Touch of Power (6 page)

With a strange sense of doom, I watched Kerrick, Loren, Quain and Flea continue north, leaving Belen and me behind. Belen held out his arm. I hooked my hand around his elbow. We walked east.

Stopping hours later, Belen found a dent in a rocky hillside. I couldn’t call it a cave as it wasn’t deep enough, but it cut in just enough to protect both of us from rain or wind. However, it failed to protect us from mercenaries.

According to Belen, the plan had been for Kerrick and the others to lead the mercs north to the ravine. They could travel faster without dragging me along. Belen and I would go west and wait for them to loop back after losing the mercs.

Not a stellar plan, but one that had worked for them before. Belen filled me in on the details as we rested in the shallow shelter. It didn’t take long for the mercs to find us. A noise alerted Belen. He stood, pulled his sword and stepped in front of me, blocking me from view.

I peeked around him. Six men fanned out in front of him. All armed. The seventh hung back, and the way he crinkled his nose when he met my gaze told me why this time Kerrick’s plan hadn’t worked.

The mercs had a magic sniffer—a person who had no magic of his own, but could smell it in others. The stronger ones could track the scent, sometimes hours after, and these could also distinguish the types of magic by the aroma. Before the plague, magic sniffers had been employed to find children with magical powers.

There were eleven different types of magicians in the Fifteen Realms, and all but one of them were born with power. Young children and magic were a dangerous combination. The sooner a child started training, the better. Healing powers were the exception. It could lay dormant for years, undetectable by the sniffers. Mine hid until right after I had turned fifteen. My sister, Noelle, had cut her hand and this urge bloomed in my chest, tugging me to her as if I had been hooked by a fishing line. My mother had started searching for a teacher for me that day.

Belen waited for the mercs to make the first move. Even though they outnumbered him, they hesitated. Not surprising, considering he was a foot taller and two feet wider than their biggest man.

“Look,” the man with the red beard said to Belen. “Just give us the girl and we’ll be on our way.”

“No.”

I touched Belen’s elbow. “Take the offer. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

When he didn’t move, I stepped around him to give myself up. But Belen stopped me with his arm.

“Stay behind me,” he growled.

No arguing with him. As my heart did flips in my chest, I thought fast.

“She’s smarter than you,” Red Beard said. “Last chance.”

Belen tightened his grip on his broad sword—a two-handed weapon that he held easily with one hand.

“I don’t suppose you have a trio of knives hidden somewhere?” I asked him.

“It’s a little late for a distraction,” he said.

“Juggling isn’t the only thing I’ve learned to do with knives.”

He yanked his dagger from his belt, handed it to me, then pulled another from his boot. “That’s all I have.”

Better than none.

“I guess that’s your answer,” Red Beard said. “Don’t kill the girl,” he ordered his men.

Red Beard stepped forward to engage Belen. Two others also joined the fight. Because Belen kept me and the rocky hillside behind him, there wasn’t room for the other three, and they couldn’t grab me, either.

The fierce intensity and the speed of the fight surprised me. Belen’s calm demeanor remained, and for the first minute, it appeared he had the upper hand. Then the men switched places in one smooth move and now Belen faced three fresh opponents.

That was how they wore him down, by taking turns. I waited for an opportunity to throw my knives, thinking I’d hit their arm or shoulder, but no one would stand still long enough. I had always practiced with a stationary target. No reason not to; I’d never imagined I’d be in this situation in my lifetime.

When Belen’s swings slowed, I knew I had to help him. Even if it was accidental, killing a person went against my nature, so I aimed low and hoped for the best. My first knife pierced one man’s thigh. He yelled and staggered away from the fight. Beginner’s luck didn’t last as the second dagger sailed right by another man.

Then all I could do was watch as they harried Belen, tiring him out. I offered to surrender again, but he just growled.

Red Beard entered the fray again. He feinted left and dipped his thinner blade under Belen’s and straight into his stomach. Belen grunted as I yelled. But he kept swinging. Red Beard continued to snake past his defenses and stab his blade’s tip into Belen’s gut. Eventually, Belen collapsed.

With a cry, I knelt next to him.

Blood soaked his tunic. He thrust his sword into my hands. “Don’t give up.”

I staggered to my feet, holding the heavy blade. The men smirked until I charged, letting my fury over Belen’s injuries fuel my attack.

Chapter 6

The men sidestepped, avoiding the tip of Belen’s sword. I turned to charge again, but this time Red Beard knocked the heavy blade aside with his, redirecting my momentum. Belen’s weapon dragged me to the side. Red Beard moved in close and yanked the hilt from my hands.

Then he grabbed my upper arm. “Come on, let’s go.”

I resisted. “I have to heal—”

“No time. He…” Red Beard squeezed my biceps as he scanned the area.

I copied him. Glancing around, I counted five. The magic sniffer had disappeared.

“Where’s Conner?” Red Beard asked his men.

At first they exchanged confused glances, but then they realized the danger. Red Beard pulled me to where Belen lay, keeping his back to the rocks and me in front of him like a shield. His men fanned out in front of us, facing toward the woods. Red Beard sheathed his sword and drew a knife. He pressed it against my throat. Without thought, I grabbed his wrist, trying to pull the weapon away from my neck, but he rumbled a warning. Stopping my efforts, I left my hand on his arm.

“I have your girl. Come out now or I’ll slit her throat,” Red Beard called.

Nothing.

“I can collect the bounty whether she’s dead or alive.”

A rustle and then Kerrick emerged from the brush. The fabric of his tunic and pants blended in with the surrounding landscape, but his face, hands and hair remained normal. I was impressed with his level of control despite myself.

The knife cut into my skin and I hissed at the sharp sting.

“Keep your hands where I can see them,” Red Beard ordered.

Kerrick appeared to be unarmed. His gaze dropped to Belen’s prone form, then returned to Red Beard’s. “I have enough gold to pay you the bounty. Take it and go.”

Red Beard laughed. “She’s worth forty golds if brought in alive. I doubt—”

Moving slowly, Kerrick dipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a black bag. Coins rattled within.

Red Beard sucked in a breath. “Axe, check it out.”

One of the men snatched the bag from Kerrick. He opened it and poured gold coins into his hand. The young man’s voice squeaked when he reported the count. Forty.

Red Beard tensed. “Where’s my sniffer?”

“Does it matter?” Kerrick asked.

A moment passed. “No.”

Just when I thought he would let me go, Red Beard tightened his hold on me. He laughed. “You’re a fool,” he said to Kerrick. “Now we’ll get eighty golds. Forty from you and forty from Tohon.”

Kerrick’s gaze flickered to my hand still resting on Red Beard’s—a warning. Magic grew inside me, pushing to be released, but I waited for Kerrick’s signal.

“That’s rather greedy,” he said in a conversational tone. Kerrick gestured to the young man drooling over the gold coins in his hand. “You’re not setting the proper example for your young friend here. I would never do that. Isn’t that right, Flea?”

“That’s right,” Flea called from above. We all glanced up. Flea, Quain and Loren stood on the rocks above.

“Now,” Kerrick ordered.

I sent a blast of pain into Red Beard as Flea and the monkeys jumped down. Red Beard swore. I twisted away from his knife and held on to his arm with both hands, sending in another intense wave of pain. Red Beard collapsed onto his knees. Sounds of fighting increased for a moment before dying down. By the time Red Beard slumped to the ground unconscious, the others had been…I wish I could say disarmed, but they had been killed.

I rounded on Kerrick in outrage. But he knelt next to Belen so I swallowed my accusations. All color had fled Belen’s face. His lips had turned a bluish-gray. I sank next to him and put my hand on his sweaty forehead.

“Is she safe?” he asked Kerrick.

“Yes.” As usual, Kerrick showed no emotion.

Belen sighed wetly.

“No,” I said. “I’m not safe, Belen. Who is going to tear Kerrick’s arm off if he hits me again? Come on,” I urged. “Stay with us.”

Kerrick met my gaze. “Can you heal him?”

“I don’t know. I need to examine the wounds.”

He shot to his feet. “Gentlemen, we need a litter. Now.”

The others had been hanging back, but they surged into action. I held Belen’s hand. My magic swelled and pressed to be released, but I kept it in check. If he was savable, I would need complete concentration.

Faster than I thought possible, they constructed a litter. Rolling Belen onto the lattice of branches, Loren and Quain pulled the big man. We didn’t go far. Kerrick knew of a cave system—of course.

The men made torches, but maneuvering the litter through the tight passages of the cave slowed our progress. I kept talking to Belen, encouraging him to keep awake and stay focused. When we reached a cavern that met Kerrick’s approval, I ordered the others to build a fire and heat water. I didn’t really need the water, but it gave them all something to do. Except Kerrick; he hovered over my shoulder, providing light.

I yanked Belen’s shirt up. His stomach resembled a ball after a dog chewed on it. It was amazing Belen had lasted this long. The rank odor of blood, stomach acid and feces wafted off of him. Kerrick stifled a cough.

Lightly rubbing my hand over the wounds, I let my power seek how deep his injuries were. Deep. His intestines had been damaged, his stomach torn. If I healed him, there was more than a good chance I wouldn’t live through it.

I settled back on my heels, considering.

“Well?” Kerrick asked.

I turned and looked at him. He might argue and disagree with Belen, but I knew Kerrick cared for his friend.

“Whose life is more important? Belen’s or Prince Ryne’s?”

His expression hardened. “Why are you asking?”

“Because if I heal Belen I may not survive and you’ll have to find another healer for Prince Ryne.”

Understanding brought pain. I stared at Kerrick, knowing I was being cruel to ask him to choose between them, but not caring.

“You might not survive? What are the odds?” he asked.

“I’d give myself a fifty percent chance of living.” More like ten percent, but I wanted Kerrick to choose.

I waited as a range of emotions flashed. He had such good control, no wonder he exploded when he lost his temper. While he weighed the risks, I sent my magic into Belen’s wounds, flooding them. Yet I kept my gaze on Kerrick.

His decision hurt him deeply. “Don’t heal Belen,” he said in a low voice. “It’s too risky.”

Wow. I hadn’t expected that. I thought for sure he’d choose Belen over Ryne. I drew my magic back inside me.

“Go,” Kerrick ordered. “I’ll stay with him until…” His voice broke.

I left quickly. Pain stabbed deep into my stomach, blood ran down, soaking my waistband. I made it to the small fire before I collapsed. My muscles felt as if they’d been shredded and I couldn’t breathe. Now I know why Tara
never
talked about the Realm wars, and when she healed the warriors near the border. It was an experience like no other.

The pain increased as acid leaked from my pierced stomach and burned my flesh. My magic fought to heal the damage, but it wasn’t fast enough. There would be no recovery from this one. I had no regrets. Belen deserved to live.

Shouts. Curses. A buzz of noise. Flea beside me. His mouth moved, but I couldn’t hear a word he said. The edges of my vision blurred. Black and white spots swirled, turning the world into a chaotic snowstorm. I reached out blindly, clasped a warm hand, faded from life and into peace.

Well, that was what was supposed to happen. Waking in the blissful afterlife, joining all my loved ones who had died before me. Except an annoying, distracting tug kept pulling and yanking. Pain lingered in that direction. Hurt and anger and harsh words waited on that side. I resisted, but damn it all to hell, I wasn’t strong enough.

When I woke, I thought I had overcome the pull and stayed in the afterlife. Whiteness billowed over me in soft waves. My body was cushioned and cocooned in warmth. I stretched my legs and then tried to raise my arms, but my left arm wouldn’t budge. Rolling over, I encountered a number of very unpleasant realities.

I was alive. I was in a room. I was naked except for a bloodstained bandage wrapped tight around my stomach. Kerrick lay beside me. And his hand trapped mine.

Kill. Me. Now.

The only saving grace—he was asleep. I glanced around, searching for my clothes. No luck. Figures. Hiding them was an excellent way to prevent me from running away.

I studied him, wondering if I would wake him if I tried to free my hand. Asleep, he looked four or five years younger—around twenty-five or twenty-six. The harsh lines were gone. His nose was a little too hawklike for my taste, but it worked well with his sharp chin. His eyebrows were on the thicker side, but at least they were smooth and not creased together, which they did every time he looked at me. Plus they matched his long eyelashes.

I remembered my little brother, Allyn, had appeared so innocent and angelic when he slept—similar to Kerrick. It must be a survival tactic. If Allyn hadn’t looked so sweet, we would have killed him while he slept. He had been pure evil when he was awake—similar to Kerrick.

Not pure evil, but close. At least as far as my brother was concerned. Kerrick, on the other hand—pure evil.

Thinking of my brother, I smiled. Allyn had a rare gift of talking his way out of trouble. I dearly hoped he had survived the plague along with Noelle and my mother. I wish I knew where they were. A wave of loneliness rolled through me. As I told Belen, I knew right where my older brother, Criss, and Father were—buried under a million pounds of rock. At least they died quick. Unlike the plague victims. Some of them took two weeks to succumb. Fourteen days of pain and the knowledge that their life would end.

Jerking my thoughts back to my present problems, I decided to extract my hand from Kerrick’s. He woke the instant I moved my fingers.

I froze, waiting for his anger. I had disobeyed his order. I almost died healing Belen.

He studied me and I wanted to pull the covers over my head. After all, someone had to remove my clothing. When he moved, I flinched, causing him to pause for a moment.

Why wasn’t he yelling at me? The anticipation was worse than his fury.

But he sat on the edge of the bed with his back to me. He didn’t have a shirt on or an ounce of fat—just lean, hard muscles. At least he wore pants.

Without saying a word, he left my room. I stared at the closed door in shock. I expected a lecture. I expected punishment for my actions.

Not one to let an opportunity pass me by, I slid out of bed and searched for my clothes or any piece of clothing. At this point I’d wear whatever I could find. Nothing. I wrapped the sheet around me and tested the window. The shutters had been latched, but they opened without trouble. My room was on the second floor, facing a forest. Perfect, I could climb down the drainpipe. In a sheet? I laughed. It could be worse.

Someone knocked on my door. I closed the shutters and dove into bed just as a woman with pure white hair bustled into my room.

“Glory be. Mr. Kerrick was right. So happy to see you awake. Oh, you had us all so worried, you did.” She carried a bundle in her arms. Dropping it on the bed she hustled over to the windows and flung open the shutters. “Get dressed and I’ll fetch you some vittles. You must be starved. A skinny little thing like you, going days without food.” She tsked, heading for the door.

“Days?” I squeaked. “How many?”

“Four or five. The boys brought you in.”

“Where am I?”

“In Mengels, dearie.” With a wave she disappeared as fast as she had arrived.

From the amount of time we’d spent traveling, I’d thought we’d gone farther than Mengels. Oh, well. Not my problem. I fingered the clothing the woman had left. A long dark green skirt with a thin pattern of tiny light yellow flowers, growing as if on a vine. A light yellow tunic, some undergarments and black wool leggings. With no other options, I dressed, hoping my own clothes would show up soon.

Catching my reflection in the mirror, I stared at the strange woman on the other side of the glass. My hair had grown to my shoulders. The dark auburn roots a stark comparison to my dyed-blond strands. It stuck up on one side and was matted flat on the other. I combed my fingers through and realized my hair was clean. Who had washed it?

Curious, I lifted my tunic and pulled the bandage down, inspecting my stomach. Ugly reddish-purple circular scars peppered the skin along with burn marks from the acid. I remembered when Tara had shown me her scars, noting each one was a source of pride and not censure. Since I had been an apprentice, I only had one scar from when I healed Noelle. Now, I had the ones from Belen.

The woman returned with a tray. I hurried to cover myself. She exclaimed over my clothes. “Yours were ruined. That nasty boar tore it to shreds. The boys did a nice job picking out the right size for you. Your boots are below.” She set the tray down and pulled a chair over. “I’ll bring them up, but a nice girl like you should wear something more…feminine. I can send Melina out?”

“No. Thank you, Ms....”

“Call me Mom. Everyone does. When you stay at the Lamp Post Inn, I take care of you, just like your own mother.”