“Who are you?”
“My name is Ryan, and I am a Healer.”
“A Healer?” Her face slackened. She had no pain in her arm. She ripped off the bandage and her jaw dropped. The wound was gone. Like magic. All that remained of her injury was a thin, pink scar. “You did this?”
Ryan shuffled from foot to foot and the tips of his ears turned pink. “Well, yeah. It’s my job.”
“Where are my friends?”
“Resting in a room down the hall. I’m happy to bring them here if you’d like.” He scratched at his scalp, looking decidedly uncomfortable. “I, uh, didn’t get a chance to heal the wound on your thigh yet.”
“It’s okay, I don’t mind. Will you show me?”
Ryan nodded, exposing her wound with a clinical detachment. Mara gasped when she saw it, and instantly regretted breathing at the sickening scent of decay. Angry red lines spread through her leg and crept up onto her abdomen. The edges were black and weeping, but the smell? That was the worst.
Ryan’s hands hovered an inch above her leg, never touching her. Before her eyes, the corruption shrank. The red lines retreated back down her body before vanishing entirely. A bead of sweat trickled down Ryan’s face and he gritted his teeth. Her skin knitted back together, leaving nothing but a scar behind.
“That’s incredible!” Mara said, running a finger across the smooth pink skin. Her mind raced with the possibilities. If they had a Healer in their group, they’d never have to worry about getting hurt again. There had to be limitations. “Can you heal anything?”
“Well, not everything. By myself, I can handle most skin wounds, illnesses and broken bones. More serious ailments would require several Healers to work together.”
The door slammed open and Wynn, Steel and Mikkal burst in, weapons drawn.
“Step away from the girl or I will remove your head from your shoulders,” Steel said, glaring at Ryan like a protective brother, ready to defend his sister’s honor.
“Calm down, Steel. This is Ryan, the Healer.” She held up her arm to show them. “See?”
“So why were ya screamin’?” Wynn asked, looking disappointed that she wouldn’t get to skewer something as she tucked her dirks back into her belt.
“Because waking up with a strange man hovering above your bed is almost as terrifying as waking up with your face inches from mine, Wynn,” Mara teased.
“Yer one to talk. Have ya smelled yer morning breath?”
Tova peeked around the corner of the door, a smile growing on her face when she saw Mara. “Good, you’re awake!”
The Healer bowed low, shocking Mara to the core. She’d never seen a Gifted person show deference or respect to a dreg before.
“So, where are we?”
“You’re in my father’s fortress, Dumont Castle, in Aravell,” Tova replied, tiny feet clicking against the stone floors and she approached, her skirts swishing with each step. She wore a fine wool dress, dyed a deep forest green and her hair was piled on top of her head in intricate braids.
So, this was where she’d grown up. Mara squinted, trying to reconcile the timid girl she’d known the past month with the strong, composed woman before her. Tova looked every part the lady. “And how did we get here?”
Tova sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out to squeeze Mara’s hand. She leaned closer and, in a staged whisper, said, “Wynn may or may not have stolen a wagon.”
“It was quite a stirring performance. Who knew that our Wynn could be so persuasive?” Steel asked, eyes sparkling with amusement. Even Mikkal’s lips quirked up in the corners— a definite improvement on his usual brooding looks.
“Yeah, well, a dagger to the throat is pretty persuasive,” Wynn said, brushing off Steel’s words with a shrug. “Didn’t have much choice, since ya were dying on us. But don’t get used to it. I’m not gonna save yer arse every day.”
“No, I think I’m quite done with near death experiences. No promises though,” Mara said.
Tova shifted on the bed and motioned to the Healer. “Ryan, please inform delegate Winters that our guest has recovered.” He bowed once and hurried out of the room.
“Where’s Ansel?” Mara asked, realizing he was missing.
“Lover boy’s out checking on our wagon. May as well take it to Tregydar.”
Mara felt a pang of guilt. If it hadn’t been for her injury, they might have reached Tregydar by now. Tova was right, she should have gotten her wounds healed days ago. “I’m sorry I held you all up.”
“You don’t realize how far north we are, do you?” Steel said.
“No… wait how long was I unconscious?”
“Three days. Dumont Castle is right on the northern border of Aravell. By my calculations, we should reach Tregydar within two days.”
Mara brightened. They were that close? After everything they’d gone through to get here, their goal was finally in reach. But then, familiar fears surfaced. What if no one would help them? What if the people in Tregydar were hostile? What if the dreg haven didn’t exist? She shoved them down into a tiny box. There was no sense in worrying now.
Ryan returned, crossing the room in a few strides, and whispered in Tova’s ear.
“Thank you, Ryan. You are dismissed.”
The Healer fidgeted but made no move to leave. “Apologies, Lady Tovaline, but delegate Winters has requested your presence.”
“Very well.” Tova stood and brushed her skirts. “If you all will excuse me, I must go speak with my father.”
“Tova, wait,” Mara said, pulling the girl into a fierce hug. “Thank you so much. You… you saved my life.”
“You’re welcome,” she said, stepping out of the embrace. Then she turned and glided out of the room.
Ryan watched her leave with an unreadable expression, though Mara could have sworn he looked concerned. Tova had mentioned that her father hated dregs. Was she in danger?
“The servants brought a fresh pair of trousers to replace your torn ones. They’re at the bottom of your bed.”
“Thank you,” Mara said. The men turned their backs so she could change. Gods knew she wasn’t looking forward to walking in snow with half a pair of pants!
“I’m sorry to rush you all, but now that Mara is healed, you must leave,” Ryan said.
“So soon?” Mara asked, feeling her legs wobble beneath her. She could have used a few days to rest and recover.
“The delegate was… displeased when he learned you were here. It could cause trouble with the Order, you understand. Lady Tovaline arrived under the cover of darkness to sneak you into the castle without his permission.”
Mara nodded. “I do understand. We don’t want to cause trouble for our host.”
Ryan ushered them out of the apothecary and led them down the hall. With bare stone floor and no tapestries or paintings on the walls to add color, it looked more like a prison than a castle. Mara tried to imagine Tova growing up here as a child. The thought was depressing.
At the end of the hall, Ryan passed them off to a weaselly looking man, dressed in a fine black jacket with silver thread. His white hair was slicked back from his wrinkled face. A steward, Mara decided. He looked at them as though they were vermin, not bothering to hide his scorn.
Mara turned to Ryan and put her arms around him in a loose hug. “Thank you so much for healing me.”
The steward’s haughty voice interrupted Ryan’s response. “Don’t bother thanking him. The only reason you’re alive at the moment is our archaic law. No guest shall be harmed under your roof on penalty of death. If it weren’t for Lady Tovaline, you would have already been slaughtered like the disgusting filth you are. Now, follow me,” he said, leading the way down a winding staircase.
Ryan waited until the steward was out of earshot before whispering, “Don’t trust anyone, and please be safe.” With that, he turned and raced away.
She shook her head, then hurried to catch up with the group. They stepped out into a courtyard filled with perfectly trimm
ed shrubs and hedges. An empty fountain sat in the center, surrounded by perfectly laid cobblestone. Mara begrudgingly admitted that it was beautiful, in a cold, detached sort of way. She would have loved to see the castle in summertime.
The steward walked past the stables and gestured to the gate. “You may collect your packs at the gate. Good day.”
“Wait, what about our horse and cart?” Steel asked.
“The delegate has taken them as payment for your board and medical care.”
Wynn grabbed his arm. “Where’s Tova?”
He sneered, his lip curling up to his nostrils. “Lady Tovaline will not be accompanying you on the remainder of your journey. The delegate has demanded that she remain home at present.” The steward shook off Wynn’s grip and dusted his jacket sleeve.
“I’m not leaving without Tova. She’s not safe here.”
“Are you suggesting that Lady Tovaline is in danger from her own father?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying, ya mangy old coot!”
Just then, Mara spotted Ansel leaning against the gates. She rushed over, nearly knocking him to the ground in a crushing embrace.
He laughed and held her at arm’s length, looking her up and down. “I’m glad to see you’re feeling better.”
“Good as new!”
Wynn stormed past, a string of obscenities following in her wake. She whirled around and shouted, “And another thing! Ya better hope I never come back, cuz if I do, yer dead! Ya hear me? Dead!”
Steel wrapped his arms around Wynn, holding her back from assaulting the steward. A wise decision, she decided. Mara couldn’t imagine how she was feeling, having to leave Tova behind.
“What’s happening?” Ansel asked, staring at Wynn with wide eyes.
“Tova’s not coming. Apparently, her father is making her stay here.”
“Oh, Wynn, I’m so sorry,” Ansel said, giving the scarred woman an awkward pat on her arm.
Wynn grabbed her pack from Mikkal and snapped, “Let’s just go.”
They set off through the gates and headed north, aiming for a lush evergreen forest. Mara’s boots sank into the soft layer of pine needles that cushioned each step. She reached out to pluck some from the trees, tucking them into her pack to make tea later.
Mara stumbled, and would have fallen, if Mikkal hadn’t caught her.
“Are you okay?” Ansel asked.
Mara shook her head to clear it. “Yeah, I think so. I just felt funny for a second there.”
Steel frowned. “I thought the Healer fixed your wounds?”
“It’s not that,” she said. “I just… I feel a little woozy, that’s all. I probably should have rested a bit more before we left, not that we had much of a choice.”
“Should we take a break?”
“No way! We just left,” Mara said firmly, focusing on her goal of reaching Tregydar. Soon, they would find the dreg refuge her father had mentioned. They would get help. She would train to control her Gift. And then, she would destroy the Order so they couldn’t hurt anyone else.
In the distance, the eerie bay of hounds, fresh on a trail, drifted through the trees. The hairs on her arms stood on end. Was someone hunting? She imagined there were all manner of game in the forest, from foxes to stags, or even a bear. Not once did she consider that they were the prey.
The first dog bounded into view, then another, giving a long howl at the sight of the group. Mara’s heart plummeted.
“Run!” Wynn shouted, taking off through the forest.
Mara had escaped death more times in the last two months than she cared to admit, and she wasn’t about to be torn apart by bloodthirsty hounds now. She forced herself to keep going, tripping over logs and rocks in her frantic attempt to escape. Mikkal looped her arm across his shoulders and pulled her along faster.
But no matter how fast they ran, it was only a matter of time before they were caught.
The hounds flanked them, herding them to a stop, and two circled around to prevent their escape. They were easily the largest dogs Mara had ever seen. Each once came to almost her shoulder in height, with thick, shaggy black fur. A long whistle rang out and each dog sat in perfect synchronization.
“Most boring hunt I’ve ever had. There’ve been deer that put up a better chase!”
Mara spun around. The speaker was short and stocky, wearing a brown leather tunic and scuffed up boots. His face looked as tough as his tunic, wrapped in a grizzly brown beard. He held a crossbow at his side and leaned his weight onto one leg.
“What is the meaning of this, sir?” Steel asked, his diplomacy skills shining through. “We were released under good terms from Dumont Castle, and were assured that our safety was not in question.”
“Ahh, see, that’s the tricky thing about rules— there’s always a loophole. You weren’t to be harmed under the delegate’s roof. Well, you’re not exactly under his roof anymore, are you? Now, you’re nothing but fair game.” The hunter tilted his head towards the dog closest to him, as though having a silent conversation.
“You’re a Brutum,” Mara said, nodding at the dogs. That big one must be his familiar.
The hunter looked up sharply, then laughed and slapped his thigh. “You catch on quick, don’t you? Won’t matter. There’s a bounty on your heads and I plan on collecting.”
“We won’t come willingly,” Ansel said, standing protectively in front of Mara.
“The Order never said they wanted you alive, boy.”
“I’ve heard enough. Mara, light him up,” Wynn snarled.
She didn’t need to be told twice. Mara raised her arms and tapped into her core, only to find it empty. She tried again, panic and desperation fueling her. Empty. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't use her powers. Not even for a single spark. Mara stared at her useless hands and said, “I can’t.”
“What do you mean you can’t?” Wynn’s face went slack with fear.
Why did her Gift fail her now, when she needed it the most?
“It was fool easy to slip you a tonic at the castle. Do you think I’m stupid, coming after an Impriga by myself?”
Bile rose in her throat, making her gag. “What do you mean?”
“There’s plenty of herbs you can brew to make a Gifted as worthless as a dreg. You just have to know where to find them. The castle has an impressive apothecary,” the hunter said with a wink.
“Ryan, the Healer? He gave it to me?” She thought back to when she woke up, to the empty vial Ryan had in his hands. She couldn’t believe it. He had seemed so kind, so caring. And the whole time, he had poisoned her and sent them to their deaths. Why did he even bother healing her in the first place? It would have been easier to just let her die from the infection.
“Well, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get back home before dinner or the missus will have my hide. Goodbye.” The hunter made a show of loading his crossbow and setting the bolt.
“Ansel listen to me. You need to manifest your weapon. Now!”
“But I don’t know how. I’ve never done it before.”
“That doesn’t matter. I know how much you’ve been practicing with Steel and Mikkal. You can do this,” Mara said. Ansel’s brows furrowed in concentration and he flexed his hands. He wouldn’t be quick enough. Mara drew deeper than she ever had before. Sweat beaded on her forehead from the strain. She felt the faintest trickle of energy and pulled, siphoning every last drop from her surroundings. Around her, the ground blackened in a perfect circle and the nearest tree withered and died.
The hunter pointed the crossbow at her forehead and pulled the trigger.
With the last of her strength, she threw up a desperate shield around them. The bolt stopped an inch from her face and bounced ineffectively to the ground. Mara panted, swaying from the effort to remain standing.
The hunter’s eyes bulged. “No, that’s impossible. They gave you the tonic. I know they gave you the tonic!” He motioned to his hounds, giving the call to attack.
Wynn
, Steel and Mikkal formed a protective circle around her, drawing their weapons. Steel said, “You have to break the link, Mara. Kill him!”
Mara collapsed, breathing shallow. She had nothing left to give at this point. The dogs lowered their heads and bared their teeth, inching closer.
Then, she saw flash of light. A glowing longsword appeared in Ansel’s hand and he lunged forward without hesitation, driving it through the hunter’s chest. The man’s face froze in a confused mask as the light faded from his eyes.
As one, the hounds stopped their attack, sitting back on their hindquarters, whining and looking lost. The biggest dog crawled over to the fallen hunter, nudging a boot with his snout before licking his lifeless face.
Mara swallowed, her throat thick with emotion. “You did it… you actually did it.”
Ansel wrapped her in a hug, pulling her close. “Come on. Let’s put this wretched country behind us.”
Chapter Twenty-One
The frigid wind stung Mara’s eyes and ripped at her tunic. The cold wormed its way beneath her clothing and stole away all her warmth. Mara struggled to breathe the thin air, making tiny white puffs each time she exhaled. Just shuffling her feet through the deep snow drifts took a staggering effort.
Flat tundra spanned for miles in every direction. Snow and ice coated every surface, painting Tregydar with lethal, crystalline beauty. It was a sight better viewed through a window as she snuggled by the fire with a cup of hot cider, rather than wading knee-deep in the blasted stuff.
Mara’s stomach clenched in pain. Their food had run out days ago, and hunting took too much energy to be worth it. A nap would make everything better. She would just lay down in the fluffy white pillows and rest her eyes a bit, then she’d be fine.
“Come on, Mara, you need to keep moving,” Ansel said. At least she thought it was Ansel. Everything was so fuzzy, like she was under a pile of blankets. Icy blankets. Why wouldn’t he let her sleep?
Dreg (The Dreg Trilogy Book 1) Page 20