by Sharon Hinck
Cameron let go of my arm and I edged away, ready to run again. Medea spared a glance at me. “Your strength is gone. You can’t move.” Her words to me were warm with sympathetic understanding.
Suddenly, I wanted to sink to the ground. Just filling my lungs to breathe took effort.
Susan, run! You have to get away from these two and get help. But every muscle was held captive by the threads Medea had woven in my mind.
“Will you manage?” She tilted her head and watched Cameron.
He hefted one of the duffel bags and settled the strap on his shoulder. “I have what I need. You’ll join me soon?”
“Of course. After a few weeks to rest.”
He nodded, then looked at me with narrow eyes, perhaps regretting he hadn’t inflictetd more damage. “Can you control her?”
She laughed. “I’m not that tired.”
Their plan began to sink in. They were splitting up. As much as I hated Cameron, the thought of being left with Medea was worse. Cameron was cruel and power hungry and believed himself above the paltry ethics of the general masses. But he was someone I could understand. Villain, yes—but a familiar villain. Corrupt politician, self-serving bureaucrat, and even schoolyard bully. He scared me, but I understood him.
Medea was a complete mystery. The Rhusicans I had encountered during my visits to the clans seemed to thrive on arbitrary pain and damage, which they caused with almost no effort.
“Cameron, wait.” I swallowed, determined to choke back my panic. “I don’t know what you’re planning, but you can’t trust her.” With tremendous effort against the lethargy Medea had woven inside me, I managed one step toward him and forced myself to meet his eyes. “You know what they can do. Don’t you realize? She’s controlling your mind too.” With his teeth bared in amusement, he listened to me for a few sentences, but then he lost patience. His hand darted forward and grabbed my throat like a striking snake.
“You should be grateful she’s interested in you. Otherwise I’d leave your body here for the rizzids. It would be the least I could do to pay Markkel back for this trick.”
Black spots darted along the edge of my vision as his long fingers squeezed harder.
“Don’t damage her.” Medea’s voice was petulant. “We have a long journey.”
He let go, and I doubled over, resting my hands on my knees to gulp in air. I was vaguely aware of Medea helping him sling another bag onto his shoulder. He muttered some dire curses at Mark for this inconvenience.
Medea shrugged. “There’s a Hazorite outpost near the border, where you can find a lehkan. It won’t take you long to reach Lyric.”
I wanted to argue, wanted to rip the bags away from him and see what he had brought. Or, if I couldn’t overpower them, I needed to run from them. Warn the Council. Go back to the portal and let Mark and Jake know that I was all right. But I was still lost in a swirling lassitude.
Cameron walked toward the clay fields. Maybe he’d fall into one of the pits.
Medea watched him with a soft curve to her lips. Then her face hardened. “Come with me.”
She took a few steps in the opposite direction. Our path led across miles of emptiness toward the horizon. Cameron had taken all their gear. She didn’t even carry a backpack.
“I don’t get it.” I fought the pull to walk after her. “You go to our world and help him bring back . . . whatever he was collecting, and you don’t get anything.” I was still hoping to stir up conflict between Medea and Cameron. It worked in all the action movies. Get the bad guys mad at each other. “He’s just using you. Can’t you see that? What do you get out of it?”
She stopped and turned toward me. This time when she smiled, her eyes lit with anticipation. “You.”
She resumed walking, and I found myself trudging along beside her. Each step was a tremendous effort. Because of the commands she had planted earlier, my muscles were still convinced they were too weak to function.
She threw me a sideways glance and seemed to find my struggle with the conflicting mental commands amusing.
“So nice of you to be concerned that I’m being treated fairly. Since he can’t barter you to the Kahlareans anymore, he said I could have you. I’ve gotten some of what I’ve wanted. Later there will be much more.” She ran her hands through her hair and lifted her face to the sky. A soft drizzle was just beginning to fall. Early afternoon. The thought of all the hours until nightfall made me want to cry, but I kept walking as she talked. “Cameron and I have found a number of ways to benefit each other.”
I should have asked more questions to uncover their plans, but conversation took too much effort. Fatigue made each stride a battle. I shuddered at the endless expanse in front of us. My feet scuffed through the pebbles, then slipped on them as they grew wet from rain. I fell to my knees more than once. Medea ignored me and strode forward, unconcerned. The next time I fell, I marshaled all my will and stayed down, trying to regain mental control. I focused on the cool drizzle that had soaked my clothes and made my socks squish inside my tennis shoes. I grabbed a fistful of the rain-slicked pebbles. Nothing would force me back to my feet. Medea couldn’t compel me to take one more step.
She turned back and noticed me. “Get up,” she said with casual annoyance.
I closed my eyes and channeled every effort into refusing. I used her earlier mental suggestion to bolster my efforts. My muscles are weak. I can’t move. I won’t move.
Stones crunched. She stood over me, but I kept my eyes closed.
“Clever”—she studied me for a minute—“but do you really want to anger me?” Her voice hardened and I glanced up at her. Irrational rage distorted her face as it had in the second before she plunged a knife into my heart in the Council chamber.
“Have you forgotten already?” Her tone was soothing again, and I blinked, confused. “I know you so well. Let’s go. We have a long way to travel and no time for games.”
My body shifted, ready to stand up, but I closed my eyes and fought her words again. My fingers dug deep into the pebbles, and I held fast.
She laughed. “Interesting. Don’t say I didn’t give you fair warning.” She crouched near me, her words whispering sweetly near my ear. “You’re all alone here. Your god abandoned you again. And it’s no wonder. You gave Cameron the information that Markkel could open the portal.” I knew where her words were leading me, but it was too late to hold them back. Despair swirled into me in a torrent.
Stop. No. Pebbles fell from my hands as I reached up to cover my ears. Still, her words bored into my mind.
“Cameron wouldn’t have beaten Markkel if you hadn’t told him about the portal stones. It was all your fault.” She sighed. “So many things have been your fault. Should we review them?”
“No . . .” The plea wrenched from my throat, but it was too late. She kept talking—listing all the people I had let down, the damage my choices had caused. I barely heard the words. I was already in a dark place surrounded by fog. Emptiness called to me—a deep abyss that would make the pain stop.
I had been in this place before. Once, Linette had called me back with the strength of her songs. Another time Mark had found verses to fight the poison and draw me out of the darkness. Recognizing this place should have made it easier to fight.
God, I know You’re here—even in this dark place.
The fog continued to swirl and images lashed me. Coherent thought was impossible, and my attempted prayers scattered. I saw faces of the people who had died because I led them into battle. Then the picture shifted to my own world: the pain I had caused Mark, and not just by telling Cameron about the portal stones, but all the ways I had let him down over the years.
No. It’s forgiven. Don’t listen.
The mental pictures wouldn’t stop. I’d never been the wife he needed. Selfish, withdrawn, needy—the words struck me like a fist and I couldn’t fight t
hem. Then it continued to the children: the danger Jake was facing, the conflicts that Karen and I wrestled with, my crankiness with the younger children. I was a terrible mother. Impatient, inconsistent . . .
Suddenly, the black fog of torment disappeared and I was kneeling on smooth stones, shivering in rain-soaked clothes, and sobbing. Medea watched me impassively. She had called me back somehow, with the same strange ability she had to send me. I could have kissed her feet in gratitude for snatching me back from that evil place.
I tried to remind myself that she was the one who had caused the mental torture, but my mind was so wounded I gave up on reason.
“Let’s go.”
Direction. A simple goal. Step forward. Again. And again. No need to think.
The rain eased to a soft mist and then stopped. Medea kept stalking forward with fierce energy, yet the hills on the horizon didn’t seem any closer. It seemed that I had always been stumbling over this pebbled ground. Maybe my entire existence had been years of trudging forward through an unchanged landscape, moving toward nowhere. There had never been anything but grey skies, grey stones, grey hills in the distance that we would never reach.
We stopped a few times to drink from small creeks that trickled across our path, hidden among the flat, pebbled ground. After miles of quiet walking, my brain began to recover from her assault.
Lord, show me how to fight this thing. Why aren’t You stopping her? I drew a steadying breath. Help me hang on to truth.
The next time I glanced up, the hills seemed closer. It was hard to tell, as the sky was deepening to charcoal. Soon we wouldn’t be able to see the horizon at all.
She didn’t intend to walk all night, did she? I looked around the vast emptiness. There was no shelter. How far did we still have to travel, and what would we do for supplies? Could Medea’s kind use their mental powers to protect themselves from the night scavengers? I was afraid to say anything, terrified of setting her off after her brutal reminder of what she could do to me.
“It’s almost dark,” I ventured at last.
She turned, her eyebrows lifting in surprise as if she had forgotten me.
“Yes, it is.” She continued walking. “I know this area. We’ll reach shelter soon.”
I didn’t delude myself that she cared about reassuring me, but she seemed to be in the mood for conversation. “This is the longest I’ve ever been away,” she said. “I can’t wait to be home.”
The mention of home stirred a pang of longing in me.
She looked at me. “Yes, you understand, don’t you?”
Understand? Her? Not likely. Hours ago she’d tormented me and mocked me. Now she was chatting with me as if we were school chums.
“Of course, I came home for a while after the Restorer caused so much trouble. We all came home then.”
Goose bumps prickled along the back of my neck. Had she really forgotten that I was the Restorer that had caused all her people to be banished from the clans? Or had she just forgotten I was walking alongside her?
“But as soon as the trouble died down, Cameron sent a messenger. I probably should have stayed in Rhus longer. This last trip was more difficult than I’d expected. What an interesting place—your world.” She giggled. “And it’s so nice of you to join me on my trip home. We’ll have so much fun.”
Dear God, she’s completely insane.
I’d known she was erratic and unpredictable. Her motives, her plans—they had been a complete puzzle to me. But she seemed even more unstable and arbitrary than before. How would I protect myself? How could I keep her calm when I couldn’t understand her?
“Here we are.” She suddenly raced forward, her voice bright.
I squinted into the darkness and realized that what I had mistaken for a stream up ahead was really a thin gash in the rocky ground. Steps carved into the side led down into the dark cavern. I followed her, my hand braced along the rock face for support as we picked our way down. At the foot of the stairs was a narrow opening. She reached inside to shift a lever, and a pale glow lit the entry. A tunnel stretched ahead for what looked like miles of stone light walls. The glow of illumination seemed to come from deep inside the smooth rock surfaces—one constant, unvaried tube of pale light.
She headed directly onward.
“Wait. Aren’t we going to rest for the night?” My voice croaked with exhaustion.
Her laughter echoed from the rock walls. “Not now! We’re almost home. If we hurry, we can be there by morning.”
I stared at her, aghast. My back and legs ached. My head throbbed. I couldn’t remember when I’d last eaten.
She looked at me, and a sneer of disdain chased away her good humor. “Don’t slow me down. Understand?”
I drew an unsteady breath, and a shiver ghosted through me.
She gestured for me to go ahead of her.
I hadn’t been able to break free from her control earlier and had even less energy now.
Just stay alive. You’ll find a way out later. I walked forward. At least the tunnel floor was smoother than loose pebbles and uneven rocks. When I glanced back over my shoulder, Medea’s green eyes seemed to be twirling in the glow of the light panels. Beyond her the dark entrance receded.
Mark would come to save me. I’d told myself that from the second I woke up with my face pressed against a moss-covered rock. In all the fear and despair I’d felt today, the knowledge had hummed like a calming bass line beneath a chaotic melody.
But how would he ever find me here? The deep, reassuring tone of hope faded as I walked farther into the tunnel. Medea had twisted my thoughts to torture me earlier, but she based her poison on fragments of truth.
I was very alone.
Chapter
8
Susan
The long passage stretched into a forever of lines diminishing to a point in the future that could never be reached. Dozing on my feet, I barely avoided crashing against the light walls. Medea didn’t care if I stumbled, as long as I kept moving. Even when I was awake for stretches of time, my mind was too battered and exhausted to be aware of much. Again the monotony of weary steps consumed me, along with the growing belief that my whole life had been nothing but this pale tunnel that would never end.
Hours later we reached a stone staircase weaving several stories upward. I stared at it, confused, but Medea bounded up the first steps. I trudged behind her, vertigo dancing through my brain like a fever. When I swayed for a moment, I almost gave in to the loss of balance. It would have been such a relief to simply fall down to the crushing rock floor and be done with this, but I caught myself against the wall and forced myself onward until, at last, we emerged into an open courtyard.
The pale light of the morning sky rubbed a sheen on the white stone archways. We’d walked all night.
A man in an azure tunic lounged on a marble bench. His face had the soft lines of a Raphael painting, with red-gold curls teasing his temples—similar to the Rhusican I had killed in Braide Wood. When he saw us, he jumped to his feet.
“Medea!” His face lit, and he ran toward her, ignoring me.
“Nicco. Were you watching for me?” She reached a hand toward him. “I made it home.” Then with a sigh she wilted onto the ground, as pale as the marble pillars in the courtyard.
Medea’s fierce intensity to reach her home had propelled me. Now the link broke like an electrical plug pulled from a socket. My knees buckled; I sank to the ground, freed from the trance-like compulsion to walk. I wanted to curl up and fall asleep right there in the courtyard.
Nicco gathered Medea into his arms. “Rest now. We’ve been worried.”
She opened her eyes, dull sage in color and no longer twirling with emerald light. “Take her to the conservatory,” she whispered. “Keep the others away from her.”
His angelic face clouded for a moment. “Now? When s
he’s new? That’s no fun.”
Her hand drifted up to stroke his cheek. “I’ll share later. I promise.” Then her arm floated down and she closed her eyes. He lifted her with almost no effort and carried her through one of the archways.
My mind struggled to absorb the new surroundings and make sense of the fragments of conversation. I hadn’t felt this kind of deep fatigue and confusion since being stranded at an airport gate during a blizzard. Two days and nights without sleep—with fluorescent lights glaring and the constant jabbering of the public address announcements—had produced this same sense of floating outside of reality.
One fact gradually formed into a coherent thought: I was free. For the first time since facing Medea at our kitchen table, she wasn’t twisting around in my brain. And what was more, the courtyard was empty. The chance I’d been waiting for.
I stumbled to my feet. There were several directions open to me. Archways beckoned in a semi-circle around the courtyard, but the only sure way back to the clans, to the portal, and to Mark was the tunnel. I shuddered at the thought of facing that interminable passage again but forced my feet to move. Again dizziness hit me on the steep stairs, but I scrabbled down and reached the bottom safely. The Rhusicans seemed to have short attention spans. Maybe Nicco would forget all about me. By the time Medea was aware again, I would be gone.
God, give me strength.
The Rhusicans were good at mind games, but I’d use my own bit of mental trickery to help me endure this. When I was Karen’s age, I had run track in school. I pictured the cinder track stretching before me and imagined that I was young and strong. I loped forward, blocking out my pain. I promised myself I would slow to a walk after I’d put some distance between Medea and myself.
One hundred steps. Just count off one hundred, and then you can rest.
