Warrior's Touch (Deadly Touch book 2)

Llew sulked.

She stole glances back at Jonas, between the seat backs, but he was locked away in his own thoughts.

She slumped in her seat; arms folded across her middle.

Braph had sold their horses. Bastard!

And Jonas was powerless and Llew was heading back to Duffirk for... what? To be used by Braph? By Turhmos?

A loud whistle came from outside, followed by a haunting trumpeting sound, and Llew realized they’d already begun to move.

She’d known it was going to happen after seeing the train roll up, but that made it no less startling, or frightening to be at the mercy of a huge machine. Her relationship with machines to date had not been pleasant. She wanted to run, find Amico and race into the night. She gripped the red-stained leather under her, her knuckles whitening. She tucked her feet under the seat. She had to go through with this. She had to stop Aris from killing her ma. She had to figure out how to fix Jonas.

Braph’s hand settled over hers. She nearly jerked hers back, but she didn’t know what to do with herself, riding some huge machine that felt like it was going faster every moment – not that she could tell because everything through the window was dark. Darkness, and a reflection of herself, sitting beside Braph.

A deep, gritty rumble underscored everything, broken by a regular trill of clanks, and Llew had no idea what was making any of it.

She looked down at Braph’s hand on hers. Such a human thing, touch. The touch of skin surrounded by all this metal. She shouldn’t draw comfort from it but, in the moment, it was all she had.

“You can sleep,” he said, and she chuckled.

Of all the places Llew had slept in her life, this would have to be the strangest. Already growing used to them, the mechanical noises didn’t bother her so much. As unsettling as they were at first, there was a rhythmical quality to them that could rival a river’s roar in its ability to send a person to sleep. But Llew was not used to sleeping surrounded by a crowd and constant chatter. Even worse, the steady stream of conversation was punctuated with squeals, tellings off and wails; the unpredictability of which had her on edge. Or was that because she’d just learned Jonas was powerless?

“Can I fix it? Can I heal him?” she asked. If anyone knew anything about combining Aenuk and Karan magic, it was Braph.

Braph shrugged. “I used your mother’s blood to heal myself, so, yes.” His hand patted hers.

Llew snapped her hand back, but she didn’t have room to put it anywhere but on her leg or between them. If he was going to touch her hand again, she wasn’t about to invite him that close to the rest of her body, so she placed it back on the seat between them. And while she was worried about that, some other part of her brain had reached another conclusion. “You lost your power?”

“Well, ‘lost’ would imply I was careless.”

Llew peered at Braph, deciphering what he wasn’t saying as much as what he was.

“Wait. You did that to yourself?”

Braph smirked at her. “You know how it works.”

Any relief at learning she wasn’t the cause of Jonas’s weakness was fleeting. “You broke Jonas?”

“Well, it wasn’t me behind the crossbow, if that’s what you mean.”

“But it was you who made the poison, or—”

“Grew the microorganism.”

He was speaking another language.

“Micro-what?”

Braph smiled. “Yes. It’s new science, not something you’d understand.”

Science. Llew’s pa had taught her the science of blacksmithing. Mostly, it was about learning what each tool was called so she could fetch the right one. Words, jargon. That was all science was. Llew could learn words. “Try me. What does this micro-orga-whatsit do?”

“There is a, shall we say, bug, small enough to travel through the bloodstream, that attacks the very source of Karan power.”

Llew felt her blood drain from her face, but she wasn’t about to come over faint in front of Braph. She schooled herself not to react. The lift of Braph’s lips told her she’d failed, but she persisted. He hadn’t told her everything yet.

“How do you know it can do that?”

“Because I’ve seen it. And I tested it on myself. When I still had the means to fight it, of course.”

“My ma’s blood... You used Aenuk magic to fight it?” Hope swelled.

Braph tapped the back of her hand with a finger. “My magic was powered by Aenuk magic. I could do things you Aenuks can only dream of. And I didn’t allow myself to become fully drained before I stopped it. No, your blood alone will not fix him now.”

“But Jonas could be powered by Aenuk magic, too. He’s already used my blood to heal.”

“Do you realize how much blood you would have to give him to bring back his power?”

Llew stared back at him, awaiting the answer.

“As he was – the only man capable of bringing you back to life without dying himself. It will take more than you have to give to return Jonas to full strength. And, unless you kill the bug first, you’ll be fighting an endless battle.”

“How do I kill the bug?”

“You’re Aenuk. You can drain it.”

“Can I do that without killing Jonas?”

Braph shrugged. “Well, there’s the challenge, isn’t it?”

“Could you heal him?”

Braph took a deep, bored breath.

“Would you heal him?”

Braph hardly contained the laugh. “What do you think?”

“But he’s your brother.”

“Who has overshadowed me his entire life, and for what? Because he can kill more effectively than anyone else? Well, I can kill, too. I can also save lives, by taking a killer out of commission. No. I am not about to put him back out there.” He patted her hand and leaned closer. “Put it this way. If he remains powerless, he gets to live. Assuming he survives Duffirk.”

“He’ll survive.”

Braph smiled. There was pity in it, like a parent about to allow their child to fail so they’d learn the lesson good and proper. “Yeah.” He patted her hand again. “That’s not your call, I’m afraid.”

She pulled her hand from under his, folded her arms, and slid in the seat, forcing her chin to rest on her chest.

Now, while she could understand Jonas’s decision, she had even greater doubts it was the right one. They needed someone powerful to fight Aris, but was Braph the right man to do it? She’d had a hard enough time believing so when she still believed Jonas was capable of restraining him. But what else could he have done? What else should they have done?

Eventually, exhausted from turning the same questions over and over, she slept.

Llew stirred with a start, not sure what woke her. The mechanical clatter continued its staccato beat, repetitive enough it slipped into the background, yet so sharp and biting that Llew could easily accept it as the cause. At least the children finally slept.

She wiped drool from her chin, glanced at her reflection in the dark window and combed her fingers through her hair. A gas light at either end of the carriage, plus two on opposite sides of the halfway was enough to reflect the interior and block out any features within the darkness beyond, or clues to their speed.

Looking beyond herself, Braph’s chin was sunk to his chest.

She turned to the substantial Braph, finding it somewhat fascinating to watch the smooth rhythm of his breath, in such a contrast to the surrounding cadence. He looked both at peace and innocent; neither a condition she would associate with him in his waking hours.

She looked down where her hand had slipped back down to the leather and Braph had, once again, placed his over it. She daren’t move it. Asleep, he seemed almost normal.

The rest of the carriage also slept and Llew wondered at the time. Still hours till morning, or mere minutes? She had no way to tell. If there was light in the sky, the dull light of the carriage interior blotted it out.

She twisted to look back through the gap between the seats. Jones sat, eyes open, arms folded, his face dark. Yes, darkened due to the low light, but even more than that. His eyes may have been open, but that didn’t mean he was seeing anything. He glared straight ahead, boring into the seat in front of him. He didn’t seem to have noticed Llew move at all.

Llew felt alone. Back by her river in Cheer, that would have been a good thing. Needing no one, and no one needing her. That had been the way she lived, and it had worked. But that wasn’t how she lived now. As Jonas kept reminding her, she was in trouble no matter what she did or where she went. She needed someone. She needed Jonas. But Jonas wasn’t there. Not in any real sense, anyway.

She pulled her hand free from Braph’s, folded her arms, and fell against the back of her seat again. They were hurtling towards their destiny faster than they could have by horse, faster than Jonas could have had he still been Syakaran, and Llew could see no way for it to end well.

And she felt trapped.

But not bound, sweet bird...

She began to sing to herself, knowing her ma was out of reach, and yet seeking her guidance. What would you do, Ma?

With none but troubled thoughts, she sought to soothe herself through song.

“Fly up to the moon.”

Startled, Llew turned to Braph, but he still slept. She turned in her seat, meeting Jonas’s gaze.

“But see me soon.” His voice wasn’t that of a trained professional by any stretch, but it was clear the words matched the tune. “Sweet bird.” She saw his lips shape the last words more than heard his voice over the clatter.

Llew peered at him a long while, and he didn’t look away.

“Is that how it goes?” she asked.

He made a noise from the back of his throat.

“Ma never sung me that bit.”

He leaned forwards, folding his arms across the back of Braph’s seat. “She probably reckoned that if she ever let you go there was a high chance you’d wind up back in Turhmos. That would scare any Aenuk mother off lettin’ their baby fly.”

And her ma would’ve been right to be scared.

Some hours later, the sky lightened and the Turhmos countryside whisked by, and still more hours later, the countryside gave way to homes. The buildings grew taller, more densely packed, and the rattle of the train bounced from them, thundering through the carriage. The air thickened, giving everything a fuzzy edge and a ubiquitous sweet, dusty odor.

Llew was starving, stiff and in need of a chamber pot by the time the coarse rumble slowed, coming to a stop with a squeal and a hiss and a billow of white steam.

Children of all ages started up crying, or screaming, or hollering. One boy, kept still too long, ran the length of the carriage, his parents scolding dejectedly from the back. He ran back to them, but it was probably more of a case of there being nowhere else to go than obedience.

Llew didn’t want to get off the train. If she stayed right there on the leather seat, she wouldn’t have to deal with Jonas being weak, Braph being all-powerful, and Aris being Immortal. But, of course, she was trying to delude herself, and failing.

Braph waited. And because Braph waited, the Turhmos soldiers waited until the carriage had emptied of families and stragglers, and then they moved in an orderly line out and down to the platform, which acted as a wind tunnel.

Jonas’s hat was whisked from his head, saved only by the string looped under his chin. Llew’s hair whipped at the corner of her eye.

Steam expelled in great puffs that swirled in mini tornadoes between the train and the station building. Deafening hisses broke over the wind’s whistle, and each time Llew flinched and sought the source. And each time she felt silly, and jumpy. She was jumpy.

She turned her head to let the wind blow her hair off her face, but it caught in her throat and she had to turn back to take a breath.

The Duffirk train platform was much like the Keldely one, but much, much larger, and with finer details in the woodwork. The platform itself felt more solid under foot. The beams holding up the veranda were thicker and carved with swirling designs where they flared at top and bottom.

After the windy platform, the station’s silence was airy and, sadly, short-lived.

The great, open vestibule echoed their footsteps, doing nothing to make its vast emptiness feel welcoming. And yet, Llew couldn’t deny the grandeur of the richly varnished wood arches that swept to the center of the painted ceiling. The care and ego of several pairs of hands had been put into this building. Cheer had had nothing of its like. But then, Cheer had lacked both permanence and teamwork. Those who’d settled in Cheer were there for their own reasons, and theirs alone.

Tiny squares of mostly ivory tiles covered the floor. Darker colors, reds and browns, created motifs that resembled the train engine and symbols, reflecting neither creature nor machine, that may have meant something to the Turhmos locals, but nothing to Llew.

They emerged on the other side of the building, into the cool winter sun and almost no wind.

Llew remembered the way the tall Duffirk buildings blocked the sun from her last journey there. It was even worse this time, with the low sun struggling to rise high enough to shift the dawn frosts, despite it being around lunch time. Not that Llew was too certain. They hadn’t eaten since Keldely and her stomach had been reminding her of that fact for several hours already. She could only imagine how Jonas would be feeling. Or Braph, even.

Actually, would Jonas be any worse off than her? Did he still need to eat like a Syakaran? Or had that need dissipated with his strength?

Llew slipped her hand into his as their group strode down the street, forging a path through unsuspecting locals. He squeezed her fingers briefly but was more focused on his continual wary scanning of those around them. She missed his casual confidence. It had been infectious.

“Are you okay?” she asked, almost certain she could cope with nothing but the affirmative. She got a grunt from the back of his throat. She supposed that was as good as anything she could have hoped for.

She squeezed his hand, trying to give some reassurance in her still being there. She felt inadequate in the face of the loss of Hisham and Chino. And it hadn’t been so long ago he had still looked up to Aris and hoped Braph might come back into the family fold.

Well, Llew would still be there. If Braph let her.

Finally, he would get his audience with Kadeshbarnea Carlile, the incumbent President of Turhmos. Oh, yes. Braph was going places.

Oh, he’d received the message from the president three months earlier. He looked down at his stub. A most direct message. It was a less painful memory now he had some mechanical enhancements back. Another month or two at home with his son, his assistant, and his lover, and he would be a different man. A much more powerful man. Yes, indeed. Exciting times ahead.

And, finally, they turned a corner to see the magnificence that was the Turhmos Presidential Palace. A stunning building, by all accounts. Not to Braph’s taste, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate its intention. A building of sweeping contours. Straight edges were a thing of rarity on the exterior of that building.

The Palace, as it was known despite Turhmos being a republic for longer than any could remember, sat nestled in the heart of an expansive estate, dominated by large, manicured lawns. There were a few support buildings and a couple of minor statues, plus the grand goat-like unicorn statue at the entrance to the fenced-off estate, otherwise all was green, even when all around was drought ochre.

Winter sunlight set the Palace’s whiteness glowing and its red roofs burning the eyes. That was the reason for the size of the estate. No matter how Duffirk grew, out or up, the Palace would always be a beacon of sunlight.

Stunning, if one was impressed by such things.

The guards, rightly so, made their presence known well before Braph’s troops were two hundred yards from the main gate. Six gate guards. About what Braph expected.

The walls seemed to grow in height as a couple of hundred, by Braph’s estimate, archers stepped forward. Not normal. And not for Braph’s benefit, either, if he was any judge.

“Aris, you old dog. What have you been doing with yourself?” he muttered under his breath.

Once their group was close enough for the Palace soldiers to recognize their compatriots among them, there was an easing of stances, which disappeared once they also recognized Braph.

“Kadesh will want to see me,” he said to the most senior looking guard.

“President Carlile does not see the likes of you.”

Braph looked over his shoulder, where several soldiers had crowded around Jonas and Llewella, blocking them from view. Idiots. He waved them aside.

“Kadesh will want to see me.” Braph turned back to watch the faces slacken at the sight of the Syakaran that no longer was. In that moment, Llewella was far more important to Turhmos than Jonas would ever be again, but its people would not recognize her on sight. The wonders that a few book covers could do. Barely books – picture books, in substance and story – but so be it.

In truth, Braph was the most important person to Turhmos in that moment, but it would be too much to ask anyone to recognize that just yet.

“He’s alive?”

“Alive and captured,” said Braph.

“He’s not in chains,” the soldier managed through his awe and wonder.

“He is chained by other means.” Braph showed his new device.

“I’ll, uh— I’ll send a runner,” the soldier floundered.

“No need, boy.” A grizzled soldier moved forward.

Braph smiled.

“Colonel Salmon.”

“Salmen.”

“Of course. Silly me. How could I forget how to pronounce the name of the man who shortened my arm and commandeered my house?”

“I suppose you had other things on your mind at the time.” Salmen’s smile was cool. “We found some interesting stuff.”

“I bet you did.” Braph fixed Salmen with an expectant look.

Salmen kept smiling. “I’ll show you in.”

The Colonel turned and every supporting guard stepped aside, permitting Braph, Jonas, and Llewella entrance.