Lunatic (13 page)

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.

Both were death.

She was as well off in the cage behind her.

Unless ... unless the drowning really did lead to a new kind of life, as they had insisted. But even that life would likely lead to death because the Horde now ruled Other Earth. Albinos were nothing more than hunted animals.

And yet ... the idea of living as a Scab ...

She let her mind wander. Maybe it wasn't so bad. Maybe she could be happy as a Scab. Within a day she wouldn't know the difference. The disease would take her mind and make her believe the Horde was right and the albinos were wrong.

She would be utterly deceived.

But what was so wrong about that, if you no longer realized that you were deceived?

As they said back on the other Earth, ignorance is bliss.

"Don't give in, Darsal," Jordan warned. His voice was tight. His eyes . . . "Get out of here."

Darsal grunted. No, she would not give in to the scabbing disease, not yet.

"I'll come back," she promised.

Jordan didn't comment.

"I promise."

"Drown, Darsal. That's all that matters." His voice was firm. Jaw set. Eyes expressionless and resolute.

What was he not saying?

She would flee this putrid Horde city, find the red pool they'd told her about.

And then ...

She shrugged into the oversized cloak and pulled up the hood.

And then she would decide.

"I'll come back," she repeated. "I promise. I'll get you out of here. All of you."

Quiet. Darsal started out.

"Elyon's strength," he called after her.

Elyon, what was she doing?

She tightened her grip on the sword. She would not desert them.

Small consolation.

It took her only a few minutes to navigate her way through several halls, up a long flight of stone steps leading to the surface, past the iron gate, and into the Horde city.

Night shrouded her. And no one paid her the slightest attention. Thankfully a good moon showed her the way.

Her feet and legs ached with each step and her skin felt like it was on fire, but she didn't slow to ease the pain or pause to satisfy her thirst. She walked with her head down, mind fixed only on getting out now, before she lost the last reserves of urgency to do so.

Get out into the forest; find the water. Drink. Wash.

Drown?

She couldn't imagine anything so foolish. But faced by the certainty of death at any rate, she might even just drown.

Stay south, Jordan had told her. Stay south and don't be seen. You're following the road, but not really. And don't let anyone find you. You'll eventually go through a ditch. It'll take an hour or so to get there, maybe more if you have to hide out awhile. Look for the spider trees and the marsh. If you reach the desert, you've missed it.

She reached the forest and picked up her pace. The place where wood and desert meet, just like her dreams. She surveyed the trees in search of beady, red eyes.

None showed themselves.

She tripped, her sore, stiff muscles screaming. Stifled a yelp and pressed south in search of a red pool not even Thomas Hunter had known about on the word of a condemned man who claimed she had to drown.

Don't think about that. Not yet. Not yet.

The trees rustled, unseen wings beating against whispering leaves. She glimpsed a shadow of what might have been an oversized bird. Or bat.

First to find the pool.