Warrior's Touch (Deadly Touch book 2)

The cell door swung closed.

“This is a mistake,” Jonas said, looking at each of his fellow soldiers. “Hasiph.”

The medic looked down, scowling. At least someone was troubled.

“Hasiph.” It was a dirty trick, working on the weak link, but Jonas would take anything right now. “This ain’t right. I’m as Quaven as they come.”

“We got orders,” said Elliot, a soldier a couple of years Jonas’s junior. Jonas had led him to the Turhmos border on several occasions. He looked a little too pleased to be wearing the leadership shoes now.

“Who from?”

“Lieutenant General Kane.” Elliot smirked. “For gettin’ frisky with an Aenuk.” The smirk twisted with distaste. “How could you?”

“It ain’t as simple as we were taught.” Of course, they weren’t about to listen to him, but he had to try. Mountains were moved one grain at a time.

Elliot was already turning to leave, the rest, bar three, moving to follow. Those three stationed themselves near the door. Three Karan guards, metal bars, brick and mortar walls, who knew how far below ground, and hands still chained behind him.

He paced his cell. He couldn’t believe Aris would do this to him. Surely, Aris would come see him tomorrow and it’d all get sorted. The old man was just making a point. That’s what this was.

Images of Llew riddled with arrows flashed in his mind’s eye. Seeing her like that, dying in his arms. It didn’t get any easier, no matter how many times she came back. And Quaver had used that against him.

His hands started to shake again. He gripped one with the other. Damned having them still chained behind his back.

Jonas paced. His guards remained silent. He didn’t recognize any of the three. Probably recruited in the last year.

“Shit.” He stopped. “I gotta take a leak.”

There was a moment’s silence while the guards looked at each other.

“Then leak,” one of them said, not moving from his post.

They had to be kidding, humiliating him like that. He was Jonas. He was their hero. A symbol of Quaver’s strength.

None of the guards moved.

Jonas cursed again.

Llew had no idea how long she’d been in the cage when new footsteps made themselves heard on the stairs. The guards lit several more candles, bringing much of the room to light, if dull and flickery.

She’d slept, she was fairly sure.

By now, her bladder ached. She needed to empty it, but with her hands tied, she could do nothing, unless she wanted to soil her clothing. Against her growing child, she was in agony.

The footsteps, thankfully, announced a woman carrying a bucket. She entered Llew’s cage and, while she didn’t unshackle Llew’s wrists, she did help Llew find some comfort. Llew thanked her, but it didn’t make the woman any less disgruntled.

As the woman left, the senior soldier from the night before approached the bars.

It had been the night before, hadn’t it? Llew had already lost track of time. There had been at least one change of her guards, and the soldier seemed refreshed. He must have slept.

The lieutenant general. That was what he was.

He held a child’s hand. A woman stood behind them.

The child, a little girl, wore a chocolate-brown corduroy pinafore over winter layers. The color reminded Llew of her only experience with the dessert treat. She wondered, for a moment, if she would ever get the chance to taste it again. Would she get to share such an afternoon with Jonas again? Would she see him again?

The woman, a thin, tired example of humanity, looked nervous.

The lieutenant general pulled out a knife. He lifted the child’s hand, turned it palm up, and ran the knife across it.

The girl, already terrified, did nothing more than flinch.

He pressed the small hand between the bars of Llew’s cage.

“Heal it,” he said.

Llew could hardly say ‘no’, but neither could she reach for the little girl’s hand. She hitched up one elbow, demonstrating this fact.

Annoyance and anger rippled the lieutenant general’s face. He turned to one of the guards and flicked his head at Llew’s cage. The guard hesitated, watching Llew suspiciously, but did as she was instructed. Llew turned and held up her hands for the guard to reach through the bars to free them. The guard flinched as Llew brought her hands up to rub her chafed wrists, as if she’d expected Llew to try to break free. Only then did Llew wonder if she was able. If the Quavens thought she was, then perhaps she was. But if she could break out of there, then why hadn’t Jonas already done so?

Even if she could somehow break out of the cage, she didn’t fancy her chances of getting past all those trained Karan soldiers. Besides, all it might take was Jonas having a word to the right people and they’d be freed, anyway. But she hadn’t seen anyone walk through to where Jonas had been taken. That didn’t mean they hadn’t been through while she’d slept. Or perhaps there was another entrance. That had to be it. Even now, Jonas was negotiating their release.

She stepped up to the bars, giving the frightened girl a sympathetic look. Neither of them knew what this was all about, but Llew knew well how it felt to have to do something you didn’t want to do.

Still rubbing at her wrists, she said, “I’d heal off her before I fix that cut.” She held up her raw skin, broken through in several spots. Trails of dried blood ran up her hands. She shrugged. “It’s just the way it works.”

Again, annoyance twisted the lieutenant general’s features briefly. Then he gestured to the guard again. She looked like she was about to refuse, but clamped her mouth shut, stepped forward and pulled off her glove before reaching through the bars and gripping one of Llew’s hands.

The transfer was quick, the damage minor.

The guard stepped back, rubbing her hand.

Llew reached for the little girl’s hand.

Nothing happened.

“Huh?” She looked at the lieutenant general, who shrugged as he pulled the child back and turned back to the mother.

“Karan,” he said. “Well done.”

The girl ran into her mother’s arms. The mother picked her up, sobbing and kissing her fiercely.

Of course. Llew slumped. Everywhere, people could find a use for her power.

Over the next several hours, a procession of children and nervous mothers were brought down to her and the child’s hand cut. Those who didn’t heal left secure in the knowledge they could keep their government-provided home. Those whose wounds closed burst into tears along with their mothers. Llew could guess their fate. She’d once shared it.

Aenuks could not heal Kara. And suddenly, Quaver had a way to test each child before they would otherwise have been certain.

As a commodity of some value, Llew was provided regular meals and the chance to clean up, though she was under no illusion this was for her benefit. She was hardly any use to Quaver if her starving body stole life from those she was meant to be attempting to heal, and neither was a filthy healer appealing.

And still, the only people Llew had seen go through the door through which they’d taken Jonas were the changing guards.

His guard changed every now and then, but otherwise, Jonas was alone.

Aris hadn’t come to see him. No one came to see him. He was simply left, hands still shackled, to wallow in his own filth and almost no light. His stomach ached from missed meals, and he felt weak, his muscles already atrophying from a lack of sustenance. And he was thirsty, so thirsty.

He didn’t know how many days had passed before one of the guards brought a bucket of cold water, a change of clothes and the key to his shackles. He drank first. Chilly water running down his arms, dripping from his elbows. He lacked the energy to do more than gratefully strip off and cleanse himself. The cold water chilled him to the bone, and he had no way to dry himself before pulling on the loose-fitting shirt and trousers. He huddled in a corner, trying to shiver some heat through himself while the guards cleaned the floor of his cell.

He hated to look at them, those guards. Some looked on him with pity and sadness. It must have stung to see their hero brought so low. Not half as much as it hurt being pulled down. Some hardly seemed to care. Mostly these were the young guards, the ones that had never seen Jonas in the flesh before. Others barely contained their pleasure at seeing the mighty fall.

For what? For glimpsing the truth?

A whole lot of truths seemed to be coming into focus as he sat there in the dark, his body aching to be fed. All he’d done was find one Aenuk likable. That didn’t make him a traitor. He’d expected to still be stationed at the Turhmos border and to kill more Aenuks. He was a Quaven soldier, that was his job, it was what he did. He wouldn’t have questioned it.

But now, it seemed, someone had expected he might. So now he did.

Perhaps it was time to think beyond what he was and what he was expected to do. Llew had done it all her life. She was a girl, but she hadn’t let that stop her learning her father’s trade. Llew had been left homeless, but she hadn’t let that leave her resourceless. If anything, she’d become a stronger person from what she’d lacked.

Jonas didn’t have much down here.

A meal arrived with the next change of guard. His first in days.

The soldier brought the soup into Jonas’s enclosure and knelt beside him to offer the bowl. Jonas barely had the strength to look at her, such was the peril of a fast metabolism.

She wore the same long-legged wild dog motif as Hisham on her uniformed shoulder.

“I’m Samsi,” she said. “Hisham’s cousin. He asked me to let him know you were okay.” She smiled, proving the family resemblance. “I can’t be lying to him now, can I?” She lifted the wooden spoon to his lips. “Eat. It might not return your strength, but it will help some.”

Jonas slurped the soup. As much as he craved real food, he was grateful for the nutritious liquid. He didn’t know if he had the strength to chew anything substantial.

“Llew,” Jonas said after a few spoonfuls.

“The Aenuk?”

Jonas nodded.

“She’s fine,” said Samsi. “Her power can be used to identify Karan children from non-Kara years earlier than we used to. She is now an asset.”

As relieved as he was to hear Llew was well, anger swelled at the thought of his country using her, especially after his promises.

“Aris...”

Samsi shook her head. “He won’t see you.”

That hurt more than it should have. Then again, he had few people in the world and Aris had been his everything for so long. He took a moment to let the empty feeling settle. Aris wasn’t coming. Did Jonas mean so little that he could be tossed down here and forgotten so easily?

“There’s a growing movement looking to get you out,” Samsi said, holding the soup spoon up to his mouth again. “They know you made a mistake, but they reckon that’s all it was. Besides, after your wife’s murder...”

“Kierra,” Jonas said.

“Yeah, her.” Samsi loaded the spoon again.

“What do you think?” With his stomach now accustomed to the soup, Jonas was starting to wonder when they might bring solid food. “Did I make a mistake?”

“I believe you were under a lot of stress. Not every day your brother kills your wife.”

Jonas grunted. The less talk of Braph the better.

“I heard you killed him in Turhmos. What were you doin’ in Turhmos?”

“Llew killed him.” Jonas didn’t open his mouth for the next spoonful of soup. He watched Samsi.

Her eyebrows rose.

“An Aenuk of many uses, then,” she said.

Jonas accepted the spoon. Fact was, he was strong enough to hold it himself now, but he appreciated the company and the chance to hear about happenings outside of his cell.

“We’re fightin’ an uphill battle, though,” Samsi continued. “Aris reckons you betrayed Quaver. Treason, he says.” She pressed her lips together and shook her head. Treason was death. “Might be a week or more, but we’ll get you out.” She knocked his shoulder with a fist. “Hisham’s a lonely beast.” She stood. “Whole Quaven army’s been fretful without you.” She stepped from the cell and locked it again. “Even if you are just a symbol. It’s nice to have a guiding light, you know?” She stooped for the wash bucket. “Even if you are a bit of a guttering flame.”