Keepers of the Flame

by Robin D. Owens

  Hands on throat and groin, Elizabeth let the flames flash through her, slid the energy into the child’s body, crackling under her skin, radiating through her, searching out the dark cobwebs, frying them, killing them. When she stepped back, she was smiling fiercely.

  She leaned over and propped her hands on her legs, gulping in air. Not a position she would ever have taken in the halls of Denver Major Hospital, where doctors strode with dignity and arrogance. A couple of medicas looked at her askance. Tough. Healing was hard work and took energy. She’d rather pant and sweat and move on, than retreat to a bench in the shade of the cloister for a little break to keep her dignity intact, as a medica’s soothing voice urged.

  The fullness of the Song—and now she could hear the sparkle and crack of it, the rhythm more of drums than of melody—and Power from her gift was finally inside her. Maybe she could find dignity later. Now she had work to do.

  She straightened, rolled her shoulders, rubbed her hands together and wasn’t too surprised to see a fountain of sparks. People withdrew a pace. Except Marian. Elizabeth turned her head to see the other woman’s smile.

  Marian shrugged. “I’m fire, too.”

  Elizabeth heard a clang of understanding, as if the silver gong had gone off next to her ear. Slowly she swivelled her head to look at the other Exotiques. They all represented the ancient four elements. Alexa, earth. Calli, air. Bri was water. Herself fire, too.

  “We’ll need spirit, too, to untie the weapon knot, the final destruction spell. The last of us Summoned, for the Singer, the Song—spirit,” Marian said.

  Elizabeth shook her head to rattle some sense back into it. “I’ll take your word on that.” With small steps she moved to her next patient, an old man. The tips of his fingers and toes were white—there the spiderwebs lived in him, in his arteries and veins, down to the tiniest capillary. She’d clean them out.

  She would have liked to position one hand on his heart and curl one around his toes, but she didn’t have the arm span. She glanced at the chief Castle medica, Jolie, who could help. “Can you stand at his feet and warm them?” Jolie would be better at the feet anyway, she knew all foot pressure points.

  A frown knit between Jolie’s brows. The medica took the man’s feet. “I don’t think I can help you, Elizabeth. I can’t link well with you without others.” Jolie blew a breath out. “You and your sister access so much of the Song….”

  “Just do your best,” Elizabeth said. At least she’d been saying those words to herself and others all through medical training, so that was familiar.

  She set her hand on the old man’s navel, felt an immediate connection, and an immediate draw of fire from beyond herself. Then the tug of that healing energy down to his feet. Jolie had joined her, massaged the man’s feet with strong fingers, broke up cobwebs with little bursts of Power, and with caring. Jolie lifted her voice in Song, and the energy she drew from the sky and the earth and the sun and the humidity of the air washed through the man.

  The melody caught Elizabeth. She hadn’t begun to fashion healing Songs. It was all she could do to open herself to the Power and direct it. Couldn’t hurt to hum. She discovered she was holding notes that corresponded to the chakras, fine-tuned them for her patient. She punched up a scale that would help him heal, saw her hands fire with flaming green light, and opened herself to the bright starfire energy.

  It whooshed through her, prickling her fingers, into the man. He arched, yelped. Elizabeth clamped down on the flow, narrowed it to a laser. She visualized the arterial system and she sent the light, the heat, the flame through him. Again and again she met wisps and clots of gray cobweb energy, fired it, destroyed it. Now in control, she opened the floodgate a little wider, let the push of the Power, the hum of the Song send healing force through his arteries, veins, capillaries.

  Jolie Sang louder. Elizabeth spared her a glance, saw she sweated. Jolie smiled, and her Song held thanks. Then Jolie let go and the backwash sped through the man’s body, spreading into muscle and sinew, repairing as well as destroying the disease. A little of Jolie’s Power smacked at Elizabeth. She gritted her teeth, took it, checked her patient and raised stinging hands.

  This time Faucon’s strong arm was behind her, supporting her and she let herself sag slightly into him, feeling his satisfaction, knowing his pride in her.

  Cassidy had been proud of her, before he’d seen her use her gift.

  Stop it! What was wrong with her? Since she’d seen Cassidy again, she’d been comparing the two men. So wrong. Why couldn’t she just accept her affair with Faucon and the respect and affection and sexual desire they shared? Why did she continually have to pick everything apart?

  The fire was affecting her emotions, licking at her, amplifying negative feelings. She shook her hands out, stamped her feet.

  “Water.” Marian held the bota up to Elizabeth’s lips again, and the residual overburn of the fire was banished as she drank deeply, then she turned her head away and wet her lips. She smiled up at Faucon, nodded thanks at Marian. “I need a little protein boost,” she said.

  Faucon waved and Broullard strode up with a small box. He opened it. Sweetcheese, antremay, lay there, looking like baked brie. Bri would have snatched at it and stuffed it in her mouth. Elizabeth wished for juice with an addition of wheatgrass.

  Nevertheless, she took a pre-cut wedge up and bit into it, letting flakes of the pastry fall to her bosom. The treat was fabulous. All thoughts of mango juice with wheatgrass faded from her mind as the taste of the naturally sweet cheese lay on her tongue. She ate two slices in undignified haste, swigged from the bottle Marian handed her and drank deep.

  Her head cleared, she could almost feel her cells plump in rehydration. She dipped in her pocket for a clean handkerchief and wiped her mouth, her hands, brushed the crumbs from the slight shelf of her breasts. She caught Faucon’s gaze and saw a promise…that they’d both eat more sweetcheese later. The notes of his personal Song twined around her, tender, and she sighed.

  “Thank you Jolie, Marian, Faucon and Broullard.” She spread a smile among them.

  “Can you go on?” asked a female Citymaster. “We have one more. My sister,” she whispered.

  Elizabeth had very little energy, though she’d snagged some as it had rushed through her like fire eating dead weeds, the Power was only enough to heal, to keep herself going. Her brain, her nerves, felt fried, as if using more would damage her.

  Four. She’d only been able to heal four. Fewer than the number of cases being discovered every day. In Castleton. They had to find a treatment for this sickness, and a cure.

  Elizabeth was beginning to believe everything she’d read in the lorebooks, others had told her. She and Bri would not be called home until they figured this out. She bit her lip. They had to find a way, and fast.

  She went to her last patient and stroked the middle-aged woman’s face, wiping away perspiration, sending a tiny amount of Power to boost the patient’s. This woman was fighting the sickness hard. Elizabeth could feel her exhaustion, her will to stay alive, to thrive. She was also a woman of Power, with the touch of silver-turning-to-gold at both temples.

  But Elizabeth didn’t want to leave this woman overnight, treating her only with herbs. Didn’t want to subject her family to the worry. She wasn’t sure of her limits here, but had learned to push them back home.

  She met the Citymaster’s eyes. “I will do as much healing as I can of your sister now, and finish later. I don’t want to burn out my Power, nor do I want my control to deteriorate so far that the healing Power and Song could hurt your sister.”

  “Wise,” said the woman lying before her in a raspy voice. She clutched her intertwined hands over her heart, as if pressing against a hard ache.

  Elizabeth let out a quiet breath. “Merci.”

  The sisters smiled at her. “We are not young and demanding.” The Citymaster’s lips curved. “We are older and sometimes commanding, but not in this.”

  Their accept
ance of her limitations—everyone’s limitations—eased Elizabeth’s mind.

  She shook out her arms and legs, drank more water and laid her hands on the woman.

  Just then, the alarm clanged. Elizabeth stiffened, but it wasn’t the call to battle. Faucon grinned at her, turned and stepped into the courtyard, shaded his eyes. “It’s the flying carriage. I believe your sister has returned.”

  Bri spoke to Elizabeth mentally. I’ll be right there. We’ll land in the courtyard.

  Something in her tone alerted Elizabeth. You’ve slept with Sevair.

  Amusement and affection rode on the next wave of love. Not quite. We’re considering it. Lots of sexual tension adding a nice buzz to life. We’re both glad to be back.

  Then the coach was there in the courtyard, hovering like a silent helicopter, settling down without disturbing dust.

  Bri flung open the door, hopped out and hurried over. Though her step had as much bounce in it as ever, faint lines etched around her eyes. Elizabeth stepped to her and they hugged hard.

  Energy surged between them. Water and Fire, and though they should have clashed, they mingled, providing strength to each other, as always.

  Wow, what zing! Something new? Bri squeezed harder, and Elizabeth chuckled.

  I don’t do the healingstream. I do the starfire.

  Ah! The fire of the stars instead of the stream of energy from the space between them. Bri sounded pleased. Then images of the other cities and towns flowed to Elizabeth—dark images of death and dying and helplessness. After one last squeeze, she released Bri and they turned to scan the patient.

  Usually five a week here, said Elizabeth. I know that doesn’t sound like much…

  Worse and better elsewhere, depending on the location. Five fatalities a week is not good. I tried to teach the medicas, but it didn’t work. Bri’s smile twisted. Hell, I tried to teach anyone with a glimmer of silver or gold at their temples.

  We’ll figure out a way, Elizabeth said, and returned to her patient, whose hand was being held by Sevair Masif. He was talking in a low-key way, distracting her. The patient’s sister, a colleague of Sevair’s, had relaxed. Excellent.

  “Let’s get to it,” Bri said briskly and Elizabeth’s smile widened.

  Bri stepped into Sevair’s personal space, nudged him, teasing. He gave her an intense look and slow smile. Elizabeth blinked. She hadn’t seen that particular smile.

  He patted the sick woman’s hand, took her sister’s arm and led her a few paces away, joining a clump of townspeople. Everyone appeared relieved to see him and gathered around. Now that Elizabeth noticed, they no longer looked at her with anything but approval. Inner tension eased. She was accustomed to being approved. That these folk had doubted her skills and preferred Bri’s had been like a splinter.

  Elizabeth joined Bri at the healing table. Bri had placed her hands on the woman’s head and heart. Elizabeth put hers on the woman’s solar plexus—the energy that corresponded with fire, and laid her hand over Bri’s on the heart.

  They all breathed together, though the patient’s was unsteady and cut short from pain.

  Then Bri connected with her source and the river of energy opened. This time it didn’t sweep Elizabeth away. This time she didn’t fight to stay afloat, struggle to a calmer eddy to plant her feet and siphon off some of Bri’s energy to heal. This time she watched it surge by.

  One deep inhalation, and she reached for her own source of Power, the snapping, electric current of starfire. It whipped through her, to her fingers, warmed their connection, penetrated the woman’s skin and bathed her in the sweet cleansing of controlled fire—light and heat.

  Bri laughed.

  Elizabeth’s fire sank to the middle of Bri’s river, providing a tight core of energy.

  “Hmm,” Bri hummed, then narrowed her own stream of Power. It wasn’t quite as controlled as Elizabeth’s and she smiled.

  They worked together to clear the patient’s heart, repair tears, revitalize it. Elizabeth healed the circulatory system, Bri the nervous system. Reenergized herself, Elizabeth was able to slide into detachment, watch the process. Bri’s and her Power didn’t conflict as the ancient elements of water and fire were supposed to. Because they were from the same source.

  Both she and Bri visualized the depths of space. They tapped into the underlying pattern of the universe. Each built their own image of the energy. Bri thought of and sought the energy of black holes, of the darkness between stars. Elizabeth imagined the blaze of a solar flare, a starpoint.

  What would people of other “elements” see? Air: the solar wind? Earth: the coalescence of mass into the formation of planets?

  She didn’t know. If she hadn’t been so awed by what was happening, she’d have been amused at considering antique concepts rationally. As odd as the four old “humors” the body was made of—blood, yellow bile, black bile and phlegm. Or the four temperaments—choleric, melancholic, sanguine, phlegmatic. But concepts were constructs for the human mind. She understood that now.

  Then Bri’s froth of enthusiasm at healing, doing her destined work, her joy that Elizabeth had found her Power, had joined her fully as a partner, hooked Elizabeth’s emotions. Once again, she was wholly there, experiencing the heat and flaming of her hands, the flow of energy from somewhere else through her body, the destruction of evil that lived as a disease.

  In tune, they examined the woman from crown to toes—and Elizabeth gained admiration for Bri’s knowledge of anatomy.

  Massage therapists know the body as well as doctors, not to mention acupuncture, acupressure points and chakra energies, Bri said.

  Elizabeth nodded.

  Now to withdraw, watch. Instead of narrowing the conduit which would increase the force of the Power, Bri widened her focus, letting her river gentle. Elizabeth followed suit, letting her starfire dissipate into the huge surround of space.

  Keep some for yourself, Bri said. I gave you some of my energy to jump-start yours. Take some from your own source now to keep you going, though I can see you’re through for the day. We can only be vessels for the Power so long.

  “Ayes,” Elizabeth said. She let the last shower of starfire spark through her like fading fireworks, then cut her connection.

  They turned to each other, hugged.

  “You were fantastic, Elizabeth.”

  “Thank you, Bri. I understand better now.”

  Another touch added when Faucon placed his hand on Elizabeth’s nape, another element illuminated with aura and Song—air, Faucon was air, and his tenderness was close to her heart.

  Elizabeth sensed when Sevair’s fingers twined with Bri’s, adding the last, slow rolling of Earth. Her shoulders eased, lowered.

  “Awe full,” Sevair said thickly voiced. “To see you two work together.”

  Dropping her arms from Bri, Elizabeth blinked her eyes to see Sevair the staid kissing Bri’s ear. Faucon nipped at her own and had a flick of passion zipping through her.

  Bri smiled, put her hand on her abdomen. “I’m starving. Let’s eat.” She glanced at Faucon. “In town. Sevair can tell you the best inn.”

  “I know the best inn,” Faucon said.

  The watching medicas moved forward. A couple supported a swaying Jolie. Elizabeth frowned. “Jolie, didn’t you take some Power from the healing energy?”

  Jolie slowly shook her head. “I could feel you’re the Power from both of you, but could not link. We have never been able to do so. We can draw from Mother Amee, but she is so stricken we do not like to use her Power.”

  Elizabeth met Bri’s eyes. The medicas didn’t have a proper image or construct for human minds of the pattern of the universe.

  Hope surged through her, matching Bri’s wonder. Now she knew, she could teach them. She was sure of it.

  They’d teach the others how to find the energy. Then to cure the frink sickness.

  She’d done it, not Bri with the healing hands, a mind more accepting of the Lladranan’s ways. Elizabeth, who’
d been scrambling hard to learn, pretending she knew what she was doing. She with the medical training.

  Pride burst through her. She stood tall and looked around Temple Ward. People met her eyes and ducked their heads in acknowledgment.

  Bri said, We’ll talk later about teaching the medicas. I could NOT get images or explanations through people’s heads. You can. She didn’t sound resentful, but grateful.

  “We’ll talk later,” Elizabeth said aloud. “I need to discuss this with my sister, but we can now train you to cure the frink sickness!”

  28

  The news ran through the audience like a shockwave. For a moment Elizabeth thought that they might be mobbed.

  “The Exotique Medicas are tired.” Sevair stared at individuals who’d taken involuntary steps forward.

  With feigned casualness, Faucon scanned the crowd, played with Elizabeth’s fingers. “I’m hungry.”

  People broke into clumps to discuss Elizabeth’s announcement, Sevair moved to supervise those tending the recovering sick, relatives from Castleton. From the energy Elizabeth had sent through them, she thought they should be bouncing to their feet, charging out of Temple ward.

  “It doesn’t work that way,” Bri said softly, though Elizabeth knew it from observation. “My patients have told me their bodies feel different, but they aren’t quite sure how. Their minds are used to their bodies feeling a certain way and can’t process the information that they are different for a while.”

  “Muscle memory?”

  Bri shrugged. “Body and mind memory?”

  “All is under control,” Sevair said with satisfaction as he watched the former patients helped from the courtyard to the next, and the gate beyond where coaches waited to take them home.

  “They want their own beds,” Faucon said.

  “We’ll fly,” said Sevair, walking over to Mud.

  “Ayes!” Faucon said, and let out a piercing whistle.