Touch of Power (10 page)

“What’s going on?” I finally asked Loren.

He heated water over the tiny fire—all that Kerrick would allow. Loren exchanged a glance with Belen.

“If you’re trying to protect me from bad news, stop it right now. I don’t like secrets,” I said to both of them. “I can’t help if you keep me in the dark.”

“We’ve a couple bands of mercs on our tail,” Belen said.

Having already warned Kerrick of this possibility, I wasn’t surprised. We then played hide-and-seek with the three different groups of mercenaries for the next two days. Our rest breaks shortened until we skipped them altogether. Cold food and a scant few hours of sleep during the day became our new routine.

Kerrick didn’t have to say that the mercs were closing in. I knew from the others. No one smiled. No one spoke more than a few words. No one put their weapons down.

When the sun rose on the third day, Kerrick stopped. We were at the edge of the forest. Spread before us was an abandoned village. A carpet of thick thorny vines had grown over all the wooden structures, obscuring the streets. White, man-size Lilys dotted the greenery. Peace or Death Lilys—it was impossible for anyone to tell them apart.

“Damn. They’ve been herding us like cattle to the slaughterhouse,” Kerrick said.

Belen noticed my confusion. “The mercs knew this was here.” He swept a hand out, indicating the buried village. “They’ve must have coordinated their efforts because the mercs have us boxed in on three sides. The only way we can escape is through the Lilys.”

Fear energized my tired muscles. Too bad it wouldn’t do me any good.

“We’re trapped,” Loren said.

“We’re dead,” Quain said.

Chapter 9

“Those thorns look sharp, but what’s wrong with going through the Lilys?” Flea asked.

“Nothing if they’re all Peace Lilys,” Belen said.

“Unfortunately, there is no way to know if there’s even one Death Lily hiding among them,” Quain said.

I met Kerrick’s gaze. “Did you know this was here?”

“No. The town is outside the forest. Besides, I can’t tell if a Lily is benign or lethal.”

“No one can,” Quain said. “That’s the problem. You don’t know until the flower opens, and by that time it’s, See you later, sister!”

Staring at the barrier, I tried to find a route that would avoid the white flowers. No luck. When we had plenty of workers, they would pull out the new shoots of all the Lily plants before they could grow a flower. With its deep root system that covered miles, eradicating the plant had been a full-time job. The Lilys also grew in unexpected places and the Death Lilys killed the unwary.

“Now what?” Flea asked.

“We stage an ambush of our own. If we move fast enough, we might be able to fight our way through one side and escape,” Kerrick said.

“Not going to work,” Belen said. “Too many of them.”

“I’ll surrender and they shouldn’t hurt the rest of you,” I said.

“No,” Kerrick and Belen said together.

“We’ll take our chances and go through the Lilys,” Kerrick said.

“You’re crazy.” Quain gestured with his knife. “I’d rather take my chances against the mercs.”

“What are the odds?” Loren asked.

“It’s more like a ratio,” Kerrick said. “Approximately one Death Lily for every hundred Peace Lilys.”

Everyone turned to the field. I estimated there were about three hundred Lilys.

“Approximately three Death Lilys,” Kerrick said. “I’ll pick a route with the least number of Lilys and go first. Belen, keep her close to you. You’ll be last. Who wants to go second?”

This was the first time Kerrick asked for volunteers.

“I’ll take second,” Loren said without hesitation.

“Third,” Quain said.

“Then Flea,” Kerrick said. “If one of those flowers so much as twitches, run.”

Lining up in order, we followed Kerrick. The flowers’ scent misted the air. A combination of sweet honey and tangy lemon that evoked a strong feeling of déjà vu in me. We climbed through the vines, avoiding the thorns with little success.

When we reached the halfway point, the crash and rustle of many boots sounded behind us. A line of mercs spread out along the forest. No going back now.

The mercs cursed and called us idiots with good reason. If a Death Lily grabbed you, it would do one of two things. Either consume your flesh and then spit out your bones, or spit you out whole. But don’t get too excited about being released. You’d most likely die later. Only ten percent survived the toxin the flower injected into them.

And if you were caught, your friends wouldn’t be able to cut through the petals. They were thick and fibrous. Plus they would need to get close to the plant. Then the vines would ensnare them, saving them for the Lily’s next meal. Nice, huh?

With the arrival of the mercs, Kerrick picked up the pace. We skirted many of the white flowers, but couldn’t avoid them all.

Memories of my younger brother kept surfacing in my mind. Something about the Lily’s scent reminded me of Allyn. He had gone from crawling to running in a matter of days and all before he turned a year old. Once mobile, he’d never stopped moving unless asleep. My family had constantly chased after him. I remembered bolting after Allyn with my heart slamming in my chest. He had wandered into a copse of trees and had been too young to know what traps to avoid. I couldn’t recall if I had caught him or not. The rest of the memory remained elusive.

Funny how one sound could bring everything back. A low hiss. I froze. How could I have forgotten? The shushing noise grew. Flea paused under a big bloom. Kerrick and the others had gone ahead.

The petals above Flea parted. I shoved Flea out of the way as the Lily attacked. A whoosh echoed. White petals surrounded me. Then all was black silence.

Cocooned within the Lily, I waited for the pricks. The toxin was supposed to kill me so the plant could digest me at its leisure. I should be terrified, except this wasn’t my first time inside a Death Lily.

My brother had finally stopped running long enough for me to catch up to him. He’d pointed to a huge hissing white flower, and in a heartbeat the Lily had grabbed me. Obviously, I survived. However, I had no memory of being released.

Two thorns pierced my arms. A familiar feeling flowed over me. I drifted as if transformed into a wisp of smoke. Forgotten memories sprang to life. After being spat out, I’d endured two weeks of sickness. However, the toxin must have blocked the memory of my time inside the Lily, and since no one, except Allyn, had seen me snatched, they didn’t know what had caused me to be sick. The symptoms matched a bad bout of stomach flu.

My consciousness now spread along the plant’s roots and into the plant’s soul. Through this strange mental link, I peered beyond the petals. Kerrick and the others had tried to cut the Death Lily down only to be caught tight in its vines. The mercs had watched them with amusement even though they had been upset over losing me. Or more accurately, over losing their share of forty golds.

The Death Lily dipped to expel me.

Wait,
I thought.
Keep me until the mercs leave.

It stopped. I sensed its contentment at knowing me again. Its pride over my life since we’d been together. I felt its regret over unsuccessful encounters. Yet it was ever hopeful. It had sensed potential in Flea, aiming for him.

I asked it to allow me to remember. The Death Lily wasn’t truly a predator; it was trying to help, but its efforts either killed a person right away, or they died later. Only a few survived. Time passed. The mercs left with the setting sun.

Don’t take Flea, please,
I asked.
Let us pass.

Agreement flowed along with sorrow over parting. It pulled the thorns from my arms. I snapped back into my body, feeling heavy, blind, stiff and awkward. Its petals opened and I tumbled out. Belen caught me in midair.

“Avry, what happened?” he asked.

The vines retreated, releasing the men.

“Run before it picks a new target,” Kerrick ordered.

Belen wouldn’t put me down as they bolted to the far side of the village. No other Lilys attacked and soon we reentered the forest. Kerrick kept a fast pace until we reached a small clearing.

“Oh, man!” Quain said. “I thought we were Lily food for sure.” He rubbed at the creases on his neck where a vine had pressed against his skin.

I squirmed from Belen’s arms. Kerrick strode over to me. I stood my ground even though I wanted to duck behind Belen.

“Do you have a death wish?” he asked me. Anger spiked each word.

“Of course not. It was an automatic reaction.”

“Can you survive the toxin? How long do you have until it kicks in?” he asked.

The Lily had granted my wish. I remembered the entire encounter, but I needed some time to sort it all out. “I’m immune to the toxin.” I expected my news would be well received. It had the opposite effect.

Kerrick stepped closer as pure fury rolled off him. “And why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”

“I didn’t know earlier.”

My answer threw him. He sputtered before reining in his emotions. “Why do you know now?”

“Common sense. I was in that flower for hours. If I didn’t have a reaction by now, I’m not going to.”

Kerrick let the topic drop, but he barked orders for his men to set up camp. His ill humor lasted through dinner.

I finally barked back at him. “You should be happy. The mercs think I’m dead. They won’t be chasing us anymore.”

My comment earned me a glare from Kerrick.

Belen slapped his leg. “She’s right! What a day. I thought we’d all die. Killed by a giant plant. Not the way I’d want to go.”

“How would you want to die?” Loren asked.

“Doing something heroic and not something stupid,” Belen said.

“Not like you get a choice,” Flea said. “Starving to death isn’t heroic or stupid, it’s just plain sad.”

It wouldn’t surprise me if Flea had personal experience with starvation. During the two years of the plague, no one tended the fields or cared for livestock. Many people who had survived the disease died of starvation.

Flea sat across the fire, juggling two stones. He’d mastered the technique. I offered to teach him how to include the third stone.

“Sure, that’d be great.”

We searched for a rock that matched the size and weight of the others. When we found a good stone, I demonstrated the motions.

“Hold two rocks in one hand, and one in the other. Remember how you threw the second rock when the first reached the top of the inverted V? When the second rock is at the apex, you throw the third with one hand and catch the first with the other. And just keep throwing so one rock is always in the air.”

He rushed his first attempt. A rock whizzed by Loren’s head. On the second and third try, he pelted Belen’s shoulder. The big man tossed the stones back good-naturedly. When Flea almost clipped Kerrick, we were
ordered
to move farther away.

At least Flea considered this new step a challenge and wasn’t getting frustrated yet. After twenty tries, Flea performed one successful juggle before dropping all the stones.

“That’s it!” I said. “Now all you need to do is—”

“Practice, I know.” He paused for a moment, sobering. “Thanks, Avry.”

I waved my hand dismissively. “This is fun for me, too. It reminds me of happier days.”

“Not just for teaching me to juggle, but for, you know…saving me from the nasty giant flower.”

“Anytime,” I said.

“No.” His body stiffened as all joviality fled, replaced by a dead-serious intensity. “Don’t risk yourself for me again. I’m willing to die for Prince Ryne. It’s my choice. Not yours.”

Surprised by his demeanor, I considered his words. “You haven’t even met Ryne. Why are you so willing to give up your life for him?”

Flea gestured toward the fire. Quain, Belen and Loren exchanged insults. Kerrick had taken the next shift of guard duty.

“
They
are willing. I trust them. It’s that simple.” He crossed his arms. “Promise me you won’t risk your life for me.”

“No. Because it’s not that simple for me.”

Flea huffed just like Kerrick. I almost laughed.

“Well, it should be simple for you, as well,” Flea said.

“Why?”

“Don’t you trust Kerrick?”

This time I couldn’t muffle a laugh. “No.”

“What about Belen? You trust him, don’t you?”

“That’s different. Belen sees good in everyone. I know that he’s not lying to me about Prince Ryne, but I don’t trust his judgment.”

Flea gave up and stormed back to the fire. I stayed behind, mulling over our conversation. When Kerrick’s men had found Flea, he’d been on his own for as long as he could remember. They’d protected him and all but adopted him. Of course he would be grateful and loyal. They were in essence his family so his judgment was suspect, as well.

“It’s getting late,” Kerrick said.

I jumped a foot. “Will you stop doing that!” I spun in the direction of his voice.

“Doing what?” He stepped from the shadows, but halted a few feet away.

“Sneaking up on me.”

“I wasn’t. You’re just deaf to the sounds of the forest.” His reasonable tone at least meant he’d gotten over his earlier snit.

“I don’t have your forest magic.”

“You don’t need it. The forest has its own unique…song. I taught my men how to listen for notes that are off-key, and for those silent pauses which means danger.”

Curious, I couldn’t help asking, “Did you teach them how to move without making noise?”

“Yes. Except they do make noise. It just blends in with the forest’s song so it doesn’t stand out. I could teach it to you if you’d like.”

I searched his expression, but I couldn’t tell if he joked or was serious. Instead of responding, I asked him, “Why didn’t you tell your men about your magic?”

“I don’t want them to rely on it.”

“But you use it all the time.”

“Only since
you’ve
been with us. I don’t want them getting lazy or sloppy, believing I can protect everyone. There’s a reason I taught them how to navigate the forest. If something happened to me, they need to be able to protect themselves.”

“What about Belen? He’s been with you the longest. Doesn’t he suspect?”

“We’ve never talked about it. He may.”

“He probably felt you using magic at some point.”

A strange queasy expression, almost a flinch, creased his face for a second. “Those without power can’t feel it. In fact, I was under the impression that only a fellow forest mage could sense it, and only when we were both in the forest. I can’t feel others’ magic unless they use it when we’re both in the woods.”