Healer's Touch (40 page)

He caught a shoulder on a tree trunk but kept on, pumping his arms and legs harder than he had in months. He was nearly on the runner when the forest came to an end. The figure leapt a fence and started across a paddock. Whoever it was, was of a slight build, in loose clothing. Llew came to mind, but that would be ridiculous: Llew couldn’t run like that. But she did wear clothes like that. What if it was a Karan escaping a Turhmos prison? He hadn’t heard of a Karan being captured recently, but if it had happened in the midst of a battle, it was the kind of loss that could go unnoticed.

Sheep scattered as the figure ran through them and Jonas leapt the fence. Five paces. Four. Three. He threw himself forward, flung his arms out, grabbed a leg, and half fell, half rolled to the ground.

Keeping a firm grip on an ankle, he pushed himself up. The runner, coughing, rolled to face him.

“Llew?”

“Jonas?”

They gawked at each other a long time, puffing from their exertions, then,

“Jonas!”

Llew sat up, arms flung wide and they clung to each other. Jonas thought she might disintegrate into dust and fly away when he got his arms around her, but she didn’t. She was real. The hunt was over, and there was no sign of Braph. That they were both here, now, was down to good fortune, a wild stroke of luck maybe. But Jonas would take that.

She sobbed into his shoulder.

It felt extraordinary to hold her again, better than he’d dared remember. She crushed him in her arms and he replied in kind, though he hoped he was gentler. She pushed back and in her eyes Jonas saw the same relief, joy, and wonder. Did something else flicker in those eyes? Whatever it was didn’t matter when she took his face in a fierce grasp and pulled him to her. He didn’t resist, savouring the warm bliss of her lips, breath, and tongue.

She kissed him with a hunger that lit something inside him, and straddled his legs and he wrapped his arms around her. Her fingers worked on his shirt buttons as they kissed, their lips never parting. She leaned into him and he pulled an arm from her to lie back without breaking the connection.

Then her fingers were at his belt buckle. In the centre of Turhmos, with Hisham, Cassidy and Alvaro waiting for them? He supposed it didn’t have to take long. He could make it up to her later, in the safety of Brurun.

She had pulled back a little while she fought with his trouser buttons. He took her face in his hands and kissed her. She didn’t respond, so absorbed in her work was she. He brushed her growing hair back from her eyes, and all desire washed from him. There was nothing in those eyes.

“Llew?”

She was frustrated in her efforts. The button wasn’t tricky, her fingers just weren’t working for her.

He grabbed her hand. “Llew.”

She heard him and looked up, her eyes still faraway. Her journey back to the now was a mass of blended expressions, each so brief he caught none. When she finally saw him, she flung herself off him and sobbed into the grass, curling into a ball on elbows and knees, arms over her head, her body shaking. He lay a hand on her back, at a loss for anything else to do.

She reached out to him, her fingers grasping the folds of his shirt in a fierce grip to pull herself up, and she pressed her face into his chest, sobs still racking her. He wanted to rip the shirt off and feel her touch on his skin, while at the same time his heart ached for the scared girl fleeing through enemy territory on her own. But they’d found each other now. He brought his arms around her to hold her until the blubbering subsided.

She stayed pressed into his shoulder, catching her breath, sniffing back the tears and resting.

“I killed him.” A fresh wave of blubbery tears overtook her.

Braph? She’d killed him?

“I killed my pa.” And then she was bawling into his shoulder, her fist pounding him.

Jonas clutched her to him and rocked. He didn’t utter a sound, simply waited and let her find her release. She whispered the words over and over, “I killed him, I killed my pa”, as if willing herself to believe it, or trying to force herself to feel all the blame in that statement. Or confessing.

Her trembling hand reached down beside her and came up with his knife. She pressed back from him and pushed the weapon to his chest. Instinctively, his hand came up to clasp hers.

Without emotion she repeated, “I killed my pa.” Her eyes were flat, almost lifeless. “I killed my pa. I killed a child . . . ”

“Llew–”

“I killed my pa. I killed that girl.” She pushed the knife at him.

“Stop it, Llew.”

“Please,” she begged in a hoarse whisper. “I don’t want to do it any more.”

“I won’t let you. But not that way.” He gripped the knife, taking it from her grasp, and whisked it behind his back when she snatched for it.

“You have to! Please!” She tried to reach behind him.

With his other arm, he pulled her to him in a firm embrace, blocking her efforts. “Not that way, Llewella.”

She tried to break free. She pushed at him, and she was surprisingly strong, but he held firm, until she gave up and slumped into him.

He held her like that for a long while until he began to wonder if she’d fallen asleep. She must have been exhausted. He tilted his head to see if her eyes were closed, but her head angled down too much to see. When he raised his head again she looked up at him, worn, tired, and hopeless.

“Come on. The others’ll be wonderin’ where I got to. And there’s no doubtin’ they’ll be pleased to see you.” Jonas stood up, holding her hand to guide her up, and keeping the Syakaran knife behind his back.

Llew knelt, but didn’t rise any further.

Holding his hand between the fingers of both of hers she said, “They’ll hate me. They
should
hate me.
You
should hate me. I killed my pa. I killed the girl, and the boy and the other girl, and all the animals . . . so many animals. Dead, because of me. All dead.” Holding a couple of his fingers with one hand, she toyed with one of his knuckles, fiddling with what was before her. The tears were about to start again. “I’m . . . horrible.”

“Whatever you’ve done, you got friends, Llew.” He pulled her up and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pressing her into him again. “Friends who love you.”
At least one
, he realised he meant.

But she was despondent and didn’t seem to have heard him. She looked exhausted, all the puff washed out with her tears, her shoulders hunched, her eyes still lifeless.

“Can you still run?”

“I guess so.” She sniffed deeply. “But I won’t know where to stop.”

“Come on.” He held a hand out to her.

He ran, not as fast as before because she couldn’t have kept up, but fast nonetheless. It was a challenge, navigating through the trees with Llew’s hand in his, but it felt extraordinary. He hadn’t run like this since Kierra was alive. But Kierra had been Syakaran. What had Braph done to Llew?

Looking at her as he thought the question was a mistake. He crashed into a trunk and fell back, pulling Llew down with him. She was laughing, and he laughed, too. And, despite cracking into the tree at high speed, his head didn’t hurt so badly.

Neither did his knuckles.

* * *

“Oh, Al!” Llew threw herself into the sandy-haired man’s arms and Jonas’ insides clenched. “I’ve missed you all.” Llew clung to Alvaro too long in Jonas’ opinion. Thankfully, she released him and moved to draw Cassidy into a hug.

Disentangling herself from Cassidy, she turned to Hisham. The two of them looked at each other, trying to work out whether a similar greeting was called for, considering they barely knew each other. Then both gave the universal ‘to hell with it’ shrug and embraced briefly.

Cassidy brought her horse forward and Llew smiled at the sight of the golden-white Amico, and then turned to Jonas. Her eyes dropped to the knife in his hand – she still wore his belt – then came up to meet his.

“Get me out of here.”

Jonas nodded. He didn’t disagree they needed to move, but he wondered at what was going on behind those eyes. She’d asked him to kill her. And there was something different about her, like she was fighting an enemy inside. He wished he was better with people. The easy connection they’d built during their time in Aghacia had all but disappeared.

He moved to help her into the saddle, but she swung up easily on her own, and sat waiting, not looking at any of them. He caught Alvaro’s questioning look and returned a warning one of his own. Whatever was going on with Llew did not mean Alvaro could move in.

Hisham and Cassidy were already mounted. And Jonas and Alvaro were about to mount when Llew’s horse moved, startled.

Jonas spun to look at Llew. She sat, stiff, staring away at something. He finished the turn more slowly, to face Braph.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

No-one had seen or heard him coming. Llew had only looked to Jonas for a moment; everyone else had had their back to him. Not any more.

He stood in the middle of the road; Nilv was still farther down the road, sitting atop one sweaty horse while leading another, and holding a crossbow levelled at the group. The weapon looked monstrous in his weedy arms and arthritic hands, but he held it steady and Llew didn’t doubt he could use it.

Jonas and Alvaro had been in the process of mounting. They both eased themselves back down and faced Braph; Cassidy and Hisham took the risk of provocation to turn their horses to the man. It was better than sitting with their backs to him. Braph’s attention was locked on Jonas, his most immediate threat, and Nilv kept coming on to back up his master.

Jonas strode up to his brother so they were nose-to-nose: or they would have been, had Jonas not been a good few inches shorter than Braph. It was like watching two stallions parading, necks arched, muscles rippling. All they needed were flying tails and flaring nostrils.

Llew eased down from her saddle, figuring the back of a nervous animal wasn’t the best place to be under the circumstances.

Jonas lashed out first. It was just a shove, but what a shove. Braph flew back. But he didn’t crash to the ground. He controlled the fall, landed on his feet and propelled himself back at Jonas, and then it was Jonas’ turn to fly.

Their little group scattered as the Syakaran hurtled toward them. Cassidy and Alvaro kept the horses from bolting and Hisham moved to act as a brake for his friend. Jonas slammed into him, sending the two men rolling and skidding along the road. In the moments it took Jonas to right himself and rush Braph again, the magician flicked the latch on his bracelet, popped out a still-good pink crystal and replaced it with one of Llew’s dark purple ones. Her chest constricted.

Cassidy stepped up beside her, bow in hand, quiver of arrows on his shoulder. She looked at him: he didn’t think he was going to get involved, did he? He might hit Jonas. And if Jonas couldn’t better Braph, what made him think he could?

“If he finishes Jonas, we’re next,” he said, his attention firmly fixed on the fight.

The Syakaran and the magician fought weaponless, testing themselves against one another. Jonas had been carrying his knife but it was no longer in his hand. Llew scanned the ground. He must have thrown it aside when he first rushed at Braph. Pride. He should have kept it, and Braph had a weapon in his magic bracelet. The fact was, there was no such thing as a fair fight between the two of them since, completely weaponless, Jonas was the stronger, the faster. Llew doubted the bracelet made Braph merely equal to his brother.

Jonas drove a punch at Braph. Braph blocked and swept around in an attempt to drive Jonas off his feet. Jonas jumped and came down swinging an even bigger punch and spun to follow it up with another. Somehow Braph anticipated the moves and twisted out of the way while staying close to ready his own attack. They failed to connect so many times, it looked more like a dance than a duel.

Braph flew about Jonas, the Syakaran unable to follow the magician’s moves. Braph’s fist connected with Jonas’ head and Jonas stumbled. He recovered quickly but Braph could fly faster than Jonas’ running and spinning on the ground. Jonas’ attacks rarely landed, while Braph was nearly managing a perfect score.

Jonas only had his strength and speed. Braph had those too, but he also had myriad other ways to direct his magic, as he soon demonstrated when he flung Jonas back and had him writhing on the ground, while Braph simply held a hand in the air above him. Sweat beaded on Braph’s brow. Llew’s eyes were locked on Jonas. She didn’t understand what was happening to him; he was in agony. His body flailed, arched, and spasmed, and he screamed.

“Stop!” Llew ran at Braph. Something flew past her head but she kept on until her shoulder connected with Braph’s chest. He might have been more powerful than he had been, but so was Llew. They both went down, with her on top.

She scrambled up, ready to pummel him, and Braph laughed.

Jonas rushed up beside her, wrenching his brother from the ground, but before he could lay into him, Braph, with little more than a gesture, sent a shock wave through the air, flinging Llew and Jonas back to the ground. Llew couldn’t get back up, her own muscles simply wouldn’t obey her. She felt sick, memories of events in Braph’s house still too fresh.