Healer's Touch (39 page)

They rose early the following morning and Merrid filled Llew up on a hearty breakfast of dense bread and fatty bacon. Llew negotiated for Ard to give her one of his old shirts and a pair of trousers he likely could no longer fit anyway, and Merrid gave her an old, but comfortable pair of shoes. Modesty aside, it reduced the area of Llew’s exposed skin, protecting Turhmos from Llew as much as it hid Llew from the wrong kind of attention.

Merrid gave Llew more food to carry with her, and she and Ard bade Llew good luck, making her promise to get safely to Brurun.

“Llewella?” Merrid pushed herself from the frame of the farmhouse door, her voice shaking with uncertainty.

Llew cocked her head at the woman.

“We didn’t tell you last night, because we wanted you to have a good night’s sleep behind you . . . And if you’re sure he’s your friend . . . ”

Llew’s mouth went dry. There was only one friend they had discussed.

“We want you to get safely out of Turhmos as fast as possible. It’s what your parents would want. It’s what we want for you.”

Spit it out, woman
.

“A group of men stopped by the other day.”

A group of men?
Jonas, Cassidy and Alvaro?

“They were headed for Hinden.”

“That’s about a day and a half’s ride north-north-east,” Ard supplied.

Hope welled in Llew. Her friends had come to find her! It must have shown on her face because Merrid’s lit up in a small smile and she mouthed: “Go.”

Llew thanked them profusely and ran from their property, heading north-north-east, her heart, and stomach, full for the first time in several days.

She reached Hinden by late afternoon and swallowed her fear of being recognised enough to ask after her friends. It took a while to find someone who had seen them, and that person didn’t know where the group had been heading, but more enquiries soon gave her the information she needed. The nearest town was just under a day’s ride away, less than that with Llew’s new turn of speed.

She was keen to run again, but restrained herself until she was well clear of the town, and then she sprinted as fast as she could for as long as she could: which wasn’t so long, as she had only stopped for a light lunch and she’d been running hard all day. Her body was fatigued. She took a moment to lean against a tree, briefly forgetting her need to avoid touching living things. Instead of the usual tingle, though, a rush of life leapt across the skin of her wrist. Startled, she jumped back.

The tree showed no outward sign of her having touched it. She hadn’t burned its thin, white bark as she had done to every other tree she’d touched since leaving Braph’s. And her injured hand felt different. She opened and closed it several times. There was no tightness to the skin. No tingle. No sting.

She untied and unwound the bandage and stared at the smooth, unblemished skin. There was no cut, no infection. Just her skin.

She looked up at the leaves above in awe and wonder. She didn’t think she’d ever seen anything more beautiful. The tree teemed with life – the branches were thick with birds’ nests, and the air thrilled with the constant babble that had struck up above as soon as she’d touched the trunk. Unbidden, she felt an outpouring of love for the huge, ancient plant. Surprising herself, she threw her arms wide, embraced the tree and wept. It was like meeting her entire family all at once, and each and every one of them welcomed her with unconditional love. It was overwhelming. It was magnificent.

Birds fluttered into the tops of the tree above her, rustling leaves and shaking small branches, while others set off on their errands. It wasn’t warm enough for much in the way of insect activity, and the air was silent apart from a gentle breeze brushing leaf tips and grasses.

Llew breathed the fresh air deep into her lungs. She was whole.

Some time later she managed to break the trance and reluctantly stepped back from the tree. Something about the colour of it struck her, and she pulled Jonas’ knife from its holster and held it up between her and the trunk. They were a perfect match. But she also sensed the tree recoiling from the weapon, as though she were somehow mentally connected to it; so she returned it to her hip. There was something about this tree, the knife, and Llew’s heritage, but she wasn’t in a position to investigate it right then. When – not if, when – she made it back to Brurun, she would ask Anya about those books of hers.

Then she was hammering the tree with her fists and crying. Why hadn’t she come across one like it sooner? Why did she have to find it after she’d killed her father? She didn’t mean any of the punishment, and it was ineffectual, but she dished it out until she was blinded by tears, and then collapsed to its roots. Where were you?

Mumbling an apology for her behaviour, she crossed her legs, sat and pulled some bread and cold meat from the bundle Merrid had given her, and ate, leaning against the trunk. It may have been bizarre to admit in the heart of Turhmos, but Llew felt as though she was home. But there was only a couple of hours of daylight left in which to run. She apologised for having to leave, having to keep running. She was still in Turhmos, her friends were close, she had to go. Sorry.

She was talking to a tree.

Llew felt the healthiest she had since landing in Turhmos. She had food in her belly, and perhaps still enough for breakfast, and she was whole. Now she ran with a smile on her face. So far she hadn’t seen Braph nor any Turhmos soldiers behind her and she knew her friends were somewhere ahead. With her added turn of speed, her confidence that she would make it safely out of Turhmos grew. Overflowing with that sense of wellbeing, she turned back to the tree. From this distance, it seemed to be waving at her across the meadow. She raised her arms, sending a final embrace, and rejoiced at the lack of pursuers. She turned and entered the next forest.

* * *

Leaving yet another small town behind, Jonas swung from Chino’s back and punched a tree.

Things were not going well. They had zigzagged through every town that lay roughly between Brurun and Duffirk, the capital of Turhmos. Jonas suspected that was where Braph was, but there was no telling for sure, and he could just as easily hide in a small town if he found the right one. Granted, small town folk were more likely to talk and be suspicious of the kind of activity Braph got up to, but it wasn’t impossible. It was just as likely Braph could find the kind of community that would rally round him, protect him from the likes of Jonas and his companions. If that was the case, they might never find them.

As he had every other time, Jonas wiped the thought from his mind. He knew Braph. His brother wasn’t the kind of man who could garner that kind of support.

But so far they had turned up no results. Not even a
possible
sighting. Just nothing.

Jonas punched the tree again. Bark and blood flew: his skin wasn’t impenetrable.

“Hey, Jonas.” Hisham slid from his horse and went to grab Jonas’ arm. But Jonas just swung even faster and harder – too fast for the Karan. The tree creaked, and pain shot up his arm. He folded over, cradling the limb and shaking out his hand, all the while cursing and stamping.

“That’s not helping, my friend,” said Hisham, placing a hand on Jonas’ back. “We’re doin’ the best we can.”

Jonas took a moment to breathe through his curses. Then he straightened, stretching and clenching the injured hand. He’d scraped his knuckles good and jarred his bones, but nothing was broken. He looked at Hisham, thinking he would just agree with his friend, climb back on his horse, and they would carry on. But when he looked up, all he wanted to do was punch something –
someone
– else, and Hisham didn’t deserve it.

Jonas turned away, striding several frustrated paces, muttering, cursing Braph, cursing Turhmos, cursing himself for leaving Llew, cursing Llew for not just letting him be and staying put inside where she was safe, cursing Lord Tovias for not having an estate secure against Braph . . . He walked away from and back to Hisham several times, muttering and cursing, muttering and cursing. And finally stopped in front of his friend and puffed out a deep breath.

“I know,” he said. “But it’s not enough. Braph can fly.”

* * *

Llew stumbled forward, trying to keep down the bread and apple she’d had for lunch. She was struggling. Her stomach was in her throat and its contents insisted on tickling her tonsils. Biting her lips closed and clutching her belly, she staggered on until she could hold off no longer. Collapsing to hands and knees, she allowed her lunch to evacuate. The cattle in the next paddock looked on nervously.

Llew couldn’t understand. She’d been doing fine, running and feeling great ever since leaving the ivory-barked tree, but as soon as she’d caught a whiff of the cattle on the air, her stomach had grown queasy. She’d visited a beef farm in Cheer hundreds of times over the years, swapping fish for meat, and never had a problem.

What in all hells had Braph done to her? Now, not only could she run fast, but she was more sensitive to smells, though this was the first time anything had made her feel quite so rotten. Most things just smelled stronger.

Sure it was the beef odour churning her stomach, Llew wiped the puke from her mouth with the back of her wrist and forged on. The sooner she was past the farm, the better.

She was right. As soon as she left the cattle behind and entered the next forest she felt fine again. Better than fine. She felt strong, healthy, fast.

As she ran, she kept her goal firmly in mind: find Jonas, make him kill her. All her life, all she had ever wanted was to grow up and work in her father’s smithy. Sure, she’d dreamed bigger, but she had never thought it would happen. Jonas and Alvaro showing up in Cheer had certainly changed that, and she’d seen visions of a bigger world. She laughed. This
was
the bigger world. Phyos was where she had wanted to be, and here she was. And what had she done on her way here? She’d killed Renny, let herself be killed because of Kynas’ stupidity, she’d killed a child, a poor innocent girl simply outside playing . . . She’d killed two street-kids from Duffirk, her own father who had given so much to keep her free, and she’d killed who knew what else within the huge circle of death she’d created that first night.

But she wasn’t evil. She knew that. None of it had been her desire. Renny had intended to hurt her. Kynas had thought pointing the finger at her would get himself free. And all the children, her father, and the rest of it . . . That was all down to Braph and his desire for her power. If she had a choice, she would happily hand it all over. She didn’t want it anymore.

* * *

“Ganich is closer,” said Hisham.

“But Azimol is between here and Duffirk,” Jonas said, pointing at the two circles he’d drawn in the dirt with a stick. “He’s got to be there. That’s where the power is.”

“But you said yourself, you don’t think Turhmos trusts him. What if he’s not allowed that close?”

Jonas flung the stick away. It smashed through light branches, sending leaves and twigs cascading to the ground. “Fuckin’ Braph and his fuckin’ magic! He flies and we have nothing to go on.
Nothing
!”

“He’ll make a mistake some time.”

“But who knows what he could have done to Llew by then? Once he’s got her blood, we don’t know what he can do.”

Something whisked through the trees behind them.

“What was that?” asked Hisham as all four men turned. Small branches still bobbed, but otherwise there was no sign of whatever had been speeding by. “Something, or someone, just ran by. Fast.”

“In Turhmos?” Jonas raised an eyebrow at Hisham, and could see his friend having the same thought: what was another Karan doing in Turhmos? There was only one way to find out. Jonas knew it and Hisham knew it. If someone else with Karan speed was running through a Turhmosian forest, it was up to Jonas as the nearest, and fastest, Quaven Lieutenant to find out who, how and why. With an infinitesimal nod between them, Jonas set off.

Alvaro’s “Where’s he going?” faded to nothing behind him.

It felt liberating to run. In recent months, in the interest of maintaining a certain level of anonymity, Jonas had curbed the use of his natural talents. Strength wasn’t so bad, since he knew who could see him when he used it if he took the time to look. But with speed, he could run past or literally into, if he wasn’t paying attention, someone who shouldn’t know who or what he was before the dust had settled.

He pushed down the hope that the runner might be Braph. That would be too convenient. If it was Braph, it might mean Llew had escaped, though Jonas couldn’t let himself hope for that much. Not that he doubted the girl, but nor would he underestimate his brother. As a child, Braph had never ceased to amaze Jonas with his knowledge and mind tricks; he may not have been the Syakaran, but he was gifted in other ways, ways Jonas could only marvel at.

Trees rushed up before him and he dodged and swerved as he had many a time back home, or on the killing fields of Turhmos. Not knowing who he was chasing, and preparing for a fight, made this feel more like the latter occasion. It didn’t take long before he could see the other runner dodging through trees perhaps fifty paces ahead. He didn’t recognise who it was, only catching brief glimpses between the trunks. He was closing the gap, but they were surprisingly fast – possibly faster than Hisham, and Hisham was one of the best Kara. But not as fast as Jonas.