Warrior's Touch (Deadly Touch book 2)
What Are You?

By Llew’s estimate, they were maybe half a day, or night’s, ride from the farm, so they took their time packing up camp, knowing they couldn’t expect a warm welcome in the middle of the night. Besides, here, the cover had suited them well so far, while milling outside the farm seemed to be asking for trouble. Better to arrive in the early dawn, hopefully before sun-up. At least the heartland couple were likely early risers.

They set out a little after midnight. No one traveling at this time of night had honest intentions. Oh, Llew wanted her ma back – that was nice enough, she supposed – but she also wanted Aris stripped of his powers, or dead if need be. He had killed her babies and cut down her tree. No one, not even Braph, deserved her hatred more. Not that Braph was exempt, by any means.

As noble as Jonas’s desire to be reunited with his son was, he too felt an obligation to see Aris brought to justice. A personal vendetta or for the greater good, Llew didn’t know, and didn’t much care. They were headed in the same direction. That was enough for her, for now.

Braph wanted his home back. His home, his workshop, his inventions. To do what with? To bleed Aenuks. To make magic. To be more powerful than Jonas. To reclaim Llew’s ma.

A shudder ran through her. Llew had little doubt Braph felt something for her ma, but love wasn’t it. Obsession was closer, if not a bullseye.

She wanted to hate him so bad – especially after he’d used her, pretending she was her mother – but he’d also helped save Jonas’s life at the tree; both by providing the Gaards that helped slow Aris down – and may have been the only reason he hadn’t killed them all – and by showing them how a Karan could use Aenuk blood to heal.

She didn’t trust him, but she couldn’t bring herself to hate him.

Of the lot of them, Hisham probably had the most noble cause. All he wanted was Jonas’s forgiveness. That was all. Nothing personal. After betraying Jonas at Aris’s command, the least he could do was stand by Jonas’s side when the Syakaran brought the Immortal to justice.

Llew drew her jacket tight. Between the dark of night and the weather, she could barely see her companions, only hear the grind of hooves on gritty sand ahead, and the trundle of wheels behind.

Amico stopped short. Llew peered through the mist to see why, but there was nothing but the white mist. She was about to urge him forward when Hisham’s cart horse came up behind. Amico leapt forward, running into Braph’s horse’s rump. The horse shied but seemed reluctant to move forward. Llew was about to ask why they’d stopped when the reason materialized before her – a light wind deforming the mist enough to reveal the Turhmos rider directly in front of Jonas. The two horses must have nearly walked right into each other.

Jonas kicked Chino into action, the horse’s powerful haunches bunching and launching him and his rider forward. They crashed into the Turhmos patrol, scattering them as Jonas scattered knives. Thumps and groans accompanied the demise of several of the soldiers, but the rest soon gathered their wits and came at them. Hisham cursed behind Llew. Relegated to the cart, he didn’t have a horse to put him at the same level as the Turhmos soldiers, so he came to Llew’s side to fire into the fray. Llew called out to Braph for one of his Gaard devices, but he shrugged. “No ammo.” Whatever that meant. Llew cursed and pulled Amico back. She was useless in the middle of things. She couldn’t even see how many men they faced.

Hisham threw a knife to her, which she caught on instinct. Braph, too, took up a knife.

An arrow whistled, sailing by her head. Then, without being able to see for sure, she knew she was surrounded. The sounds of Jonas and Hisham moving through the attackers still reached her ears: grunts, screams, and thuds, but there were too many. They were surrounded.

Within moments Llew understood the Karan preference for being armed with knives; arrows flew as fast as a bow could fire them, but knife-throwing was purely down to the thrower’s speed. Men fell and stumbled around her. Some fell towards her, handles protruding from various vital organs or tendons. Hisham grinned up at her as he passed by to reclaim his knives.

Llew threw her own knife, hearing a satisfying gasp and heavy thump. She slid from Amico’s saddle and got down on hands and knees to retrieve another weapon from one of the fallen men. As she pulled it free, an arrow sunk into her shoulder. A shock of fire ran down her arm and through her chest, and she fell back. Refusing to lose the claimed weapon, she ripped the arrow free and sought some form of life in the ground cover, but they were on the open road. There was nothing to heal from.

A Turhmos soldier fell on her, a knife brandished, mouth stretched in a triumphant grin that turned to shock when Llew brought her hand around to grip his wrist.

“Aenuk?” The man managed before Llew sunk her own knife, angled upwards, under his ribs. He maintained eye-contact as blood flowed from his mouth, trying to make sense of what was happening to him. Llew squirmed, trying not to let the blood fall on her face. Its sickly warmth landed on her cheek and dribbled into her hair.

“Sorry,” Llew said. She was, but it was a matter of him or her, and she wasn’t ready to give up yet. Pushing the man aside, Llew rolled as an arrow struck him and another sunk into the dirt where she’d lain.

Braph was struggling against another man with a knife and Llew scuttled towards him to help, side-stepping as another soldier came at her. The soldier’s eyes grew wide, and he fell at her feet, a knife in his neck. She looked to Hisham, but he was already focused on his next target. She lunged at the soldier fighting Braph and stuck her knife in his back.

“Sorry.”

Braph raised an eyebrow but she didn’t have time to explain herself. Some of these men were Aenuks, her people. Not bad people, just people fighting for the side they’d been told to fight for. The fact was, she didn’t know if she was fighting for the right or wrong side. She was simply fighting for her life. She hoped that some of those she stuck her knife into might live, but with more coming on she had to make each thrust count.

Blocking out the sounds of her companions’ strikes and failures, Llew ducked more arrow-fire and flailed around with her blade until it sunk into someone else. She held the blade in place, going down to her knees with her victim to ensure he wouldn’t get up again. A hand came up to grip her throat and suddenly Llew knew the burning of an Aenuk’s touch. But even as he drained her, she drained him right back, and faster. He was barely a man. Younger than Llew. She nearly faltered in her defense. An arrow flew past her ear, causing her to catch her breath and her focus to waver for a second. Her skin burned and tingled. His look of triumph twisted through pain and shock, and she snatched his hand back. Llew pushed herself off him and he scrambled up.

“What are you?”

“Same as you,” she replied, dodging, and avoiding another arrow.

“No.” He shook his head disbelieving, took a step and an arrow in the back, and fell into Llew’s arms, his eyes full of surprise and wonder and then nothing.

“I’m so sorry.” Llew let him fall as gently as she could under the circumstances.

As she released him an arrow struck her in the neck. She stumbled, choking on blood, struggling for breath. Another arrow skimmed her shoulder, leaving a long, if shallow, cut on its way past. Another arrow sunk into her gut and she stumbled and fell, staring up into the mist. She managed a coughing breath and cleared her throat, but it soon refilled, and her body ached.

The sounds of the fight diminished. A rush of movement and shouts cut short were followed by gurgles and thuds. The road fell silent. Bliss.

As Llew’s vista darkened, the arrows were ripped from her flesh. She would have cried out had her throat not been filled with blood. Instead, she choked on blood. Her skin fizzled where warm hands grasped her. Her eyes cleared and a multitude of pains diminished and disappeared, while her head filled with the chaos of returning to reality. A reality in which they had been fighting and she had died. Again.