[English] Touch of Power (Năng Lượng Thần Kỳ)

Author : Maria V. Snyder

The little girl wouldn’t stop crying. I didn’t blame her. She was dying, after all. Her lungs were so full of fluid she’d drown in another few hours. Tossing and turning on my thin mattress, I listened to her cries as they sawed through the floorboards and through my heart, cutting it in two.
One piece pleaded for me to save her, urging me to heal the girl with the bright smile and ginger curls. The other side pulsed a warning beat. Her family would thank me by turning me in to the town watch. I’d be hanged as a war criminal. No trial needed.
The horrors from the dark years of the plague were still fresh in the survivors’ minds. They considered those times a war. A war that had been started by healers, who then spread the deadly disease, and refused to heal it.
Of course it was utter nonsense. We couldn’t heal the plague. And we didn’t start it. But in the midst of the chaos, no one listened to reason. Someone had to be blamed. Right?
The girl’s screams pierced my heart. I couldn’t stand it any longer. Three years on the run. Three years of hiding. Three terrible years full of fear and loneliness. For what? My life? Yes, I live and breathe and exist. Nothing else.
Flinging my blankets off, I hurried downstairs. I didn’t need to change since I would never sleep in nightclothes or without my boots on. When you were on the run, the possibility of being surprised in the middle of the night was high. There was no time to waste when escaping, so I wore my black travel pants and black shirt to bed every night. The dark color ideal for blending into shadows.
Another trick of being on the run involved finding a second-floor room with both front and back doors and no skeletons. They were hard to find as most towns had burned the plague victims’ homes...

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Chapter 1

The little girl wouldn’t stop crying. I didn’t blame her. She was dying, after all. Her lungs were so full of fluid she’d drown in another few hours. Tossing and turning on my thin mattress, I listened to her cries as they sawed through the floorboards and through my heart, cutting it in two.

One piece pleaded for me to save her, urging me to heal the girl with the bright smile and ginger curls. The other side pulsed a warning beat. Her family would thank me by turning me in to the town watch. I’d be hanged as a war criminal. No trial needed.

The horrors from the dark years of the plague were still fresh in the survivors’ minds. They considered those times a war. A war that had been started by healers, who then spread the deadly disease, and refused to heal it.

Of course it was utter nonsense. We couldn’t heal the plague. And we didn’t start it. But in the midst of the chaos, no one listened to reason. Someone had to be blamed. Right?

The girl’s screams pierced my heart. I couldn’t stand it any longer. Three years on the run. Three years of hiding. Three terrible years full of fear and loneliness. For what? My life? Yes, I live and breathe and exist. Nothing else.

Flinging my blankets off, I hurried downstairs. I didn’t need to change since I would never sleep in nightclothes or without my boots on. When you were on the run, the possibility of being surprised in the middle of the night was high. There was no time to waste when escaping, so I wore my black travel pants and black shirt to bed every night. The dark color ideal for blending into shadows.

Another trick of being on the run involved finding a second-floor room with both front and back doors and no skeletons. They were hard to find as most towns had burned the plague victims’ homes in the misguided attempt to destroy the disease. And many victims died alone. My current hideout was above the family with the dying child.

I knocked on my downstairs neighbors’ door loud enough for the sound to be heard over the child’s wet wails. When it opened, her mother, Mavis, stared wordlessly at me. She held the two-year-old girl in her strong arms, and the knowledge that her child was dying shone in her brown eyes. Her pale skin clung to her gaunt face. She swayed with pure exhaustion.

Underneath the sheen of tears and red flush of fever, the little girl’s skin had death’s pale hue. In a few moments, she wouldn’t have the breath to scream.

I held out my arms. “Mavis, go to sleep. I’ll watch…Fawn.” Finally, I remembered her name. Another rule to being on the run was to avoid getting close to anyone. No friends. But I needed to earn money, and I had to make a few acquaintances in order to keep up with the gossip. I’d stayed with Mavis’s children on occasion, which helped with both.

Panicked, Mavis pulled Fawn closer to her.

“The rest of your family needs you, as well. You should rest before you collapse or get sick.”

She hesitated.

“I will wake you if anything changes. I promise.”

Mavis’s resistance crumpled and she handed me Fawn. Well beyond luci***y, the little girl didn’t notice the change in the arms around her, but my magic sprang to life at the touch, pushing to be released from my core. Fawn’s skin burned and her clothes were damp with sweat. I cradled Fawn as I sat in the big wooden rocking chair in the living room. The lantern burned low, casting a weak yellow light over the threadbare furniture. This family hadn’t looted from their neighbors, which said much about them.

Next to the window I had a clear view of the street. A half-moon illuminated the burned ruins of buildings huddled along a dirt road. Rainwater had filled the holes and ruts. The plague had killed roughly six million people—two-thirds of the population—so there was no one left to attend to minor tasks like fixing the roads or clearing away the debris. The fact that this town…Jaxton? Or was it Wola? They all blurred together. Either way, having a local government town watch, basic commerce, no piles of skeletons and a tiny—a few hundred at most—populace was more than many other towns could claim.

I rocked Fawn, humming a tune my mother had sung to me years ago. Tendrils of my magic seeped into Fawn’s body. Her cries lost the hysterical edge.

Mavis watched us for a few minutes. Did she suspect? Would she take her child back? Instead, she heeded my advice and went to bed. Waiting for Mavis to fall into a deep sleep, I rocked and hummed. Once I was certain enough time had passed, I stopped the chair. Concentrating on the girl in my arms, I allowed my full power to flow into Fawn until she was saturated with it. The release of magic sent a ripple of contentment through me. This was my area of expertise. What I should be doing.

Then I drew it back into me, cleaning out the sickness inside Fawn. My lungs filled with fluid as hers drained. I broke into a fever as hers cooled.

She hiccupped a few times, then breathed in deep. Her body relaxed and she fell into an exhausted sleep.

The sickness nestled in my chest, causing me *****ck in noisy wet breaths. I couldn’t pull enough air into my lungs. Goose bumps raced across my skin as a sliver of fear touched my heart. I hadn’t healed anyone this sick before. Would I be strong enough? Had I waited too long to help Fawn? My own cowardice would kill me. Fitting.

The effort to breathe consumed my energy. Black and white spots swirled in my vision as I fought to stay conscious. Even though my body healed ten times faster than a regular person’s, I was quite aware that it might not be fast enough.

Luckily, this wasn’t that time. The crushing tightness around my ribs eased a fraction. I concentrated on the simple act of breathing.

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Mavis woke me in the morning. I had fallen asleep with Fawn still in my arms.

“How did you get her to sleep? She hasn’t stopped crying in days,” Mavis said.

Still groggy, I searched for a good explanation. “My tuneless humming must have bored her.” My voice rasped with phlegm and set off a coughing fit.

“Uh-huh.” She peered at me with a contemplative purse on her lips.

“Her fever broke last night,” I tried between coughs.

Unconvinced, Mavis gently lifted Fawn and transferred the girl to her crib. “You should rest, as well. You look…”

I waved off her concern. “Nothing a couple of hours of sleep won’t cure.” But my legs betrayed me as I staggered to my feet. Moving with care, I headed toward the door.

When I reached for the knob, Mavis said, “Avry.”

I froze and glanced over my shoulder, waiting for the accusation.

“Thank you.”

Nodding, I hurried from the room. The climb to my place drained all my strength. I hacked up blood as the sweat poured from my body. I needed to grab my escape bag and leave town. Now. But when I bent to retrieve the knapsack from under the bed, a wave of dizziness overwhelmed me. Instead of fleeing, I collapsed on the floor.

A part of my mind knew I only required a few hours of sleep to recover, while another part planned the quickest route out of town. A third part still worried. With good reason.

A fist pounded on the door hard enough that I felt the vibrations through my cheek. Waking with a jolt, I scrambled to my feet. A male voice ordered me *****rrender. Darkness filled the room and pressed against the windowpane. I had slept all day.

Unfortunately, this situation wasn’t new to me. I scooped up my escape bag and exited through the back door. Pausing on the landing, I scanned the area. Moonlight lit the wooden steps. No one blocked them. Hurrying down, I shouldered my pack and ran through the empty alley that reeked of cat urine.

A figure stood at the alley’s southern exit so I turned around. Except the northern route was also blocked. The only way out was through the tight space between buildings to the street where there would no doubt be more town watchmen.

The crash of a door echoed off the bricks. Upon my landing, a man called, “Do you have her?”

The two in the alley closed in. Guess I would take my chances. I darted through the narrow opening and right into a waiting town watchman’s arms.

Voices yelled, “Don’t touch her skin.”

“Take her pack.”

“Cuff her quick.”

The drowning sickness had rendered me too weak to put up much of a fight. In mere seconds, my hands were manacled behind my back. My three years on the run had ended. It was hard to tell if fear or relief dominated. At this point, both had equal sway.

The captain of the watchmen yanked my shirt off my right shoulder, exposing my healer tattoo to the crowd. It appeared as if the entire town had gathered to witness my arrest. As expected, they gasped at the proof of the monster in their midst. And to think, I had once been proud of the symbol of my profession—a simple circle of hands. From a few feet away, it resembled a daisy with hand-shaped petals.

I scanned faces as the watchmen congratulated themselves on their catch. Mavis and her husband stood among the gawkers. He glared and approached me, dragging Mavis along. She wouldn’t meet my gaze. Little Fawn clung to her mother’s leg.

“It doesn’t matter that you saved my girl’s life,” the husband said. “Your kind is responsible for millions of deaths. And the gold your execution will bring this town is sorely needed.”

True. Tohon of Sogra placed a bounty of twenty golds for every healer caught and executed. I suspect the plague killed one or more of his loved ones. Otherwise, why would a powerful life magician care? The disease certainly didn’t care, eliminating people without rhyme or reason.

Right before I was escorted to the jail, Fawn waved bye-bye to me. I smiled. My empty, pointless life for hers. Not bad.

Inside the town watch’s station house I endured endless rounds of questions. They wanted me to turn over my healer cohorts. I almost laughed at that. I hadn’t encountered another healer in three years. In fact, I’d guessed they had been smarter than me and had found a nice refuge to hide in while they waited for this current madness to pass.

I refused to answer their ridiculous queries, letting their voices flow past me as I concentrated on Fawn’s healthy face. Eventually they removed the manacles, measured me for my coffin and locked me in a cell below ground level, promising tomorrow would be my last day. I had an appointment with the guillotine. Lovely.

At least the guards left a lantern hanging on the stone wall opposite my cell—a basic cube with iron bars on three sides and one stone wall. Equipped with a slop pot and metal bed, I had the space to myself. And no neighbors in the adjoining cells. The bedsprings squealed under my weight. My lungs wheezed in the damp air thanks to Fawn’s stubborn sickness.

I wasn’t as terrified as I had imagined. In fact, I was looking forward to my first solid night’s sleep in three years. Ah, the little things in life.

Too bad, I didn’t even get my last wish.

Chapter 2

A low cough woke me from a sound sleep. Instincts kicked in and I jumped to my feet before I realized where I was. In jail, awaiting execution.

“Easy,” a man said. He stood near the door to my cell. Although armed with a sword, he wasn’t wearing the town watch’s uniform. Instead, he wore a short black cape, black pants and boots. The lantern’s glow lit the strong and familiar features of his face. I remembered him from the crowd that gawked at my arrest.

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I waited.

“Are you truly a healer?” he asked.

“You saw the tattoo.”

“For a town on the edge of survival, twenty golds is a considerable sum. I’ve learned that desperate people do desperate things, like tattoo an innocent person. Is that what happened to you?” He leaned forward as if my answer was critical.

“Who wants to know?” I asked.

“Kerrick of Alga.”

I’d thought he was a town official, but the Realm of Alga was north of the Nine Mountains. If he wasn’t lying, then he had traveled far from his home. “Well, Kerrick of Alga, you can go back to your bed and rest easy. The watchmen caught the right girl…and by tomorrow this town will be safe once again.” Which wasn’t entirely true. At twenty years of age, I wouldn’t call myself a girl, but woman sounded too…formal.

“What is your name?” he asked.

“Why do you care?”

“It’s important.” He sounded so sincere and he stared at me as if I held his fate in my hands.

I huffed. What did it matter now? “Avry.”

“Of?”

“Nowhere. It doesn’t matter. Not anymore.”

“It does.”

“Of Kazan. Happy?”

Instead of answering, Kerrick clutched the bars with both his hands and leaned his forehead against them for a moment. I had thought he felt guilty about my impending execution, but his recent behavior failed to match.

When he knelt on one knee, worry replaced curiosity. He withdrew long metal picks from a pocket. I backed away as fear swirled. Should I yell for the guards? What if he already had knocked them out?

He unlocked the cell. The door swung open. By this time, I had reached the back wall.

Straightening, he gestured. “Come on.”

I didn’t move.

“Do you want to be executed?”

“Some things are worse than death,” I said.

“What… Oh. I won’t hurt you. I promise. I’ve been searching for a healer for two years.”

Now I understood. “You want the bounty for yourself.”

“No. You’re worth more alive than dead.” He paused, knowing he had said the wrong thing. “I meant, I need you to heal someone for me. Once he’s better, you can go back into hiding or do whatever you’d like.” Although muffled, raised voices and the sounds of a commotion reached us. Kerrick glanced to his left. “But if you don’t come right now, there won’t be another chance.” He held out his hand.

I hesitated. Trust a complete stranger or remain in jail and be executed in the morning? If he was sincere, Kerrick’s offer meant I would have my life back. My life on the run. Not appealing, but that survival instinct, which had spurred me on these past three years, once again flared to life. What if he was lying? I’d deal with it later. Right now, it didn’t matter; living suddenly took precedence over dying.

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.

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“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.”

“How 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.

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“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 ****. 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.”

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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 parent 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 ****rn. 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 **** 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.”

“Won’t he be mad?” From the way his men acted, he appeared to be someone you don’t want to be angry with you.

“No,” Quain said. “There is always one of us on watch. When he wakes me to take my turn, he’ll just sleep in mine.”

Loren hooked a thumb at the packs in the corner. “He can also use Belen’s.”

The men all sobered at the name.

“He’s the one who provided the distraction last night,” I said, guessing.

“Yeah,” Flea said. His shoulders drooped and he hung his head so his hair covered his eyes. “He probably got lost or something.”

“Belen doesn’t get lost,” Quain said. “He’s probably leading the town watchman on a merry chase.”

“How long will we wait for him?” I asked Quain.

“Not long.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re more important than him. Hell, to Kerrick you’re more important than all of us, and the longer we stay here, the greater the danger.”

As I lay on Kerrick’s bedroll, I breathed in his scent. That same mix of spring sunshine and living green. It felt as if the earth embraced me in her warmth. I cuddled deep into the blankets, letting the shock of being the last healer fade into an ache under my heart. And allowing all the questions I had for Kerrick and his men to be pushed aside for now.

A shout woke me from a deep sleep. I felt safe, which was odd considering my circumstances. The fire had died to embers and the other bedrolls were empty. Alarmed, I jumped to my feet. Voices yelled and echoed from the only direction of escape. I was trapped.

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As the noise level increased, I backed away until I stood at the far wall. Something large and dark blocked the narrow entrance. If I could, I would have climbed the rough wall. My first impression was that an angry bear had returned to his **** and he wasn’t happy to find it occupied. The second and more accurate but no less terrifying was a giant man who looked like he could wrestle a bear one-handed and win.

When he spotted me…not quite cowering against the far wall, he grinned.

“There you are,” he said in a reasonable tone. He crossed the ****rn in two strides and held out his hand. “Belen of Alga.” Kerrick and his men followed behind him. All sported smiles.

As I shook Belen’s oversize paw, er, hand, I noted he was from Kerrick’s Realm. “Avry.”

“Nice to meet you finally. Here.” He thrust my knapsack into my hands. “I hope this is yours. Otherwise, I went to a lot of trouble for nothing.”

“You shouldn’t have risked going back for her pack,” Kerrick said.

Belen frowned at him. “Nonsense. She needs her things.” He gestured. “Winter’s coming and she doesn’t even have a cloak. You probably didn’t even think to give her yours.”

“I was a little busy saving her life.”

Loren and Quain hid their amusement at Kerrick’s annoyed and slightly peevish tone.

“Well, she’s going to need what little she has if we’re going to travel through the Nine Mountains before the first blizzard.”

I clutched my pack to my chest. “The Nine Mountains? Why?” The plague had destroyed all form of organized government in the Fifteen Realms. It had taken a couple years before the survivors had grouped together to form the small clusters we had now. Law in Realms like Kazan and most others had ceased to be.

Too busy dodging bounty hunters, I hadn’t paid attention to our current political situation, but even I’d heard that marauders had settled into the foothills of the Nine Mountains. Gangs who warred with one another and set their own rules *****it themselves. And if you managed to avoid them, the ufa packs would hunt you down.

“Didn’t he tell you?” Belen jerked a thumb at Kerrick.

“No time last night for idle chat,” Kerrick snapped. “Our sick friend is on the other side of the Nine Mountains.”

It would take us more than two months to reach him. “How sick? He might not last.”

“He’s been encased in a magical stasis.”

Interesting. There weren’t that many magicians left. I wondered how long it took Kerrick to find one. “By a life magician?”

“No. A death magician.”

Even rarer. I considered. “How bad is your friend? If he’s on the edge of dying, I won’t be able to help him.”

“He’s pretty healthy. Sepp was able to pause his life force just after he began the second stage.”

The second stage? Dread wrapped around me. Had the plague returned? As far as I heard, there hadn’t been any more victims in two years. Then I remembered Kerrick had been searching for me at least that long.

“He has the plague. Doesn’t he?” I asked.

“Yes,” Belen said. “We know you can heal him. With the whole world dying, how could a hundred of you save six million of them? You couldn’t. The Healer’s Guild sent that missive so they could organize their healers, set up a response based on need, but that’s all in the past, Avry. It’s only one sick man.”

“But—”

Kerrick interrupted, “Belen, do you need to rest?”

“No, sir.”

“Gentlemen, prepare to go,” Kerrick said.

His men scrambled to pack. I checked my knapsack. All my belongings remained inside. I removed my cloak, draping it around my shoulders.

Should I tell them the real truth about the plague? They had saved me from the guillotine and I owed them my life. They seemed receptive to reason, unlike all the other survivors I’d encountered, who, at the mere mention of a healer, spat in the ground and refused to acknowledge the truth. I’d almost been caught a number of times defending healers so I’d stopped trying.

However, Belen was right. I could heal their friend of the plague, but then I couldn’t heal myself.

What they asked of me would be essentially trading one death—swift and certain—for another—slow, painful and just as certain.

I decided to wait and learn who their friend was. Perhaps he would be like Fawn, worth my life to save. Hard to imagine. Children deserved to be saved. They hadn’t lived, hadn’t made bad choices and hadn’t had time to harm others. That couldn’t be said of a grown man, but I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Kerrick set a quick pace through the forest, heading north. Rays of the late-afternoon sun pierced the tree canopy, leaving pools of shadows on the ground. The crisp air smelled clean and fresh.

We walked in a single line. I stayed behind Belen, and Flea trotted at my heels like an overeager puppy. No one said a word. Leaves crunched under my boots, drowning out the slight noise the others made. The men held their weapons ready as if expecting an ambush at any moment. Kerrick and Belen held swords, Loren kept an arrow notched in his bow, Quain palmed a nasty curved dagger and even Flea brandished a switchblade.

Traveling through the Fifteen Realms was difficult, if not impossible, for small groups. When I moved to a new town, I’d try to hook up with a pilgrimage—a caravan of people searching for lost friends and relatives, collecting needed items from abandoned houses and burying any dead bodies left behind. Even well armed, a pilgrimage still kept to the major roads between Realms.

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So it wasn’t a surprise that in the middle of the forest, we encountered no one. No Death or Peace Lilys grew near our path, either. Odd that the gigantic flowers were nowhere to be seen. With the lack of manpower to cull them, they had spread like weeds everywhere, and had invaded farm fields, adding to the survivors’ struggle to feed ourselves.

Unused to the pace, I tired after a few hours. We stopped a couple times to eat, but it was always in silence and didn’t last long. My legs ached and eventually all I could focus on was Belen’s broad back.

The sun set and the moon rose. It had climbed to the top of the sky when I reached my limit. Stumbling, I tripped over my own feet and sprawled among the colorful leaves.

Before I could push up to my elbows, Belen scooped me into his arms. He carried me like a baby despite my protests, claiming I weighed nothing. Exhausted, I dozed in his arms.

By dawn, I had reenergized. That was when I felt his injury. I squirmed from his arms and pulled his right sleeve up to his elbow.

“It’s nothing,” he said, trying to pull the fabric down and cover the six-inch-long gash in his forearm before Kerrick and the others could see.

I stopped him with a stern look, then traced the wound with a finger as magic stirred to life in my core. The cut was deep and dirty—borderline infected. Belen kept his face neutral, although I knew my rough examination had to hurt like crazy. Impressive.

“Belen?” Kerrick asked.

“It’s just a cut I got stirring up the town watch the other night. Nothing to worry about.”

“It’s going to get infected if it’s not taken care of,” I said.

“Can it wait until we find shelter?” Kerrick asked me.

“I can heal him now. It doesn’t matter.”

“That’s not what I asked you. Can it wait or not?”

“How long?”

“A few hours.”

No sense arguing with him. “It can wait.”

There was really no reason to wait. I wouldn’t let Belen carry me, but I rested my hand on the crook of his right arm. As we walked, I let the magic curl around his forearm, healing his wound as it transferred to me. The cut throbbed and stung as blood soaked my sleeve.

By the time we arrived at another **** to rest for the afternoon, Belen’s injury had disappeared. Loren, Quain and Flea gathered around him, exclaiming over his smooth skin.

“There’s not even a scar!” Flea hopped around despite having walked for the past twenty hours. I suspected this behavior was linked to his name.

Kerrick, though, strode over to me and yanked my sleeve up, exposing the half-healed gash. I hissed as he jabbed it with a finger.

“Why didn’t you listen to me?” he demanded.

“There was no reason—”

“You don’t make those decisions,” he said. A fire burned in his gaze. “I do.”

“But—”

He squeezed my arm. I yelped.

“No arguments. You follow my orders. Understand?”

Silence blanketed the ****rn as everyone stared at us.

“I understand.” And I did, but that didn’t mean I would obey him like one of his gentlemen.

“Good.” He gazed at his men. “Standard watch schedule.”

Once Kerrick left the ****, Flea bounded over to me. “Look at that! It’s the same size and shape as Belen’s was.”

Interesting how the men were more relaxed when Kerrick wasn’t around.

“How long until it heals?” Belen inspected the cut as if my arm would break at the slightest touch. Concern in his brown eyes.

“About two days for it to fade into a pale scar.”

Flea whooped and Quain looked impressed.

“You didn’t need to heal me,” Belen said. “It was just a minor cut.”

I pulled my arm from Belen. “And you didn’t need to risk capture by retrieving my knapsack. Consider it my way of saying thanks.”

Loren met my gaze with an amused smile.

“Better than juggling knives?” I asked him.

“I’d have to see you juggle the knives first,” he said.

“Gentlemen, your knives.” I held out my hands.

After a brief hesitation, Loren, Quain and Flea all provided me with a leather-handled dagger. Perfect.

“When Kerrick catches you, I’ll make sure to shed a few tears at your funerals,” Belen said. He shook his head as if distancing himself from the whole thing.

I tested the weight of each knife. My older brother, Criss, had taught me how to juggle. First with scarves, then balls, and then wooden sticks before he’d let me throw anything sharp. A pang of sadness touched my chest as I juggled the daggers. The firelight reflected off the silver blades as they twirled in the air. Flea enjoyed the show, laughing and begging to be taught when I finished.

“Not bad,” Loren said. “But most anyone can learn how to juggle. No one else can heal.”

Later that night we settled next to the fire. The men moved about in an easy routine, hardly speaking as they cooked the rabbits Loren had shot with his bow.

“Have you been doing this every night for two years?” I asked them.

Loren and Quain exchanged a glance with Belen.

“Not quite,” Belen said. “Kerrick and I started searching for a healer right after the magician encased our friend. Six months in, we encountered those two monkeys in Tobory.” He jabbed a thick finger at Loren and Quain. “Getting the snot beat out of them.” Belen chuckled. It was a deep rumbling sound.

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Quain jumped to their defense. “We were outnumbered!”

“Didn’t stop you from rushing that whor—” Belen shot me a look. “That brothel.”

“It’s not a brothel when the girls are forced to be there,” Loren said with a quiet intensity.

Another reminder of our world gone mad. Not all survivors desired a return to normal. Some took full advantage of the depleted security and turned small towns into their own playgrounds.

“What happened?” I asked.

“We lent a hand,” Belen said. “Helped clean out that nest of nasties, got the town back on track and picked up those two for our trouble.”

“We’re returning the favor,” Loren said.

“Uh-huh.” Belen stretched out on his blankets, sighed and was soon snoring.

Considering how long he’d been awake, it was amazing he’d lasted that long.

My bedroll was close to Flea’s. He had been practicing the first step in learning how to juggle, tossing a stone from one hand to another. Flea mastered the motion of throwing the rock up to his eye level and letting it drop down to his other hand, making a path through the air like an inverted V while keeping both hands near his waist. I showed him the next step. Same motion, but using two rocks—trickier.

After a few tries, he started to get it. “That’s it, Flea. When the first stone is at the tip of the V, you throw the second.” I made encouraging noises.

He worked a while longer, then flopped back onto his blankets. “It’s too hard.”

Flea reminded me of my younger sister, Noelle. She would give up right away if a task proved too difficult. I wondered if she had gotten the plague and died just as quick.

No one who contracted the disease survived. Except those very first people the healers cured before they in turn died. Back when we hadn’t known it would become a plague. There had been enough sanity for the Healer’s Guild to send out notice to their members not to heal anyone who had those symptoms. Not even if there were a couple healers to share energy. It had been a logical decision. There were more sicknesses than healers. And it made sense to heal the ones we could. But that notice had been what condemned us all to death. Or rather, the wording of that missive. It hadn’t clearly stated that a healer would die if he helped a plague victim. It had said, “Success was unlikely at this time.”

I suppressed those dark thoughts, concentrating instead on the positive. Being with these men had renewed my interest in life. They’d been traveling throughout the Fifteen Realms, perhaps they’d heard of my family. Except Loren and Quain had also fallen asleep. Only Flea stared morosely at the ****’s ceiling.

“Don’t fret,” I said. “With more practice, you’ll be juggling in no time.”

He groaned. “That’s what those guys say all the time. Practice, practice, practice. It’s boring!”

I hid my smile. “You’re right.”

He sat up. “I am?”

“It’s very boring. Unfortunately, it’s necessary.”

Groaning, he plopped back onto his pillow. He waved a listless hand. “You can stop the lecture. I’ve got four fathers. I don’t need a mother.”

I gasped in mock horror. “You’re right. I’m sounding like my mother! I promise never to do it again.”

“Really?” Flea squinted at me.

“No. Sorry. An overdeveloped nurturing instinct comes with being a healer.”

He shrugged. “Oh, well. I guess everyone has their faults.”

“True.”

He pushed up to an elbow and looked at me for a moment. “Do you like being a healer? That cut you took from Belen had to hurt.”

“It does, but for less time than it would have hurt him.” Plus there was the satisfaction of helping another.

Flea huffed. “I don’t think Belen feels pain. I kicked him hard in the shins one time and he didn’t even blink.”

“Why did you kick him?”

“He wouldn’t let me go.” Flea’s eyelids drooped and he yawned.

I sensed a longer story, but I stifled my curiosity. Instead, I gently pushed him down and pulled the blanket up to his chin.

Flea gave me a sleepy half smile and said, “Belen won’t let you go, either.”

It was an odd statement and he noticed my concern.

“Not like that… Once you heal Prince Ryne, you won’t want to go.”

I jerked wide awake. “Prince Ryne of Ivdel Realm? He’s your friend? The one who’s sick?”

“Yeah, he—”

“Flea, go to sleep,” Kerrick said from behind me.

Flea grimaced an oops and turned onto his side.

Oops was putting it mildly. I gathered my belongings.

“What are you doing?” Kerrick asked. His voice low and deadly.

“Leaving.”

“No.”

“I’m not asking. I’m going.” I rolled up my thin mat and stuffed it into my knapsack.

“No, you’re not.”

Slinging my pack over my shoulder, I faced him. “There is no reason for me to stay. Go find another healer.”

“No.”

It was like talking to the rock wall. I raised my voice. “Let me make this perfectly clear. I will not heal Prince Ryne. Nothing you do or say will change my mind.”

The men stirred awake. Fury sparked in Kerrick’s eyes.

“Easy, Kerrick,” Belen said, sitting up.