Heir of Hope (Follower of the Word Book 3)

by Morgan L. Busse

  Sunlight pulsed across her eyes. Nierne closed them and sagged forward in her saddle. If only she could slip off and lie down in the shade. Did the desert make everyone this hot?

  Nierne grabbed at the scarf wrapped around her head. She gave it a hard tug and pulled it off. The sun blazed down on her face in a shower of heat and light, soaking through her hair. She dropped the scarf and closed her eyes. She swayed in the saddle.

  So . . . hot. She pulled at her tunic again. When she opened her eyes, everything looked blurry. Her tongue felt ten times bigger now, filling up her entire mouth. Her cheeks burned and her body felt as though it were on fire. If only she could get these wretched rags off . . .

  Nierne tugged at her tunic again, but her fingers were weak. She could hardly see Lore and Caleb. They were two large blotches against the light brown landscape.

  So hot . . . She started slipping from her horse. She tried to catch herself, but her fingers wouldn’t latch onto the saddle.

  Thump.

  She lay still on the warm sand. Her hand went back to her neckline, barely tugging now. A voice called out her name. She tried to lift her head, but it felt as though it had swelled too.

  So hot . . .

  Caleb was one with the desert. The heat invigorated him, washing down on him, spreading across his body. The air, dry and hot, but also free of the smells of Azar and civilization.

  He saw life where no one else saw life: the waves in the sand left behind by a desert viper, a sand fox slipping behind the dunes at dusk, light brown-speckled lizards racing across the hot sand in search of insects.

  Nierne and Lore did not see the desert the same way he did. He saw their peevish looks each morning and heard the complaints under their breath. Such a shame. The desert was a beautiful place, especially in the spring when the rains came and the brush went from dull to a riot of colors. Flowers of every shape and size: oranges, purples, yellows, and pinks. They only lasted until the last rains fell and the desert dried out again. But it was a sight to be seen, like a rainbow spread out across the sand.

  A desire rose up inside him. He wanted to bring Nierne here again someday. He wanted her to see the desert bloom, and see the look on her face. He wanted her to see it the same way he did, to see the beauty of his home. Strange. He shook his head. He had never desired such a thing with someone before. Always the loner. Until now.

  Speaking of Nierne . . .

  “Nierne.” Caleb looked back. “How are you—Nierne!”

  She lay face down on the sand a hundred feet away, her horse still plodding forward.

  He gave his reins a hard yank and turned around. “Nierne!”

  Lore stopped and looked back.

  Caleb flew past him. What happened? Did she faint? Heat exhaustion? Something more? He had made her drink every hour. What had he missed?

  Lore shouted behind him.

  Caleb ignored him and jumped from his horse. He fell to his knees beside her and pulled her up to his chest. Her head slumped to the side.

  “So hot . . .” Her eyes rolled up inside her head, her fingers tugging at her neckline.

  Caleb felt her forehead, then swore. Word, please. Not this.

  “What is it?” Lore knelt down beside him. “Too much sun? Does she need more water?”

  “No.” Caleb drew her hand away from her neckline. He had to make sure. He laid her head across his knees and, holding her hand back, pulled her tunic away.

  Lore grabbed his wrist. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Sands, Lore! I’m not looking down her shirt! I’m checking for . . .” His gaze swept across the area beneath her collarbone. A red rash spread across her pale skin. He closed his eyes. “She has desert fever.”

  Lore let go. “Desert what?”

  “No time.” Caleb brought her tunic back up and covered the area. “We need to get Nierne out of the sun.” He looked around. Nothing but sandy hills shimmering with heat waves. And night wouldn’t be here for a couple more hours. He glanced at Lore. “Help me get her on my horse. I’ll ride with her. Then retrieve her mount.”

  Before Lore could say anything, Caleb laid Nierne back on the sand. He stood and turned toward his horse. With one swift motion, he mounted and looked back.

  Lore lifted Nierne up. Her hair fell away from her face, a cascade of deep red curls. Somewhere along the way she must have pulled off her scarf. Caleb reached down and grabbed her beneath the arms. Together, the men hoisted her up onto Caleb’s mare. Caleb placed her in front of him, her legs dangling off the side of the horse.

  Lore waited, hands still up, ready to catch Nierne if she fell. “You have her?”

  Caleb tugged a little more. “Yes.”

  “I’ll go get her horse.”

  Nierne moaned and laid her head down on his chest, just below his chin. The fever definitely had to be messing with her mind. The Nierne he knew would not be so comfortable this close to him.

  Where could they find shade until nightfall? He stared toward the northwest. A gorge lay not too far in that direction. It was narrow, but they could probably fit and stay there until evening.

  He pulled at the scarf around his head. After a couple tugs, it came loose.

  “Here you go.” He pulled the cloth over her head.

  “No.” Nierne pushed her face into his shirt. “Too hot . . .”

  He laid the cloth over her head. The less she was exposed to the sun, the better.

  As Lore rode toward him, the reins of Nierne’s horse in his hand, Caleb pointed toward the northwest. “There is a small gorge not far from here. We will head there and let her rest in the shade. Long exposure to the sun can intensify desert fever.”

  “Is this desert fever fatal?”

  Memories of his mother flashed across his mind. “Yes. My mother died from it.”

  “Then lead the way.”

  Holding Nierne tight with one hand, Caleb reached behind and retrieved a small compass from his bags. He held the device in front of him and watched the needle move until it found north. Then he turned the horse until they faced a couple ticks west.

  He could see nothing but hills of sand. But he knew the ridge lay somewhere in those hills. He tucked the compass back in his bag. “This way.”

  He was tempted to urge the horse into a full out run, but he couldn’t hold Nierne and the reins securely. So he settled for a fast pace that kept the rocking down.

  A minute later, Lore caught up to him, riding a few feet away with Nierne’s horse trailing behind him.

  The men made their way across the empty desert. Nierne tried to pull the scarf away from her face.

  “No.” Caleb transferred the reins to the hand holding Nierne and pulled the scarf back up. “You don’t want to do that.”

  She didn’t seem to hear him. Her hand fell back down and she muttered incoherent words. His gut coiled. How long had she had the fever? Hours? A day? She hadn’t seemed any different that morning. The fear settled down a little. Hours then.

  “Have you considered healing her?”

  Caleb frowned. “What do you mean?” Did Lore think he was a miracle worker? Sure, he knew a thing or two about herbs, more along the line of poisons than anything else. But not enough to combat desert fever.

  “Healing her. Or maybe you can’t.”

  Caleb shook his head. “I’m afraid there is no herb or flower here in the Great Desert that can help Nierne. If we were back in Azar, then maybe I could find a healer skilled enough to heal her.”

  “No, I mean you.” Lore glanced at Caleb. “Eldarans can heal others. Or at least Rowen could.”

  What the—? “Wait, you think I have some kind of power that can heal people?”

  “You might. It depends on how strong your Eldaran blood is.”

  Caleb looked down at Nierne, her face shaded by the scarf
, her eyes closed tight. He could heal her? “Sands . . . what else don’t I know about myself?” He turned toward Lore. “How does it work? What do I do?”

  “With Rowen, the power came through the mark on her hand. All she had to do was touch someone.”

  “That’s it? I just touch Nierne and the fever will be gone?”

  “Not necessarily.”

  Caleb scowled. “Then what?”

  “Rowen could only heal herself. By touching someone, she took the person’s broken bones or sickness. Or knife wound.” Lore gave him a pointed look.

  Why was Lore looking at him like . . . Oh. He sat back in the saddle, his arm still wrapped around Nierne. So that was it. That’s how Lore survived the night Caleb stabbed him. Rowen had healed him. Or taken his wound. He could hear the trace of bitterness in Lore’s voice. Lore had not forgiven him for that night.

  “So if I have this power, when I touch Nierne, I will take the fever from her.”

  “Yes.”

  His heart beat faster. He remembered the searing heat and hallucinations from his own experience with desert fever as a child. It was also what killed his mother when he was sixteen.

  Caleb held his hand up. The mark, usually faint, now stood bright white against his tan skin. Did he have that power?

  “How long would I be sick?” Caleb looked over at Lore. “If I take the fever from Nierne, how long would I be sick?”

  Lore shook his head. “I don’t know. Hours. A day. I think it depends on how serious the sickness or wound is.”

  Nierne moaned and moved her head. The scarf fell away from her face. Her eyelids fluttered. An unnatural flush colored her cheeks. The red blotch was now spreading up her neck. She opened her eyes. Her eyebrows drew together when she saw his face. “Caleb?”

  A strange feeling coursed through him at the sound of his name. She moved her mouth again, but no words came. Slowly, her eyes shut and her head rested once again against his chest. Caleb readjusted the scarf across her face, making sure none of her skin showed. Word, he wanted to help her. But if he took her fever, and became as incapacitated as she was now, who would lead them across the desert? He would be in no shape to help them. And one misstep in this place meant death.

  But if he didn’t heal her–assuming he even could–she might die.

  After an hour they reached the top of the hills. Down below a crack formed between the mounds of sand. The gorge. Caleb led the way, carefully finding a path down toward the crack. The gorge was narrow, only a couple horses wide with rocky walls the color of reddish brown reaching just above his head. It was small, but it would hide them from the sun.

  He found a spot where they could enter the gorge. Pebbles fell from the path with soft plinks and scattered across the stone bottom of the gorge. His horse hesitated near the bottom.

  “It’s all right, girl.” Caleb gave her a soft pat. The mare stepped onto the floor and into the shadows. He urged her farther in, and looked back. Lore followed a couple feet behind him.

  Tufts of coarse grass grew along the walls. Good. It would give the horses something to eat. And they had enough water to make it to the Merida Oasis. A minute later, Lore approached Caleb’s left side and reached for Nierne. Caleb lifted her down. Sweat soaked the front of his tunic and arm where she had laid moments before.

  Lore carried her to the other end of the gorge, away from the horses. Caleb dismounted and grabbed his pack. As he approached, Lore placed Nierne down on a blanket he had laid out for her in the shadows of an overhanging rock.

  Could he do it? Caleb turned away. It wasn’t so much if he could physically do it, but could he selflessly do it? Part of him didn’t want to. He didn’t want to experience the heat, the hallucinations, the pain of desert fever.

  So you’ll let Nierne experience that instead?

  How could it be that after all he had been through, after all the Word had done for him, that he was still so selfish? Wasn’t he a new person? A changed person? Then why did he seem to still combat old desires?

  Well, not this time. Caleb turned back around, his marked hand clenched. He would not let his baser self win out. He walked toward Lore, his fear and revulsion tucked away. He knew how to act without feeling, and he would do so now.

  Lore looked up. “So you will try then.” It was more of a statement than a question.

  “Yes.”

  Caleb knelt down beside Nierne and cupped her cheek.

  And waited.

  A sluggish warmth rose inside him. It slowly moved through his chest and toward his hand. He felt it fill his palm. His shoulders sagged in relief. Good. He had the power.

  The warmth continued to swirl inside his palm. Seconds ticked by. Far off, the horses munched on the coarse grass. Caleb lifted his hand and cupped her cheek again. The heat from her skin radiated across his own.

  Still the warmth swirled in his palm.

  Caleb swore under his breath. Nierne moved her head back and forth and moaned. “Why isn’t it working?” He held her face still with his hand, willing the warmth inside him to move forward, to do whatever it was supposed to do. He felt a flicker of heat, then nothing.

  Caleb swore again, louder, and looked up at Lore. “I’m touching her, but nothing is happening. What am I doing wrong?”

  Lore sat down on his heels and looked at Caleb’s hand, then back at Caleb. He shook his head.

  Caleb gritted his teeth. Why couldn’t he do it? He closed his eyes and pressed his hand to Nierne’s face. Come on! I can feel you, just work! A vision of Nierne gaunt with sickness filled his mind. He closed his eyes and leaned forward, focusing on the warmth in his palm. Please.

  Far off, Nierne moaned again.

  “You’re hurting her.”

  Caleb blinked.

  Lore pulled on his arm. “You’re hurting Nierne.”

  “What?” Caleb looked down and found he was gripping her face tightly with his marked hand. He let go as if he had been burned. Small, red spots marked where his fingers had dug into her skin.

  He stood, his mouth tight. He spun around and headed toward the path that led out of the gorge. Up he went, along the path, until he was out in the sun again. The heat inside him cooled to a deadly cold. He stood there on the ledge, his face toward the setting sun, his body still. The only movement he made was to clench his hand.

  He watched the sun, a fiery ball of red sink slowly behind the sandy hills. Clench. Unclench.

  Minutes later something moved behind him.

  Clench.

  He measured his voice, letting none of the rage inside come through. “You said I could heal her.”

  Lore stopped behind him.

  Caleb didn’t look back. Instead, he focused on the ball of red.

  “I said you might.”

  The warmth still swirled inside his palm. Caleb squeezed his hand even tighter, digging his nails into his palm. “Well, it didn’t work.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Caleb turned around. “What good is having a power like this when I can’t even save the one person I—!” Oh Word. He took a step back.

  “You care about?” Lore watched him.

  Caleb turned back toward the sunset and crossed his arms. Lore was right. Word, he was right! Never had he cared about someone like this. Not even his mother or father, though perhaps his mother came closest. Certainly not enough to entertain the thought of actually going through pain on their behalf, though.

  Only Nierne.

  And he couldn’t even save her now.

  Maybe he should stop caring. It hurt too much.

  “I know what that is like. To watch someone you love suffer pain.”

  Caleb growled and clenched his hand again.

  “You might not be able to heal Nierne.” Lore moved closer. “But she still needs you. She needs you to be there for her. When s
he wakes up.”

  Word, it was just easier when I was alone, when I only had myself to care about. But it was too late now. A piece of his heart lived outside his body. It now lived inside Nierne. He didn’t know if he had the strength to watch her . . . Caleb swallowed. “And what if she doesn’t?” A different kind of chill rushed through him.

  “Then you need to be with her at the end.”

  Was he strong enough? He had left his mother in the end, unable to watch her die. Could he stay with Nierne? Everything inside him urged him to grab his mare and ride off across the desert.

  Caleb dropped his head. No. Not this time.

  “All right.” He turned back around. His insides were a whirlwind, but he held his emotions in check with iron determination. If nothing else, Nierne would not be alone.

  He headed back down into the gorge. The shadows were longer now and the sky darker above. They would stay here a couple more hours, then ride through the night toward the Merida Oasis. Then Nierne could rest as long as she needed.

  He found her where he had left her, lying on the ground, her head slumped to the side, her hair splayed out around her. Her breathing seemed labored, causing adrenaline to spread throughout his entire body.

  He wanted to run again, but instead he knelt down beside her. Word, I wish I could heal her. He found her hand and held it between his own. Heat radiated from her like hot stones placed in a steaming room. His power pressed against his palm, but it never went further than that.

  His gift was not strong enough to heal another . . .

  But his heart was.

  He would stay.

  Chapter

  9

  A hard rap sounded at the door.

  Rowen blinked, her head resting against something hard. A knock sounded again. The room came into focus. Light green walls, white trim, and a pale marble fireplace.

  Where am I?

  She sat up. The right side of her body was bruised from lying on the cold floor. Weariness clung to her like a dense, grey fog. Images flashed across her mind: Two men, one dark, one pale. Following the strange herald man through the streets of Thyra. Collapsing to the floor.