Touch of Power

by Maria V. Snyder

  Numb with grief, I sat next to Flea as Kerrick and Belen discussed the macabre yet necessary task of burying him. Loren and Quain stood nearby, looking miserable.

  “…ground’s too hard, scavengers will dig him up,” Belen said.

  “…a pyre will alert every merc in Vyg of our whereabouts,” Kerrick said.

  “…cave…seal off the entrance?”

  I tuned them out as I remembered Flea’s energy and enthusiasm. His lopsided grin, puppy-dog pouts and utter joy as he mastered juggling three rocks. He had such potential… The word caused a flood of memories, but not of Flea. The Death Lily had wanted him. It said he had potential.

  Scrambling to my feet, I interrupted Belen and Kerrick. “Offer Flea to a Death Lily.”

  Their reactions matched. Shocked, repulsed, upset and angry. I explained as much as I could without sounding like a lunatic. They argued. Not surprising, it went against logic and compassion and plain old moral decency. But, damn it, I knew it was the right thing to do.

  “Avry, you’re grieving and not thinking clearly,” Belen said.

  “Belen, I spent hours inside a Lily. This is what we need to do for Flea.”

  Belen, Loren and Quain shook their heads sadly. They thought I had lost my mind. And maybe I had.

  “How can you not trust me?” I asked, attempting one last time. “Did you even see my sister’s joy at the prospect of my death? I could have stayed with Estrid and tried to repair the damage between us. But no, I…” My throat closed as tears threatened. “Forget it.” I turned my back to them so they wouldn’t see me cry.

  “There’s a cluster of Lilys about two miles west of here,” Kerrick said.

  I wiped my face and glanced back. Kerrick pressed his hand to the ground. “It’s in Vyg, but there’s no one else around.”

  “Are you nuts?” Quain asked. “You’re not going to—”

  “We are. Belen, get Flea’s blanket.”

  Belen wrapped Flea in the blanket and carried him over his shoulder. No one said a word. By the time we reached a grove, darkness had descended.

  Gently laying him down, Belen told a story of how he had taught Flea the facts of life and how the boy thought it was disgusting, but a few months later, he had changed his mind and asked for more details. Loren and Quain took a turn relating how they taught him to fight.

  “My son in all ways but one,” Kerrick said.

  The others agreed.

  I couldn’t speak.

  Kerrick removed the blanket and carried Flea over to a pair of trees. I went with him just in case the Lily attacked. The base of the tree trunks almost touched, but the upper trunks bowed away, making the trees look like a giant V. The Lily grew right behind them. Death or Peace? We’d find out soon enough.

  It didn’t hiss or move fast, but the petals parted, dipping toward Flea. The tips of the petals bent under his body. The Death Lily gathered Flea as if it were his mother. Then Flea was gone.

  We traveled north along the border road for the next six days. Encountering no resistance from Estrid’s platoons, or mercs, we covered roughly two hundred miles. Conversation was kept to the minimum. No one smiled or laughed or teased.

  At night, we followed a routine, gathering firewood, cooking a meal and sitting by the fire. Except we stared at the flames instead of talking. My thoughts dwelled on Flea or on one of the empty villages or farmsteads we passed that day. There had been so many. By the end of the night, I would be leaning against Belen. He’d wrap his heavy arm around my shoulder and we’d comfort each other. Poppa Bear had lost one of his cubs, and I think he suffered the most. Although, half the time I would fall asleep on him and he’d tuck me into my bedroll.

  Why Belen? His steady solid presence eased my pain. I considered him an ally and a protector. But more important, he was my friend. The first one I’d had since…before I left for my apprenticeship with Tara. Loren and Quain relied on each other. Not physically, but they were brothers in all but name. And Kerrick didn’t need or want anyone as far as I could tell. Jael had crushed his heart. It had shriveled and died in his chest four years ago. Yet, he strived to find a healer for Ryne. Perhaps he wasn’t beyond hope, after all.

  As I grieved for Flea, I began to believe Kerrick had it right. Keep a distance. Especially during this mission. It was dangerous. Too late for me. After having no friends or family for three years, I had grown quite attached to these three guys. Or was that four?

  On the seventh day, Kerrick veered to the east, taking a small road that branched from the main one. An icy wind blew, biting into exposed skin, reminding us that it was midwinter’s day. Before the plague, cities and towns across the Realms would celebrate the halfway mark to spring. Now, it passed with a sense of relief that we had gotten halfway through another winter without starving.

  Two hours later, Kerrick stopped at a large ruin. Three magnificent buildings had stood here at one time. Their fancy stone columns had toppled, their roofs had collapsed and their interiors had burned. Other smaller structures filled the area. All had met the same fate.

  “The compound of the Healer’s Guild,” Kerrick said.

  I had forgotten about visiting it. No surprise that it hadn’t survived. The people had been angry, miserable and grieving. We poked around the wreckage, searching for anything useful.

  Memories from my single visit to Guild headquarters bubbled to the surface of my mind. Healing, research and teaching had been their three goals. Each of the three grand buildings was dedicated to one goal. If I had graduated, my ceremony would have been in the building of teaching. Those seeking medical aid entered the building of healing. The last one housed those who worked to learn more about our healing powers and about the plants that could provide relief.

  The researchers shared the information with others, but they had also been careful in protecting all they had learned. One of Tara’s comments tugged. Something about a room known only to the healers. A place sheltered from the elements and secured. A room not located in the building of learning.

  I walked over to the smallest structure in the compound, but stopped. That would be too obvious. It would be an unremarkable building sized to match others around it.

  Kerrick followed me. “What are you looking for?”

  I explained about the hidden room. “It probably didn’t survive.”

  He considered. “If it is underground and protected by stone, it might still be here.” Instead of focusing on the buildings, he scanned the forest around us.

  I wondered why until I realized the forest had broken through the edges of the compound. Kerrick pressed a palm to the ground. If the roots had grown in far enough, he might be able to sense an oddness.

  Kerrick stood and headed east of the main buildings. I trailed behind him. He stopped at a building that met my criteria—basically unremarkable.

  “An underground room?” I asked.

  “Maybe. There’s something underneath this building.”

  We called the guys over. Everyone helped to clear the rubble. Belen’s strength continued to amaze me as he hefted large pieces of the broken stone wall with ease. As we worked, a sense of purpose formed. And for the first time in days, I wasn’t brooding over Flea’s death. After a while, I noticed the others making a few comments. Quain teased Loren for his girlie arms. Belen growled good-naturedly at Kerrick to stop supervising and to get back to work. It wasn’t the same as before, but it was a start.

  It took us a day to unearth the top half of a potential doorway. As we cleared the debris, dark gray clouds crept over the ice-blue sky. Quain frowned at the approaching front and studied the clouds. He sniffed the air, claiming a snowstorm was on its way.

  “How soon?” Kerrick asked him.

  Quain gauged the wind by scattering dead leaves. “Half a day at
most.”

  “How bad?”

  He pulled a strange glass vial that resembled a skinny teapot filled with a silver liquid. Tapping on the glass, he whistled. “A midwinter howler.”

  Kerrick cursed.

  “You shouldn’t complain,” Quain said. “It’s been unusually dry. Otherwise, we’d have been hiking though two-foot drifts the past few weeks.”

  Sensing Kerrick would stop our efforts, I said, “Perhaps that door leads underground and we can shelter in there.”

  “What happens if we can’t?” He didn’t wait for me to answer. “Then we wasted all that time and will be caught out in a blizzard.” He scanned the darkening sky, then the forest. “You can keep working for now. I’ll scout out the area, see if there’s a cave nearby.”

  Not another cave! But I stifled a groan. In this situation, it would be ideal. After Kerrick left, we exposed the door. It had been made of iron and was locked. Belen pulled out a set of lock picks with a sly grin. He worked on the lock.

  After about twenty minutes, he sat back on his heels and gave up. “It’s one of those complicated ones with double pins to make it all but impossible to pick.”

  “Could Kerrick open it?” I asked.

  Belen huffed. “What makes you think he would be better than me?”

  “Uh, more practice?”

  “He’s certainly gotten into more trouble than me. That’s for certain.”

  “Really? Jael said Kerrick was constantly getting you out of trouble.”

  “Don’t you believe her, Avry. Everything she says is a lie. In fact, almost all the skirmishes and problems we had in school were because of her. With her beauty and intelligence, she played us all like she was conducting Queen Jenna’s ninety-six-piece orchestra. And it took us many years to figure it out.”

  “But she kept Kerrick from killing Ryne. How?”

  “That’s not my story to tell.” Belen lumbered to his feet. “And even Kerrick couldn’t open this door. The blasted lock is also rusted tight.”

  Disappointment stabbed. Rust had destroyed… The word triggered a memory. When the guys had rescued me, the bars to the window appeared to have rusted away, but all the other ones had been fine.

  “What did you use on those bars?” I asked Loren.

  “What bars?”

  I explained.

  “Oh! Quain, do you still have some of that lightning juice?”

  His eyes lit up. “Yes. It’s in my pack.” He strode over to where we had dumped our stuff. “Too bad I didn’t have it with me when we were rotting in Estrid’s jail for two weeks.” Rummaging in the pockets, he brought out a glass jar filled with a clear liquid. “We need some way to pour it into the lock.”

  We all searched. Belen found a broken piece of pipe that worked. The lightning juice filled the keyhole. Metal sizzled and the smoke smelled like brackish water.

  When the sound stopped, Quain told Belen to give it a try. He pressed his shoulder to the door and pushed. Nothing happened. Quain poured in more juice. Belen tried again. Nothing.

  “Perhaps we should douse the hinges?” Loren asked.

  Before Quain could move, I said, “Wait.” The door’s hinges were visible. “Belen, try pulling on the handle.”

  He grasped the heavy latch. With a screech of metal, the door opened, revealing a staircase that descended into blackness. A musty odor with a hint of decay wafted from below followed by a faint rustling sound. Rats? Or the wind?

  We all peered into the darkness.

  “We’re going to need torches,” Belen said.

  “Maybe there are some hanging just inside,” I said.

  Quain walked down the first few steps. “Hooks are here, but no torches.”

  Loren and Belen went in search of materials, while Quain and I waited. The winds died. Soon after, fat flakes of snow drifted down.

  “I thought you said it would be a howler,” I said.

  “It will. First the storm dumps piles of snow, and then the winds come, blowing all that white stuff into drifts and creating more problems. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be fun for the storm if the winds came first. Nothing for it to swirl around.”

  “I don’t think the storm cares.”

  “Probably not a normal storm.”

  I searched Quain’s face to see if he teased. “Aren’t they all normal?”

  “No. Some are influenced by air magicians to do more damage than they would on their own.”

  “Do you think Jael sent this storm?”

  “She killed Flea and tried to kill us. This could be another attempt.”

  I shivered at the memory.

  Quain focused on me. “We need to talk about what happened with Flea.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve been replaying Jael’s attack and the aftermath in my mind, thinking of nothing else. Why did you yell for Kerrick to help you with healing him? And how did Kerrick know the exact location of a Death Lily?” Quain started making more connections. “In fact, all those months we hiked through the woods, we’ve never encountered a single Lily. Except for that village. What’s going on, Avry?”

  His questions were inevitable. “You’ll have to ask Kerrick.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s not my story to tell.” I used Belen’s line.

  Loren and Belen returned in time to see Quain scowling at me.

  “What’s the problem?” Loren asked.

  I answered before Quain could. “We can discuss it when we’re stuck in some cave for days because of the storm.”

  Belen brushed the snow from his hair. “We’d better hurry.” He handed out torches and Loren lit them with his flint.

  We descended the dust-covered steps. It spiraled down for two, maybe three stories before the walls opened up, revealing a storage room. Rows of shelves lined the floor. The shelves had been filled with wooden crates. A list of each box’s contents had been burned into the outside wood.

  I read the titles as we walked between them.

  Dissection notes on twenty-two-year-old female—cause of death: childbirth.

  Dune grass seeds from Bavly Realm.

  Results of Apgull Poison test.

  Maps of known Red Tiger trees.

  As we continued, it became apparent that the room was huge. We hadn’t reached another wall, and the shelves disappeared into the darkness.

  “We found the secret record room. Now what?” Belen asked.

  “I was hoping to find some information that could be useful,” I said.

  “You don’t think the ‘contents of an ufa’s stomach’ is useful?” Loren asked.

  “Only if the report lists what killed the ufa.” As we neared the foothills, ufa packs would become another danger.

  “We could split up,” Belen suggested. “Cover more ground. What would be useful, Avry?”

  “Anything that mentions medicinal plants or herbs.” I hesitated, but decided to throw it out there. “Or mentions the plague.”

  Silence, then Belen said, “Okay, everyone take a row.”

  After a few minutes, I realized we would need days to go through the entire room. And it might take that long just to find valuable information. Perhaps after the storm we could come back. If the door wasn’t buried beneath a snowdrift.

  I scanned crates until my vision blurred. My torch sputtered a warning. It wouldn’t last long. Besides, it seemed we had been down here a long time and Kerrick still hadn’t returned. Worry swirled as I followed my trail of dusty footsteps back to the entrance.

  No one else had returned. With a hiss and pop, the flames, and therefore my light, died. Then the distinct tap of boots on the stairs sounded. Kerrick? Or one of the others? Or someone
new? Pressing up against a shelf with my knife in hand, I waited as the taps grew louder and a black silhouette appeared. Kerrick.

  Relief rushed through me. I slid my knife back into its sheath, stepped away from the shelf and surprised him without meaning to. He knocked me to the ground and sat on me, pinning my arms until he recognized me. I hadn’t realized my eyes had adjusted to the dark, but his hadn’t.

  “Don’t surprise me like that,” he said.

  “Already figured that out,” I said. “Can you get off me now?”

  He stood and pulled me to my feet. “Where are the others?”

  I rubbed the back of my head. “Searching for something useful. My torch died.” I peered into the darkness, hoping to find a sign of one of the others.

  Kerrick cupped his hands around his mouth and called, “Gentlemen, time to go.”

  Rustlings and footsteps approached. Quain and Loren appeared. Only Loren’s torch still burned.

  Quain carried a crate. “It’s really creepy in here when the lights go out.”

  “What did you find?” I asked.

  “Notes on all the failed remedies for the plague. I wasn’t sure if it would be useful, but it was the only one I saw.”

  “It’s a start.”

  Kerrick gave me his care-to-explain look, but I ignored him as we waited for Belen.

  “Why can’t we shelter in here?” I asked Kerrick.

  “No back door.”

  “There could be one,” I said.

  “Without more torches, we won’t be able to find it. Belen’s probably stumbling around in the dark by now.” Kerrick called to him.

  No reply. Loren offered to search, but Kerrick said no. Another fretful ten minutes passed, then Kerrick emitted a high-pitched and painfully sharp whistle.

  “Over here,” Belen called back. “I’ve found something!”

  We followed his voice. He stood at the far end of a row of shelves. The torchlight made a yellow puddle around his feet. When we drew closer, he moved the light, revealing a desiccated body on the ground.