the arm and Jonas gave him a dirty look.
Llew felt her cheeks colour and stopped in the middle of the street. Her mouth had gone dry. This was not a discussion she’d planned to have, not with all three of them, at least. But picturing their reactions firmed up her resolve to be honest. She pulled herself up straight as the boys gathered around, concerned Alvaro had upset her.
“I healed just like any other woman who’s ever been with a man.” Alvaro’s face dropped. “The man who took me though . . . ” She looked around at the pained expressions on each of the men’s faces. “Put it this way. It didn’t last long. And he never came back for seconds.” The cousins cringed in unison. It was the first time Llew had been able to laugh about it and it felt liberating to do so.
“You’re a cruel woman, Llew,” said Jonas, as they resumed their walk, absently rubbing the backs of his fingers over his scar.
Sleeping arrangements were made more difficult by the need to protect Llew. The greatest risk to Anya had always been assumed to be ambush by highwaymen, and while they were in proper accommodation they could afford to sleep without fear of attack. But now there was the risk of Braph, or someone he hired, striking at any time. Consequently, Llew moved back in with the boys, which suited her just fine.
***
The following morning, Aris let Llew buy herself new clothes, since the dress was hardly practical riding attire. Of course Jonas had to accompany her, and Alvaro insisted he join them, making the excursion a tense and quiet affair.
Cassidy was waiting for them in the hotel entrance when they returned mid-morning, and they all knew something was wrong. Without a word, he gestured for them to head up to Aris’ room, and he followed, answering none of their questions.
“Sit down, Llew,” Aris said as they entered. He stood behind one of the plush chairs. Anya sat with her knees curled up in the other, tears streaming down her cheeks. Emylia stood beside her. She looked pale, but her cheeks were dry. Cassidy appeared almost as stern as was usual for Jonas.
Had they decided Llew was too much of a liability to keep travelling with their group? She could understand their wanting to put distance between her and Anya. Anya’s safety, after all, was their purpose. But Llew wasn’t ready to say goodbye. If nothing else, she wasn’t in Phyos yet.
“What is it, Aris?” Jonas asked.
“You should sit down, too.” Anya vacated the chair, and Emylia drew her into her arms.
Jonas frowned, but he did as he was told. He sat on the edge of the cushion, elbows on his knees, looking at Aris.
“Apparently, a farmer’s daughter was outside playin’ not far from where you healed Cassidy. She had bare knees, bare feet, bare hands . . . ” His face pinched at the horrible thought they were all sharing.
Llew felt herself pale, and she grasped the arms of the chair.
“You mean . . . I killed a child?” she asked in a hoarse whisper. She didn’t look up for confirmation. The lack of denial was enough.
“They think it was Cheer’s witch.”
“I killed a child . . . ” she whispered, trying to make sense of the words. Her gorge rose and the bottom seemed to fall out of her stomach at the same time. She couldn’t breathe. How she was able to get herself out of the chair, she didn’t know, but it hit the floor behind her and she was stumbling down the stairs, pushing her way outside. Then she was on her hands and knees, bringing up her breakfast and shaking violently. Hands settled on her shoulders and she threw her arm back, dislodging them.
“Llew . . . ”
“Not now, Al!”
He didn’t touch her again, but stayed nearby. Despite how horrible it felt to have an audience, it was oddly comforting to have someone on hand while she dry-retched.
And then came an almighty crash from upstairs and a chair hit the road in a shower of glass. Emylia gasped and Anya squealed, and the hotelier cursed from somewhere more distant. Another crash and thump of feet on stairs, then the door flew open and someone ran past at a terrific speed. It had to be Jonas.
“Fool boy!” Aris cursed from the doorway, a moment later.
“What in the hell–” The manager’s voice cut off at sight of the chair. “You’ll pay for that!”
Aris turned back inside to placate the man.
Llew stood up, wiping her lips with her sleeve.
“Let him go, Llew,” said Alvaro.
“He hates me.” She leaned over, supporting herself with hands on knees. “I killed a child and he hates me.” If half the trouble that Aris expected was coming, then she needed Jonas’ protection, as much as she was loath to admit it.
“He don’t hate you, Llew,” Cassidy said, coming through the door behind her. “He just sees his part in it, is all.”
Llew turned to him. “What do you mean?”
“It was him who moved you to the grass.”
Llew looked at him with a puzzled expression.
“Reckons if he’d just moved you to the other side the kid would still be alive,” Cassidy clarified. “He tell you about his wife?”
Llew nodded.
“Did he tell you she was pregnant? Eight months gone,”
said Cassidy.
“We need to leave, damn it!” Llew didn’t think Aris’ heart was in the curse. “Any idea where he might’ve gone?” No-one replied, and Aris screwed up his face. “We can’t stay here. I’ve paid for the damage, but the hotelier wants us gone. Besides, a witchhunt’s about to begin, never mind what Braph’s doin’.”
“I could try that playground we passed on our way in,” said Llew. It seemed as good a place as any to start.
Aris gave her a nod. “Not alone.”
“I’ll go,” said Alvaro.
“The rest of us will meet you there. Find him.”
“I’ll find him. He’s fast, not invisible,” she said.
She and Alvaro went to the stable for their horses. They saddled and led Jonas’ horse, too.
“You ever heard any of the stories about him?” asked Alvaro as they rode through the Osurnu streets again. People gave the passing pair suspicious glances, and Llew supposed anyone not local would be a suspect in the witch stories making their way down the country; with the death of the child so close, the Osurnu people would know there was every chance the witch was nearby.
“About who?”
“Jonas, of course.”
“No. What stories?”
Alvaro looked a little surprised. “I s’pose there’s less interest in ’em here, but on Phyos there’re a whole series of books about the Syakaran of Quaver. He’s a hero. A Quaven hero, but other countries like the stories, too. Not so much Turhmos, I guess. Point is, Llew, where do you think a relationship with an Aenuk fits into the stories about a killer of Aenuks?”
Llew shrugged. “Look, Al, if me being a Syaenuk,” she glanced at him as she used the term, “is a problem for Jonas, then it’s a problem for him. And whatever you have to say about that isn’t going to change things.”
