Children of the Healer

by Barbara Ann Wright

  “Down, Sa!” Pool cried in Cordelia’s mind.

  Cordelia dropped among the bodies, kicking them out of the way until she spotted a patch of soil. Drushka piled on, blocking out the light, flattening her. Cordelia activated her armor’s glow as Pool plunged a hand into the dirt.

  A challenge went out, queen-to-queen. It couldn’t go unanswered.

  But no answer came through the howling, squirming press. Cordelia heaved herself into a push-up and tried to cover Pool. How long could she keep that up? How long before her battery ran out? The Shi couldn’t refuse a direct fucking challenge, could she?

  “Coward!” Cordelia yelled. The noise of the drushka drowned out her voice even inside her helmet. The lights in her visor flickered as the armor tried to withstand the strain of holding up what must have been every damn drushka in the universe. “Pool, we have to—”

  Rumbling surrounded them, the sound growing until it overwhelmed the voices of the drushka. Roots as large as tree trunks erupted from the ground ahead, scattering drushka like seeds. One whipped forward and grabbed Pool from Cordelia’s arms, dragging her underground.

  “Kick her ass, Pool!” Cordelia shouted.

  Then they were on her again. She tried to turn around, to struggle through and get out, but the drushka seemed limitless. She couldn’t tell direction, could barely tell up from down. She swung and punched with abandon, gouging and kicking into the mass. Fear abandoned her. She’d done what she set out to do, and now she could lose herself in the force of armored swings. She summoned every drunken street brawl she’d ever had, every wrestling match; all had been preparing her for this. She had a vision of sharing war stories when she was old, boring countless people with the time she beat all the fucking drushka on the planet.

  But that wasn’t how this would end. She wondered if any god would listen if she prayed for Nettle and Reach to get out alive. As she slammed her helmet into more than a few faces, she wondered if she should leave her body. That way, she might not feel it when she died.

  No, no fucking way. She howled into this sea of faces, wanting to hold on to this moment. If there was life beyond this one, she was taking a lot of fucking company with her.

  The drushka parted, and a brown branch snaked inside, surrounding her, lifting her. Cordelia whooped. She’d reached the tree line after all, and her allies had rescued her! She looked down at the mass of drushka and gave them the finger.

  Then she looked up. The tree line—and safety—stood far in the distance. Her stomach shrank, but she bared her teeth inside her helmet. She still had her blade. She could still fight.

  The branch squeezed, and even inside the armor, she gasped as the pressure built. The branch turned her, and she peered into the unfamiliar face of another drushkan queen. This one had to be over seven feet tall, close to eight, and her long, whorled face stayed expressionless as she stared. Green hair dangled nearly to her knees, and her green eyes were as bright as floating algae.

  She said something in drushkan, her voice a low bass rumble. Cordelia shook her head, and her armor squealed as the branch tightened its grip. “I…do not understand much,” she said in drushkan.

  The queen cocked her head. “I remember your people,” she said in Galean, her accent thick, voice slow. “From what you would call long ago. I am the Sirinshi, the eighth queen.” She tapped Cordelia’s visor with one long finger. “Will you shed your metal skin, or must I tear it apart? I would speak with you bare-faced.”

  Even with everything Cordelia had learned about tech not being nearly as important as lives, the image of her armor being mangled hurt nearly as much as the idea of having it torn off her body. “I’ll come out.”

  The eighth set her on a branch and let go. As her stabilizers corrected her balance, she had a wild idea about launching herself at the queen and continuing the fight. But drushka eyed her from every branch, their faces tense and expectant. Even the branches seemed to vibrate with suppressed energy. The eighth could have killed her or let the drushka kill her. They wanted something, and she didn’t think it was just an easier kill. She unbuckled her armor and shed it into a pile.

  The eighth leaned against a branch. Cordelia noted a slump in her shoulders; her eyes drooped slightly. She seemed tired, exhausted even, if Cordelia was reading her right. Without the armor, Cordelia was feeling a little battered herself. As the breeze cooled her, sticking her sweat-slicked clothes to her body, she took a deep breath and decided to press her luck.

  “Are my friends all right?” she asked. “The drushka who came in with me and the Anushi queen?”

  “Alive but caught.”

  Cordelia let out a breath as that weight lifted from her shoulders. “And the humans you took from Gale?” Her throat burned at the thought of the hanging bodies. She swallowed. “Those still alive?”

  “Frightened only. The Shi wished to kill them when you first appeared, but I convinced her otherwise.”

  “Good. Thanks.” She wanted to ask why but thought that might be risky.

  “You care for the drushka who came with you?” the eighth asked. “For the Anushi queen?”

  “Deeply.”

  “Strange.” She took a step closer, looming over Cordelia by two feet or more. “Have they become human? You are certainly not drushka.”

  Cordelia thought fast, swallowing the urge to use sarcasm. She remembered what Pool had said about Cordelia’s ancestor Jania. She had lived with the drushka and discovered that their plan at the time had been to absorb humanity and make them as drushkan as possible. If they spread the humans thin enough, their breeding would slow. One day, they might even die out. It would have been the slowest genocide on record, but then, drushkan queens lived for hundreds of years. They could afford to think long-term.

  “No,” Cordelia said. “Some of the humans are allies with Pool, the Anushi queen. We…complement each other. Humans think each unique person adds to the whole.” She waved a hand, wishing she were her uncle Paul or Reach, someone with the right words. “We don’t want to become one another. Then we wouldn’t be…different.” She hoped it didn’t come off as lame as it sounded.

  The eighth sucked her teeth. “No queen, no point of connection. The Anushi queen is still connected to her drushka?”

  “She is. But humans form attachments as we grow; we aren’t born telepathically attached to anyone. Most of us can’t hear each other’s thoughts. We feel loyalty. We fall in love, make friendships that last forever. Emotions keep us together.” She didn’t add that she was connected to Pool. Best not to confuse the issue.

  The eighth considered. “The Shi believes that to know a human, to form these human attachments, is to become human. Pool, as you call her, is unlike any other drushka.”

  Cordelia had never been more aware of that fact. “She’s still her own creature.”

  “That is her difference. Each queen is tied to the whole, all but your Pool.”

  “You don’t seem as…tied to the Shi as the other queens I’ve met.” For one, she wasn’t encased in her tree, and her words didn’t have the dominating anger of the Shi behind them.

  “I fulfill my purpose. I guard the Shi.” She leaned closer, and the scent of newly turned soil washed over Cordelia, making her flinch with its power. “But no one can dominate my mind.”

  Cordelia decided to press her luck still further. “But you let her do it to the other queens?”

  “We need a Shi to survive; do you not see this? And unlike your Pool, we do not wish to be separate from the whole. We crave unity.”

  Something about the way her eyes shifted told Cordelia that the eighth wasn’t sharing the whole truth. Drushka didn’t like lying, even lies of omission. There was something else at work here, and Cordelia bet it was why she was still alive. But what use could the eighth have for a lone human and two renegade drushka? What use did she have for a bunch of kidnapped Galeans except as bait? And Pool was here now, so the only reason to keep all of them alive…

  “You
think Pool might win,” Cordelia said. “She challenged the Shi, and instead of helping, you’re waiting to see who wins.”

  “The Anushi queen will have her chance.”

  “And if the Shi…” She almost said “dies,” but she didn’t think any drushka who could understand her words would take too kindly to that thought. If the Shi died, this queen would take her place, and she clearly wanted Pool as an ally rather than an enemy. She wanted the drushka to be whole again, just as the Shi did, but Cordelia sensed she would rather be whole peacefully than risk everything in battle.

  Cordelia only hoped that if Pool did win, she wouldn’t want to leapfrog all the other queens and become Shi herself.

  The eighth queen straightened, watching Cordelia closely as if to see how much she knew. “You seem different from the other humans. I sense something else in you.”

  Cordelia shrugged, not ready to blab about her abilities.

  “Humans find it easy not to speak, find it easy to lie.”

  “Some of us. Some don’t like it. Some can’t bring themselves to do it.”

  “You spoke about caring deeply for your companions. Is one of them your lover?”

  Cordelia spread her hands drushkan fashion. “Since I’m not connected to you, I can just say, none of your business.”

  A hint of a smile appeared on the queen’s lips. “I think, perhaps, if the answer was no, you would have simply said so. Perhaps you decline to answer because you could not catch the lover you wanted.”

  “That’s a good guess.”

  “And so?”

  “It’s still none of your business, but for the sake of drushkan-human relations, yes, one of them is my lover. But I won’t tell you who caught whom.”

  “The hunt leader or the shawness? Or the Anushi herself?”

  “You’ll have to wait and see.”

  The eighth made a rumbling sound, and it took Cordelia a moment to realize it was laughter. She turned away. “Rest, human. When the challenge is done, I will tell you of the winner.”

  Cordelia was tempted to ask what it would mean if the Shi won, but she didn’t want to know. She sat on a limb next to her armor pile and wondered how Pool was doing; she hated waiting.

  But she could always get a good look, couldn’t she? Maybe even offer a little help?

  With a grin, Cordelia lay down, hoping to seem as if she was sleeping as she slipped from her body and went to find the fight happening underground.

  Chapter Twelve

  Shiv lay on a pile of cushions inside the human temple, waiting for Simon Lazlo’s return. The human baby Evan slept, having been fed by a woman who stared at Shiv but made no attempt at conversation. Little Paul tried to play with Lyshus. They were nearly the same size, though human Little Paul was older. But though Lyshus’s body grew faster than a human child—faster than a normal drushka, even—he did not yet have the speech or the understanding to appreciate any of the games Little Paul proposed. Luckily, Little Paul did not seem to care as long as Lyshus watched him with an alert gaze.

  When Little Paul smacked Lyshus with a cushion and ran from him, laughing, Lyshus seemed to understand. He let out a high-pitched keen and gave chase, tearing through the three rooms and knocking over furniture in their laughing haste. Good that they were occupied, Shiv supposed. She rose and looked in on Evan, but he slept through the noise. She wondered at him, at a child who remained immobile so long after birth. Drushkan children were toddling a day after they emerged from the birthing pods, but when they were born, they were larger than Evan was now. Simon said Evan would not walk until a year or more had passed. If he was attacked, he could not run or climb to safety. He could not cling to an adult. He would simply lie still and squall, an easy meal.

  Shiv touched his chubby face, careful of her claw. Evan was soft, too, as if he had not finished forming before being born. She eyed the crib and frowned. If Simon had truly taken this child into his hands, perhaps he should have worn Evan on his back, as Reach once carried Little Paul.

  Shiv rested her head on one hand and thought about Reach, about everyone fighting the old drushka in the swamp. She had wanted to go with them at first, but Shi’a’na had told her that the old Shi might try to take over her tree, and since she was young, the Shi might succeed. That had chilled Shiv to the core. And she did not want to risk Lyshus, either. He might try to run for her during battle, and she could not have that. Cooling her urge to fight was something else that acquiring a tribe had done for her.

  Something smashed to the ground in the other room. Shiv gave it a glance: one of the clay baubles humans surrounded themselves with. It seemed of no consequence, and the children were still amusing themselves. Evan stirred slightly, then settled again.

  Three hard knocks came from the door to the hall, echoing throughout the room. Shiv stepped into the sitting room and hissed loudly, gesturing for the children to be wary. Both boys, raised among drushka, dashed past her into Evan’s room and shut the door, hiding.

  Shiv opened the hall door slowly and saw a human female with tousled hair and reddened cheeks. Her belly stood out, marking her as a mother among humans. Such an uncomfortable-seeming body.

  “What is it you wish?” Shiv asked.

  “I have been awake all night,” the woman said, one hand resting on her bulging belly. Her voice was tight, spoken nearly between her teeth.

  Shiv spread her hands. “Shawness Simon is not here. Is there some cause I can help with?” When the woman gawked, Shiv blinked at her. “I have seen that humans often have a hard time speaking with others. Do you wish me to have words with someone in your stead?” That would make a fine distraction, at least.

  “Yes, your children!”

  Shiv sucked her teeth, not understanding. “What would you have me say?”

  “I’m in the room across the hall. I was hoping for some peace so I can rest. Tell your children to be quiet!” Her eyes flashed, and Shiv had the brief hope that she was looking for a fight, but she was carrying her baby inside, and Shiv had no wish to hurt it. It was not the person making no sense.

  “Children are not quiet,” Shiv said. “Everyone knows this.”

  The woman drew herself up, face darkening further. Shiv grinned. Maybe this woman sought a verbal fight to cleanse her mind. Sa often said that fighting put one in a state of peace.

  “It’s up to you to keep them quiet,” the woman said.

  Shiv spread her hands again. “Such a task seems impossible to my mind. Sleep elsewhere, ahya, and we will both have what we want.”

  The woman blinked before snarling and turning away. She marched down the hall, and Shiv supposed she was taking the advice. That was good. Maybe she would find her peace, though Shiv lamented that the verbal fight ended so quickly. But at least Shiv had managed to help her. Maybe she would return once she rested.

  Shiv shut the door and let the children out. When another knock came a few minutes later, she grinned, hoping for more conversation, maybe even some light wrestling. Shiv could be careful of the belly, she was certain.

  As she reached for the door, it leapt toward her, breaking free of its hinges. She lifted her arms to catch it, and it slammed into her, sending numbing pain through her hands and knocking her to the floor. Little Paul screamed, and Evan began to cry. Shiv pulled her legs under her and pushed the door upward. When someone stepped into the room, Shiv thrust the door toward them and heard them stagger back, muttering. She twisted into a crouch.

  The intruder was wrapped in a long, thick shirt with a piece of cloth that flopped over their head, obscuring the face. Shiv thought her a female human by the scent, a different smell than the one who had come knocking before. Shiv leapt for her, leading with her claws, but an invisible force grabbed her from the air. A mind bender!

  Shiv’s insides lurched as she twisted and slammed against the wall. More numbing pain spread through her side, jarring her to her core. She fell to her knees, and a sharp hurt sliced into her knee. She had fallen onto a piece of
clay bauble. Golden blood slid down her leg as she stood and kicked the remaining pieces out of the way.

  The hooded woman ran into the room where Evan shrieked. Shiv ran after, snarling as the woman bent over the crib. Knowing how helpless Evan was, she would still attack him? Wretched creature.

  But powerful. Shiv rolled across the floor, grabbed a water pitcher, and threw it. The woman looked up, and the pitcher bounced off an invisible shield. Shiv ducked, and the table that had held the pitcher flew into the wall hard enough to splinter. Shiv dived toward the crib as several pieces of the bed exploded into feathers.

  Lyshus darted from a hiding place, headed for the hooded woman’s back. “No!” Shiv cried.

  Lyshus landed across the woman’s shoulders and tore at her hood, revealing hints of blond hair. When she whirled and reached for him, he sank his teeth into her hand. She shrieked, and Shiv leapt for them, but the woman tore Lyshus loose and flung him in Shiv’s direction.

  Shiv caught him and twisted so he would land atop her. She rolled, trying to get both of them behind cover, but the woman cried out again. She fell to her knees, clutching her head. Shiv heard a step from the doorway.

  The mother that Simon called Miriam stood there, glaring at the hooded woman with an intensity that Shiv recognized as mind bending power.

  Miriam spared her a glance. “Come with me!”

  Shiv swung Lyshus around to hang from her back. She scooped up Evan and ran around the hooded woman, going into the study to get her sapling. “Little Paul! Come now!”

  Little Paul crawled out from under a table, his face wet and shiny. Shiv shifted her sapling to the crook of her arm and picked him up around the middle. He dangled facedown from her arm, but it would do for now. Evan had to be cradled carefully, or so Simon had said. So fragile!

  The hooded woman shrieked as Shiv headed for Miriam. She would not be held for long. Shiv’s leg ached more than her side or her arms, and she left golden footprints behind her. She would have to tend to that soon.

  Miriam went into the hall. “This way.”