Touch of Power

by Maria V. Snyder

  I grabbed his hand. Warm calloused fingers surrounded mine. He tugged me down the corridor. I hadn’t been paying close attention when I had arrived, but I knew this way led to more cells. There was one door into the jail. And loud noises emanated from that direction. Fear twisted. Crazy how a few hours ago I hadn’t cared if I lived or died, but now a desperate need to live consumed me.

  Our way dead-ended, but Kerrick pushed open the last cell’s door. Moonlight and cold air streamed from a small window high on the stone wall.

  Kerrick whistled like a night robin. A young man poked his head though the opening. “What took you so long?” he asked, but didn’t wait for an answer as he reached both hands out.

  “Grab his wrists,” Kerrick said as he boosted me up.

  I clasped wrists with him. He pulled me through the window with surprising speed and strength for a skinny kid. His feat was due to the two men holding his legs. He reached in for Kerrick and I noticed the window had been covered with iron bars at one time. The stumps of the bars appeared as if they had rusted right through.

  Glancing around, I understood why these men had used this window. The back of the jail faced a pasture and stable for the watchmen’s horses. Since the jail marked the edge of town, there were no other buildings behind it. Just the well-used north-south trade route.

  Kerrick joined us. A crash echoed, a man cursed and then the pounding drum of many boots grew louder, heading toward us.

  “Belen.” Kerrick sighed the name.

  “Flee or fight?” the young man asked.

  Kerrick glanced at me. “Flee.”

  After hopping the pasture’s fence, we raced to the woods. The herd of watchmen behind us sounded as if they would tread on my heels at any moment. The last remnants of the drowning sickness impeded my breathing and I gasped for air. For a second, I marveled that Fawn had lived as long as she had.

  When we reached the edge of the forest, Kerrick shouted, “Become one with nature, gentlemen. We’ll meet at the rendezvous point.” He snatched my hand.

  Kerrick led me through the dark woods, but my passage sounded loud compared to his. However, my stumbling noises became undetectable when the watchmen chasing us burst into the woods. The cracks of breaking branches and crunching leaves dominated.

  They soon settled and moved with care, pausing every couple of minutes to listen for us. Holding their lanterns high, they spread into a line. I counted twenty points of light. Kerrick stopped when they did, but our progress remained agonizingly slow. I feared my recapture was imminent unless we encountered a Death Lily first and it consumed us. I shuddered at the thought. I’d rather go to the guillotine than be snatched by a man-eating plant.

  “There they are,” a voice called.

  I froze, but Kerrick seized my shoulders, ordered me to stay quiet and flung us to the ground. We rolled through the underbrush. A strange vibration pulsed through my body. The sounds of pursuit approached. Convinced they would trample us, I clung to him as my world spun. We halted with me flat on my back.

  Kerrick covered me from view. He kept most of his weight on his elbows. He peered to our right. Shadows bounced as boots stepped near us. A few watchmen came within inches.

  My throat itched with the need to cough. I suppressed the overwhelming desire to squirm, to yell, to scratch. Then the rustling of leaves and tread of boots faded. I relaxed, but Kerrick kept his protective position.

  “Once they realize they lost us, they will come back,” he said.

  So I remained still despite the cold dampness from the recent rains soaking into my clothes. Despite Kerrick’s warm body pressed against mine. Despite his intoxicating scent tickling my nose. He smelled of living green, moist earth and spring sunshine. Two of the three made sense, since leaves and dirt covered his clothes as well as mine. I couldn’t explain the sunshine. The fall season was in full swing. I suspected my lack of sleep played a role in altering my senses.

  To distract myself from my uncomfortable position and his closeness, I watched the moon descend through the trees. It would set soon, leaving us in total darkness for a few hours.

  As Kerrick had predicted, the watchmen returned. Light swept dangerously close. Footsteps crunched nearby. My heart thumped so loud, I swore it would give us away. And just when I wanted to scream, they were gone.

  We waited for a while, listening for many nerve-racking minutes…hours…days. Or so it seemed. Finally, Kerrick stood and pulled me to my feet. I swayed. Icy air clawed at my skin through my wet clothes.

  He scanned the sky. “We need to put as much distance between us and Jaxton before sunrise,” he said. “Can you keep up?”

  I drew in a deep breath, testing my lungs. The drowning sickness had finally gone. “Yes.”

  “Good.” He took my hand.

  A tingle spread up my arm. I debated breaking his hold, but Kerrick moved through the forest with confidence. Once the moon set, the trail disappeared. Kerrick slowed our pace, but otherwise he continued on as if he could see in the dark, leaving me stumbling in his wake.

  By the time the sun rose, I had lost all sense of direction, I was frozen and exhausted. Trusting this stranger seemed like a good idea in the middle of the night, but in the light of day, I questioned my judgment. What would stop Kerrick from turning me in for the bounty after I healed his friend? Nothing. His promise not to hurt me hadn’t included his accomplices. Still, for now, my head remained attached to my shoulders. A positive thing. I decided to stay alert and stick to my own survival instincts—taking it one problem at a time.

  As daylight lit the red, yellow and orange colors of the forest, Kerrick increased his pace. I dug in my heels and tried to extricate my hand from his, but he wouldn’t let go.

  Stopping to glance at me in annoyance, he asked, “What’s the matter?”

  “I need to rest. Healers are not indestructible. If I’m too weak, I won’t be able to cure your friend.”

  While he considered, I studied him. The color of his eyes matched the forest—russet with flecks of gold, orange and maroon. Blond streaks shot through his light brown hair. Most of his shoulder-length locks had escaped a leather tie. He was five inches taller than my own five-foot-eight-inch height. And I guessed he was five to ten years older than me.

  “It’s too dangerous to be out in the open. We’re not far from the rendezvous point,” he said.

  “How long?”

  “Another hour. Maybe two. If you’d like, I can carry you.”

  “No. I’ll be fine.”

  He quirked a smile at my quick reply, causing his sharp features to soften just a bit. Some women might think him pleasing to the eye in a rugged way. Four thick scars—two on each side of his neck appeared to be bite marks from some beast.

  As he pulled me along, I wondered what animal had had its teeth around Kerrick’s throat. The ufa were reported to be thriving and breeding like rabbits. Feeding off the plague victims’ dead bodies, the large carnivore possessed the strength and pointed canines to rip open a man’s throat. Packs of them lived in the southern foothills of the Nine Mountains.

  After another hour of hiking, I lost all feeling in my feet. I stumbled. Kerrick grabbed my arm, preventing me from falling.

  “Another two miles,” he said.

  “Just…give me…a minute,” I puffed while he didn’t have the decency to even appear winded. “Aren’t you tired?”

  “No.” He gazed at the surrounding forest. “In the past two years, I’ve walked thousands of miles, searching for a healer.”

  “No horses?”

  “No. They’re too big to hide.” Seeing my confusion, he added, “We didn’t want anyone to know about our mission. Healers are skittish.”

  “Most prey are.”

  “True.”

  “Ho
w many healers did you find in those two years?” I asked.

  He met my gaze. “One.”

  My heart twisted. “But you heard of others. Right?”

  “Yes. Pattric of Tobory, Drina of Zainsk, Fredek of Vyg and Tara of Pomyt.”

  Tara had been my mentor. I had lost track of her whereabouts during the awful plague years. “And?” I dreaded the answer.

  “Executed before we could reach them.”

  Even though I’d braced for it, the news slammed into me. I sank to the ground and covered my face with my hands. My little delusion that the healers had been holed up together burst. They hadn’t deserved their fate. Grief rolled through me, jamming at the base of my throat.

  When the waves settled, I asked, “Anyone else?”

  “Just you.”

  “How did you find me?”

  “Later. We need to keep moving. It’s not far.” He pulled me to my feet.

  In a daze, I followed him. My hands and feet were numb. It was a shame I couldn’t say the same for my heart. There hadn’t been many healers before the plague—about a hundred. When my family had learned that Tara agreed to take me in as her student, we’d all been excited. My tattooing ceremony had been the best moment of my life.

  Kerrick’s voice jerked me from my memories.

  “In here,” he said, gesturing to a narrow opening between two oversize boulders.

  I glanced around. The stones were part of a larger rock fall, resting at the base of a steep cliff.

  Kerrick grabbed my wrist, tugging me along as he squeezed through the gap. Probably afraid he’d lose me. I guess I couldn’t blame him. If I had been searching so long, I’d be extra-protective, as well.

  We entered a dark cave. The wet smell of limestone mixed with the acrid odor of bat droppings. Lovely. Kerrick paused to let our eyes adjust. After a few minutes, I noticed a yellow glow coming from our left. He turned in that direction and soon we arrived at a small chamber.

  A campfire burned in the center of a ring of stones. The two leg-holders from last night’s rescue sat beside it. They scrambled to their feet with wide smiles when they noticed us.

  “Loren, why didn’t you post a guard?” Kerrick asked the man on our right.

  The men exchanged a glance.

  “I did,” Loren said.

  Kerrick flung me at him. “Watch her. Quain, you’re with me.” He pulled his sword and left with Quain right behind him.

  In the tense silence, Loren studied me. “I’m watching. Are you going to do any tricks?”

  I searched his expression, gauging if he was serious or not. “I can juggle.”

  Interest flared in his blue eyes. “How many balls?”

  “Five.”

  “Impressive. Anything else?”

  “Six scarves, but it can’t be windy. And three daggers.”

  “Ohh. That would be something to see. Too bad Kerrick would never allow it.”

  “Why not?”

  “You might cut yourself.”

  “So? I’m a healer.”

  “Exactly. You’re the last one. From now on, our sole purpose is to protect you.”

  The last one. Loren’s words sliced through me. Hard enough to be a healer, but to be the sole survivor increased the pressure and the fear. At least these men appeared to be safeguarding me. After all, they had rescued me from certain death. Loren’s pleasant expression seemed genuine. He was older than Kerrick. Maybe thirty-five. His black hair had been cut so short, the strands stood straight up.

  “What happens after I heal your friend?” I asked.

  “You’ll be a hero,” he said.

  Chapter 3

  “Everyone hates healers, so why would healing your friend make me a hero?” I asked Loren.

  “We don’t hate you. And when he’s better, he’s going to—”

  Loud voices interrupted him. Kerrick and Quain returned with the young man who had pulled me from the jail between them. The boy’s long brown hair hung in his eyes, but it didn’t cover his chagrined expression.

  “What happened?” Loren asked.

  “He fell asleep,” Kerrick said. “Why would you assign him first shift?”

  “He offered.”

  “He’s sixteen, Loren. He’s been awake all night.”

  “And so have we.”

  “Yet you were still awake when I arrived. Why’s that?” Kerrick’s flat tone was scarier than if he’d been shouting.

  “We couldn’t sleep. We were concerned about you and the healer,” Loren said.

  “So was I,” the young man said.

  “Yet you were fast asleep,” Kerrick said. “You’re growing, Flea. Don’t volunteer for the first shift until you’re twenty. Understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Kerrick glanced around the chamber. “Has Belen arrived?”

  “No,” Quain answered. He swept a hand over his bald head as if he could smooth away the lines of worry etched into his brow. He had no visible weapons, yet Kerrick had taken him as backup. Perhaps the thick muscles barreled around his chest, shoulders and upper arms were all the weapons he needed. I guessed he was close to my age.

  “Everyone get a few hours’ sleep. Flea, make sure our…guest is comfortable. I’ll stand guard,” Kerrick said. He strode from the room without waiting to see if his orders were obeyed.

  Flea shot me a lopsided grin. Between the locks of unkempt hair, humor sparked in his light green eyes. “Would you like to sleep on the right or left side of the fire, ma’am?” he asked.

  “There’s no need for formalities. My name’s Avry.” I stood near the fire, letting my hands and feet soak in the warmth.

  “Oh, I know,” Flea said. “Avry of Kazan Realm. We’ve been looking for you for ages.”

  The three men stared at me. “Should I juggle now?” I asked Loren.

  He laughed, breaking the awkwardness. “Sorry, but it’s hard to believe that we caught up to you. That you’re standing here. With us. We’ve been following your, ah, adventures for almost a year.”

  I hadn’t suspected. That alarmed me. “How?”

  “Rumors, mostly,” Quain said. “We’d hear about a child being healed in various towns across the Fifteen Realms. By the time we’d arrived, you were gone. A couple of times you were spotted leaving so we at least had a direction to follow. Sometimes we just had to guess which way you’d go.”

  “Pure luck we were in Jaxton when you were arrested,” Flea said.

  “Not really,” Loren said. “Kerrick started catching on to her pattern a few months ago.”

  “My pattern?”

  “Heading generally northwest, and stopping only in the bigger settlements. You’d last about…six, maybe eight weeks before healing a child and taking off.” Loren settled on his bedroll next to the fire.

  When I thought about it, he was right. A zing of fear traveled up my spine. If I survived this mission, I would have to be extra-vigilant.

  “We’re really surprised you weren’t caught by the locals sooner,” Quain said. He unrolled his blankets.

  “Why?” I turned my back to the flames, hoping to dry my damp clothes.

  “We had a list of healers,” Loren said. “But by the time we learned of their location, they’d been executed. We always heard the same gossip. That they had been caught by doing something stupid.”

  “Like healing a child,” I said. My obvious weakness. Although I’d tried hard to avoid it by keeping to myself and limiting how much time I spent with other people.

  “Not that at all.” Flea fussed with his bedroll. “You’re the only one who was smart enough to take off after you healed a kid. The other healers figured the grateful person or paren
t wouldn’t turn them in. They didn’t bother to disguise themselves like you, either.”

  I tucked a short strand of blond hair behind my ear. Some disguise. I cut my hair and dyed it. I still used my own name. It was amazing I hadn’t been arrested sooner. But then I remembered what Loren had said. “How did you get a list of healers?”

  He shrugged. “Kerrick had it. He probably raided one of the old town halls for the records. Didn’t the healers have a guild before?”

  Before always meant pre-plague. “Yes.” But my name shouldn’t have been on it.

  My apprenticeship with Tara had started when I turned sixteen—mere months before the first outbreak. Once the sickness raced across the Realms, she stopped teaching me. Instead of earning my membership in the Guild, I returned to Lekas, my home town in Kazan, to find my family gone. They were either dead or had left. None of the living could tell me. And when the rumors about the healers grew into accusations and turned into executions, no one wished to talk. I had spent my seventeenth birthday hiding in a mud puddle as my neighbors and former friends hunted for me. After three years with no word about my family, I’d lost all hope of ever finding them or even knowing what happened to them.

  I glanced around the small cavern. A couple of leather rucksacks slumped in a corner, but other than stone walls and a fist-size opening in the ceiling high above our heads, there was nothing else.

  At least the cave was warm and dry. However, I eyed the hard ground with dread, longing for my knapsack. It had held my thin bedroll, money, some travel rations and my cloak.

  Flea finished setting up his blankets. But instead of settling in, he swept an arm out. “Ma’am, uh, Avry, your bed awaits.”

  I jerked in surprise. “No need to give up your—”

  “Kerrick said to make you comfortable. If I don’t, he’ll kill me. Besides—” he flashed me that lopsided grin again “—these are Kerrick’s.”