by S A Edwards
“Charlie,” Lallana whispered.
He met her eyes.
“This is not you,” she said.
His doppelganger spoke up, “Can you really take the risk?” His tone gave me shivers, a twisted version of Charlie I had never before witnessed.
Charlie shook his head. “I … I won’t do it.”
“You’re sure? I am you, after all. I am your true side.” It smirked at me. “Perhaps I’ll hurt her.”
“No!” Charlie pushed to his feet.
“Only you can stop it. I go where you go.”
Charlie stepped backward, toward the path’s edge.
Whispers slithered from the shadows.
“Don’t.” I straightened, ready to grab him.
“I have to keep you safe.”
Lallana shifted. “It’s not real, Charlie. It’s a hallucination. You can’t leave the path.”
“Time is running out.” The doppelganger hunched over, arms curled, ready to attack. “Make your choice.”
Charlie looked from me to the apparition, his brow furrowed.
“So be it,” the doppelganger said.
It ran toward me.
Charlie screamed and jumped in its path, swinging his fist at its face.
It dissolved in a huge gust of smoke, and the whispers faded.
Confusion clouded Charlie’s expression, and he sank to his knees.
I wrapped him in my arms, sweat mingling with my tears.
He buried his head in my chest, his sobs muffled.
Lallana slipped into the embrace, squeezed him tightly, and muttered something against his ear.
“What happened?” He whimpered. “You disappeared.”
“I don’t think anyone did,” I said. “I think that’s how this place works. We see our fears. We flee into the forest, and then that monster …” I shivered, the memory fresh in my mind.
“Then, why wasn’t Charlie with us?” Lallana asked. “Why couldn’t we see him?”
“Because … his fear must be different to ours.” Pulling back to look at him, I wiped away his tears. “You’re afraid of hurting me?”
His bottom lip stuck out and trembled. “Mama and Pa were hurt, and the villagers thought I –”
“That was different. You didn’t hurt them. And you,” – I peered at Lallana – “you’re afraid of the Seekers?”
She shook her head. “I’m afraid of losing you. Of failing …”
“Failing what?”
“You’re scared of the Seekers?” Charlie asked.
“I guess. But more so of something happening to either of you. At least, now we know why the Pass is forbidden.” Unable to distinguish reality from lie, no wonder no one returned.
Pushing to my feet, I took their hands once more and continued along the trail.
Snarling slithered from the darkness, and although the path was protected, my heart continued to race. We kept our pace quick, eyes roaming the forest, but nothing else occurred.
Another black wall towered before us in the distance, and relief threatened to rise, but we weren’t out yet. Thoughts of Zantos, the Keeper, plagued my mind, but a few meters within range of the Gate, the cloud shifted and swirled, no signs of him emerging.
My footfalls staggered, eager to escape, yet fearful of what lay on the other side. Charlie’s hand squeezed mine, and then together, we stepped into the cloud.
16
The instant we reached the other side of the Gate my vision sharpened. Dirt and fresh dew clung to my boots, glistening in the moonlight, and I inhaled the sweet aroma of the early morning, dragging warmth from the air to eliminate my cool sweat. Blue sparks crackled at my fingers, and Charlie leapt back, shaking his hand.
I giggled, relief coursing through me with the return of my gift.
Pink tinged the sky, the shadows fled, and birds sang in the treetops.
“We should get moving,” I said. “The Seeker could be close.” Relief rose with our escape from the Pass and the growing light of day, but knowledge of the pursuing Seeker set my teeth on edge.
Charlie reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled, folded piece of paper. Kneeling, he opened it out and smoothed it on the ground.
I blinked back the heaviness in my eyes. “You brought a map?”
He shrugged. “Just in case.”
“I’m glad we did,” Lallana said.
His finger ran along a thin line between a thick border of trees. “Here’s the Pass. I think. It looks right. So … we need to go this way.” He peered at Lallana.
She nodded. “I’d say so.”
I bent over the map, doubt leading my frown. From the area he pointed, forest surrounded us, without a village for miles. They seemed awfully confident about travelling a foreign section of the land considering the approaching hunter and their confinement in the village all those years. “Did Custos say anything about Beasts being in this area?” I asked, already sure I knew the answer.
Charlie and Lallana’s expressions confirmed my suspicion.
“It could take them a day or more to reach here,” Charlie said. “Assuming they know we’ve had to go through the Pass.”
“So, we’re on our own.” My insides churned. I couldn’t send them to hide in a village. Not with the Seekers hunting them, too. “We had better get moving then. The sooner we get to the Healer Capital, the better. We’ll be safe there.” Although a new concern rose within me. If only a Refiner could enter the Refiner Capital, what did that mean for Charlie and Lallana getting into the safety of the Healer Capital?
We trailed west. We guessed it would take us a few days to reach the Main City, and thoughts of the pursuing Seeker brought flutters to my stomach.
The morning passed by slowly. Hunger pains stabbed, and I wished we had some of the lemon-corn with us now. Our packs were still back in the clearing where the Seeker had found us.
Charlie walked beside me, face hidden behind his map. The forest ground had levelled out, though I still wondered how he didn’t trip.
Charlie frowned and emerged from behind the map. “There’s a village near here, but,” – he peered around – “I’m not sure exactly how …”
I sniffed the air, a fresh scent touching my nose. “Can anyone smell Riparian?”
Slipping past Charlie, my feet sank in the long grass, and the aroma grew stronger. Rushing water reached my ears, and my mouth screamed out for moisture.
There they were. Light pink flowers dotted the ground ahead, swaying in a slight breeze. They only grew beside water and were as beautiful and welcoming as the water itself. Their petals sang in the wind, marking our relief from thirst.
The ground ended beside them with a river rushing through a valley below. A small sandy bank stretched from the water’s edge, leading back into the woodland. Rock jutted out from the incline like steps.
Wary of the narrow stone, I began to descend.
Charlie whooped at the sight of the water, tucked away his map, and dropped to the first step.
“Careful,” I warned.
He grinned at me, flashing his dimples, and climbed down with ease, Lallana close behind. Her light hair fluttered below her shoulders, swaying with her movement.
Reaching the bottom, I waited until they were both safely on the sand, and then skipped to the water and scooped it up in my hands. Charlie didn’t pause at the edge, leaping into the river’s folds. Cold droplets splashed my cheeks and hair. Refreshing shivers slid through my body and eased some of the night’s stress.
Something moved, and I hesitated, hands halfway to my mouth.
Rough blond hair and tanned skin adorned the man on the opposite bank, a navy cloak hanging loosely from his shoulders. He raised his hand. Water rose from the rapids and pooled under him, lifting him from the sand. He remained still, carried smoothly over the river, and then dropped to the bank, the water lost in the grains.
“That was so cool!” Charlie hurried over, his trousers dark with dampness.
My fin
gers turned numb, and I scrambled to my feet, heart thudding.
Lallana pressed in beside me, eyes on the approaching stranger, her shoulders tense.
The newcomer chuckled. “Thank you. It’s not often I meet someone unfamiliar with my gift, else that may not have impressed you so. You are new to the area?” He directed the question at me.
I nodded, unsure how much to reveal.
His gaze drifted to my hands. “You’re thirsty? Please, allow me.” He reached into his cloak and produced a cup, golden and rimmed with red.
Water streamed from the river in threads, gathering in a ball between us, obeying every flick of his fingers. Droplets tore from the bulk, and a spiralling symbol rotated in the centre of the ball, then it slid into the cup.
He offered it to me. “You’ll feel much better with purified water.”
Charlie reached out.
I grabbed it and shot him a warning look. Surely after everything that had happened, he wouldn’t be so quick to trust? But someone had to try it to avoid arousing suspicion, and it might as well be me.
Tentatively, I took a sip. Cool and refreshing, it carried a sweetness that far surpassed the water at home, and my stomach pain dulled. “This is wonderful.”
The Mage smiled. “A Healer’s water is always preferable. Once it’s purified, its properties are hard to surpass and lead to a very healthy life, if drunk regularly.”
“Can I have some now?” Charlie asked.
I flushed and passed it to him, embarrassed about my previous reaction.
He drank quickly, and then passed it to Lallana to finish.
The Mage refilled it, calling more threads from the river, before offering it to me once more.
I took it gratefully. My fingers brushed his, and warmth spread through them.
He blinked, focus honed in on me. “You’re a Healer.”
I almost choked on the water. “What? Why would you –”
“I sense the mark given to you at birth.”
Charlie shuffled forward, shifting between the Mage and me. “You’re an Elder.”
The Mage nodded, gaze still on me.
“I’m not … That’s not … I can’t be …” How could I have the mark? My home village suppressed my gifts. I hadn’t been given one. Vitora had said as much herself.
“You are unaware of your gift?”
“Well, I …” The words refused to come, unease washing through me. Vitora warned me against saying too much. Could the mark from my first life still be present now? This new body couldn’t have it. But my soul?
“What are you doing out here?” the Mage asked. “Which is your village?”
“We’re going to the Main City,” Lallana said.
“Relocating? I suppose that explains it.” He peered at us in turn. “No packs?”
“We lost them.”
“Really? How did you manage that?”
“It’s a long story.”
I stared at Lallana, surprised at her quick tongue. Afraid even to speak, I didn’t carry her confidence.
The Mage frowned. “Hmm. As it happens, I have no students at present and am heading to the City myself. Travel with me. I’d be happy to be your mentor.”
My lips tightened. “I don’t know.” I wanted nothing to do with the gifts. The flames were handy but dangerous. Worry that the Healer gift would begin to spiral out of control clung to me. Travelling with someone who knew the way to the City would help, but I didn’t want to train with a stranger. It was risky. If he found out who I was, could I stop him from calling the Seekers?
“You can’t have someone else in mind, surely, if you’re unaware of this?” he said. “Our gift is nothing to fear. Hence the name of “gift”.”
I bit my tongue, torn between the choices.
His brow drew down. “I have to stop at Fluvios village anyway. Come with me. Think about it. Then, before I leave, you can make a decision. And here …” He drew water from the cup with a flick of his fingers. It twisted toward me, caressing my shoulder. Cold slipped through my tunic and the dirty bandage still wrapped around my gash, relieving the ache. He smiled. “You can take the dressing off now. Your wound is healed.”
17
The arch at the entrance to Fluvios village withered as much as the one at Karandar, maybe more so.
The Mage had introduced himself as Yithan and led the way into the bustling village. Tattered brown work clothes covered the tanned skin of the busy citizens. Small carts carried green lemon-corn, blue silberries and pink carpels, the fruit bulging with sweet juices. A smoky aroma lingered faintly on the air.
Most of the workers were gathered around the largest of the crumbling buildings, with seven interlinked rings engraved above the arched doors. Carts grumbled along the cobbled path, dragged by two workers, sweat glistening on their foreheads.
I rubbed my sweaty hands down my tunic, hoping Yithan didn’t remain long. Dirt and sweat clung to my body, and I lowered my head, surely unfit to be seen. The Seeker would soon be upon us. We needed to leave quickly.
An elderly male rushed forward, his hair all but gone. A grey jumper enclosed his arms, hanging limply from his body. “You arrived not a moment too late.” He gripped the Mage’s hand and didn’t even glance at us. Perhaps that was a good thing.
“Take me to them,” Yithan said, and then followed him through the arched doors. The pillars framing them were missing chunks of rock, and memories of my time with Vitora returned to me. I could refine them, but the need to conceal the truth weighed heavily on my mind, and they still resembled curses, not gifts to me.
A long corridor led further into the building with peeling brown wallpaper scratched and faded with time. Doors led off, but the villager shuffled past, his words falling from his lips. “They came in the night. There was no warning. Nothing we could do. They set fire to the crops. We tried to stop them, but we were no match. No match for them. What little we saved has been harvested.” He spun, his expression etched with worry. “I don’t know how we’ll survive the next season.”
I wrinkled my nose against the scent of blood, wafting through the hallway.
“Wallow,” – Yithan touched his shoulder – “you know the surrounding villages will give their aid.”
“Perhaps. Unless they get to them, too.” He twisted and bustled forward, shoving through a set of double doors.
Large windows let in light, high up in the rear of a large, cold hall. Makeshift beds lined the walls, each occupied. Villagers hurried between them with torn cloths and bloodied padding. The stench of blood and burned clothes and skin stung my nose, and cries of pain echoed through the open space.
“Who did this?” I gasped.
Wallow’s attention shifted to me for the first time, and his eyes narrowed. “The Corrupted.”
Yithan strode toward the nearest of the wounded, his cloak flurrying behind him. “Bring me water. Quickly!”
“But why would they attack you?” Charlie asked. “You’re land workers. You’re no threat to them.”
“Our harvest is partly distributed to the Main City. Three other villages have been assaulted, too. The Corrupted will do anything to attack the Council, even hurt innocent people.” He ran his hand along the back of his neck. “Are you Healers? Can you help?”
“We’ll do what we can,” I said.
Wallow nodded and shifted away.
I peered at Charlie and Lallana. “I’ll be quick. I know the See …” I glanced around, “I know they’re coming. I just … I can’t leave when these people are –”
“It’s okay.” Lallana smiled. “We want to help, too.”
“They’re at least a day away,” Charlie said. “We can stay. For a little bit.” He headed to the back of the room, and Lallana turned toward a woman with a white, blood-stained apron.
Yithan knelt facing his patient, back to me.
A man lay, eyes closed, barely breathing. Burns curled across his arms, and the front of his tunic was soaked with blood. Bunche
s of material lay beside him, equally covered. Strange weakness tugged at my nerves. Not mine. It couldn’t be mine. My balled fists relaxed. “I feel him.”
Yithan nodded once.
“How can you help him?” I whispered. “He’s near death.”
Yithan didn’t speak as a woman placed a jug before him, the surface reflecting the early afternoon light. He raised his hand.
Tingles shot through my body, prickling like I’d lain still for too long.
The water inside curled up, twisting in a gleaming ball. With a flick of his wrist, it slid toward the wound, caressing it, immersing within the folds. Brilliant and blinding light shone from it, covering the man’s torso, chest and arms in white.
I squinted, determined to witness everything from the incredible display.
The light faded, leaving clear, untouched skin in its place through the shredded tunic, and I stared in wonder.
The man gasped. His hands shot to the newly healed wound, fingers running down his arms, eyes wide.
A woman pushed past me and fell into his arms, dropping the padding she held. She kissed his face, tears streaming, holding him tight.
He wound one arm round her and grasped Yithan with his other. Gratitude shone in his eyes.
Yithan gave him a squeeze, and then stood. “Not many people get to witness our healing power. We prefer to do it in private. It does take a certain amount of concentration, but it’s worth every ounce of our energy.”
“It’s wonderful,” I whispered. Traces of the tingling sensation still coursed through my fingers, and I wiggled them, longing to see him heal again.
He moved on to the next, and then another. He didn’t visit them in the order they lay. Each person held different levels of energy. He always approached the weakest.
After his seventh time, I reluctantly tore from his side and attempted to make those waiting more comfortable: getting them water, fetching fresh padding. If I could use the gift, I could help. I wanted to. Their whimpers cut me to the heart, yet my desire to stay and help tugged against my desire to flee from the Seeker.