Allan didn’t argue, because he believed it was true.
Paul turned to face him. “Go. Save Kara. And when you have her back—and all of the others the bastards took—come back here. The Hollow will always welcome you.” His gaze flicked over Allan’s shoulder, then returned. “Someone’s here to see you.”
Allan turned to find Janis standing behind him, waiting. He went to thank Paul, but the elder had already moved away, wading into the activity surrounding the wagons, chiding a young boy who’d dropped one of the crates to slow down, it wasn’t a race, before helping him lift it into the back of the nearest wagon and ruffling the boy’s hair.
“He’s mellowed some.”
“Apparently.” Allan motioned toward the tunnel leading down to the lower caverns. “I need to find Hernande and Cory, see if they’ve located the Needle yet. Did you need something?”
“Only a few minutes of your time.”
“Of course. You took care of Morrell for most of her life, more a mother to her than anyone. What did you need?”
Janis didn’t answer immediately, falling into step as they left the storage cavern behind, the walls of the tunnel closing in on either side. They’d almost reached the point where the tunnel merged with the one holding the livestock when she said, “It’s about Morrell.”
He stopped dead. “What about her? Did something happen while I was gone? She hasn’t said anything.”
“I didn’t think she would. And no one else has probably thought to tell you. She healed people. First Claye, then Harper, and finally Cory.”
“She’s been working with Logan for a while. I’m certain she’s helped heal many people.”
“You don’t understand. She didn’t simply heal them, she healed them. She placed her hands on their wounds and within moments they were cured, or as close to cured that it still counts. Claye had an infection that Logan swore would kill him. Morrell touched him and the next day the infection was gone, washed clean out of him, and in another few days he was walking around. Unsteady and weak, but walking. Harper had a broken leg, the bone jutting out of the flesh. She touched him and within moments the bone was set. Cory’s leg was trapped under a stone—one of those that fell from the cavern ceiling during the quake—but Morrell—”
“Healed him.”
“Some of the Hollowers think she’s a Healer, like from the stories. A true Healer. Others mutter about her under their breath, afraid of her. Superstitious heathens.” Janis gripped Allan’s shoulder. “But I’m most concerned about Morrell. She hears all of it, the good and bad. She doesn’t know what to think. I spoke to her about it, but she’s so hard to read sometimes. She keeps so much to herself.”
Allan didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how he felt. Glad that it wasn’t something bad, but also worried about what it would mean for Morrell. Aurek was here because of the Wielders and the University mentors, because of what they could do. What would he think if he knew Morrell could heal? Kara and Dylan were in danger because they were different, because the White Cloaks wanted Wielders. He could easily envision any one of the groups that they’d met in Erenthrall—the Rats, the Tunnelers, even the Temerites and Gorrani—seeking out a true Healer, simply to have her, to use her.
“I’ll talk to her. Later.” He began moving back down toward the ley node’s chamber, where he knew he’d find Cory and Hernande.
Janis followed him.
They found them in the far corner of the node chamber, beyond the node itself, where the stone that had fallen in from the ceiling had been stacked. They’d used some of that stone to create a low rectangular wall about a foot high, sectioning off an area the size of a wagon bed that they’d filled with sand and pebbles from the scree and the pile of rock behind them. Both of them were standing over the sands, which were already in motion, shifting with a dry grinding sound.
“I’m not seeing anything of significance here.”
“There’s less activity to our west than I expected, although we haven’t gone that far afield yet. There must be something remaining in the Demesnes.”
“Someone will have survived there, yes, but who is to say how much of the ley system is still active? The Demesnes were never as densely populated as the Temerite lands to the east or even the Gorrani Flats and Archipelago to the south. Their ley system wasn’t as extensive. It may simply have been cut off by the Shattering.” Hernande glanced up as Allan and Janis stepped up to their sand pit.
“What have you found?” Allan asked.
“The sand we collected is coarser than what we used back at the University—or even in the Hollow—so the maps we get aren’t as refined, but I think we’ve found the Needle.” He looked toward Hernande, who motioned for Cory to continue.
Cory knelt down to the sands, reaching forward and sweeping his hand over them. The tracks of shifting sand and pebbles that indicated the active flows of the ley ceased moving, but not for long. The sand began to move again, tentatively, as if feeling out their new paths. “It was more difficult to do that than it should have been.”
“Do you use the ley to do it?”
“A small portion, to connect the Tapestry to the ley itself.”
“Then it was probably my presence. I’ve been skirting the node as much as possible, so I don’t interfere with anything.”
“Interesting.” Hernande considered him through narrowed eyes. “You affect the ley, but not the Tapestry. You didn’t disrupt our illusions, for example. I wonder why.”
Cory stood as the motion of the sands solidified. “We found this close to the area that Artras and Raven picked out on the makeshift map at the fire two nights ago.” He pointed to where the sand swirled near the center of the pit, seven distinct lines of sand flowing toward the vortex. “We think that’s the Needle. These two flows here are coming from Erenthrall, one from the north of the distortion, the other from the south. We think this thinner flow is coming from the old node Artras and Kara found in that town. And this one is from the node here. The others are coming from nodes to the west of the Needle.”
Allan leaned forward, but didn’t approach any closer. “What are these weaker lines here?”
Hernande answered. “Those are coming from Tumbor. Before the distortion quickened, they were likely much stronger, probably more so than the ones from Erenthrall, but they’ve been cut off. They’re trying to reestablish themselves, but their anchoring nodes are now inside the distortion. The area around Tumbor is in utter chaos, worse than Erenthrall after the Shattering. There are likely massive quakes occurring there, along with eruptions of the ley like we saw in the city.”
“Will you be able to find it once we’ve left the Hollow?”
“We can’t take the sand pit with us, but Artras says that she can follow the ley line, now that we know it leads to the Needle.”
“And you’re certain this is where the White Cloaks have gone?”
“It’s the strongest concentration of ley in the area.”
Cory crouched down abruptly. “Look.”
In the sands, one of the weak lines from Tumbor died out, a new, stronger line appearing slightly north of it, stretching from the Needle out toward—
“Farrade. Its anchor in Tumbor is gone, so it’s shifted to Farrade.”
“Or someone forced it to shift.”
Cory and Hernande shared a look. “If we’re right in our theory that the quakes are being caused by the shifting ley lines, then—”
Before he’d finished, the earth began to tremble. It started off light, then abruptly escalated. Allan crouched down, pulling Janis with him, shielding her with his body. People in the cavern cried out. The floor heaved once, twice. The ley at the node fountained higher, splashing the top of the cavern, but remained inside its circle of stellae. A scattering of fresh stone fell from the ceiling with a cascade of dirt, and a thin veil of dust filled the space, but
the tremors stopped, the earth settling again.
Sobs echoed through the chamber, interrupted by harsh coughing. People began to move again, tentatively. Others began calling out to their families, verifying they were all right.
Allan stood, dust and light debris falling from his shoulders. He helped Janis upright, then turned to Hernande and Cory, both picking themselves up from the floor, Cory pale and shaken. “Everyone all right?”
“It wasn’t that bad, because the ley lines being affected were so distant. The force created must be traveling through the ley network, affecting the areas along each line and node. And that force appears to be increasing with every change in the system. If this continues—”
“What?”
“The ley system may end up ripping the entire continent apart.”
Allan stared at him, unable to comprehend what that meant. The ramifications were too immense, too incomprehensible.
So he turned away, headed toward the tented area where he now slept with Janis and Morrell. Janis followed.
“Where are you going?”
“To find my daughter!” Then, over his shoulder: “Make certain Artras can find the Needle.”
He rounded the ley node, some of the Wielders clustered around it, including Raven. Allan assumed they were checking the ley after the quake. Raven opened her eyes long enough to nod in his direction, then resumed her work. When he reached the edge of the tents, he found people injured from some of the debris, along with a few of the tents collapsed. People were picking themselves up and dusting off, most shaken but unharmed.
He sped up as he neared his own tent, still standing, and ducked down into the opening. “Morrell?”
One look told him she wasn’t there. He swore and backed out, glaring out over the cavern. “Morrell!”
A woman a few tents down from them looked up. “I haven’t seen her since the quake, but she may have gone to find Logan and help with the wounded.”
“Thanks.”
“Logan’s set up a makeshift infirmary in the other cavern,” Janis said. “I’ll show you.”
They ascended the stairs built around the scree, still sturdy even after the quake, then headed deeper into the ridge, toward the second cavern. After a few turns and a sharp incline downward, the tunnel opened up into a chamber twice as large as the one containing the node. Lit by torches and cook fires, it housed the majority of the people from the Hollow, along with a sizable number of the refugees. Most of the smaller livestock—chickens, goats, sheep—were corralled off to the left, held in with hastily constructed rail fences. To the right, water gushed out of a crack in the wall, pooling below before running off through a crevice.
Logan had set up the infirmary near the water. At least a dozen people were waiting to be seen, one woman with blood dripping from her chin from a gash in her head, a man lying unconscious beside her. Another woman held a bawling child, rocking the girl back and forth while hushing her and inspecting a bruise on her arm.
Logan was stitching up a man’s sliced thigh. “Every time you move, it hurts worse.” Logan saw Allan and Janis approaching. “Where in hells is Morrell? I can use her help here.”
“She’s not here already?”
“No, I haven’t seen her since this morning. She’s probably up staring at that Wolf again.”
Allan stopped breathing. “What did you say?”
“That damned Wolf! She’s been hovering around its pen ever since you brought it in here!”
But Allan wasn’t listening any more. He was already halfway across the room. He knocked over a woman emerging from her tent, shot back an apology at her outcry, but didn’t slow.
From behind, Logan shouted, “Tell her to get her ass down here and help, if she wants to be a healer!”
Then Allan was in the tunnel, charging up toward the outer caves. He passed Paul on his way, the village elder startled.
Allan burst into the storage area, the men still working on loading the wagons. He sprinted toward the small enclosure where they’d placed the Wolf. Morrell stood at its entrance, staring inside, her eyes intent, her mouth set in a stubborn expression that reminded him so much of her mother that it brought him up short.
Morrell turned to look at him. “I can heal him.”
He was close enough to the enclosure now that he could see the Wolf inside, pacing back and forth at the end of his lead, as close to Morrell as it allowed. Its chest rumbled with a dangerous growl, its eyes feral, lips curled back. Patches of its fur were matted with dried blood from the meat it had been fed. None of the humanity Artras had forced him to see in it showed through now; it was only animal.
He reached for Morrell. “What do you mean?”
“There’s a man caught inside the Wolf. I can see him. I can heal him.”
She shifted toward the Wolf, but Allan jerked her back as it lunged, choking as its lead snapped it back, ropes creaking with the strain. It huffed in exasperation and resumed its pacing.
“You can’t, poppet. It’s too dangerous.”
“I’m not a poppet. And I’m not a child anymore.”
Allan choked, as if he were on his own lead. He lowered his hands to his knees. “I know, Morrell. But—” He halted. He couldn’t simply forbid it. She was too old for that. He needed to reason with her, like an adult.
“How do you know you can heal him? How do you know it will work?”
“I know I can. I healed Claye. And then Harper and Cory, and Cory’s foot was crushed. I shouldn’t have been able to fix that. But I did. And the Wolf—the man inside the Wolf—he hurts. I can help him.”
Allan held her gaze for a long moment, thinking of Morrell’s mother, Moria, of everything Artras had said as they argued over killing the Wolf, of the sparks of humanity he’d caught in the Wolf’s eyes as they traveled here before the animal took over again.
Finally he lifted his eyes to the rock ceiling overhead. “Forgive me, Moria.”
Then he grabbed Morrell’s shoulder. “We’ll let you try. But we’ll have to secure him so that he can’t hurt you.”
It took the rest of the day and the cursing of three additional men to get the Wolf tied and muzzled in the enclosure. Allan stood two paces away, arms and back scratched, blood staining his shirt where it was torn, but the wounds weren’t deep. He stank of sweat, his skin gritty and slick. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, redistributing the dirt, then turned from the panting Wolf to look behind.
A crowd had gathered, Morrell in the front, waiting patiently. She’d watched as they attempted to snag the Wolf to secure him, calling out orders not to hurt him, even after he’d latched onto one of the men’s arms with his teeth before he could snatch it away. She’d healed that while the rest continued their work with the Wolf.
Behind Morrell, Paul, Sophia, Artras, Cory, Hernande, and what felt like half of the village watched, mostly in silence, only a few muttered conversations here and there. They sat or stood on the wagons. A few had climbed the stacks of crates and barrels against the far wall in order to see. All of them were watching Allan.
He eyed Morrell. “I’m still not comfortable with this, but if you want to try—”
“I do.”
Allan stepped to one side to let her by, but didn’t back off. He wanted to be ready to snatch her away if the Wolf so much as twitched. The Wolf began to growl as she approached, its eyes narrowed in hate. It struggled against the muzzle, teeth gnashing, lips curled back. Allan jerked forward when it tried to lash out with its claws. But the ropes held.
The growl deepened as Morrell knelt down at its side. It thrashed as much as it could. His daughter looked so fragile beside it, its strange size emphasized by her smaller frame. But then she reached forward with both hands and laid them gently against its heaving side and it yelped, the growl cut off, replaced by a heart-wrenching whine. Its thrashing ceased
and it stilled, panting heavily.
Morrell glanced once toward Allan, as if seeking encouragement, then turned back to the Wolf and closed her eyes.
After a long moment of tense silence with nothing happening, Morrell’s brow furrowed. Then it relaxed and she opened her eyes without removing her hands from the Wolf’s fur. She looked over her shoulder. “Something’s blocking me.”
“It’s the Wolf. Maybe he doesn’t want to be healed. Maybe—”
“No, Da.” Morrell met his gaze. “It’s you.”
Allan’s mouth hung open in a moment of incomprehension, then snapped shut. Like the ley, he must somehow disrupt his own daughter’s healing. That would explain why it hadn’t manifested until now. He and Morrell had always been together, from the moment she’d been born. The only time they’d been apart for a significant amount of time had been during his runs into Erenthrall, both before and after the Shattering, and she’d only recently begun working with Logan. Had he held her back these last few years, simply by being with her?
The pang of guilt burrowed deep into his gut as he reluctantly backed off, those gathered parting to let him through, until he stood over thirty feet away. Bryce took his place without hesitation. Janis shifted back to stand by him, gripping his hand in hers without a word.
Morrell returned her attention to the Wolf. She closed her eyes again, tilted her head upward.
Everyone gasped when the auroral light began to flicker around her hands, purple-red, flecked with gold. The Wolf broke into another whine that increased in pitch until it became a low, mournful howl. The auroral light spread outward, followed by sickening pops and cracks, like bone snapping and splintering. The howl broke into snarls and the Wolf began to struggle again as the nauseating sounds continued. The people around Allan gagged, one or two shouting in horror. A woman screamed and fainted.
Then the snarls morphed from animalistic agony into human moans of pain. Beneath the aurora, the Wolf’s fur shortened and receded, flesh appearing in patches. The forelegs shrank with a gruesome crunch and the paws elongated into fingers and hands. The chest cavity remained mostly the same, but the lower torso twisted and cracked, Allan thankful that Morrell’s body and those standing between them blocked his sight of most of what happened there. The Wolf’s muzzle shortened, along with the neck.
Threading the Needle Page 42
