Touch of Power

“Cuff her quick.”

The drowning sickness had rendered me too weak to put up much of a fight. In mere seconds, my hands were manacled behind my back. My three years on the run had ended. It was hard to tell if fear or relief dominated. At this point, both had equal sway.

The captain of the watchmen yanked my shirt off my right shoulder, exposing my healer tattoo to the crowd. It appeared as if the entire town had gathered to witness my arrest. As expected, they gasped at the proof of the monster in their midst. And to think, I had once been proud of the symbol of my profession—a simple circle of hands. From a few feet away, it resembled a daisy with hand-shaped petals.

I scanned faces as the watchmen congratulated themselves on their catch. Mavis and her husband stood among the gawkers. He glared and approached me, dragging Mavis along. She wouldn’t meet my gaze. Little Fawn clung to her mother’s leg.

“It doesn’t matter that you saved my girl’s life,” the husband said. “Your kind is responsible for millions of deaths. And the gold your execution will bring this town is sorely needed.”

True. Tohon of Sogra placed a bounty of twenty golds for every healer caught and executed. I suspect the plague killed one or more of his loved ones. Otherwise, why would a powerful life magician care? The disease certainly didn’t care, eliminating people without rhyme or reason.

Right before I was escorted to the jail, Fawn waved bye-bye to me. I smiled. My empty, pointless life for hers. Not bad.

Inside the town watch’s station house I endured endless rounds of questions. They wanted me to turn over my healer cohorts. I almost laughed at that. I hadn’t encountered another healer in three years. In fact, I’d guessed they had been smarter than me and had found a nice refuge to hide in while they waited for this current madness to pass.

I refused to answer their ridiculous queries, letting their voices flow past me as I concentrated on Fawn’s healthy face. Eventually they removed the manacles, measured me for my coffin and locked me in a cell below ground level, promising tomorrow would be my last day. I had an appointment with the guillotine. Lovely.

At least the guards left a lantern hanging on the stone wall opposite my cell—a basic cube with iron bars on three sides and one stone wall. Equipped with a slop pot and metal bed, I had the space to myself. And no neighbors in the adjoining cells. The bedsprings squealed under my weight. My lungs wheezed in the damp air thanks to Fawn’s stubborn sickness.

I wasn’t as terrified as I had imagined. In fact, I was looking forward to my first solid night’s sleep in three years. Ah, the little things in life.

Too bad, I didn’t even get my last wish.

CHAPTER 2

A low cough woke me from a sound sleep. Instincts kicked in and I jumped to my feet before I realized where I was. In jail, awaiting execution.

“Easy,” a man said. He stood near the door to my cell. Although armed with a sword, he wasn’t wearing the town watch’s uniform. Instead, he wore a short black cape, black pants and boots. The lantern’s glow lit the strong and familiar features of his face. I remembered him from the crowd that gawked at my arrest.

I waited.

“Are you truly a healer?” he asked.

“You saw the tattoo.”

“For a town on the edge of survival, twenty golds is a considerable sum. I’ve learned that desperate people do desperate things, like tattoo an innocent person. Is that what happened to you?” He leaned forward as if my answer was critical.

“Who wants to know?” I asked.

“Kerrick of Alga.”

I’d thought he was a town official, but the Realm of Alga was north of the Nine Mountains. If he wasn’t lying, then he had traveled far from his home. “Well, Kerrick of Alga, you can go back to your bed and rest easy. The watchmen caught the right girl … and by tomorrow this town will be safe once again.” Which wasn’t entirely true. At twenty years of age, I wouldn’t call myself a girl, but woman sounded too … formal.

“What is your name?” he asked.

“Why do you care?”

“It’s important.” He sounded so sincere and he stared at me as if I held his fate in my hands.

I huffed. What did it matter now? “Avry.”

“Of?”

“Nowhere. It doesn’t matter. Not anymore.”

“It does.”

“Of Kazan. Happy?”

Instead of answering, Kerrick clutched the bars with both his hands and leaned his forehead against them for a moment. I had thought he felt guilty about my impending execution, but his recent behavior failed to match.

When he knelt on one knee, worry replaced curiosity. He withdrew long metal picks from a pocket. I backed away as fear swirled. Should I yell for the guards? What if he already had knocked them out?

He unlocked the cell. The door swung open. By this time, I had reached the back wall.

Straightening, he gestured. “Come on.”

I didn’t move.

“Do you want to be executed?”

“Some things are worse than death,” I said.

“What … Oh. I won’t hurt you. I promise. I’ve been searching for a healer for two years.”

Now I understood. “You want the bounty for yourself.”

“No. You’re worth more alive than dead.” He paused, knowing he had said the wrong thing. “I meant, I need you to heal someone for me. Once he’s better, you can go back into hiding or do whatever you’d like.” Although muffled, raised voices and the sounds of a commotion reached us. Kerrick glanced to his left. “But if you don’t come right now, there won’t be another chance.” He held out his hand.

I hesitated. Trust a complete stranger or remain in jail and be executed in the morning? If he was sincere, Kerrick’s offer meant I would have my life back. My life on the run. Not appealing, but that survival instinct, which had spurred me on these past three years, once again flared to life. What if he was lying? I’d deal with it later. Right now, it didn’t matter; living suddenly took precedence over dying.

I grabbed his hand. Warm calloused fingers surrounded mine. He tugged me down the corridor. I hadn’t been paying close attention when I had arrived, but I knew this way led to more cells. There was one door into the jail. And loud noises emanated from that direction. Fear twisted. Crazy how a few hours ago I hadn’t cared if I lived or died, but now a desperate need to live consumed me.

Our way dead-ended, but Kerrick pushed open the last cell’s door. Moonlight and cold air streamed from a small window high on the stone wall.

Kerrick whistled like a night robin. A young man poked his head though the opening. “What took you so long?” he asked, but didn’t wait for an answer as he reached both hands out.

“Grab his wrists,” Kerrick said as he boosted me up.

I clasped wrists with him. He pulled me through the window with surprising speed and strength for a skinny kid. His feat was due to the two men holding his legs. He reached in for Kerrick and I noticed the window had been covered with iron bars at one time. The stumps of the bars appeared as if they had rusted right through.

Glancing around, I understood why these men had used this window. The back of the jail faced a pasture and stable for the watchmen’s horses. Since the jail marked the edge of town, there were no other buildings behind it. Just the well-used north-south trade route.

Kerrick joined us. A crash echoed, a man cursed and then the pounding drum of many boots grew louder, heading toward us.

“Belen.” Kerrick sighed the name.

“Flee or fight?” the young man asked.