Wasteland Treasure

by Eve Langlais

  It was a long night. And he was tired.

  So very, very tired.

  Twenty-One

  Sofia went from sleeping to awake, trying to make sense of what she sensed around her. Last she recalled they were in that horrible fog. It was poison. Pure awful poison, and it attacked them, forcing her to use her magic. Use it until she felt like a candle, a melted puddle with nothing left to burn.

  She was no longer in the boat that rocked just enough to make her stomach queasy. This bed didn’t move. The air she breathed was damp and musty. She could hear the soft breath of someone nearby. She rolled enough to turn her head and look, but the room was dark. Too dark to see. She heard a slight creak. Barely a sound really, but she went stiff.

  It might just be the normal sounds of a building settling. Still, it didn’t hurt to hold her breath. To feign sleep and watch through the tiniest of slits.

  She heard the scuff of a shoe. The swish of fabric. They weren’t alone.

  Friend or foe? Odd how she’d so easily adopted that concept. How she’d shed everything she knew and embraced a new truth. A new reality. With Gunner.

  “I don’t see them.” The voice was not one she knew.

  The bedroom door was only partially ajar. Not enough for her to see, only hear. Although she did appreciate the soft glowing light, as it let her see Gunner, sitting on the floor, leaning against the bed. Surely he wouldn’t sleep if he feared for their safety. Unless he was exhausted. It appeared to be dark outside. Was it still the night they’d fled Eden? It felt longer. Which meant they might have been traveling for a full day.

  The poor man. He’d finally succumbed to sleep. She hated waking him. She didn’t make a noise as she reached for him. Her fingers brushed his hair. He didn’t move. His breathing continued, slow and steady.

  It might be up to her to defend them. Yes, defend, because only a foe wouldn’t knock before entering, especially a bedroom.

  The door swung open, and the light brightened. She kept her eyes closed and listened.

  “The nap bomb worked. I told you it would put them to sleep,” a male voice crowed.

  A what? The implication it was some kind of drug made her realize Gunner didn’t sleep naturally.

  “Don’t celebrate so quickly.” It was a female this time. “I doubt it will last long. The scent is faint in here, which means they might not have gotten much of a dose. Tie them up. Start with the big one first.”

  “The rope’s in the boat.”

  “Of course, it is,” the woman sighed. “Go grab it while I watch them.”

  There was no attempt at being quiet as the male of the pair left.

  Only one person to handle. All Sofia had to do was attack. She opened her eyes and started to move, which was when she discovered Gunner wasn’t sleeping.

  From his spot on the floor, he dove at the woman and shoved her out of the way. Their nap bomber’s partner screeched as she flew through the door and landed with a crash.

  Gunner turned and mouthed, “You coming?”

  Sofia slipped out of the bed, and her first step wobbled. How long had she been sleeping? Her legs refused to straighten, and her head swam.

  Gunner caught her, sliding an arm around her waist to steady her as they went through the door to a different room with a table and chairs, as well as a wide couch with moldy cushions of fabric. The woman groaned, pushing up from the debris left behind from the broken chair.

  Gunner ignored the main door and half carried Sofia to the opposite side of the house, exiting via a smaller portal set beside a counter and sink. They found themselves in a jungle of green, the foliage growing thickly, and yet it wasn’t entirely dark.

  A light shone somewhere nearby, enough to give them some idea of their surroundings.

  “Who was that?” she hissed as they ducked under a tree and its veil of mossy strands. With each moment she was upright, she found herself getting stronger and more alert.

  “No idea. Probably sent by the king.”

  Her lips turned in a moue of annoyance. “I am surprised the king hasn’t come himself.”

  “Doesn’t matter who he sent. We might have to fight to escape.”

  “What do you mean ‘we’? I don’t even have a knife. How am I supposed to fight?” She hung her head, feeling useless.

  He grabbed her hands and gave her an earnest stare. “Remember what we talked about earlier. Healing and hurting. Opposite sides of the coin. If you can do one, then it stands to reason you can do the other.”

  “What if I can’t?”

  He rolled his big shoulders. “If that fails, kick the guy in the balls and punch her in the breast.”

  She blinked. Almost snorted. “That’s your advice?”

  He leaned close and kissed her. “No, my advice is do whatever you have to and stay alive.”

  “I won’t let them hurt you.”

  “Ditto.” He gave her another hard kiss and whispered, “Stay here while I handle it.”

  “Handle what?”

  But he was gone, stepped out of the protective shade of the tree. Gone to face danger alone, once more protecting her. Who would protect him?

  I will. She was the only one who could.

  She stared at her hands. Could they be her weapons? Time to find out.

  She shoved through the tree’s veil and grimaced as the sticky strands tried to adhere to her. Gunner wasn’t immediately in sight. She had to walk past the end of a house toward the bright light.

  Staying tucked behind a corner, she found him standing in a mossy square, facing off against two people in cloaks. The woman from inside, her hair turning gray, the ends of it cut chin length, her expression flat. By her side, a young man, his expression eager, a sneer on his lips.

  “Where is the healer?” the woman asked of Gunner, and Sofia noticed the blue highlights in her gray hair.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Gunner spread his hands. “I’m the only one here. Just stopped for the night.”

  “Don’t play stupid. A moment ago, you were both sleeping inside that house.”

  “And now we’re not.” She could hear the smile in Gunner’s words. “Which means you’re in a heck of a lot of trouble if you don’t leave. And when you do, take a message to Roark, would you, and tell him to fuck off.”

  The younger man brayed with laughter. “You think he sent us? That marsh rodent is nothing but a pretender, and the true king of these lands will soon put him in his place.”

  It surprised her to find out these people weren’t sent by Roark, especially since they knew of her, called her healer. Why did everyone want her so badly?

  “I’ll tell you the same thing I told King Roark. You can’t have her.” Gunner’s statement warmed her heart.

  “No one is asking permission. Fenlin, take care of him, and then we’ll hunt down the woman,” the female said.

  Sofia realized she’d have to act. Even though she saw no weapons on the man and woman, she recognized their confidence. They thought they could take Gunner, which meant they were probably power wielders of some sort.

  Gunner oozed confidence as he said, “Enough of the posturing. You are not the one in control of the situation.” He pulled the gun from his belt, finally taking aim.

  The woman smiled. “If you’re going to threaten, at least make it believable. I know that weapon went for a swim.”

  “Does Roark know he has spies in his city?”

  A sly expression crossed her face. “Do you really think he’d let them live if he did?”

  Fenlin took a step forward. “Why are we still talking with him? I’d like to get out of this place. It’s creepy. I swear I still hear them screaming.”

  “Who?” Gunner asked, even as Sofia also wondered.

  “The pretender in the Marshland knows who died here and why.” The woman wore a haughty smile. “And why people will keep dying if he doesn’t take a knee to the true king.”

  “Whatever your problem with Roark, it doesn�
��t involve us.”

  “No, it doesn’t. But you are in my way.”

  “Let me ask you, how’s your luck?” Gunner sounded ever so nonchalant.

  Sofia thought it an odd question.

  “My luck is fine. But yours doesn’t seem so good according to my sources.”

  “Ah, but that’s the thing about luck,” Gunner noted. “If you get enough bad, the balance eventually swings, and you can count on some good to come your way. As you noted, I’m overdue.”

  “Take him out,” the woman ordered her companion.

  “About time,” Fenlin grumbled, raising his arm.

  Sofia saw no weapon in his hand, and yet Gunner recoiled as if punched.

  “Fucking wizards,” Gunner grumbled. He aimed his gun, but it didn’t fire. He staggered as Fenlin neared.

  Gunner turned and threw his weapon, hitting the thatch of a nearby house, which caused something nesting in it to jump in the air with a mighty flap of wings. Fenlin startled, and his foot slipped, his aim went awry, and the bird overhead squawked. It also pooped, the mess of shit landing on Fenlin’s head. The boy looked less than impressed.

  Sofia smothered her mouth to hide a laugh.

  “Stop playing with the Emerald rat. Finish him,” yelled the woman with a distinct lack of patience.

  Fenlin’s expression twisted, and he flung his hands at Gunner, who suddenly darted to the side, scooped up something from the ground, and tossed it. The rock hit Fenlin in the forehead, and he went down hard.

  The woman snapped, “Must I do everything myself?” She narrowed her gaze and focused on Gunner. Flames appeared at her fingertips, but rather than aim at Gunner, she went after the buildings, lighting the thatch on fire, illuminating the night.

  The thing about flame was it spread to anything it could find. It jumped from the roof to a vine then zipped along until the tree Sofia sheltered under began to smoke. Her throat tickled. She covered her mouth, but the air quality worsened. The reasoning behind the fire became clear—flush the presence of anyone else around.

  And it worked.

  Needing to get out of the smoke, Sofia stumbled out and heard Gunner yell, “No.”

  She looked and saw him running for the wizard woman, paying no mind to the flaming balls she flicked at him.

  Before Gunner reached her, something launched itself from the shadows. A sleek four-legged body with a sinuous tail.

  “Kitty!”

  Her feline knocked into the firewoman, grabbed her in mighty jaws, and bounded away.

  Rather than follow, Gunner sank to the ground, and Sofia ran for him. She smelled the burned flesh before even reaching his side. She grabbed at him and eased him down before he could topple.

  “Hold on,” she murmured, finding it easier and easier to pull forth that kernel of heat inside. She pushed her magic into him, but her rest hadn’t replenished all her power. She fizzled before she was done, but at least he breathed more easily, his burns now spots of pink healing skin instead of open raw flesh.

  His eyes remained shut.

  “Gunner.” She leaned over him, and her tears fell. Would they always have to fight to survive?

  “With luck, he’s dead,” snapped Fenlin, having recovered without her noticing.

  With a brutal grip, he snared her around the neck, cutting off her air supply. Her fingers dug at him, her eyes wide and startled, her mouth a gasping O.

  Fenlin dragged her off her feet. “Thank you for getting rid of that annoying hag. Now I won’t have to split the reward when I bring you back to Seaside.”

  “No.” The word barely whispered past her lips, but the horror swelled within. This man was going to sell her. He had no right.

  A booted foot kicked Gunner as Fenlin stepped over him, dragging her along. “As if you have a choice.”

  Choice.

  There it was again. That thing others seemed determined to take from her. Except, what gave them the right?

  Was she going to let this Fenlin, a puling excuse for humanity, actually make decisions for her?

  Her hands still gripped his where he hung onto her neck. Skin to skin. Could she really turn her healing gift into something else?

  Time to find out.

  She pulsed her intent. Die. Her hands turned icy cold.

  Twenty-Two

  Gunner’s eyes opened to the dancing flames on the roofs of the houses. They lit up the night sky and reminded him of the pain when the witch flung fire at him. An agony that now proved to only be a cringe-worthy memory. He sat up and saw his hands pink with new skin rather than charred. His face…he slapped his cheeks and found them intact. He’d been healed. Only one person was capable of that.

  Sofia! He stood and whirled, seeking her, but the bright flames blinded him to the shadows, and the smoke stung his eyes.

  “Sofia!”

  Instead of a reply, a furry shape padded from between two buildings. Kitty shoved her giant head against his hand.

  “Hey, big girl. Have you seen our Sofia?”

  Kitty remained by his side, which surely indicated Sofia didn’t need their help. She probably bided her time. She had more courage than most, even if she didn’t recognize it.

  The cat meowed and then hissed, her fur standing on her back. Gunner realized he heard a strange rumbling, but not that of a motor or anything that drove on land or in the air. By chance, he glanced toward the river and saw it rise over the rim of the trees, a wave of water, readying to soak.

  Kitty yowled at the sight, and Gunner braced himself as it came crashing down, heard it splash, and the hiss of fires being put out, only he remained dry. Opening his eyes, he noticed the area around him and the cat remained untouched, but everything else dripped. The flames had been extinguished so thoroughly they didn’t even smolder. The night turned dark once more, except for bobbing little lights moving toward him from the path leading to the pier, as if tiny bugs carried lanterns. Or more likely they were just glowing sort of insects, he amended, as they appeared a few paces ahead of the Marshland king. Roark wasn’t dressed like a monarch, though. He wore battered leather pants and molded tunic. His boots went to his knees, and he’d left the crown at his castle.

  Gunner growled and pointed. “I knew you were behind the attack.”

  “You know nothing,” Roark spat. “I have only just arrived, too late again apparently.”

  “You followed us.”

  “More like I took a guess I’d find you here. This is the last town the river passes through before branching.”

  “You aren’t taking her back,” Gunner stated. He might not have a weapon, but he would fight.

  “I wasn’t planning to.”

  “Liar.”

  “As if I care what you think. I have more important matters to deal with. Spies in my kingdom. A rival monarchy attacking my people.” Roark glanced around him. “A pair of runaways is the least of my concerns.”

  “Yet here you are.”

  A voice spoke in his head. If wanted to force you to obey, I could.

  Gunner set his jaw. “I’d fight you.”

  You could try. And yet, with just a push…

  Without meaning to, Gunner hit the ground on his knees.

  Shall I make you beg? Dance? Throw yourself in the river?

  In that moment Gunner understood the king could do all those things. The power he felt pulsing against him…

  It suddenly released, and Gunner popped to his feet. “You’ve made your point.”

  “Good, and now that you understand what I can do, I will add that I am here to tell you I won’t force you to stay.”

  “Says the man who had me and Sofia locked up.”

  Roark shrugged. “I won’t apologize for what I’ve done. I’d do anything to protect those in my care. Kill. Imprison. The good of many is worth that of a few strangers.” Roark’s expression remained uncompromising, and once more, Gunner understood his position. More than once, Axel and the Haven gang had been in untenable situations, where they had
to make a choice for the greater good. A leader had to make hard decisions.

  For some reason this reminded him of what Titan had said after their battle when they’d been returned to their cells. “I wish I could have found this place before my life went to shit.”

  “Why?” Gunner had asked.

  “Because it’s a good place. A place I could have called home.”

  Bloody Roark read his mind. “Ah yes, Titan. He escaped the same night you did. But he didn’t go alone. I take it he’s not with you.”

  “No.” And he hoped wherever Titan went he found peace.

  Before Roark could reply, a body staggered into view. It was Fenlin, but with a face swollen to the point that he couldn’t use his mouth or see from bulging eyes. He sank to his knees and gasped, reaching for the king.

  Roark eyed Fenlin with no compassion in his eyes. “You! Did you really come back to the scene of your crime?”

  Gunner might not have felt what the king did, and yet there was no denying the panic that suffused Fenlin as he choked and clawed at his face before rising and stumbling off in the dark. But of more interest than the suddenly stricken wizard was Sofia, who emerged from the same shadows as Fenlin and advanced on the king, hands outstretched.

  “Walk away or you, too, shall suffer my wrath.”

  A bit over the top, but the confidence was sexy, if aimed at the wrong guy.

  Roark didn’t budge. “I won’t offer apology. When it comes to my daughter, I’ll do anything to protect her.”

  “I won’t let you force me.”

  “Wasn’t planning to,” the king replied.

  “If you’re not here to drag us back or apologize, then why did you track us down?” Gunner asked.

  Moving to Sofia’s side, he laced his fingers with hers, feeling the chill in her skin. The tremble she fought to hide. He doubted she had the power to do anything, and yet she bluffed. Showed such courage.

  “I’m here to make you an offer,” Roark claimed.

  “I don’t want to make a deal with you,” she huffed.

  “Are you sure? Perhaps you should hear me out first, for I was going to name you Duchess Sofia, which comes with the position of master pharmacist.”