Lunatic

by Dekker, Ted

  "`Chosen for appointed tasks none else may bear,"' he muttered, trying to work out the meaning.

  "Excuse me?"

  "Nothing. You think she'd understand we went south?"

  "Who said we were going south?" Silvie sheathed her knife he'd borrowed.

  "I did." He didn't want to tell her about the beautiful woman again. It would only irritate her.

  "Well, I disagree. You're forgetting you already said Thomas most likely would go north. You're right. The Horde is too familiar with the canyons and Natalga Gap. And there's a Horde city out that way. Assuming it's still there after five years."

  "The Horde has the forests. They no longer need a desert dwelling."

  Silvie conceded. "Why south?"

  He started walking. She really needed to learn to trust him. "If we move fast we can make the north edge of the Natalga Gap before dark."

  She grabbed him. "Why south?" Her gray eyes narrowed. "That woman of yours. She told you to go out there."

  Johnis shrugged free. "We're going into the desert because we're out of time to try finding Darsal."

  "That wasn't my question. I know that already. That woman's gotten to you, hasn't she?"

  Johnis went south, fully expecting her to follow.

  "What if it's a trap?"

  He laughed. "Silvie, what possible reason could a woman I've never met have to trap me? The disease is messing with you. You're the one begging me for water. Are we going or not?"

  She scowled. Then started after him. "Fine."

  edan tried twice-well, twice that Darsal could remember-to offer her some solace, but she would have none.

  Futile.

  Beneath the cocoon of a tattered, borrowed cloak, her skin began to turn brittle. The pain in her joints made her moan on the floor of her tiny cell.

  "Darsal," Jordan said, "you must eat."

  "Do you believe me yet?" she asked from beneath her cloak.

  Hesitation.

  "I believe you're in a lot of pain. Sit up and eat something. Drink the water they left you. It'll help."

  Darsal stretched her limbs and back and pushed back the cloak. Her cellmates gasped. She rubbed her eyes and sat up, then felt her skin slough off.

  She yelped and held her hands where she could see.

  Long cracks covered her body and split into flakes like dried mud baking in the sunlight. Tanned skin and dark hair had turned grayish white.

  Sign of the living dead.

  "Now do you believe?" she demanded. "I'm turning to Horde. Elyon's forsaken me. I begged him. I wanted to believe you. I really did."

  Jordan's eyes were wide, and his face had gone completely white. Instinctively he looked at his hands, then pulled up his sleeves, just to be certain.

  "How are you only now beginning to turn?" Xedan drew back.

  "It's complicated." Darsal scratched, further deflated when flakes of dried skin sloughed off. "I don't understand how it works. But I'm trapped in here, and it's over. I'm as good as dead."

  "Drink something," Xedan said. "Drink the water. It'll clear your-

  "Forget the water! It doesn't matter! It doesn't matter!" Darsal curled into a ball and whipped the cloak back over her again.

  Her skin hurt and itched.

  Her bones and joints were stiff and aching.

  She had no way out.

  "Darsal." She heard Jordan raise up on his knees and shuffle around, could imagine his hands on the bars and face pressed against the slimy metal. "Darsal, remember what you asked my grandfather?"

  She clenched her teeth and gave him silence.

  More movement. "Here," Jordan said, "Give this to her."

  "I don't want it."

  "Take it, Darsal," Jordan insisted. Xedan pressed something round in her hand. His leather pendant.

  "I can't take this from you."

  "You'll want it when you catch the Circle." Jordan looked down, frowning. "We don't have much longer anyway."

  She brought her hand back under the cloak and pressed it to her chest. Still she didn't speak. Jordan, however, was undeterred. "Darsal, listen to me. You know it's going to affect your mind soon. You've been gone a long time, and there's much to say and little time. Are you listening to me?"

  Silence. Xedan's three fingers gently took hold of her foot and squeezed. "Elyon hasn't forsaken you, dear."

  "Darsal, you need to drown. You need to find a red lake and drown. You have to get out-"

  "I know I need to bathe!"

  "No, you don't need to bathe. You need to drown!" Jordan yelled. A corrective look from Xedan settled him a little. He took a breath, worked his fists. "All of Elyon's lakes are red now. But you can't just take a swim. Elyon changed the rules. You have to dive into the water and drown. You understand?"

  "I'm going Scab, so you're plotting my death?"

  "Darsal!" Jordan bellowed her name with the force of one in authority, a man rebuking a child.

  She went quiet.

  Jordan softened his voice. "I am not trying to kill you, girl. I'm trying to help save you. Do you want to become a Scab?"

  "No."

  "So listen to me. There's a hidden pool the Guard used to use. It's right near the southern edge of the forest. The Horde never found it, but it's red. It's not very wide, but it's very deep. I want you to escape here and find-"

  "A hidden pool."

  "A hidden pool I'm going to tell you how to find. Grandfather doesn't even know where this one is. And then you can make your way around-"

  The dungeon door clanked open. Torchlight poured into the hall. Darsal pulled Xedan's cloak further over her head and faked sleep.

  "What do you want now?" Despair flooded Jordan's voice. His wife. They must have come for Rona again. Oh, Jordan ...

  How much could one man take?

  Shuffling feet. Darsal heard a scuffle and Jordan's desperate pleas not to take Rona. She heard him fall, heard the sound of a boot striking human flesh with a dull thud.

  Then a new guard spoke. "Is she alive or dead?"

  "She's ill," Xedan replied, stricken. "There was no cause for that."

  "You're all ill."

  "Elyon, don't take her," Jordan pleaded, presumably from the ground. His voice was shaky from the brief-but sound-beating. He groaned.

  The guard didn't respond. Darsal heard the woman being dragged away.

  "Could you bring her another blanket?" Xedan asked. "And perhaps some more fruit? It'll help."

  The guard scoffed. "She's going to die down here regardless." He left, shadows creeping in his wake. The lock creaked into place.

  "HE'S TAKING HER AGAIN?" CASSAK ASKED HIS SCOUT. HE'D left the council and gone to take care of some leftover business with the rebels.

  The scout nodded sharply.

  He had to keep an eye on the throater.

  And he had to keep Eram's men and Marak's men separated.

  "When?" he snapped.

  "Just now. Right after the general left his brother."

  Cassak swore. "Marak went down there?" Of all the stupid things to do.

  "Yes, sir."

  "Fine. Send word to Commander Reyan. I'll be an hour late. No one is to disturb the rebels."

  "Captain, the commander is-"

  "I said go," he snapped. His scout looked perplexed. Cassak was only a captain, and he answered to Reyan. The apparent defiance stunned the scout.

  "Tell him it's for Marak," Cassak supplied. "General's orders come first."

  ohnis's legs hurt. Both calves and thighs felt like someone was filleting him with knives. With every step and with each painful motion the realization that his journey really was over sank in further. Life as he knew it was dead. Over. Gone.

  Aid me, Johnis ... Come to the desert, where I may be found ... "

  The desert. Endless, blinding western sun.

  He'd failed Darsal.

  "I have water, my Johnisss ... "

  "Water. Water, Silvie. She says she has water ..." He squinted and bowed his head.
His flaking skin grew hotter and tears streamed down his face.

  Elyon, help us ...

  Nothing.

  "We'll see."

  Johnis felt his mind drift. The inviting, invisible presence he vaguely understood as an unsettling power, a gentle tug of his will by a very powerful woman he couldn't see.

  "Follow your heart. "

  His heart said he was going mad. That this was all futile. There was no woman in the desert, just like there were no Forest Dwellers in the forests, only Horde.

  All he had was this thin, dwindling hope that maybe, just maybe, he could help this woman stranded in the desert and that she would help them survive.

  "Johnis." Silvie squeezed his shoulder. He'd sunk to his knees. Now he groaned.

  "He won."

  "Don't say ... Don't say that, Johnis." Her hand gripped the back of his neck.

  Her hand. Her cracking, flaking skin. White, dried-out hair and dull eyes. The pain in their joints and muscles made quick movement impossible.

  Johnis struggled to refocus. A task growing in difficulty.

  "They're all gone. It's over. Teeleh and the Shataiki won, and it's over. `Save the world.' Save the world from what? We may have saved Las Vegas from Alucard, but the search for the books was a fool's errand! Elyon has abandoned this world to the Horde, and now us with it."

  "That's only the scabbing disease talking."

  He knew she was right, but already he wasn't as sure as he had been a few hours ago. A few more hours and he wouldn't even care that they'd abandoned Darsal. Wouldn't care that they'd lost the books they'd nearly died to retrieve. Wouldn't care that everyone was gone. Wouldn't care a rat's behind about anything he'd once loved.

  "Curse those blasted books," he muttered.

  She slapped him hard across the face. He fell backward, caught himself with his palms, stunned.

  "Stop talking like this!"

  He jumped to his feet and flung wide his arms. "What am I supposed to say? You want water, Silvie? I can get it for you, just like before, only now it doesn't even work! Even if we find water, it's useless!"

  "I didn't follow you out here to listen to you shrivel up and die!"

  "What do you want me to do, Silvie? The last time there was always water to be found, a lake back in Middle waiting for us to bathe in. Now what? Nothing but muddy water. Even the clear water has no power."

  Power. This woman who could speak to him across a desert had immeasurable power. He could feel it, even from the city. And the closer he came ...

  "At least we'll be able to drink it." Silvie's hands went to her hips. "At least we can drink it."

  johnis .. .

  "Not now!" he screamed at the woman in his head. Silvie stared at him. His senses sharpened, well aware of even the tiniest perceptions.

  He raked his hands through his hair.

  White flakes fell out.

  Silvie made a face at him and stepped back.

  "We can't escape the Scabs if we've become Scabs, Silvie. Only a handful of people knew about that pool."

  "What's gotten into you? You never talk like this."

  "My family is dead," he snapped.

  "So is mine. For a whole lot longer." Her lackluster gray eyes drilled him hard, set like flint.

  A last flash of sunlight blitzed across the sky, then fell into night. From somewhere in the canyon came soft insect chirping. Still farther away a coyote howled.

  "I'm sorry, Silvie," he said at last. "I didn't mean ... It's just that I don't like this helpless feeling. And this woman wants my. . ."

  johnis .. .

  Cloud cover rolled in and with it more mist. The air cooled and fog thickened. No stars, moonlight veiled with fingerlike, wispy tendrils of silver and gray shadow.

  Johnis closed his eyes and drank in the chilly air. It was like water to his thick, parched tongue. "Silvie? Tell me you see this ..."

  "See what?"

  "The fog. The cool air, I can almost taste-"

  "Come to me, Johniss ... Seek that which may be found. "

  Before him was the woman's multicolored gaze, the strange eyes he could lose himself in. In her eyes he saw through the mist to a river half a mile wide with hot springs on both sides, cold water rushing over falls and across the desert.

  Water.

  Johnis trudged forward, aching for the river the woman showed him, wondering where it was. Maybe Thomas and the others were there.

  A great tree spanned the river, enormous leaves concealing fruit the size of both his fists. On the far side of the river was a forest like none he'd ever seen.

  "Beautiful ..."

  "Johnis, there's nothing there."

  His eyes widened. "You don't see ..."

  Silvie put one hand on each shoulder and forced eye contact. "I see nothing but empty desert and your eyes turning gray, Johnis."

  "There's a river and fruit trees and ..."

  Aid me, johnis ... Come, come quickly, while the cool of evening lingers . . .

  Silvie's arms wrapped around him. She kissed him full on the mouth.

  His mind refocused. Johnis cradled her head. The musty Scab scent was already settling in, but it wasn't as bad as he remembered.

  She pulled back. Cupped his cheek. Her eyes were glassy. Skin slick with sweat. "There is you and me, and the desert."

  johnis .. .

  Silvie tipped his chin up. Traced the curve of his mouth. "You and me."

  He blinked. "Yes. Yes, of course."

  "You understand that? The disease isn't making you forget?"

  Her hand slid into his.

  The river and the trees disappeared.

  Silence fell over them.

  "I'm not going to lose you, Johnis of Ramos."

  He headed for the Gap. "You won't, Silvie. It's just the disease talking."

  "You're sure?"

  "Of course. Come on."

  They started the final leg for Natalga Gap. Silvie had to be right. Johnis was just seeing mirages. The desert and the scabbing disease was getting to him.

  "You are nigh, my Chosen One ... Come to me, johnis ...

  "DROWN, DARSAL, "THEY KEPT INSISTING. EVEN IN HER FITful slumber she could hear the insistent voices. Elyon doesn't require constant bathing anymore, "Jordan repeated. "Escape, Darsal. Escape and find water. Find Elyon. "

  Darsal turned. Elyon doesn't want me. It doesn't hurt so much now. Penance. My penance is to be Scab. Death.

  "What is this?" A gruff male voice interrupted her drifting thoughts. "What is the meaning of this?"

  Rotten-egg smell assaulted her. Her eyes opened. Darkness greeted her.

  "What have you done with the albino prisoner?"

  A guard stood beyond the iron bars, glaring in at her. What he could possibly mean, she had no clue. Her mind swam with the scabbing disease.

  Darsal pushed herself up to her seat. "Excuse me?"

  The Scab's white eyes were round and confused. "You .. . What's the meaning of this?"

  She glanced down at her hand, and his meaning hit her at once. The disease had taken most of her skin, turning her to Scab as she slept.

  The guard had evidently never seen an albino turn to Scab before.

  Which could only mean ...

  Dear Elyon! It was true then? These albinos really didn't turn back to Scab?

  She looked at the other cages and saw that she was alone. Rona was gone. Jordan and Xedan appeared to be sleeping.

  From the fog in her mind came a most obvious course.

  She forced her aching muscles to respond, pushing herself to her feet. "Where is the woman?"

  "She was taken for questioning. But you ... You're ... You're not albino?"

  "Do I look like an albino to you, fool?" Darsal strode angrily for the door. "That cursed prisoner tricked me and escaped. Get me out of here!"

  The guard stood still, confused. "Who are you? You're no guard I've seen. How did she-"

  "Get me out of here, you fool! I was sent on personal orders
of General Marak, if you must know. I came here, and this wench managed to reach through the cage and knock me out. And if you breathe a word of it, I'll slit your throat. Now unlock this blasted door. I have to track her down or it'll be my hide!"

  He walked up to the door, withdrawing his keys. A slight smile curved his mouth as the pieces fell into place for him, however misguided they were. Darsal's heart thumped loudly. It was actually working. In the dim light he mistook her for a Scab.

  Because she was one.

  The latch fell open. "I would make haste," the guard said. "If Sucrow finds out, you'll pay."

  Darsal stepped out of her cell. "Sucrow? Not Marak?"

  The Scab hesitated, then turned away. "You know what they say."

  "No, I don't know what they say."

  But the guard just walked away, clearly not eager to expound. Jordan and Xedan were still imprisoned. She heard them stirring. But Rona wasn't here. Jordan would never leave Rona.

  She'd have to come back.

  "Hey, give me your overcloak, I can't be seen in these clothes."

  He turned back, offered a grin and a chuckle, then pulled off his hooded cloak. "Next time Marak might be better off sending a man to do his bidding." He tossed the garment to her.

  "What's your name? I'll tell him what you think."

  His grin softened. "I didn't mean it like that."

  "No? Then I'll keep the cloak, if you don't mind."

  He grunted at the veiled threat. "It's yours."

  "And your sword."

  He frowned, looked about to say something, then thought better of it and handed it over.

  "Thank you," Darsal said. "Now leave me before I decide to test it."

  The Scab guard left her alone in the dungeon, free from her cage.

  She stood still for a long minute, trying to contemplate the meaning of her sudden fortune, grasping at the tendrils of a plan that might lead to her survival. She looked at the back of her hand again.

  Jordan went up on his knees. "Go."

  "Jordan-"

  "Go now!" He pointed at the door. "Now!"

  He wanted her to leave them. To what?

  She had no key. If she took out the guard, she'd draw attention.

  There were two possible paths ahead of her.

  One led to this drowning the albinos had filled her mind with.

  One led to life as a Scab among the Horde.