Warrior's Touch (Deadly Touch book 2)

Hisham had been getting too comfortable. Truth was, he was the only Quaven Jonas would trust to drive Llew’s cart. But he couldn’t have Hisham believing all was forgiven. Right now, he needed people he could trust till the end of the world, and he needed Hisham to know he still had a lot to prove.

He reached the water’s edge, his back tingling under the gaze of so many eyes.

No matter how many times he did it, no matter the physical advantages he had, he still felt a surge of excitement and trepidation when he prepared to cross this border. The river was some hundred and twenty yards wide at the point they’d chosen for this expedition. Despite the width, the water was swift. Because of the width, the opposite shore was difficult to discern with any clarity. One thing he did know was that the forest on the Turhmos side grew right up to the water’s edge, giving their soldiers a multitude of hiding places, if not an endless supply of life to heal from. Most of the trees were dead for miles from the border.

The Quaven side of the river sloped gently into the water, rounded stones scraping underfoot. He waded out to his waist and dived, surging forwards, fighting the current and the freezing chill. He swam fully submerged, only coming up for air. For the entire swim, he was at risk of arrow fire, if he was spotted. The less of him above water for the least amount of time, the better. Eventually, still alive, he pulled himself free of the water and stood in Turhmos.

The bank was clear. He stood, the air chilling him to the bone through his wet clothes and waited. No arrows flew from the trees. Had they got so lucky to pick a currently neglected spot?

He set off to scout the trees, alert to any sound out of the ordinary, and fighting the urge to move swiftly, get it over and done with. Moving too fast would only create noise and alert any scouts or troops to his whereabouts while blinding and deafening himself to them. Using his ears rather than his eyes, he stepped through and around trees confidently – a compromise between using his Syakaran speed to search and relying on it should he alert someone to his presence.

Nothing stirred except the slight chill breeze.

Nothing lived in this stretch of forest but Jonas. The trees were dead, the ferns, mosses and saplings were dead. Rabbits, hares, and possums littered the undergrowth. Their lack of decomposition could have indicated recent death, or illustrated the utter destruction caused by the Aenuk race in the absence of their Ajnai trees. Even the insects that would have fed on the bodies were dead in this stretch of forest.

He was about to turn back, having covered a semi-circle of about one hundred yards from the point at which he’d made land, when something caught his eye. A second look confirmed a boot on the end of a horizontal leg. He picked his way closer, cautious, but not too cautious, with muscles tensed, ready for action.

The body wasn’t the only one. Half a dozen bodies were strewn around a small clearing. At least a part of a Turhmos patrol group, by his reckoning. All dead. All finished off with large knife wounds. How many were Aenuks, he couldn’t tell. Dead was dead. But if he knew anything about Turhmos patrols – and he had a few years’ experience – they always included at least one Aenuk, usually more. Either someone had used a Syakaran knife, or they had been capable of killing Aenuks without one. Jonas had a fair idea who.

What he didn’t have a fair idea about was how long ago. Aris could have swept the entire border when he crossed it weeks earlier. Or he could be nearby in that very instant.

The latter seemed more likely. If weeks had passed, surely by now some sort of death-feeder would have moved back into the area, or a patrol would have found them.

Aris had been through recently. Within minutes, hours, or a day, or two was the question.

He made his way to one body and touched it lightly. The skin was supple, but cold. Hours, at least, then. That was a relief.

And with that thought, he darted back through the trees and dived back into the freezing water. Now was as good a time as any to bring Llew across.

The soldiers settled down to a meal almost the instant Jonas was gone. Llew supposed she shouldn’t judge them for it, what else could they do? But they didn’t invite her to join them. Neither did any bring her a nibble. Not that she was hungry. Well, she hadn’t been, but watching others eat has a way of making the stomach grumble.

“What’d you do?” Hanah asked Hisham when he sat down with some bread and jerky, but he shook his head and took a bite of the meat.

Llew managed to slide off the cart and walk around it a couple of times, easing her muscles and getting a feel for how her wounds were healing. Each day she found she could move more before the pain hit. Still, it was incredibly slow.

She was completing a round of the cart when her foot slid on the wet grass. She threw herself forward and stamped her other foot down, grabbing for the cart. Pain sliced through her belly and she heard herself groan. Missing the cart, her hands landed deep in the wet grass. Her skin burned from the cold and tingled as she absorbed life. Ignoring the searing pain, she pushed herself up, catching the edge of the cart, and stood a few moments breathing through the pain as the aftershocks rippled.

The clearing was silent.

She looked over her shoulder. From the brief contact she’d made, a circle of flora around six yards across extended from the point of contact.

Where the Kara had been sitting was outside of that circle, yet they’d all scrambled and now stood, silently looking at the ring of death and looking at Llew. None moved to see if she was alright. None said a word. Their eyes made statements of fear, anger, and disgust in their silence.

She turned back, resting her elbows on the cart and her head on her forearms, and breathed. Her belly burned, and she wanted to cry.

An almighty splash announced Jonas’s return as he dragged his waterlogged shoes through the last few shallow strides. He clamped his hands around his elbows, clearly freezing. Water drained from a lock of hair over his forehead and cascaded from his clothes. One of the Kara grabbed a wool blanket and threw it across his shoulders. He pulled it tight, then with his other hand he pushed the hair from his face and looked up. His face darkened and he dashed to Llew’s side.

“You alright? What happened?”

Llew nodded. “I’m fine. Just slipped is all.”

He looked at the stretch of deadened vegetation, then up at their audience. No one spoke.

“Why weren’t you wearing your gloves?”

Perhaps he hadn’t meant her to, but Llew felt duly chastened.

“I know. I’m sorry.” She reached for the gloves, stashed by her saddle in the back of the cart, the cost of her small victory illustrated clearly at her feet. Her defiance at the unfairness of the world had nearly killed their escort. It was stupid and selfish, and it was time she faced facts. She was a danger to everyone around her. She was the one who needed to cover herself. Not Jonas, not the Quaven troops, but Llew.

The clearing burst to life. All the Kara stripped to trousers and knife vests. Chino and Braph’s horse were unsaddled and led to the water to swim across. As soon as Chino was belly deep, Amico rumbled out deep neighs and wouldn’t stand still, his discontent a danger to anyone handling him. In a moment of believing that love could conquer all, Llew wished she could be the one leading him to the water.

Horse tack and provisions were stacked on the cart. Jonas positioned himself to help Llew and she slapped his hand back. But as soon as she went to lift a foot, pain radiated from her belly and she had to catch herself again. After a brief moment to fume, she gave Jonas a furious but resigned look and let him gather her up and lift her onto the cart. At least he had the decency to say nothing.

Weeks of healing undone by a little patch of damp grass. It was infuriating. She briefly wondered how much worse it would be if she still had a womb to heal as well but dismissed it before the thought dragged her into despair.

The cart horse was unhitched and led to the water to swim unhindered. Braph removed his long leather coat and placed it on the cart, giving Llew a warning look, like he thought she might be thinking of offloading it into the river. She hadn’t been, but she narrowed her eyes at him. He glared back a moment and she cocked an eyebrow. Where else was he going to put it? He turned away in a huff, one Karan soldier at his heels to give him support in the water.

Hanah, who had been tasked with taking Amico across, was struggling. At first, the horse had been eager to be free of the cart and follow Chino, but as soon as his hooves touched the water, he refused to go farther. He tugged on the lead rope and reared, but Hanah firmed her grip. She patted him, talked to him, turned him full circle and pointed him back at the water. This time Amico didn’t even let his feet get wet, and he reared higher, nearly lifting her off her feet.

Jonas watched, eyes narrowed, then he patted the cart a couple of times and, nodding to himself, headed off down the shore. He approached Amico with confidence, gave the horse a couple of reassuring pats, took the lead rope from the frustrated Hanah and directed his head to the water. Jonas was playing the role of assured leader. Amico was supposed to trust him. The horse remained stubbornly still; feet locked in place. Llew had a feeling that if Jonas wanted him to move, he’d have to lift each foot, one at a time, step by step. Jonas apparently came to the same conclusion as he rested a hand on Amico’s withers, thinking.

“Alright. Let’s go.” He handed the rope back to Hanah, who seemed utterly confused, and came back to the cart.

“What?” Llew asked, but Jonas said nothing as he positioned himself at the rear of the cart and nodded to Hisham.

Amico stood by the water’s edge, head up, ears pricked, watching the cart.

As they came up alongside, Hanah asked, “What do you want me to do?”

Jonas smirked. “Keep up.”

Hisham gave a yell as he waded into the freezing water, and it wasn’t long before the cart was floating. And leaking.

Hisham pulled the cart across the water, while Jonas concentrated on keeping it on course, not letting it get swept too far by the current.

Amico’s desperate neigh cut above the water’s hiss. Llew risked the pain to look over her shoulder. Hanah stood by Amico’s head, which hung low, watching Llew ride off on the cart, looking for all the world as though he’d been slighted. Or perhaps remorseful for a failure. He nickered, a piercing sound, and Llew’s heart ached. She was about to tell Jonas they had to go back, maybe see if Amico could ride the cart with her, but then Amico turned and approached the water. Reaching the edge, he stepped one way and then the other, throwing his head and neighing again.

Hanah stood with a light hand on a rope, letting the horse decide what he was going to do about his predicament. Llew could no longer hear Amico’s calls. He swung back and forth a couple more times, then suddenly leapt into the water, nearly pulling Hanah off her feet. She scrabbled to keep up, running beside the horse until they were both chest-deep, then she threw the rope over Amico’s neck and clambered on board, water streaming from her. Amico swam boldly, Llew or, more likely, Chino his only goal.

Llew shared a wide grin with Jonas and turned back to watch their progress. They were nearly halfway across already and keeping a steady line. Water seeped in through gaps in the floor but, whether by design or Jonas’s efforts, the cart sat light in the water and took on little more than a trickle.

Braph, the horses and their Quaven support were on the other shore already, stamping feet, vigorously rubbing their arms, or trying to squeeze the biting cold water from their clothes.

Turhmos. Again.

Back in the country that wanted her children, with Braph much closer than she would have liked.

But Braph didn’t have a use for her blood anymore. That was a silver lining, she supposed.

At Jonas’s confirmation that they were no longer needed, it wasn’t without relief that their Karan escort wished them a cursory farewell and returned to the swift waters to make their home journey.