by H. L. Burke
Chapter Eighteen
Laidra bundled up their meager supplies. Zephia had awakened her at the cock’s crow. During a quick meal of flatbread and goat’s milk purchased from a man headed to market, Zephia explained her plan.
“We can sail down the coast, looking for some sign of where he left the water,” she said. “He can’t swim forever. In that form, he’ll be seeking a place to sun or some place with ample prey.”
“Do you think he will have made land near here?” Laidra asked between bites.
“Yes, at least within a day’s walk. He’d need to rest before swimming much farther than that.” Zephia passed Laidra a wooden cup filled with creamy milk.
“And when we find him?” Laidra glanced at her over the rim of her cup.
“We keep him safe, and we keep him from hurting anyone.” The queen brushed her hand across her forehead. “Once that has been accomplished, we can consider our next steps.”
Laidra's stomach tightened. Even if they found him, would they be able to control him, or would he escape them again? I wonder what he’s feeling right now, if he understands what has happened to him, if he’s frightened, sad, lonely …
They left their hut. The morning mist still hung over the town, but villagers were already well into their morning tasks. Goatherds drove their charges through the streets towards the pastures. Merchants laid out pungent spices in earthenware bowls, a rainbow of mustard orange, chili red, and leafy green. Women swept dust from their doorsteps, chattering to one another and scolding the young children who chased each other through the courtyard.
When Laidra and Zephia passed, the villagers leaned together, their voices dropping. Suddenly grateful for her hood and veil, Laidra focused on the distant line of blue peeking through the fog.
Shouts rang out. All eyes turned to a young man who rushed into the courtyard, eyes wide and chest heaving. Red streaked his brown shirt and stained his dark-skinned hands. He led a donkey with an older man draped over its back.
Someone’s hurt. I can heal them. Instinctively, Laidra stepped towards the pair, but Zephia’s hand clamped down on her shoulder.
“My father is hurt! Please, help me!” he wailed.
“Hapir, what happened?” The village elder who had dealt with Zephia the night before stepped from his doorway, his brow furrowed.
“We were looking for a lost goat, and we found—it was huge! Jaws wide enough to swallow a man.” The boy quivered. “Father tried to drive it back with his spear to save the goats. He stabbed it, but it struck him. He’s bleeding.”
Two men helped him pull the man from the donkey and into a nearby house. The boy tried to follow, but the remaining villagers swarmed him.
“What attacked you?” a man shouted.
“Was it a wolf? A lion?” a woman asked.
“No, no, it was monstrous! Glowing green eyes, fangs, so many coils.”
Everyone began to talk at once.
“Calen,” Laidra whispered.
Zephia nodded. “It seems he’s found us. Let us slip away.”
“But his father—” Laidra swallowed. She’d never had to explain her powers to strangers before, but she couldn’t leave someone hurt without offering her help.
“We need to get to Calen before they send hunters after him. He may be hurt. Let us go.”
Her eyes still on the frightened people, Laidra let Zephia pull her along for a few steps.
“Wait!” called a shrill voice, rising over the clamor. “Those are the strangers with the magic boat!”
Zephia froze.
Every head in the crowd turned towards them. Laidra quivered. She’d never had so many strange eyes on her.
A man stepped forward, his lips curled. “First, these women appear on a ship steered by nothing.” He pointed at them. “Then Hapir and Ronno are attacked by a monster from the underworld. In my day, that would be a sign of witches.”
“We are simply travelers,” Zephia said, her voice calm. “We are sorry for your misfortune, but we in no way caused it.”
“And why does your companion cover her face? Is she even human?”
“He’s right,” a woman called. “I saw them arrive, and the girl has never once removed the veil. What is she trying to hide?”
The wind rose, stirring Laidra’s garments. She shot Zephia a glance. The queen stood still as stone.
“You will let us go.” Zephia's voice was firm. “We have no quarrel with you.”
“Tell that to Hapir’s father!” The man shook his fist. “He lies dying inside the hut.”
A breeze swept through the courtyard, stirring dust. Laidra bit her lip. Yes, Zephia’s powers could most likely save them, but what damage would they do to this tiny village and its inhabitants?
“Someone needs to answer for this sorcery!” The crowd responded to the man’s urging, pointing fingers and murmuring among themselves.
Laidra found her voice. “I can help him!” She yanked away from Zephia’s side. “Take me to the injured man. I can heal him.”
“Laidra!” Zephia said sharply.
Laidra ignored her. “I have the ability to mend wounds. If I save the injured man, will you let us go?”
The rabble-rouser exchanged glances with Hapir.
The young man eyed Laidra hopefully. “Can you really help my father?”
She nodded. “Take me to him.”
Hapir took her hand and pulled her through the crowd. Inside the hut, Ronno lay on a reed mat. A red stain soaked a bandage on his stomach, and his face was pinched in pain. The village elder and a gray-haired old woman stooped over him. The woman held a steaming cup. When she pressed it towards Ronno’s face, he cried out and turned away.
Laidra knelt beside him, ignoring the stares of the villagers. She hovered her hand over the wound and felt the warmth of her gift stir in her skin. It surged through her like hot water, trickling through her veins and out her fingertips. The wounded man gasped, and his eyes snapped open. He stared at the ceiling then at her.
Her breath quickened. She had rarely gotten a chance to work on wounds of such severity. The worst trauma she could remember healing was the broken legs of Nera’s granddaughter, and while crippling, the girl’s injuries weren’t life-threatening. Now, as she withdrew, a weariness swept through her, not burdensome, but as if she’d climbed a long flight of stairs. She supposed new blemishes would sprout in response to the use of her gift, though she didn't immediately feel the itch of one. Maybe I've finally become accustomed to it.
Ronno sat up. His hand strayed to the bandage.
“What are you doing?” the old woman gasped, reaching to stop him.
Before she could, Ronno tore the cloth from his stomach revealing skin, bloodstained but whole.
The woman put her hand to her heart. “By the gods!”
Laidra flushed. “He’s better now.” She started to rise, but the old woman snatched her by the wrist and pulled her down with surprising strength.
“What are you?” the woman hissed. Her hand darted towards the veil.
Laidra wrenched away. Too late. The veil slipped from her face.
The man’s jaw dropped. “She’s a fiend!”
Heart pounding, Laidra stood tall rather than flee or flinch. “I’m no such thing. I healed your friend, now let me leave.”
The old woman drew a knife from her belt. Laidra gasped and staggered backward into the wall. Rather than attack, the woman sliced her palm with the blade. She extended her hand towards Laidra, blood rising from her calloused skin.
“Show me!” she ordered.
Laidra hesitated. Well, they already knew what she could do. She hovered her hand over the old woman’s wound. As her skin re-formed, the old woman grinned.
“Can you heal all injuries?” she asked, her eyes glinting.
The princess clamped her mouth shut.
“Illness?” The old woman raised her eyebrows.
“I want to leave.” Laidra kept her voice steady, though her knees w
eakened. The woman's bony fingers gripped Laidra by the wrist and pulled her closer. Laidra bit back a whimper. “Let me go.”
“Can you cure old age?” The woman's smile broadened, revealing yellow teeth. Contempt rose in Laidra. She would not be used like this. Summoning all her strength, she wrenched away, glad she could not offer this crone eternal youth.
“No.” She scowled. “Nor death.”
The woman hissed and stomped out of the hut.
“But illness and injury?” The elder stood. “Ronno, go show the others that you are well and ask my wife to bring Nina.”
Ronno stood and staggered towards the door, still gaping at Laidra.
Laidra shook her head. “I told Hapir I would heal his father, but I have to go.”
“Please!” The elder fell to his knees. The suddenness of the gesture took Laidra by surprise. “Nina is my granddaughter, only six. A few weeks ago, she took a fall, and her arm won’t heal right. Please, have mercy on me, goddess!”
“I’m not—” Laidra stammered.
“What’s going on?”
Zephia strode in. “You have no right to keep my companion here. She healed your friend. You must let her leave.”
“Please …”
A murmur rose from outside. A middle-aged woman entered the hut carrying a small girl with dark curls and an arm wrapped in a layer of brown cloth. She laid the child down on the mat Ronno had abandoned and unfurled the bandage. The girl whimpered, clutching at her grandmother’s dress with her uninjured hand.
Laidra flinched. Nina’s wrist was swollen, her skin tinged purple.
“We need to go,” Zephia said, but the conviction had left her voice.
“Let me help, just this one.” Laidra sat beside the girl. Carefully, she ran her hand over the wounded arm.
Nina stared at her, her whole body stiffening.
“I know I look a fright, but I can help you,” Laidra assured her. Her gift hummed through her skin with a prickling energy, like sparks from a woolen blanket.
With a gasp, Nina pulled her hand back. She wiggled her fingers. “Gamma, look! It doesn’t hurt. I can move it again!”
The woman whimpered, her hand clasped to her breast. “Thank the gods!”
Zephia grasped Laidra’s shoulder. “We should go.”
Laidra nodded but couldn’t take her eyes from Nina. The little girl leapt up and danced around the room, waving her healed arm and giggling. Her grandparents embraced.
I can still do some good. Ugly or not, alone or not, I still have purpose. A smile flitted across Laidra’s lips. Zephia urged her to her feet and out the door.
A wall of villagers awaited them. Zephia inhaled a hissing breath.
Laidra’s jaw dropped. A woman clutched a toddler with yellowed eyes and a listless expression. A man leaned heavily on a crutch. A teen sported a bandaged hand.
“I can get us away,” Zephia whispered. “I heard the villagers talk of forming a hunting party to seek the monster who attacked Ronno. We need to get to Calen.”
The toddler coughed, and his mother’s bottom lip shook. Laidra couldn’t leave that child without helping, but she also couldn’t let the villagers harm Calen.
“What’s the name of the village elder?” Laidra asked.
Zephia’s brow furrowed. “Yori, I think. Why?”
“Yori!” Laidra called.
The elder emerged from the hut. He eyed the crowd. “It seems news of your ability traveled quickly. This is a small town, but we have more than our fair share of sickness.”
“Is it true that you are planning to hunt the …” She swallowed, unable to bring herself to call Calen a monster.
“The serpent?” Yori tilted his head to one side. “It seems we will have to. It is unwise to leave such a creature at large to prey upon our herds.”
“Promise me you won’t. Let me and my companion take care of it, and I will heal your citizens.”
Yori raised his eyebrows. “I suppose that is to our advantage, but may I ask why?”
“You may not.” Laidra sat cross-legged on one of the market mats and motioned to the mother and child. “You first.”
Chapter Nineteen
Laidra wiped the sweat from her brow and closed her eyes. The sun hovered over the sea, painting the horizon bright pink and orange. Finally, the long parade of sick and wounded had ended. Word had traveled, bringing first the villagers themselves, then drawing some from isolated farms, then people on carts, riding in from the next town up the coast.
Perhaps the falling darkness would bring a lull.
The wind rustled, and Zephia stepped from the growing shadows. She’d departed about midday to look for Calen. Laidra wasn’t sure if her return was a good sign or not.
“Finished at last?” Zephia asked.
Laidra nodded. “I didn’t expect there to be so much need.”
“It will only grow. When word of your power reaches the larger ports, the flood will be unstoppable.” Zephia settled beside Laidra. “As much as I admire your compassion, you will never be able to end all the world’s suffering. At our next port, I suggest you keep your gift a secret.”
Laidra dropped her gaze. While she understood the need to travel quickly and inconspicuously, she didn't know if she could turn away those in need, not after seeing the difference she could make. Still, there was one thing of greater concern to her. “What about Calen?” Laidra eyed Zephia. “Did you find any sign of him?”
The queen’s shoulders slumped. “I found his trail. I managed to track him from where he devoured the goat to a rocky gorge filled with caverns and crags, but from there—perhaps he found a place to shelter himself.”
Laidra stared out over the sea. Yes, they needed to find Calen, to be certain he was safe. “You’re right, we should go. More people will come, and I don’t know if I will be strong enough to say ‘no’ when faced with them.” She swallowed, remembering the jaundiced little boy and the girl with the swollen arm. “Especially if there are children.”
Zephia squeezed Laidra’s shoulder. “Your gift is a blessing. However, we can't risk lingering. The villagers promised not to hunt Calen, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t in danger, or that he isn’t a danger to others. We’ll sleep on the boat tonight. It won’t be as comfortable, but if we need to, we’ll be able to make a hasty escape.”
***
At dawn, Zephia’s father (as Zephia insisted on calling the seemingly faceless wind) guided them down the coast into a sheltered cove where a small rivulet danced over the sand to the sea. Laidra bathed in its water, washing away the brine that had crusted upon her skin over the last few days. With how much healing she'd done at the village, she supposed her appearance must have grown worse, but oddly, she didn't notice any new blemishes.
Maybe the distractions of Calen and the villagers’ needs simply put it out of mind. After all, finding a new wart or wrinkle among the thousands already strewn across my skin would be like searching for a new blade of grass in a meadow. She smiled a wry smile. Or I've finally reached the point where I can't grow any uglier. In that case, Calen probably saw me at my worst … and still wanted me. The heartache sharpened. Laidra turned away from the stream determined to focus on finding him and keeping him safe.
Zephia pointed to a furrow in the sand. “I found this yesterday. Here is where he made land. From here, he must’ve followed the scent of goats to the village’s pastures.”
“Do you think he was hurt in the struggle?” Laidra rubbed her arms. “Hapir mentioned a spear.”
The queen shook her head. “I saw no sign of that. There was blood, either from the man or the goat, but not from Calen. In his cursed form, Calen’s blood has distinct properties.”
Laidra nodded, remembering the bite of it on her skin and how steam had risen from it when it hit the sand.
“So, what now?” she asked.
“You remember how I said he disappeared into a canyon?” Zephia nodded her head towards the rivulet. “This is one of the m
any branches of that.”
The rivulet cut a narrow path through the red sandstone walls of the cove into a canyon narrow enough to touch both sides with hands outstretched. The stream took up the entire bottom, burbling over rocks with a constant song. Laidra hitched up her skirts and waded in. At the edges, it came up to her knees. She started down the channel, but Zephia grabbed her wrist.
“I’ll go first,” Zephia said. “May I have the pendant?”
Laidra hesitated, fingering the opal.
Zephia held out her hand. “If we come across him, he won’t be himself. If he strikes me, you can heal me. If he strikes you, you might die.”
Reluctantly, Laidra surrendered the opal.
Zephia slipped the chain over her head but kept the gem in her palm. Laidra flushed. I didn’t even think to have it out and ready. Yes, Zephia is more qualified to wield it than I am.
The women splashed down the channel. The current sucked at their feet, cool in the shadows of the canyon. Ahead of them, the stream widened into a glassy pool with a bank of gravel along one side. They climbed onto this, and Zephia summoned a breeze to dry their skirts. It tickled Laidra’s skin, making her smile.
On solid ground, their pace quickened. Still, hours of exploration crept on with no signs of Calen. Soon the midday sun hovered over the canyon, hot and bright. Sweat beaded on Laidra’s skin, and she knelt at the water’s edge to splash the cool liquid on herself.
“Perhaps he left the gorge to seek food,” she said. “I haven’t seen signs of wildlife other than a few minnows and some cliff swallows. Not enough to satisfy a creature as large as Calen.”
Zephia sat on a nearby boulder, her eyes closed and her hands extended. The wind circled about her, stirring her hair and garments. “Father hasn’t seen him either.” She sighed and stood. “But no. From my understanding of serpents, they have slow digestion. That goat he devoured yesterday should keep him sated for several days, if not longer.” Holding her hand to shade her eyes, she scanned the canyon walls. “No, my guess is he found some place sheltered or sunny to rest.”