Tohon had injected Death Lily toxin into young children, hoping a few would survive and become healers.
“Go ahead and touch one. See if you get anything different.”
Reluctance dragged at his feet.
“They’re not contagious to healers,” I assured him.
Biting his lip, Danny pressed two fingertips to the closest man’s temple. “Oh. It’s not the toxin. But it’s similar. He’s going to die. Can I heal him?”
“No!” I batted his hand away. “He has a form of the plague. If you take his sickness, then you’ll die.”
Horror welled in his eyes. “The plague’s back?”
I explained about the new strain. “I think something protected the survivors of the first plague, but they are vulnerable to this one. And I believe this one has to be injected into the body to work.”
“And why am I safe?” Danny asked.
“As a healer, you’re immune to Death Lily toxin, which is at the heart of this plague.” But as I said those words, I wondered if they were true. After all, I had died after I’d assumed the plague from Ryne. There must be something else that protected them from contracting the disease. If I could figure it out, I could cure the plague.
Danny yawned. I told him to wash his hands and go find a place to sleep. “Loren and Quain have their bedrolls set up in the small cavern to the left of the cave’s entrance if you want to join them.”
“But the patients—”
“Are fine for now. Don’t worry. I won’t hesitate to wake you if you’re needed.”
Unhappy, but all out of arguments, Danny scrubbed and then left. I checked on each of the men and made them as comfortable as possible for the evening. My bedroll had been set up near the cavern’s entrance so I’d be close by if needed by my caregivers or the patients.
I considered the problem of the plague as I washed my hands. The water felt colder than normal, causing my finger bones to ache. The sensation crept up my arms. I hugged them to my chest and turned to face the reason for the iciness.
Noak stood a few feet away. Shivers threatened to break out, but I clamped down on my emotions. There was no need to fear this man.
I shooed him out of the cavern, explaining about the danger. When we reached a safe distance, I stopped. “Do you need something?”
“Your hand,” he said, holding out his own.
“Oh.” Not sure how I could refuse without insulting him, I placed my right hand in his, bracing for the blast of ice. He didn’t disappoint. I stiffened as the now-familiar wave of frigid cold raced through me.
Noak’s grip tightened. “There’s another.”
“Another what?”
“Bond. Deep inside, but there.” Noak thumped his chest.
“Bond?”
“You are linked to Magic Man and this other.”
Fear melted the ice. “Who?”
“Another man of magic. Stronger than Magic Man, but his link to you is weaker for now.”
Tohon? But he was encased in a stasis. Or so we believed. “How do I break that link?”
“This other must die.”
KERRICK
A teapot crashed to the hearth, shattering into pieces—just like Kerrick’s thoughts.
“Belen’s here?” he asked Mom.
Mom frowned at the destroyed teapot. Small shards littered the bricks around Flea’s feet. “No. He left a few days ago.”
Flea jumped down. “Where did he go?”
“South to spy on that nasty Skeleton King.” Mom tsked. “I told him to wait until he was fully healed, but the big oaf had it in his thick head to go investigate.”
Now Kerrick needed to sit down. He sank into a chair. “Wait. Belen’s injured?”
She glanced at Kerrick and then Flea. “My goodness, didn’t you get my message?” Mom clasped her hands together. “No wonder you’re in such a state.”
“Can you start at the beginning, please?” Kerrick asked.
“Of course, dearie. Mr. Belen arrived at my door about a week after midsummer’s day. The poor man’s head was cracked open. He had dozens of cuts, bruises, and a handful of stab wounds. His right arm had been broken in two places and his left ankle was shredded. Something had chewed right through his leather boot.” She shook her head. “Those injuries should have killed him. But there he stood, swaying on his feet, dripping blood on my clean floors and insisting all he needed was a piece of pie and a good night’s sleep.”
Kerrick smiled. “That’s Belen.”
“We managed to get him into a bed before he collapsed. He slept for so long, I’d feared he’d never wake up.”
“How long?” Flea asked.
“Two months! I sent a message to Avry right after he’d arrived.”
“Zabin was under attack then,” Flea said.
“I heard the news later, and figured it was the reason Avry didn’t come. But I’d hoped the note made it to her.”
Kerrick considered. The message was probably intercepted by Tohon’s army, which would explain why Tohon lied to Avry about Belen getting captured. He’d known Belen’s situation and location.
“When he woke, I’d expected him to not remember a thing,” Mom said. “A blow like that should have scrambled his brain. But that thick skull of his saved him. Once he found out how long he’d been asleep, he’d wanted to charge right off.” She smoothed her apron with a quick flick of her hands as if still affronted by Belen’s lack of good judgment. “Of course, his leg muscles couldn’t hold his weight and he’d had nothing to eat but broth and bits of soggy bread for months. Took my bartender and two of my regulars to get him back into bed.”
“I’d bet Belen fussed about that,” Flea said, grinning.
“Oh, yes. Mr. Belen wasn’t the best patient. He kept insisting he needed to get back, but between the dizziness, headaches, and weakness, I wouldn’t let him go. And he listened to me until that horrible Skeleton King invaded Jaxton.”
“Was he better by then?” Kerrick asked.
“Much. But I’d hoped he’d be back to full strength before he left.” Mom fisted her apron. “I’m worried he’ll run into trouble.”
Kerrick rushed to assure her. “Belen can be impulsive, but he’s smart and a good scout.” As long as he kept his distance from the Skeleton King, he should be fine...unless he ran into one of Cellina’s patrols, or priests from Estrid’s army. “What happened to the priests that were staying here?”
“Ran off as soon as they heard about the High Priestess’s surrender to King Tohon.”
“Where did they go?” Flea asked.
“Don’t know. Don’t care. I was just happy to see the backs of their robes.”
“Have you heard anything about Cellina’s army?” Kerrick asked.
“Who?”
Interesting. The news about Tohon’s status hadn’t reached her. Perhaps Cellina was keeping it quiet. Kerrick filled Mom in on the news.
“Goodness, such a to-do. Poor Prince Ryne is stuck in the middle and surrounded by enemies.”
Her comment sounded a warning inside his head. “Why do you say that?”
“Because the High Priestess is to the east, and this Cellina is to the west, and the nasty Skeleton King is south.”
“More like southwest,” Flea said.
“South,” Mom insisted. “He’s taken the city of Dina in Tobory Realm, too.”
Shocked, he stared at Mom. Ryne’s information was dangerously out of date. No wonder he’d been so anxious to have Kerrick scouting for him.
Kerrick stood. “Flea, take Mom and Huxley and return to Grzebien. I’ll—”
They both protested.
“I’m going with you,” Flea said.
“No need to babysit me,” Mom said. “I can take care of myself. Have been for days. You boys go and find Mr. Belen, then we’ll all travel together.”
Kerrick calculated. Jaxton was three days away on horseback, which would add six days at the minimum to this trip. “Avry—”
“Is going to be so ecstatic to see Belen, she’ll forget to be mad at you for being late,” Flea said.
True, but he hated to worry her again. Perhaps he could send a message. “Is anyone else in town?” he asked Mom.
“A few diehards that refuse to leave. Not what you’re looking for, dearie.” She shooed him. “Go. The sooner you leave, the faster you’ll return.”
* * *
Three days later, Kerrick and Flea neared the outskirts of Jaxton. During the trip, they’d spotted a few groups of refugees, heading west at a fast pace, but no one else. And no sign of Belen. Using his connection to the forest, Kerrick searched as far as his senses could stretch, which was only about two miles now, less than half as far as he could before this...lethargy. Frustration gripped him.
Within the distant he scanned, Belen was not in the woods. That meant one thing. He was in Jaxton, either hiding or as a prisoner of the Skeleton King.
They waited until nightfall. Kerrick planned to follow the glows from the campfires of the Skeleton King’s army to locate them. He didn’t expect the loud chanting and drumbeats that started at full dark. He instructed Flea to leave with Huxley at the first sign of trouble.
“Yeah, like that will happen,” Flea said.
“Could you at least pretend you’ll follow my orders?”
“I could.”
Kerrick waited.
“Oh, okay. I’ll run away like a bunny with a hound on his tail.” He saluted with two fingers.
“A simple ‘yes, sir’ would suffice.”
“But not be near as entertaining.”
Shaking his head, Kerrick planned to limit Flea’s time hanging out with the monkeys.
Kerrick circled to the east of town. Bright orange light pulsed near the edge of the forest. At first he thought it was a huge bonfire, but then he recognized the building—the apartment house. Where he’d first seen Avry. Flames engulfed the structure as smoke billowed into the sky.
Figures danced around the fire, pounding on drums. They wore white armor and elaborate headdresses made of...human skulls? Kerrick squinted, but the horrific image only clarified. And the white armor—bones.
Revulsion, deep and primal, bubbled up his throat, tasting bitter and feeling like ash in his mouth. The plague had killed millions in a short period of time. Unburied dead bodies had been one of the unfortunate ramifications of that time. But it was despicable to use their bones for armor.
Kerrick scanned the crowd, watching the dancers. No one stood out or appeared to be the Skeleton King. No Belen, either. Slipping south, he spotted a number of smaller campfires. The town’s square was filled with milling soldiers and an array of tents. It seemed odd that the army hadn’t occupied the buildings. And where were the townspeople? The best way to survive an invasion was to play host and hope the army would leave soon.
He continued south. Kerrick counted soldiers, estimating their numbers. He also noted their weapons—swords, knives, clubs, pikes—all fashioned with, he guessed, bone handles and hilts. From this distance, he couldn’t be certain.
Looping around to the west, he realized the soldiers didn’t act like they’d just conquered a town. No celebrating, laughing, drinking, or debauchery. Unless there were more men inside the buildings? But besides the chanting and drumbeats, the rest of the town remained quiet. Still no Belen.
He stopped behind the jailhouse. It was the best place to keep the captured townspeople and, perhaps, Belen, as well. Leaning against a tree, Kerrick waited and watched. Near the building was a large fire pit. No flames crackled. Instead, bright red coals glowed, pumping out heat. Spits of meat sizzled over the coals. A man turned them, one at a time. Enough meat to feed a substantial army. From what he’d seen so far, he estimated the army to be about two thousand strong.
After a couple hours, the Skeleton King approached the jailhouse. No doubt the man was the infamous king. His armor covered him from head to toe and resembled a skeleton. His helmet had been constructed from a skull. And a crown carved from bone sat atop his head.
The Skeleton King pulled open the door and shouted. His words were garbled at this distance. Kerrick crept closer.
“...need our offering. The moon’s at its zenith,” the Skeleton King said, stepping back as guards wrestled with two screaming men, dragging them over to a broad wooden table near the cook fire.
Horror welled. Kerrick recognized the design. He started forward, grabbing his sword’s hilt, but stopped. What could he do? He’d use all his strength just to reach the man. After that, getting caught and killed along with them would be the only outcome.
The guards strapped the first prisoner to the table. The Skeleton King spread his arms wide, tipped his head back, and howled at the moon. When he finished, his soldiers howled an echo. Then the king brandished a knife and in one quick motion, sliced the prisoner’s throat. The man who had been turning the spits rushed to collect the gushing blood in a bowl.
Kerrick clamped down on a cry as anguish and impotent rage flowed through him. His grief intensified when the second prisoner joined the first. The howling repeated and another bowl was filled with blood.
The Skeleton King took both bowls and strode toward the large bonfire. After a few minutes the drumbeat changed its cadence. The rest of the soldiers followed the Skeleton King. But not the cook. He remained behind, tending the spits.
Before Kerrick could decide on his next move, the wind shifted. The strong stench of burned flesh sent him to his knees, gagging and retching.
They wouldn’t...
They couldn’t...
The cook grabbed a meat cleaver. Without the slightest hesitation, he butchered the victims on the table.
They did.
CHAPTER 16
I stared at Noak, trying to gather my wits. He’d just informed me that I was bonded to Tohon and in order to break the bond, Tohon must die. I’d love to oblige him, but Tohon was safely behind enemy lines.
“What will happen if he doesn’t die?” I asked.
“Without Magic Man here, the other’s bond grows stronger. He will destroy your link with Magic Man.”
Not good. Terrifying actually. But it would explain why I didn’t have the Tohon nightmares when I was with Kerrick.
“He must die before link with Magic Man gone,” Noak said.
“Even if I knew where he was—”
“You know.” Noak tapped me on the chest. “Answer is here.”
Lovely. “But I can’t reach him. He’s well protected.”
“Then you are lost.” Noak released my hand.
“What does that mean?”
“Once a bond is forged, it is unbreakable.”
Yikes. “What does this bond do?”
“You linked by magic. You can use his power and he can use yours if you equal. Unequal, the stronger one will take the weaker’s magic and use it all for himself.”
Noak studied my expression. “Yes. That one is stronger than you and Magic Man.” He nodded and walked away.
I expected to warm up once the tribesman left, but this time the cold persisted, soaking deep into my bones. Even knowing I’d get no sleep tonight, I lay down on my bedroll. I pulled the blanket up to my chin. Shivers raced along my skin as I imagined Tohon’s smug smile.
After tossing and turning for what seemed like hours, I jerked the blanket off and checked on my patients. Only one required another dose of pain medicine. The rest slept. I organized supplies, rolled bandages, and kept busy until dawn.
Christina took one look at me and ordered me to bed.
“But I’m—” I tried.
“Exhausted and will be of no use to anybody until you get some sleep.” She crossed her arms. “Do I need to ask Sergeant Odd to escort you to your bedroll?”
About to give in, I paused. “Why Odd and not Loren or Quain?”
“You listen to him. Unlike the monkeys. Now go.” She pointed.
All out of arguments, I shuffled to my bedroll. Before going to sleep, I check
ed on the plague patients. A convulsion shook Private Jannes. He had reached stage three and only had two more days left to live. Two of the most hellish days in his life. I’d experienced what he now faced and knew dying would be a relief. I mixed a draught of pain and sleep powders for him, hoping to ease his final hours.
After Jannes gulped the medicine down, I eyed the sleep powder. If I drank a weak dose, would it keep Tohon away? Or would it prevent me from waking up and escaping Tohon?
And then an idea popped into my head. Noak had said I knew where to find Tohon in my heart. What if that worked for other information? Would Tohon know what Cellina’s been up to? Would he tell me? Only one way to find out. Ugh.
Unhappy with the prospect of encouraging Tohon in my dreams but unable to pass up the opportunity to learn more, I slid under my blanket. After that, I don’t remember even resting my head on the pillow.
“So now you believe me, my dear.” Tohon poured a cup of tea and handed it to me. “I’ve been telling you for months. But it appears the ice giant from the wildlands has more credibility than me.” He huffed as if affronted then settled across the table. Tohon peered at me over the rim of his steaming cup. His deep blue eyes held a predatory glint.
Glad for the table between us, I sipped my tea. The sunlight reflected off the squares of colored glass embedded in the table’s clear glass top. We sat in Tohon’s forever garden. Constructed on the roof of his castle in Sogra Realm, the rectangular glass room contained a variety of leafy trees, lush bushes, hanging vines, and even pools of water. The humid air held the thick scent of living green mixed with the sweet aroma of flowers. Minus Tohon, it was a perfect place.
I glanced at the beauty surrounding us. “Will all this die when it turns cold?” The first day of winter was four days away.
He raised an eyebrow. “Why would you think that?”
“Because you’re...”
“Trapped in a stasis?”
“Yes.”
“It’s different for me. I’m a life magician, so while my body is frozen, my mind and my magic remain active. Otherwise we wouldn’t be talking.” He gestured with his free hand. “These trees will continue to thrive as long as I live.”
Taste of Darkness (An Avry of Kazan Novel - Book 3) Page 26