Keepers of the Flame

by Robin D. Owens

  She rolled her shoulders. She wouldn’t give up, she’d just let the tender subject go—for now. She rubbed her hands to absorb lingering energy, then touched the steering wheel to ground herself. She checked the street and pulled out into light traffic.

  Elizabeth said, “Cassidy is incredible. He’s a better physician than I am.”

  “No!” The word exploded from Bri. “Never. He’s not. He may be more brilliant. He may have gone through the damn programs like a rocket, but he is not a better doctor than you. You’re twice the physician he is. And you know why? Because you have heart.”

  Elizabeth blinked. “I hadn’t thought of that. Heart. Huh.”

  “Huh yourself.”

  Bri drove down streets overhung with leafy branches.

  Elizabeth’s breathing evened. Bri felt her sister’s glance, but said nothing. Elizabeth inhaled, let her breath out slowly. “Don’t ask me to go in a direction I’m not ready for. I don’t want the topic raised again.”

  Bri found her teeth set, and deliberately relaxed her jaw. Again. There was no place like home and family, and no one who could push her buttons so easily as Elizabeth.

  Bri turned the car east and a wave of sound washed over her, through her. “The sounds of chimes and stuff is getting louder.”

  Elizabeth said nothing, but she’d stiffened.

  “Chanting mostly. Sheesh, don’t even need to turn on the radio.” She cocked her head. “Maybe I should have said merde. Sounds like French.”

  There were a couple of minutes of uneasy silence, then Elizabeth finally said, “Never did like those French classes in school.”

  Then she did hear it, too! Bri kept her tone light. “When you visited me in Cannes, you spoke French with a better accent than mine.” A tinkle of chimes rippled, then settled inside her, coiling. She flexed her fingers. “Do you recognize that?”

  “What?” The word sounded dragged out of Elizabeth.

  “The chimes are the tones associated with the seven chakras: C, D, E, F, G, A, B.”

  “Leave it to you.”

  A gong sounded in her mind. Elizabeth flinched beside her. “Put on some speed. Let’s get home.”

  “Right.”

  The rest of the drive passed in a rush, both physically and emotionally. Chanting blocked out all other sounds—except for the chakra chimes and the occasional gong. The rhythm was odd, Bri couldn’t catch hold of any pattern, but it wound her so tight she was near panting.

  Elizabeth gave a little moan, rubbed her temples. “I can’t anticipate the beat.” She squirmed. “It seems to be having a physical effect. My skin prickles.”

  “So does mine. Nerve endings do you think?”

  With a choppy exhalation of breath, Elizabeth said, “Probably. I have my medical bag up in the loft. We can check this out.” She sounded as if she was reassuring herself as well as Bri.

  “Of course,” Bri said, pulling into the underground garage and parking in Elizabeth’s space.

  They got out. Bri grabbed the freezer chest and Elizabeth both bags of potatoes. As they hurried to the elevator, Bri realized her whole body trembled—the chanting was spiraling, rising with excitement, with demand. She glanced at Elizabeth and saw a huge flickering multicolored banded aura. Bri’s breath whooshed out. She noted her sister wouldn’t look at her. “This is scary.”

  2

  “Scary,” Elizabeth said, jabbing at the elevator button. “Everything will be fine in a few minutes. We’ll figure this out.” She tilted her head in Bri’s direction. “I’m glad you’re here with me.”

  “Likewise.” The sounds had affected her heartbeat; the chanting sped it up, the chakra chimes tugging at different internal energies. She didn’t like the sensations.

  The elevator dinging melded with everything else and she didn’t notice it until the steel gray doors opened and Elizabeth hustled in. The black rubber-edged doors nearly closed before Bri hopped inside, stumbled to the far wall and braced herself.

  Elizabeth pressed thirty-four and the elevator rose.

  Too slowly. Bri’s vision was morphing. Sound seemed to take shape, with pastel clouds of pink and green and coral whirling around them. Bri gulped.

  “Just a couple of minutes,” Elizabeth chanting herself.

  “This ain’t good,” Bri whispered. She wondered if she should dial 911.

  The elevator went up and up and up. The chanting and chimes and gong filled it.

  There was a slight hesitation, then the upward motion continued.

  “We’ve passed the thirty-fourth floor!” Elizabeth cried.

  Bri shuddered. “Isn’t that the last one?”

  The walls and ceiling vanished.

  A wind whipped them into its grasp. They shrieked in unison. Bri wanted to drop her load and reach for her sister, but her fingers were frozen around the chest. She saw Elizabeth’s pale face, arms clutching the potato sacks.

  They flashed through a rippling field of blinding rainbow light, an enveloping wave of sound. Nothing under Bri’s feet. She fell, jarred, as if she’d missed a couple of steps descending a staircase.

  Her screams mingled with Elizabeth’s. They were together, at least. Chanting came around them, along with the chimes that pushed all Bri’s chakra buttons, the gong that had her dropping the chest and shuddering. She flung out her hand, found Elizabeth’s. They grabbed each other, clinging.

  The chanting stopped. “Well, how about that,” said an accented voice. “Two for the price of one. And they brought spuds! Did we get this right, or what?”

  Elizabeth hung on to Bri, who was trembling as much as she was. The chimes continued to rise and fall, touching her inside—her chakras if she was to believe Bri—stirring her. Everything echoed in her head: her thumping heartbeat—and her twin’s?—her ragged breath, whimpering.

  Blinking again and again, Elizabeth saw a large circle of people surrounding them, holding hands. There seemed to be four different groups. Some obvious couples were dressed in matching colored tunics over chain mail and had a weapon at each hip. Others had silver or gold bands around their foreheads and wore long robes. A third group wore leather clothes and sheathed swords, a fourth bunch wore colorful pants and shirts or dresses. Most of the people appeared Asian. Golden skin, black hair with slightly different colored highlights, brown eyes. Silver or gold streaks in their hair at one or both temples. Beautiful features. Beautiful people.

  I’ve got a bad feeling about this. Bri’s voice came in Elizabeth’s mind! She stared in shock at her sister.

  Bri!

  What!

  I can hear you in my mind.

  Me, too. A whisper.

  “Welcome to Lladrana,” a woman said.

  The gong sounded again and it was as if a surgeon clasped her beating heart. She and Bri screamed and swayed.

  “It sounds as if they’re hurting. It’s not supposed to hurt that much, is it? I don’t recall. Marian!”

  Elizabeth focused on the different voice. She saw a blue-eyed blond woman in leathers staring worriedly at her and Bri.

  “Ohmygod,” Bri said thickly, turning her head. “Lladrana. I didn’t do it, twin!” Childhood words of utter truth tore from her. My itchy feet didn’t bring us here!

  The chimes ran up and down the scale, once, twice…seven times. Noises wrung from Elizabeth merging with Bri’s. After the last tone reverberated, they huddled together on cold stones.

  Bong! The final thump on the huge silver gong had them twitching.

  Silence.

  Shoving her sweaty hair away from her eyes, Elizabeth stared at the people again. They’d unlinked their hands.

  Three women came to stand near them, outside a glowing green circle around a star on the floor. These three were Caucasian, though the tall, voluptuous woman with red hair and blue eyes appeared to have an Eastern European heritage.

  She gestured and the green circle surrounding them subsided. “I’m Marian Harasta Dumont.” She touched a golden band around her forehead
that showed lightning bolts and clouds, whorls that looked like wind, curvy waves. She, too, had a large streak of white in her hair. “I’m a Sorceress, called a Circlet of the Fifth Degree.

  “Welcome to Lladrana, another dimension. We have Summoned you here on behalf of the Cities and Towns. A strange fatal illness has come and they requested medicas—doctors.”

  Bri sat up straight, glowered at them, crossed her arms. Elizabeth kept her mouth shut.

  The smallest person there, a woman with silver hair and wearing chainmail and hip sheaths spoke. “I’m Alexa Fitzwalter, come from Denver last year. I was an attorney. Here in Lladrana I am a Swordmarshall and use the Jade Baton of Honor.” She pulled out the baton. It flared green and silver and bronze. The flames atop it turned from metal to real.

  Impressive.

  Does her name sound familiar to you? Elizabeth asked Bri.

  No, but attorney…would Uncle Trent have said something about her?

  Maybe I want them to do all the talking, though, Elizabeth said.

  Good plan.

  The willowy blond cleared her throat. She wore a leather outfit. “I’m Calli Torcher Guardpont. I am the Volaran Exotique.” Her brief smile lit her face. “Flying horses.” She inclined her head to others dressed as she was, “and the knights who ride them, Chevaliers.”

  I think I hit my head on the stones, Bri said.

  Elizabeth turned to her and sent her fingers roaming over her sister’s skull. Without thought she drew power into herself, sent it flaring around Bri’s head, checking for any damage.

  Breaths caught in gasps around them.

  “You’re a doctor?” Alexa asked.

  Neither of them answered. You’re fine. You have a hard head, Elizabeth said.

  I’m having massive hallucinations.

  You aren’t the only one.

  “We know this sounds crazy, but it’s true,” Marian said. “We can prove you’re in another land. A place that needs you very much.” She pulled a stick about as long as her hand from her pocket. It grew and shaped into a wand. Then as Elizabeth watched, the piece of wood lengthened and thickened until it was a staff.

  “They’re not believing us.” Marian sighed.

  “It takes a while,” Alexa muttered.

  “Yes, but it should be easier with a welcoming party like us,” Marian said.

  Bri snorted.

  “Neither one of them looks like the woman we’ve been having those intense dreams about.” Alexa shrugged, peered at them. Then said, “How long are you going to sit there and let us stare at you and talk about you?”

  I vote forever, Bri said to Elizabeth. Hallucinations have to end sometime. Someone will find us in the elevator.

  Elizabeth chuckled.

  The blond woman’s, Calli’s, eyes narrowed. “Do you get the idea that they’re mentally talking to each other?”

  “Twins,” said the short one, Alexa, philosophically. “And they’re very Powerful, you can hear the strength of their Songs. Telepathy might be the first thing they notice.”

  Good guess, Elizabeth said to Bri.

  They’re all sharp. And now that she mentioned it, I, uh, hear tunes coming from everybody.

  Elizabeth tilted her head. She was concentrating on her own vital signs, her pulse, her breathing, and Bri’s, but beyond that she could hear small tunes emanating from each person. Sometimes it was comprised of more than one melody. She focused on Marian’s and discovered the tune became less of a string and more of a woven rope—and led to a black-haired, blue-eyed man standing behind her.

  Bri had followed her thoughts. Interesting.

  “Time for plan B,” Alexa said. She gestured to a tall man with powerful shoulders dressed in gray raw silk shirt and trousers. He gave them a half-bow. His expression was serious, his eyes haunted. He left.

  Bri’s fingers twined in Elizabeth’s. That bad feeling is back.

  Yes.

  “The baby thing worked for me,” Alexa said conversationally. “Twice.”

  I definitely don’t like where this might be leading, Elizabeth said.

  “Children worked for me, too, in a different way,” Calli said softly. She held out her hand and a man came up and stood with her. A definite couple. Their Song spiraled out and snagged Elizabeth, so strong and loving and tender that she had to block it out because it reminded her of what she’d lost with Cassidy. She turned away from the sight of them.

  Bri squeezed her hand. They look very married, and he’s definitely a native. Marian’s guy, too.

  Elizabeth shivered. At that moment the large door opened and the man wearing gray strode back in. He held a small, limp body in his arms.

  “Oh, no!” Elizabeth and Bri said.

  He walked straight up to where they sat and carefully laid the boy of about three before them. The man’s expression was stark. “Mortee.” He dies.

  3

  Elizabeth and Bri went to opposite sides of the boy, reached for him. His breath wheezed, his face was pale and grayish compared to the golden-peach complexions of the healthy adults. He opened his eyelids. A horrified noise escaped Bri at the milky film covering his eyes.

  “Do you recognize these symptoms?” Bri asked, staring at her sister. She pushed the boy’s limp hair back from his forehead, gently turned his head to look in his ears, opened his mouth. His tongue showed a white coating too.

  “Um,” Elizabeth unbuttoned the boy’s shirt, put her hand on his chest. “Erratic and thready.”

  “Don’t give me doctor-speak comparisons. Do you recognize this?”

  “You never left people without hope,” Elizabeth muttered.

  “Twin,” Bri said, “there’s magical energy all around us.”

  “Illusion.” Elizabeth glared. “He needs a hospital.”

  “We’ve already tried everything. People are dying every day.” Tears dribbled down Calli’s cheeks. She and the other two women who spoke English kept close.

  “We can help him with our healing gift!” Bri said.

  Elizabeth lifted her palms from the small boy. “I can’t do anything without my instruments. Antibiotics, drugs!”

  Alexa shifted her weight, looked at Elizabeth, met Bri’s gaze. “We’ve done all we could.”

  Elizabeth folded her arms, held her opposite elbows tight. “Everything’s too strange,” she whispered. “Magic doesn’t work.”

  With a set mouth and steady stare at Elizabeth, Bri stretched her arms, flexed her fingers, placed her hand on the boy’s forehead and groin. She blinked as the air around her glowed, hummed.

  Bri looked at Elizabeth, neat and tidy. It would be so much easier with her sister helping. Too bad. She’d have to fling herself into the healingstream alone, as usual. Elizabeth hunched her shoulders, glanced away. She wasn’t used to working outside a clean hospital, depending on the healingstream and herself. Focusing on the boy, Bri opened herself to the healingstream. Only complete dedication would save the boy’s life. She grabbed for the current.

  Energy slammed into her, through her. She thought she heard Elizabeth gasp. Bri’s hands turned fiery with green flames. The boy’s body arched and jumped. Oh, God, oh, God, she’d killed him.

  She flung herself back. Her legs tangled. Her head hit hard stone. Commotion erupted around her. Her mind spun, she was afraid to look at her hands. Her fingertips must have blackened from the force of what she’d taken hold of.

  She was used to a stream of healing energy, not a raging river. Awesome.

  Fearsome.

  Her heart stopped thundering the same time her vision cleared—or she had enough sense to blink. She stared up at a circular room, with windows high in the wall. Stained glass alternated with clear. Rough beams were studded with opaque white crystals. Stones that held energy like batteries. Too many crystals to count. She’d plugged into a huge power source.

  Would any place on Earth have such a potent psi-magical energy current? Doubt gnawed. The more she ignored it, the stronger it became.


  The flow had held a tang of otherness. Usually she’d tap into the healingstream, taste what she only knew as Mother Earth. A current of energy straight from the core, smelling like molten lava, tasting like the richest soil. Those sensations had been absent, other sensual cues had come instead.

  “Twin,” she croaked, and turned her head.

  Elizabeth didn’t look at her. She was on her feet, next to the man who’d scooped up the boy. Bri felt her mouth drop open. The kid was squirming like any healthy and active youngster. Ohmygod.

  The boy’s eyes were wide open, bright and brown. His skin looked rosier than most everyone else’s. Pale and trembling, Elizabeth had turned doctor and was lifting her hand from his forehead. Then she stuck out her tongue at him and he returned the gesture. Appeared red enough to Bri.

  Ohmygod.

  Not God, you, Elizabeth said stiltedly in Bri’s mind.

  Bri swallowed and watched her twin trail her fingers over the boy’s cheek. Now well hydrated, almost chubby.

  Elizabeth shuddered. You saved a life. Slowly, she met Bri’s gaze, her own full of shocked disbelief. You saved a life with…with….

  Healing hands. She glanced down, they weren’t black.

  The man holding the boy said something and the redhead—Marian—translated the twisted French-like words. “There are other sick outside in the cloister walk. We brought everyone from Castleton, fifteen sick. One died before you came.”

  Elizabeth stared at Bri, hands fisting. Bri sensed her yearning to help. But Elizabeth would have to admit to having a gift. Which she’d denied since they were teens. Would she help?

  Elizabeth stretched out her hand. “Twin?”

  Bri rocked to her hands and knees, levered herself to her feet. Swaying, she reluctantly lifted one foot, then the other, stamping them down to ground herself, connecting again with—not Mother Earth. She ignored a heart twinge, took a step, saw Alexa sidling toward the bags of potatoes and had a flash of insight.

  “Those potatoes are ours! So’s the food chest.” She glanced around. Who could they trust to guard their “treasure”? As she focused on people, she heard tunes coming from them. Most were fascinated, many were grateful, only one had an essential defining characteristic of pure honesty. She nodded to the guy dressed all in white leathers. “Will you keep our belongings for us?” she asked in careful French, gesturing to their pile of stuff, including Elizabeth’s healthy back bag and Bri’s solar-paneled backpack containing her cell, her PDA, her music player. All those would help in discovering whether the others spoke the truth and she and Elizabeth were in a different place.