Children of the Healer

by Barbara Ann Wright

  She shrugged. “When I heard about some of the bad things the Storm Lord did, I…” She glanced around, and even though no one stood near them, she lowered her voice. “I hated the bastard. I wasted a lot of time and energy worshiping him. I thought he stood for everything I stood for, but the fact that he killed anyone who disagreed with him, good people, well…” She sighed. “Someone needed to take him out, someone who cared about other people.” She nodded to Simon.

  He fought a blush and cleared his throat. “Happy to help.” He gestured toward town. “Shall we?”

  As they walked, Pakesh cleared his throat, and Simon detected a surge of nervousness. “You said something about your last girlfriend?” Pakesh asked, gaze darting to Jacobs. “Do you have one now?”

  Simon tried to give him a warning glance, one that said it was rude to ask people about their personal lives, but Pakesh wasn’t looking anywhere near him.

  Jacobs raised an eyebrow. “Nope, not a girlfriend or a boyfriend. Why? You got an older friend who’s looking?”

  It was a graceful way to say that Pakesh was too young for her, and Simon coughed to hide a chuckle.

  Pakesh frowned before he seemed to get it. “I’ll…ask around.”

  Jacobs winked at Simon, and he smiled. They continued chatting as they walked. More people in Gale were stirring, hustling through the streets on morning business. Simon stepped to the side of the road, out of the way of a rickshaw.

  “Look out!” Jacobs shouted.

  He looked to the rickshaw, but it wasn’t coming near them. Before he could ask, she shoved him hard. He collided with Pakesh, both of them crying out as Pakesh slipped, and they fell. Jacobs stepped in front of them, truncheon drawn. The rickshaw rumbled away, but she didn’t move.

  Heart racing, Simon scanned the sparse crowd who’d stopped to watch the show. A few other heart rates were up, but that could be from the excitement of a paladin shoving people around. “What is it?”

  “I lost sight of him,” Jacobs said.

  “Who?”

  “You didn’t see that?” When he only blinked, she hauled him and Pakesh upright, then strode a few steps away and picked up a clay bottle. “Someone hurled this at your head.”

  He stared. No, he hadn’t seen a thing, had been talking to Pakesh. He would have noticed a person coming for him, would have sensed it, but a random person throwing things? He took the bottle, turning the smooth surface over in his hands. It had landed on a pile of straw and hadn’t broken. Would it have broken against his head? Someone wanted to knock him out first—the same tactics Dillon had used—the quickest way to get around his power. It made his blood run cold.

  “It could be the same people who did the graffiti.” Jacobs stalked into the crowd, barking questions. She kept looking back to Simon, clearly torn between staying to guard him and chasing whoever had thrown the bottle. But they’d probably already gone to ground.

  Still, Simon couldn’t just wait here, hampering her movements. Anger pushed the fear away. He didn’t want to be anyone’s problem or anyone’s target. “I’ll go to the temple, Jacobs. It’s time we ate something more anyway, and…” His nerves jangled, and he nearly swore, hating feeling this helpless, feeling his anxieties come rushing back. He tried to beef up his anger. “Then you can investigate. Or maybe I can.”

  She shook her head. “Leave this to the paladins, Doc, but keep a careful watch. I’ll take you to the temple, then round up a guard for you.” She rested a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll find them.”

  On the way to the temple, Simon kept turning the bottle over in his hands. He tried to watch the crowd, but everyone seemed to be staring, and the rhythms of their bodies felt as if they were closing in. He kept his shields tight around himself and Pakesh, who was scanning the crowd with his own worried look.

  Simon sensed a semi-familiar pattern as they rounded a corner. Liam stood speaking to a group of people outside a large building. He had one foot propped up on a bucket and laughed easily as he spoke, his green eyes twinkling. His clothes fit a little tighter than they needed to, showing off his muscular body. Pretty, but Simon had had enough of showy types.

  The people of Gale disagreed, it seemed. The men and women listening to Liam stared at him with lustful gazes, and as he spoke, many of them blushed and stuttered and giggled. Simon chuckled, the sight easing some of his tension. No matter what was happening between Liam and Shiv, it seemed Liam couldn’t resist being a flirt. It was good to know some things didn’t change.

  Simon nudged Pakesh. “You’ll want to take notes from him.”

  Pakesh and Jacobs snorted at the same time, and the pall seemed to lift from all three of them, at least a little.

  “We should all be so lucky,” Jacobs said.

  When Liam caught sight of Simon, he sauntered over. “Reports from the granaries are in. With rationing, we should be okay for the time being. We’ll need to hunt before winter’s finally here.”

  Jacobs wiped her forehead. “Winter feels a long time away.”

  It might be longer than they thought. Who knew what the weather would do without Dillon? Before Simon could say anything, Jacobs told Liam about the effigy and the bottle, much as she would do when reporting to a senior officer.

  Liam frowned hard. “Cordelia would take a hard line with that.”

  Jacobs nodded. “I’m going to round up a guard from the keep.”

  “The plants are coming along,” Simon said, wanting to talk about anything else. “I bolstered what I could and increased growth in some. They should be ready to harvest soon.”

  Some of the people Liam had been speaking to wandered closer, mouths open in surprise. “Ready to harvest?” one asked.

  He nearly took a step back, wary. “Maybe in a few days.”

  They grinned. One whooped and several clapped, sending beaming smiles Simon’s way. When Jacobs kept them back, Simon allowed himself a bit of pride and a soft smile. A few of them reached to shake his hand, and he returned the gesture.

  “The doc has urgent business elsewhere,” Jacobs said before Simon could be surrounded. They said good-bye to Liam, and Jacobs hustled Simon along, eyeing the crowd as she went. “Anyone who’s got it in for you is a fucking ingrate, Doc.”

  He laughed, still pleased with the praise and feeling much better than he had a moment ago. In all the hand shaking, he’d dropped the clay bottle. Maybe that was for the best.

  * * *

  Cordelia scowled into the swamp, in a hurry to be gone, but Pool was still speaking to the other three queens, lost in drushkan communion.

  Better Pool than her. She kept seeing the bodies of the dead Galeans hanging from the trees, and she couldn’t help wanting to punch anyone who might have been involved.

  Pool’s drushka had volunteered to cut the bodies down. The paladins had taken descriptions as best they could, but no one ever looked the same dead as alive. Then all that was left was to release the bodies into the swamp. Cordelia thought that the best solution; they didn’t know how long they’d be gone from Gale, and they didn’t want to carry bodies around. She kept remembering her first trip to the swamp and the bodies she hadn’t been able to carry out then, either. But at least those poor souls had some mementoes to pass on. These people had nothing but the clothes on their backs. They’d been covered in cuts and bruises with a few broken bones, according to Horace. The drushka hadn’t treated them well. And one hundred seventy-five were still out there suffering.

  Cordelia rolled her shoulders until she heard a few pops. What the fuck was taking Pool so long? They had a huge battle still before them. Even if the second, third, and sixth queens joined the fight, it was still four queens to five. One of those five was the awesome mental power that was the Shi, and another was the eighth, the largest drushkan tree that could still move, one that could wrap her limbs around the Anushi tree and lift it from the ground. The swamp trees around them were taller than the Anushi, and Pool said the eighth rivaled them. Cordelia couldn’t even
imagine it.

  With a groan, Cordelia finally sat and wrapped her hands around her knees. What the fuck were they going to do? The sight of those bodies had shaken her, brought home what was at stake, all they had to lose. The bullets were running low, and now most of the armor was unpowered. She’d taken hers off, didn’t know if she’d put it on again. It could protect against drushkan weapons but was slower and clumsier and could more easily pull them to their deaths underwater. They were well and truly fucked.

  Horace sat beside her, tucking his legs underneath him. “Your despair is leaking.”

  She smiled grimly. “Sorry.”

  “The drushka seem hopeful.” He looked toward the queens. “What’s the plan?”

  She gave him a dark look.

  “Right,” he said. “No plan. Not good.”

  “Wishing you’d stayed in Gale?”

  “I’ve been wishing everyone was home and safe, but it’s not doing much good.” He nudged her arm. “Here comes Pool.”

  “Finally.” Cordelia stood, ready to hear what the queens had come up with.

  Pool walked lightly along the branches. She seemed tired but determined. Her green eyes were bright, even if her long frame seemed to droop. “The time for your battle is done, Sa,” Pool said as she reached them.

  Cordelia’s belly went cold. For all her dread, she’d never once considered quitting this field. “The Galeans need my help.”

  “Ahya, but only stealth will aid us now. I will sneak into the drushkan homeland alone and fight the Shi.”

  Cordelia tried to think of a crazier plan and couldn’t. “You’re going to sneak in—”

  “The other queens have agreed to distract the Shi while I do so.”

  Cordelia rubbed the bridge of her nose. She didn’t know whether to laugh in Pool’s face, burst into tears, or slug someone. “The other queens are going to distract every other drushka and five telepathic queens?”

  Pool slapped her thighs. “We have no other plan!”

  Cordelia told herself not to yell. Horace glanced at her, and she felt a wave of calm flow over her. “Thanks,” she muttered.

  “Anytime.”

  She took a deep breath. “Look, Pool, you and your people, you’re not used to…guile. I get that. But the other queens can’t just wave their arms and hope the enemy drushka will come running. They need a way to keep the enemy guessing. And you can’t go in alone unless your plan is to die immediately!” She took another breath. The image of Pool lying dead hurt more than she expected.

  Pool tossed her head, a rebellious gesture Cordelia had often seen from Shiv. “We will do what we must to free the other drushka and your people.”

  Horace cleared his throat. “Then let’s keep going as we have been: free the queens one by one. Then we’ll have more allies, or at least more drushka who will stay out of the way. If we free all the queens, you can walk right up to the Shi.”

  “According to my sister queens, the rest wait together under the Shi’s branches,” Pool said. “We will not find more alone. That is why the humans’ part in this fight is done.”

  “No, there has to be a way we can help.” Cordelia pictured armored bodies falling like rain. But even unarmored, her people were good. She tried to think of something the drushka wouldn’t expect, a trick. “The Shi is really pissed at humans. Maybe she’ll come after us if she thinks we’re vulnerable. The paladins can draw them, maybe with guns. Let them get close.”

  And then what? Without powered armor, the paladins couldn’t get away quickly. And they couldn’t stand around and be pummeled. Given time, the drushka could find a way into the armor.

  Unless they couldn’t get at it. “Even without power, the armor holds a little air, enough for a quick dive.” She grinned as the plan solidified in her mind. “The paladins lure the drushka, then jump in the water, walk along the bottom, and come up yards away. Open the visors, refill the air, and bait the drushka again. They can lead the drushka along, reduce the risk of bloodshed on both sides.”

  It sounded good in theory. If the swamp’s denizens steered clear. She had a flash of memory: a prog’s teeth squealing along her armor.

  Pool frowned. “Are you certain your paladins will do this, Sa?”

  “I’ll ask for volunteers. They’ll need to scout the area ahead of time. With the way the Shi hates us, nothing’s going to distract her like a pack of ornery humans.”

  “I know Lea would do it,” Horace said.

  Cordelia nodded. “I’ll put him in charge.”

  “And you, Sa?” Pool asked.

  “I’m coming with you.”

  Pool’s eyes widened. “You cannot!”

  “Can and will. I know we have at least one battery with some juice. You’ll need someone to block for you.” It made her smile just thinking of it. She wouldn’t have to worry how the fight was going because she’d be in the heart of it.

  “Sa—”

  “Here are your choices,” Cordelia said. “You can either take me with you or bury me in a hole; that’s the only way you’ll stop me.”

  Pool barked a laugh and lifted her hands. “I do not believe we could find enough ground to hold you, Sa.”

  Cordelia nodded. It was still an impossible plan, but it felt better now that she was at the middle. The only sticking point was breaking it to Nettle. Cordelia could already hear the conversation in her mind. Nettle would insist on going. Reach probably would, too. Cordelia would want to argue but didn’t know if she could. If she was going to risk her life on a crazy plan, how could she deny anyone else the privilege?

  She gestured around her at the waiting swamp. “When do we leave?”

  Chapter Ten

  Patricia perched on the roof of the bunkhouse and watched the workers in the late-afternoon sun. Jonah stood among them, directing them. She’d left him some of Dillon’s knowledge about defenses and turned the construction of the wall over to him. A good leader had to know when to delegate, after all.

  The base of the wall was made of stone, but the rest consisted of trees scavenged from the hills, more like the palisade of Gale, from what Dillon’s memories said. Jonah had others digging a ditch and planting sharpened stakes designed to hamper attackers and give archers along the palisade time to fire. It seemed like a good plan. Jonah was perfect, and Patricia smiled at the thought of him.

  Off to the side of the camp, another group of miners practiced archery with bows purchased from plains dweller clans. Dillon hadn’t known how to use a bow and arrow, but the plains dwellers had offered to teach.

  Well, offered was the wrong word. They’d had a little telepathic prompting. Patricia frowned, a tad guilty. She’d hoped she wouldn’t have to use her power on everyone she met, but convincing them the old-fashioned way was just so…time consuming.

  And difficult. She tried to remember if she’d ever talked anyone into doing something they weren’t inclined to do in her former life. For the most part, Jack had been a pushover. That was one of the traits she loved about him. He was the emotional one, the one who understood people.

  She’d disliked most people on Earth. She didn’t know what had made her think she could talk to them now. Distance? All the wisdom of spending hundreds of years as an observer in Naos’s mind?

  She sighed, supposing she simply had to accept the fact that she would be forever using her power as a…jumping-off point. After all, that was better than manipulating people with verbal trickery. At least her way, everyone enjoyed themselves. She could make sure of that.

  She looked back to Jonah as he barked at the workers. People didn’t seem to enjoy themselves in his company. Maybe she should have left him a bit of Dillon’s charm for when situations got tense.

  “Aw, thanks, sweets. I do try.”

  Patricia fought the urge to freeze. She breathed slowly, listening to the wind, to the sounds of work, the calls of the miners, and the thump of arrows hitting their targets. She made herself look around even though she knew there’d be no one
nearby. This voice wasn’t coming from Jonah. It never had been. It was in her head. An intruder. She tightened her shields and sent out a probe, looking for the source of the telepathic message. Even if it was Naos, she needed to know.

  Nothing. No tendrils of power, no telepathic signals, not even a tingle. Because it wasn’t telepathy? Maybe power wasn’t the only thing she’d taken from Naos. Maybe insanity had hitched a ride.

  Patricia’s heartbeat quickened, the sounds around her fading. She flashed back to being a watcher behind her own eyes, a mere flea in Naos’s mind. The world pressed down, blackness creeping into her vision as her senses went haywire. She could feel the gravity around her, hear the call of the stars, and feel the sensations of every single goddamn organism on the planet.

  Maybe once a mind had been Naos, it couldn’t go back to being alone.

  “No, no, no!” Patricia forced her breathing to slow. She pulled back the reach of her senses and focused on her own body: slowing the pulse, hearing only the closest sounds, and feeling only the nearest people. She could be alone in her head, voice or no voice. She would not surrender. The roaring in her ears calmed, making the blackness recede. The voice would be gone now. As long as she kept her mind in check—

  “Keep telling yourself that.”

  Patricia ground her teeth, her power whipping out. “Leave me alone!” This was someone fucking with her, had to be! She sent a telepathic tendril toward Celeste, not close enough that the Sun-Moon would sense her, just enough to see their telepathic network threading through their people, none of it reaching toward her. She checked with all the breachies. Nothing. She reached for Gale, careful here, too, not wanting to alarm Simon Lazlo. Most of the Galean powers were weak; nothing there could touch her.

  That left only one direction: up.

  No, she wouldn’t reach up there. Couldn’t. Naos might not be able to possess people anymore, but who knew what she would do if she got hold of a psychic tendril to her former prisoner. Patricia wouldn’t risk it. There had to be another explanation.