Keir

by Pippa Jay

  Throughout her ministrations he leaned against her, too weak to move or voice any protest even when it was clear she had unwittingly hurt him. When she was done, his breathing was still shallow and uneven, and she could feel the life seeping out of his body. Gritting her teeth, she drew more of his pain into herself but it seemed to make no difference. At a loss, she tried to persuade him to take some water, but he shook his head. There was nothing more she could do for him. Not here.

  “Keir?” she said softly.

  “Mm?”

  “I need to take you to my world to get you help, but you’re so weak…it’s a risk. I can’t make this decision for you.”

  She laid him back so she could see his face. His eyes were very bright and calm, as if nothing mattered anymore. She took his hand in her own, willing him to survive.

  “There is no decision to be made, Quin.” Keir grimaced, taking a sudden gasp of air as if fighting for it. “I am dying. But I would rather die with you than stay here.”

  His words filled her with a sadness so sharp she had to fight down tears. Swallowing the knot in her throat, she pulled him to his feet for the last time. Even with her support, Keir struggled to keep up as they moved a short distance downstream. A huge slab of dark stone lay against the bank as though it had reeled backward in a drunken stupor. Quin raised her free hand, palm out toward the rock face. Shimmering lines rapidly crisscrossed the surface, forming a doorway which snapped opened into endless night. Keir flinched, staring into the star-dusted infinity beyond.

  “You live in the stars?” he asked, sounding alarmed.

  “Yes.” Quin took a step forward, calm and content as she stared into the doorway. “And so will you. There’s nothing to be afraid of, Keir.”

  He frowned, and for an instant gripped her shoulder as if to stop her, before allowing her to guide him through. The universe rushed past them in a blaze of white light and they stepped out onto another world.

  * * * *

  Rialto sent his horse crashing through the undergrowth, recklessly urging it on through the woodland. A small river blocked his path, but he gave a shout of encouragement and the animal made the jump with ease, though it stumbled along the edge of the opposite earthen bank. He jerked it to a halt so hard it sat back on its quarters, tossing its head in alarm.

  Rialto dropped from the saddle, grimacing as he jolted his bad leg in his impatience. The added discomfort only increased his rancor as he advanced on the waiting scout.

  Used to his commander’s dark moods and tempers, the man remained unflinching at his approach and stood to attention.

  “Well?” Rialto demanded, barely able to contain his anger. “Where are they? Why have you lost the trail?”

  “I cannot follow someone who vanishes into thin air, sir,” the tracker replied, undaunted. He gestured toward a rock face where a path of disturbed leaves and broken twigs ended.

  Wonderingly, the commander laid a hand on the indicated rock, as if expecting it to yield its secrets at his touch.

  “You are sure? There is no possibility they have climbed the bank or doubled-back?” he questioned, without much hope. He knew the tracker was too experienced to be fooled by such tricks.

  “Yes, sir, I am certain. I do not know how they have done it, but the trail ends here. We have lost them.”

  “Witchcraft, perhaps,” Rialto suggested faintly.

  The tracker looked skeptical. “You might as well suggest they flew, sir.”

  The commander turned away, slowly drawing his sword. He nodded, examining the blade as if seeking a flaw in the metal. Then, with a roar of rage and frustration, he spun and struck the rock repeatedly. Sparks flew from the blade as it made black marks across the stone.

  Those of his men who had caught up stood in shocked silence to watch him as, with a final scream, he plunged the blade deep into the ground before the rock and walked away, his face like thunder.

  * * * *

  Keir tightened his grip on her arm, fear flickering through him. A semi-circle of smooth, white walls surrounded them, each with a glass window set at head height, peering out over a new landscape. The sun was setting and a keen wind stirred the golden leaves of tall, silvery saplings. A vast lake of steel-gray water rippled under the same airy caresses, verdant fields disappearing into the horizon past the craggy sentinels of blue-gray rock. Another world.

  “It is beautiful,” he whispered breathlessly. “I am glad I have seen it.”

  The last of his strength bled away. His grip on her shoulder slackened and he collapsed to the floor with a final sigh.

  Chapter 3

  Quin leaned against the frosted glass wall of the shower, hot water streaming over her as she sluiced off the stench of the sewer and rinsed clumps of mud from her hair. She tipped her face to the water, letting it hide the tears that fell as she recalled her last images of Keir. The beaten look in his eyes as he waited for her to condemn him. The blood running from his body and soaking into the mud of the village. The lifeless stare as he fell at her feet in the gateway room. The deathly stillness that killed hope.

  Summoned by the alarm system, the medical team had been there within seconds. Surei had banished her from the medical center until she was cleaned and calmed to the required standard. Sent to her quarters like a scolded child. There had been no word since, good or bad, and she dreaded any answer she might go seeking.

  Her skin glowing red from scrubbing and the foul smell at least masked by scented detergent, Quin judged herself sufficiently clean and cut the water. Hot air blasted over her skin, chasing droplets of water downward. When the autodry cycle finished, she stepped out to dress. The plain black clothing only emphasized her pallor but she didn’t care enough to change. Two hours had passed since she’d brought Keir home, with no news from Surei and her team.

  She dried her damp hair with a towel until it formed a wild mane then used her fingers to smooth the tangles, pacing her quarters like a caged animal. Her stomach growled, reminding her of how long it had been since she last ate. Half a day? No, longer than that. Her last meal had been those few pieces of fruit she had scavenged at the camp. But even as she considered it, her insides twisted into such a tight knot she couldn’t bear the thought of food.

  She sat at her table anyway, buried her face in her arms.

  Ryan, Darion, Jared.

  The names were a litany that haunted her. Three men she had cared about and lost.

  And now Keir?

  She knew so little about him, but she did know she felt something more for him than pity. That strange connection bound them together in some way.

  Why was it taking so long? If he had died, surely Surei would have told her by now? If only she could have stayed with him…but Surei knew her job, and, in the end, Quin had little right to argue. All she had done was provide a refuge for a handful of people who had nowhere else to go. She wasn’t their boss.

  When her call chime finally sounded, she froze, almost unwilling to answer it. It rang a second time, and she forced herself to speak.

  “Yes?”

  “He’s stable, Quin, but I need you up here, please.” Despite the musical quality of her voice, Surei’s tone gave nothing away, which only intensified Quin’s foreboding.

  She raced down the glowing white corridors to the medical center, only to be grabbed on arrival by Surei.

  “Calm down, Quin.” Her feathered head tilted to one side. “You’re not seeing him in that state.”

  Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she focused on the Senior Medical Officer with an effort. Barely Quin’s height and delicately built–although there was surprising strength in her grip–her dark, narrow face was framed by snow-white feathers and punctuated by serious amber eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” Quin said, unable to keep the slight tremor from her voice. “I thought I’d killed him bringing him back.”

  The medic tempered her stern expression with a touch of compassion, easing her hold on Quin’s forearms. “His injuri
es alone would have killed him, not the journey home. How he has stayed alive this long, I don’t know.” She paused, as if considering the impact of her words. “It isn’t good, Quin.”

  “How bad?”

  “His injuries are severe,” Surei ventured, her melodic voice subdued. “A cracked skull, four broken ribs that punctured a lung just prior to his arrival, and massive blood loss. The last beating he took aggravated everything, but he was already critical. I am sorry, Quin.”

  For a long moment she stared at Surei in disbelief. In spite of his terrible condition and his subsequent collapse, she had still harbored a fragment of hope. “He’s dying?”

  “We’ve done all we can for him, medically-speaking, but he’s slipping away. It’s as if he’s given up. I can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.”

  Quin closed her eyes. Guilt clenched around her chest and squeezed, leaving her with an ache no drug would cure. She had failed.

  She glanced over the avian medic’s shoulder into the room beyond. “Can I see him now?”

  Surei nodded and silently led her through.

  The medical center had been designed for a much larger population than the meager few who remained in the base after its creators abandoned it. Surei had reduced the facility to a more appropriate size by sectioning off enough for their needs. A long, narrow bay enclosed five adjustable beds made of thin, silvery metal, each supported by a single, central pillar. Behind them stood individual panels of black metallic neo-crystal running from ceiling to floor, containing personal monitoring and control systems with separate medical computers, to ensure every patient received specialized care.

  Keir was cradled in the far bed, the white wall alongside a stark contrast to the distinctive coloring of his skin. He’d been stripped of his filthy rags and cleaned up, and it was the first time she’d been able to see him clearly, to see his youth and frailty. Surrounded by medical equipment and naked to the waist, he lay unmoving, his right forearm encased in a wide metal feed collar connected by clear tubing to the control panel behind him. The darkness of his skin had faded to the palest of blues, marred in places by black bruises. His recent wounds competed for space with heavy scarring and the overwhelming presence of the runic tattoos.

  Despite all this, he was handsome. He had a long, slim face with high cheekbones and a narrow nose, but he was far thinner than he should’ve been, his ribs a grim cradle for the hollow of his stomach. The monitor above his head revealed the feeble pulse of his life as it faded to zero in descending bands of color.

  Drawing closer, she laid a gentle hand on his arm. The fire that had burned on Salusan had dwindled, leaving him cold to the touch. “I told him I wouldn’t let him die.”

  “Quin, it isn’t your fault. It’s a miracle he’s survived this long. There’s so much scar tissue under his skin, and every bone in his body seems to have been broken at least once. He should’ve died a long time ago and I think he’s had enough now. He’s ready to go.”

  “He’s so young.”

  “Quin.” Surei placed a hand on her shoulder. “I know it doesn’t seem fair, but you can’t save everyone. Let him go.” Surei glanced up at the monitor and Quin followed her gaze. The heartbeat had started to falter and brain activity was almost nonexistent. “It won’t be long now. You can stay with him, if you want to. I’ll be back in a moment.”

  Alone at his bedside, molten fury rose within her at the injustice of it all. The surge of anger sent sparks dancing across her skin and she clenched her fists, forcing the flickers of energy back under control. Anger was pointless. The medical team had done all they could. Only a miracle could save him now.

  Grief and remorse dispersed her initial rage, and she threaded her fingers through his, willing him to hold on, to fight one last time. Nothing stirred the deathly composure of his expression and his fingers lay limp within her own.

  She had a sudden, startling memory of Gethyon, of seeing her son laid out on a hospital bed, so still it seemed life had already fled. He had been just six years old then, lost in a coma. But she had been able to bring him back from that.

  “I’m so sorry, Keir.”

  Bowing her head, she touched his face, intent on making her farewells. Instead she felt something stir within him, a flicker so faint it barely registered. She glanced at the monitors–they scarcely showed a glimmer of life. Seeking validation, she brushed her fingers over his forehead and reached once more for his mind. At the contact, there was a trace of reaction on the monitor. Hope flared in her chest, set her heart racing. Maybe she could still save him, maybe she could create the miracle he needed. It would be an act of insanity but she had to try. She would face the consequences. If she survived.

  Shivering in apprehension, she took a deep breath to compose herself. She stood at Keir’s head, smoothing his brow for a moment before placing her hands on either side of his face.

  Please let me be doing the right thing.

  She closed her eyes and released her mind, intending to sink gradually into his thoughts. Instead, she was snatched into a maelstrom of pain and darkness that swamped her in an instant, a cry of agony catching in her throat as she was sucked down.

  * * * *

  A scream fractured the serenity of the medical facility and yanked Surei back into the center with her junior medic at her heels. She froze at the door and grabbed Taler as the girl tried to enter.

  The moment Surei saw Quin locked in place with her hands cradling Keir’s head, she knew what Quin was attempting. “Don’t touch her! Whatever happens, don’t touch either of them!”

  “What is she trying to do?” Taler stared in wide-eyed fascination, not moving other than to show her fangs.

  “Something brave,” Surei said. “Incredibly stupid, of course, but brave.”

  Surei gestured to the purple-haired haemovore to follow. Removing a scanner from storage, Surei circled Quin at a distance, passing the instrument over both patients.

  Taler bent low over Keir and sniffed, her spiked purple hair falling into her face. “Still living,” she lisped.

  Surei frowned, her white feathers rising into a crest. “Not for long,” she muttered irritably, then sighed. “I hope she has the sense to come out when he dies, but I doubt it.”

  “Come out of where?”

  “She’s sharing her mind with him, trying to bring him back. It’s dangerous, it’s difficult, and she’s risking her life for nothing.”

  “And if we touch…?”

  “We get dragged in too. The psychic forces involved are cataclysmic, pulling everyone in, like a black hole.” She met Taler’s wondering gaze, her pale-blue eyes full of youthful amazement. “All we can do is wait, and hope.”

  Taler nodded and stepped back, a picture of serenity with her hands clasped together in front of her and her attention fixed on Quin’s tortured expression. Surei sat opposite, on the edge of a free bed, her white feathers still ruffled and a deep frown on her dark face.

  “You’re an idiot,” she told the woman held in mind lock. “But I wish you luck.”

  * * * *

  Quin plunged deeper into his mind, drowning in blackness. She screamed in the tumult, her hands clutching at wisps of his consciousness that dissipated in her fingers, leaving her to drift.

  Memories spiraled past, flashes of color that sliced across her vision. Keir, scrabbling through garbage in the hope of finding food. Hiding in a dark alleyway, fear hammering in his chest as a gang of youths hunted him for sport in the slums of Adalucien. The taste of blood and bile in his mouth when they caught and beat him. Nights spent shivering in damp, dark corners. Eyes full of hatred and fear which followed him wherever he ventured. The despair and hunger that knotted his stomach every morning when he woke to another dawn, alone and with no hope of redemption.

  Suddenly she struck a memory so strong it blazed like a diamond caught in sunlight, bright and sharp. Keir sat at a long wooden table, a sturdy child six or seven years old in a plush black velvet tunic
with a solemn expression on his young face. A book lay open before him and he read aloud in soft, even tones. Large cream candles set on the table gave a steady light, gleaming from his crown of black curls and filling the room with the honeyed scent of beeswax. He spoke quietly but with confidence, watched by a woman dressed in an elaborate gown of blue velvet embroidered with silver thread, her luxuriant black hair held back by fine silver combs. Her expression seemed a mixture of motherly pride and an underlying anxiety that knotted the elegant brows and laid fine creases around her eyes.

  Beside the fire, a man brooded in the depths of his chair, one leg thrown over the arm and a cup of wine in hand. His face, painted in shadows and fiery highlights, creased into a mask of ill-concealed fury and resentment. Keir hesitated, then turned to cast a nervous glance over his shoulder as if he had sensed the baleful glare searing into his back, but his mother tapped the book before him with a rebuking finger.

  “To the end of the passage, Keirlan,” she insisted.

  He resumed his litany.

  A snort sounded from the confines of the carved chair, before the man took another deep draught from his cup, the unsteadiness of his hand betraying his drunken state.

  “You waste your time giving him an education, Serena,” he slurred, before ordering brusquely, “Get to bed, boy.”

  Keir’s voice faltered as he sought his mother’s permission with a wide-eyed stare. She nodded and he rose, kissing her on the cheek before closing his book. With greater reluctance, he turned to the man by the fire and bowed his head with a nervous twitch before scurrying off to his bedroom.

  As the door thudded shut behind him, Keir turned and leaned against the rough surface, pressing an ear to it.

  “Must you treat him like that?” his mother demanded in bitter tones.

  “How would you have me treat him? Perhaps if you had given birth to a son I could be proud of, a daughter even, things might have been different.”