Touch of Power

by Maria V. Snyder

“Sure, that’d be great.”

  We searched for a rock that matched the size and weight of the others. When we found a good stone, I demonstrated the motions.

  “Hold two rocks in one hand, and one in the other. Remember how you threw the second rock when the first reached the top of the inverted V? When the second rock is at the apex, you throw the third with one hand and catch the first with the other. And just keep throwing so one rock is always in the air.”

  He rushed his first attempt. A rock whizzed by Loren’s head. On the second and third try, he pelted Belen’s shoulder. The big man tossed the stones back good-naturedly. When Flea almost clipped Kerrick, we were ordered to move farther away.

  At least Flea considered this new step a challenge and wasn’t getting frustrated yet. After twenty tries, Flea performed one successful juggle before dropping all the stones.

  “That’s it!” I said. “Now all you need to do is—”

  “Practice, I know.” He paused for a moment, sobering. “Thanks, Avry.”

  I waved my hand dismissively. “This is fun for me, too. It reminds me of happier days.”

  “Not just for teaching me to juggle, but for, you know…saving me from the nasty giant flower.”

  “Anytime,” I said.

  “No.” His body stiffened as all joviality fled, replaced by a dead-serious intensity. “Don’t risk yourself for me again. I’m willing to die for Prince Ryne. It’s my choice. Not yours.”

  Surprised by his demeanor, I considered his words. “You haven’t even met Ryne. Why are you so willing to give up your life for him?”

  Flea gestured toward the fire. Quain, Belen and Loren exchanged insults. Kerrick had taken the next shift of guard duty.

  “They are willing. I trust them. It’s that simple.” He crossed his arms. “Promise me you won’t risk your life for me.”

  “No. Because it’s not that simple for me.”

  Flea huffed just like Kerrick. I almost laughed.

  “Well, it should be simple for you, as well,” Flea said.

  “Why?”

  “Don’t you trust Kerrick?”

  This time I couldn’t muffle a laugh. “No.”

  “What about Belen? You trust him, don’t you?”

  “That’s different. Belen sees good in everyone. I know that he’s not lying to me about Prince Ryne, but I don’t trust his judgment.”

  Flea gave up and stormed back to the fire. I stayed behind, mulling over our conversation. When Kerrick’s men had found Flea, he’d been on his own for as long as he could remember. They’d protected him and all but adopted him. Of course he would be grateful and loyal. They were in essence his family so his judgment was suspect, as well.

  “It’s getting late,” Kerrick said.

  I jumped a foot. “Will you stop doing that!” I spun in the direction of his voice.

  “Doing what?” He stepped from the shadows, but halted a few feet away.

  “Sneaking up on me.”

  “I wasn’t. You’re just deaf to the sounds of the forest.” His reasonable tone at least meant he’d gotten over his earlier snit.

  “I don’t have your forest magic.”

  “You don’t need it. The forest has its own unique…song. I taught my men how to listen for notes that are off-key, and for those silent pauses which means danger.”

  Curious, I couldn’t help asking, “Did you teach them how to move without making noise?”

  “Yes. Except they do make noise. It just blends in with the forest’s song so it doesn’t stand out. I could teach it to you if you’d like.”

  I searched his expression, but I couldn’t tell if he joked or was serious. Instead of responding, I asked him, “Why didn’t you tell your men about your magic?”

  “I don’t want them to rely on it.”

  “But you use it all the time.”

  “Only since you’ve been with us. I don’t want them getting lazy or sloppy, believing I can protect everyone. There’s a reason I taught them how to navigate the forest. If something happened to me, they need to be able to protect themselves.”

  “What about Belen? He’s been with you the longest. Doesn’t he suspect?”

  “We’ve never talked about it. He may.”

  “He probably felt you using magic at some point.”

  A strange queasy expression, almost a flinch, creased his face for a second. “Those without power can’t feel it. In fact, I was under the impression that only a fellow forest mage could sense it, and only when we were both in the forest. I can’t feel others’ magic unless they use it when we’re both in the woods.”

  That would explain his queasiness. “When you grabbed my hand, I not only felt the magic, but I sensed what you did. Is it your power or mine that makes that…connection possible?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve encountered a few other magicians, but nothing like that has happened to me before.”

  “And I’ve only been around other healers. We can share power—like when I sent you a portion of my energy, but that connection has been…unique.” Except when I had been inside the Death Lily. Interesting.

  Thinking about magicians reminded me of the night we had rescued Melina. “Why didn’t those two magicians who searched for us sense your power?”

  “They aren’t of the forest. One is a water mage and, I think, the woman drew hers from the moon.”

  The plague had decimated the ranks of magicians, as well. No wonder they traveled with seven others for protection.

  “Were they powerful?” I asked.

  “Hard to tell for sure.”

  With every merc and bounty hunter searching for me, it seemed odd Tohon would send two valuable supporters. And where were they earlier when the Death Lily had me? I don’t remember sensing them among the mercs. Remembering what Melina had said about Grzebien, I made an unpleasant connection.

  “Those two magicians aren’t from Tohon. Who else is chasing us?” I asked.

  “How did you make that leap?”

  I paused. Was he testing my logic or was he indeed surprised by the possibility of another faction? Probably testing me. I repeated Melina’s story. “Estrid of Ozero’s people could be hunting us, as well. She’s giving gold for information, and I’m sure she doesn’t want Tohon or Ryne to have a healer, either.” I suppressed a sigh. “It’s all a big game, isn’t it? A power struggle to see who can grab the most between the three of them.” Sadness filled me. If I wasn’t a pawn in this game, I’d be free to heal those who needed me.

  “Ryne wanted to organize the survivors and help them rebuild their towns even before the plague died out. He knew if no one stepped up to enforce the laws that criminals would take full advantage, forming gangs, and marauders would wreak havoc,” Kerrick said. “If he hadn’t gotten sick, I think we’d still have Fifteen Realms.”

  “But he did get sick and now he’ll need a large army and magicians to disband the mercenaries and all the other factions, and to stop both Tohon and Estrid. An impossible task.”

  “Ryne will find a way.”

  “You can’t know that for certain.”

  “I can.” His gaze burned into mine. “I wouldn’t have spent two years searching for you if I didn’t have utter faith in him.”

  The next logical question would be why Kerrick had this faith. But I squelched it. I didn’t want to know. Or was it because I was afraid to know?

  I glanced away.

  He said, “You’re right about Estrid. She sent her dogs to stop us from reaching Ryne. They’re moving to block the pass through the Nine Mountains as we speak.”

  “I thought there are other routes across them.” All infested with dangerous marauders and ufa packs. Swell.

 
“Not in the winter.”

  “Can we beat them there?” I asked.

  “No. We’ve had too many delays.” He gave me a pointed stare.

  “What’s next, then?”

  “As you pointed out, the mercs believe we’re dead. If we lay low for a few weeks, then word of our demise should reach Estrid and she’ll recall her troops.”

  My heart skipped a few beats. “Lay low as in hide?”

  “Yes. It shouldn’t be a problem for you. You’re adept at running and hiding.” He turned and disappeared into the shadows.

  Oh, joy. The nasty jab from Kerrick paled in comparison to the thought of spending even more time with him and his loyal companions.

  I returned to the campfire. The others had fallen asleep. Squirming under my blanket, I stared at the clear night sky. Kerrick’s hideout would probably be inside a cave, which would obscure this fantastic view. Sleeping under so many stars felt magical. Although sleeping through an ice storm would be horrible. In that case, a cave would be welcome.

  Tonight was the perfect night to see the various star patterns. I found the cluster my father had called the bull’s horns. Grinning, I remembered his story about the absentminded bull who had lost his horns. The stories had been his way of teaching us various life lessons, but at the time, I had believed poor Yegor still searched the earth for his horns. If only the bull had looked up, all would be well.

  I hadn’t fully appreciated those late nights, sitting on the porch with my two brothers and my sister, Noelle, tucked in my lap, listening to my father’s stories. He’d been a romantic stargazer. Looking back, I realized it must have been terrible for him to work so deep underground in the mines. He’d taken the high-paying job so we could afford the apprenticeship fee for me.

  What a brat I’d been then, complaining about having to wait a few months before I could start my lessons. Not even thanking my father for his hard work and sacrifice. And I didn’t even consider Noelle’s feelings. She’d been my almost constant companion since she was born, and I had left for the month-long trip to Galee without any thought to how she would react to me being gone. The distance between my home and Tara’s had been too great for visits, although I had planned one about halfway through my four-year apprenticeship with Tara.

  It was difficult to sleep with guilt lodged under my heart. I tossed and turned until daybreak erased the black sky.

  We traveled east for five days. I was right. Kerrick stopped at a cave system close to the town of Grzebien, and proclaimed it home.

  “Isn’t this Pomyt Realm and occupied by Estrid?” Loren asked. He built a fire ring as Quain and Flea fetched rocks for him. Belen had been sent out to collect firewood.

  “Yes.” Kerrick sorted through his pack.

  “Then why—?”

  “Estrid’s searching for us.”

  Loren glanced up, but Kerrick didn’t offer to explain further.

  “Logically, we should head west away from the people intent on harming us.” I tossed a few sprigs of parsley into the soup—my first attempt at cooking. “Which makes hiding in her occupied lands a strategic move. I’m guessing this area isn’t well-known to the locals or used. Right?” I aimed my question at Kerrick.

  “Right,” he said.

  “Still seems too risky to me,” Quain said.

  “Consider it from Estrid’s point of view.” I tapped the spoon on the pot. “She believes we’re intent on reaching Ryne, and she has blocked the route. When we fail to arrive, she’ll think we’re either dead, captured by Tohon or holed up somewhere nearby so we could dash across the Nine Mountains at the first opportunity.”

  “You don’t dash across those mountains,” Kerrick said.

  “That’s beside the point.”

  “And what is the point?” Flea asked.

  “You tell me,” I said.

  He chewed on his lower lip. “This is probably the last place she’d search for us?”

  “That’s right.”

  “I still think it’s dangerous,” Quain said.

  “Dangerous would be getting too close to Tohon,” Kerrick said.

  “Or trying to go around the mountains,” I said.

  Kerrick shot me a surprised glance as if he hadn’t considered that idea before.

  “No,” I said. “It would add months to the journey and the Ronel Sea is treacherous even in the summer. It would be suicide in the winter.”

  When he kept his contemplative purse, I added, “And we’d have to cross Pomyt. It’s one thing to hide out just within the border, but to travel in the open…”

  “Is asking for trouble.” Quain supplied.

  “Who’s asking for trouble?” Belen asked. He entered the cave carrying a huge pile of firewood. Dumping it in a corner of the cavern, he collected a handful of thin branches.

  “Guess,” Quain said. He smirked, pointing to me behind Belen’s back.

  Belen bent over the fire ring, building a lattice of kindling around a few thicker branches. Without looking at Quain, Belen said, “I’d say you’re looking for trouble, Quain. Because that’s what you’ll get if you keep teasing Avry.”

  Unaffected, Quain challenged. “From who? You or Kerrick?”

  “From Avry.” Belen straightened. “She can hold her own, don’t you forget that.”

  My turn to smirk. Quain opened his mouth to retort, but Kerrick silenced him with a single raised eyebrow.

  Belen had the fire roaring in no time. The smoke vented through a natural chimney in the ceiling. I wondered how Kerrick had found all these caves. Water had eroded parts of the bedrock, forming them. I’d think sensing holes in the ground would be part of a rock magician’s skills and not a forest mage’s. However, I wasn’t an expert. I’d learned the eleven different types of magic—forest, earth, water, fire, air, life, rock, death, moon, sun and healing—but my education hadn’t gone beyond the basics.

  I could ask Kerrick, but that question would have to wait until we were alone. Not likely now that we were “home.” Considering he hadn’t said more than a few words to me since that night we talked about Ryne, I doubt he’d talk to me.

  “We’re getting low on supplies,” Kerrick said. “There’s a market in Grzebien, but a few of us would be too recognizable.”

  “The monkeys can go,” Belen said.

  “Except they made quite an impression on the town watch the last time we were here.”

  The monkeys exchanged confused glances.

  “Whiskey Wendi,” Kerrick said.

  “Oh, yes,” Loren said. A slow smile spread on his lips. “That was Grzebien? Wow that was…a wild time.”

  “That was also over a year ago before Estrid and when the Booze Baron ruled the town. Do you really think the people would remember us?” Quain asked.

  “Whiskey Wendi,” Loren repeated, looking at Quain with a gleam in his eyes.

  “Oh, yeah.” Quain grinned. “Yeah, they’d remember.”

  “We have enough provisions for a week,” Kerrick said. “Then Flea can take her if…” He focused on me. “If she can learn how to move through the woods without sounding like a buck protecting its territory.”

  “I think she sounds more like a brown bear defending her cubs,” Loren said.

  “You guys are nuts,” Quain said. “She sounds exactly like a troop of watchmen after some poacher.”

  With a wide grin, Flea joined in the teasing. “When I hear her, I’m always reminded of when we were chased through Horse Shoe Forest by that pack of wild dogs.”

  Everyone turned to Belen. “I think she does pretty good considering she hasn’t had any training.”

  “Thank you, Belen,” I said, giving him a sweet smile.

  The rest groaned. Quain threw a rock at
him. Belen caught it in one hand. While the men joked, I added the remaining ingredients to my soup. I fished a few hot embers from the fire and placed the pot over them. As I stirred the liquid, my thoughts returned to Kerrick’s comment. My excitement over the chance to go into town warred with the unappealing prospect of Kerrick teaching me how to match the forest’s song. Perhaps Belen could instruct me instead.

  When the soup was done, I made a show of letting Belen try it first since he had defended me.

  “Fine with me,” Quain quipped. “He’ll also be the first one to keel over, killed by Avry’s cooking.”

  “But what if I used a heavy poison?” I asked. “One that sinks to the bottom and only kills the men who eat the last couple of bowls?”

  Quain stared at me as if he wasn’t sure if I joked or not. “You have an evil mind,” he hedged.

  “Thank you.” I grinned.

  “Aren’t healers required to take an oath not to harm anyone or something like that?” Loren asked.

  “After we complete our apprenticeship, we travel to the Guild House and work there for a year, demonstrating our knowledge to the Elders. At the end of that year, we graduate. During the ceremony, we swear an oath not to intentionally cause harm or death to another.” Unless in self-defense.

  “But you zapped Flea, and hurt the merc leader,” Loren said.

  “I didn’t graduate. Therefore, I haven’t taken the oath.”

  My revelation caused a ripple of…not quite concern, but unease. Belen’s hands suddenly went to his throat. He wheezed and gasped, then slumped over.

  Everyone but Kerrick jumped to their feet. I knelt beside him. Was he allergic to parsley? His body shook and I touched his shoulder. He was laughing.

  I played along, fussing over him, apologizing for not waiting long enough for the poison to sink.

  When the three men inched closer, he sat up. “Gotcha!”

  They yelled, then scolded him for his prank.

  Still laughing, he said, “I can’t believe you fell for it. Why would Avry poison us when she could have let me die, and Flea get eaten?”

  “Besides,” I added, “I wouldn’t want to waste good poison on you guys.”