Healer's Touch

by Deb E Howell

  As soon as the park came into view, Llew knew her hunch had been right. Only a few kids ran around as carefree as the previous evening. Most lingered around the edge, and when Alvaro and Llew approached they could see why.

  Jonas sat on one of the swings, swinging gently and holding his big knife in one hand, flipping and catching it by the blade. Flip and catch. In his other hand, he held his small bottle – refilled at one of the inns they’d stayed at – and he was taking the occasional swig between knife flips.

  Llew considered how she should approach him. Reaching a decision, she swung down from her horse and handed the reins to Alvaro. She pushed her way through the crowd of children, strode across the open field and sat in the empty swing beside Jonas. He ignored her for a while.

  “I’m sorry,” she said when she thought she’d given him enough time.

  He took a long nip from his bottle.

  “Don’t.” He spoke to the ground. He flipped the knife a couple more times, catching it by the tip of the blade and letting it wave up and down between his thumb and fingers. “It weren’t your fault.”

  But it had been her power that drained the landscape, her power that sucked the life out of the girl. Llew shook herself. She half felt as though she’d sucked the girl’s very soul into herself.

  “You were practically dead, and I just dumped you at the side of the road. I didn’t even think . . . ”

  He looked up, and Llew could see the self-loathing painted on his features, and the burned hand print under his chin.

  “I killed that man’s daughter.” He tipped the bottle between his lips. He was going to end up very drunk at this rate. Llew reached out to grab the bottle, but he pulled it from her reach.

  Suddenly he was looking for something, rolling his gaze about them. When he spotted what he was after, he slid from the swing and walked across the field, sliding his little bottle into his back pocket. Llew followed him to a small copse of trees.

  “I did it. I killed her. And now the poor bastard has to live every–” He swung his knife arm back, and Llew stepped out of his way. He drove the blade into a tree, almost to the hilt. “–day of his life–” He pulled the knife free. “–feeling the pain of that loss.” He sunk the knife back into the wood. “And all–” He yanked the knife free again. “–I had to do–” In. Out. “–was look.” He turned to Llew, his face twisted in an ugly smile, his knife by his side. “But all I could see was you.”

  “You couldn’t have known,” she said quietly, wondering what else to say, and suddenly realising her own innocence. “We . . . we didn’t know.”

  “Was that . . . Was that supposed to make me feel better?” He stepped closer to her, still holding the knife in one hand. “You think it brings that man’s daughter back?” He was crowding her, just as he had done when they first met.

  “No.” She knew she sounded weak, but she wasn’t going to fight him. “But neither would letting him have his revenge.”

  “Well, shit.” He stepped back. “What are we gonna do now?”

  Llew pointed behind him to where she could just make out the carriage and their friends pulling up to the playground. “Go with them. Get Anya where she needs to be and never make the same mistake again.”

  Jonas looked over his shoulder, then back at Llew.

  “That easy, huh?”

  Llew nodded. “Next time I die, let me die.”

  “Well, hell. Why don’t I take care of that right now?” He hefted his knife. Llew held her breath. She knew it was the drink talking, but how far would it go? Then again, he was right. If she was gone, there would be no more widespread destruction. No more dead children drained of their ghi as they played with their toys.

  “Why don’t you?” She wasn’t ready. She didn’t want to die. She didn’t want to kill. She had dreams. She just wanted a normal life.

  To Jonas she was just another Aenuk. A healer. A destroyer.

  She wondered how much slower he would be with all that alcohol coursing through him. She doubted it would be slow enough.

  “No, Llew. This blade won’t find you today.” He slid it into its sheath and secured it. “But it will find you. I’m sorry.” He started walking to the horses and Llew followed a few steps behind, wondering what he’d meant.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Jonas swayed in his saddle and sang incoherently as they made their way from Osurnu. His condition meant they couldn’t travel faster than a walk. Aris fumed, but there was little he could do, and the tired horses and riders weren’t in any mood to complain about the easy pace. Llew took the chance to doze in her saddle.

  “I’m sorry, Llew.”

  She was jolted awake.

  “Everyone I ever gave a damn about is dead. Except Aris, but I guess it’s only a matter of time. I’ve tried not to, but my heart has condemned you to death.”

  Llew stared at Jonas’ drunken, flailing arms and unsteady seat. He wasn’t even looking at her, and seemed to speak to the Aghacian landscape at large. And then he began singing again. He sang of heartbreak; he sang a happy drinking song that steadily grew less and less understandable; then he began to snore.

  They stopped briefly to eat around noon, and Alvaro, Cassidy and Llew helped the unsteady Jonas from his saddle, hoping that food might sober him up. He sat at his horse’s feet rocking and singing under his breath while rations were divided.

  “What’s he had?” Aris asked Llew as she collected food for both herself and Jonas.

  She shrugged. “Whatever he filled his little bottle with.”

  Aris looked at Jonas with disappointment and then his jaw clenched in suppressed anger. “He’s not much good to us like that, is he?”

  Llew shrugged again, and returned to offer Jonas some sobering bread.

  “You’re really pretty, Llew, you know that?”

  She smiled at him and held out some bread they’d picked up in Osurnu.

  “Of course you do, ‘cause Al’s been smitten since he saw you naked.”

  She looked at Alvaro. He was busily taking in their surroundings as he ate his rations, but by the colour of his ears, he had heard.

  “Llewella,” Jonas whispered. She loved to hear him say it. No one had called her by her full name since she was a child. But it wasn’t a child’s name. It was a woman’s name.

  “You’re nice, too. That’s why I like you. And funny. Can’t forget funny. And when you died, it was like losin’ my best friend.” He looked around conspiratorially and leaned closer. “Shh. Don’t tell Hisham.”

  “Who?”

  But he continued on, oblivious to all. “But then you lived and I hated you for it. How could you be one of them, Llew?” His eyes pleaded with her and Llew found herself wanting to apologise. “Then you saved Cassidy. Hooray.” He gave a goofy smile and leaned in again. “That was amazin’. It really was.” He almost sounded sober for a moment. “But then that girl.” He looked pained, sick. “That’s why we kill you. Too dangerous. Children dying. So many children. So much destruction . . . ” He stared at her. “I’m drunk and I’m talking nonsense,” he said, looking sorry for himself. But it passed and he stuffed his mouth with bread.

  Llew struggled to eat her own chunk, chewing each tiny nibble till it was moist enough to swallow. Her mouth was dry. He should have killed her back in Stelt. She was too dangerous.

  Barely half a mile down the road they were forced to a stop by Jonas’ need to bring his lunch back up. Llew crouched by him while he knelt at the side of the road, vomiting and proclaiming his apologies to everyone.

  The rest of the afternoon’s ride was slow and silent as Jonas mostly slept in his saddle. They stopped for the night at the first town they reached – Benton: Population 378 – spending the night in a very small hotel with just the two rooms that the group needed: Emylia and Anya in one, Aris, Llew and the boys in the other. By the time they were settling for bed, Jonas was almost sober, but poorly. He didn’t say much and looked very sorry for himself.

  L
lew lay awake for some time pondering her options. Jonas’ brother – half-brother, she corrected herself – wanted her for some reason. Turhmos wanted her for some other reason, or possibly the same, she didn’t really know. Aris wanted to take her back to Quaver, and it wasn’t just to keep her safe, it was to have something that Turhmos wanted. Something. It bothered her to be thought of as a commodity, but that was exactly how all these people were thinking of her. What about what she wanted?

  The best option seemed Quaver. At least that way she would have Jonas and Aris. Wouldn’t she?

  But what if they just handed her over to some Quaven authorities? Wouldn’t she then be just as much a captive as if Braph or Turhmos caught her? And if she somehow managed to stay free, something she struggled to see happening, how was she going to stop herself from killing anyone else? Perhaps she really was better off dead. In captivity or in hiding didn’t seem like much of a choice.

  She drifted to sleep still unable to picture the life she wanted as a viable option in her future.

  ***

  Jonas groaned into his pillow when Aris tried to rouse him the following morning.

  “Learned your lesson?” Aris asked, standing over the cocoon of blankets.

  “Not yet,” said Jonas’ muffled voice.

  “Well then, you’re in charge of getting the horses groomed and fed their morning ration. Get up.”

  “You’re a cruel master.” Jonas pulled his head up off the pillow and squinted at Aris.

  “And you’re a poor lieutenant. Did you really think whisky would make it all better?”

  “No. But there weren’t nothin’ to smash I wouldn’t feel guilty about later.”

  “That tree took a hammering,” said Llew, sitting on the edge of her bed and pulling on her shoes.

  “Don’t you start.”

  “Get up. You’ve got work to do.” Aris slapped Jonas’ bedding, getting an exaggerated “Oof!” out of its inhabitant.

  Cassidy and Alvaro were drowsily stirring from their sleep, looking not a whole lot better than Jonas. Nor did Llew feel energised. She wanted more sleep. She wanted to sleep in her little hovel by the bank of Cheer’s Big River where she was rarely bothered by anyone, didn’t have the guilt of having killed anyone, and only had to worry about catching enough fish for dinner.

  Jonas swivelled out of his bed, sitting on the edge in just his long-johns, and started rubbing his hands over his face. The scratching of skin brushing across his whiskers reached her ears and she shuddered. It was an odd noise, all at once both irritating and oddly stimulating. She both loved the manliness of it and swallowed her revulsion at memories of faces and bodies too close and too strong.

  Hands still covering his face, Jonas peered between his fingers at Llew.

  “Oh, shit.” His eyes grew wide. “What did I say yesterday? No, don’t tell me.” He closed his eyes and began massaging his temples. “Whatever it was, I didn’t mean it.”

  “I’d be more worried about what you did to the poor tree.”

  Jonas stood up, pulling his trousers on. He looked down at her as he buckled his belt, his lips drawn thin and firm.

  “It’s alright. You didn’t offend me none,” she said.

  He kept looking at her as he pulled on and buttoned his shirt, and she suspected that he did remember some of the things he had said.

  “That’s good. I–” He looked away to gather his vest full of knives, and ran one hand down the length of his face, again making the rasping sound that excited and repulsed all at once. “I wouldn’t want to offend you.”

  He left the room to do his duty in the stable, leaving Llew to stare at the slowly closing door. He might not have wanted to offend her, but had he wanted to say all that he’d said? She doubted it. And what hadn’t he meant – that he would just as happily kill her as have her cause more damage, or that he thought she was pretty? She knew which was easier to believe; no one had called her pretty since before her teen years. They’d said You’re a girl and I’m a boy, and you’re here and I’m here, let’s do this thing, never I think you’re pretty . . . They said that to girls like Anya. It had been nice to hear, but it was time to brush it aside. They had another long day ahead of them and the gods only knew what trouble lay in wait or followed close behind.

  “What did he say to you yesterday, Llew?” Alvaro asked, still in his blankets.

  “Nothing you need concern yourself with.” She left the room, heading downstairs for a fresh, cooked breakfast of eggs and bacon.

  Jonas looked a bit green when he came back inside to see them all eating, but he joined them and, after a few tentative pickings, was soon looking much brighter, going on to eat a decent feed. Breakfast was quiet, and Llew wondered what each of them was thinking. They’d been too busy dealing with Jonas’ reaction to the news of the dead girl to discuss it as a group and still no one dared bring it up. She hadn’t given herself the space to think about it, being too caught up in Jonas’ emotions and comments regarding her appeal.

  She hated herself for that. A child was dead, essentially at Llew’s hands, and all she could think about was that Jonas had said she was pretty.

  ***

  The morose feeling continued throughout the morning’s ride. There had been no further sign of Braph, but Aris was convinced he wasn’t far behind them. Neither he nor Jonas knew why Braph was holding back from further attempts to capture Llew, and they could only speculate that Jonas’ Syakaran power was enough of a threat to make him hesitate. But hesitation wasn’t abandonment.

  “Hey, Llew.” Anya said, as she refilled her canteen from a stream at lunch time. Llew acknowledged the other girl with a nod and Anya heaved a sigh. “I can’t wait for this trip to be over,” she went on, pulling off her shoes and stretching her toes. “I mean, I love seeing Aghacia, I really do, but I can’t wait to see Rakun. And meet Gaemil.”

  “You’re marrying a man you’ve never met?”

  “We’ve been writing to each other for over a year, now. So I know him pretty well.”

  Llew found it hard enough to like men she knew, how could Anya love someone she’d never met? “Have you seen his likeness?”

  “No. But what does that matter? He’s lovely, Llew. He’s the Earl of Rakun, and he tells me all the trials and tribulations of managing an entire region. The lands he commands cover the middle third of all of Rakun – in other words, they’re huge.” She smiled. “He truly loves Rakun and its settlements, and is always striving to do more for his people, ensuring they have food to eat, roofs over their heads, and enough work for everyone. Do you know, Rakun has the largest number of civil celebrations of any city in the New World? Gaemil’s grandfather started the work towards that. Rakun, and its wider region, is the most productive region in Brurun. He has a real passion for people, Llew. He says he loves to see them strive, and he loves to see them rewarded.” Anya’s eyes sparkled. “It seems a rare gift.”

  “Has he seen a picture of you?”

  “Of course. And he liked what he saw.”

  “And you’ve never even been tempted . . . ” Llew looked over her shoulder, paying particular attention to Cassidy, who was finishing off his lunch. Cassidy, who liked what he saw when he looked at Anya, but knew he couldn’t have her and just accepted the fact. It seemed unfair to Llew. She used to believe it was all about love, when she was much younger. She had little doubt her father had loved her mother – and it had driven him to ruin. Perhaps this marrying for other reasons wasn’t so bad.

  Anya laughed, following Llew’s gaze. “Of course I find Alvaro and Cassidy attractive. Just look at them. But there is more to a man than how he looks. What about Jonas? He’s covered in scars, and that black tattoo!” She spoke with distaste. “On top of that he’s angry all the time. But you still like him.” Llew felt her cheeks colour and Anya beamed. “Love is a many-pronged star. Its light hits each of us from a different angle, but it all comes from the same place. It’s still love. How did you like wearing the dress?” She
changed topic without drawing breath.

  Llew was caught off guard, her thoughts flying from a desire to defend Jonas’ appearance to denying being in love with him; she liked him well enough, but love was something other people felt, and received in return.

  “Uh, it was nice?”

  “You looked lovely.” Suddenly Anya looked stricken. “Not that you don’t always look lovely, just–” She caught herself. “I wouldn’t mind wearing more practical clothes myself, at times. But I do love a pair of pretty shoes.” She pulled her plain shoes back on. “Gaemil has promised me a pair of shoes for each day of the year. Isn’t that lovely?” She beamed and, without awaiting a reply, got up to return to the carriage.

  They were in the heart of the Aghacian plains now. Flat, grassland spread out for miles in all directions. The Aghacian Alps looked close enough to reach within a few hours, but in reality were two long days’ ride away. The air was crisp and clear and the chill swooped straight down off the mountains, across the plains, and whipped around the riders and their horses, and they rode with jackets firmly buttoned.

  “What happens to me if I go back to Quaver with you?” Llew asked Aris across their camp fire as they ate a meal of jerky and bread that night. A couple of nights of indulgence did little to improve the meal’s appeal, but they’d stopped too late for Llew to fish.

  “We’d keep you safe, of course.”

  “How?”

  Aris looked taken aback for a moment, then pondered his answer. “Well, I suppose we’d have to keep you in custody.”

  “Custody. Like a gaol?”

  “No. Not a gaol. Maybe at an army fort, but not . . . not a gaol.”

  “So, Quaver wants me to ‘keep me safe’, and Braph wants me for my blood. What does Turhmos want me for? To fight for their army?” Jonas choked on a laugh and Llew glared at him. “I can fight.”

  “You throw a letter opener mighty fine. But there’s a difference between a back-road scuffle and a battlefield.”