Warrior's Touch (Deadly Touch book 2)
I Envy You

Her desire to breathe returned in a rush and she inhaled blood, coughed, rolled on her side, and coughed again, splattering warm red – black in the dark of early morning – over the ground and her hands. Finally able to take a clear breath, she rolled on her back and wiped her eyes clear of tears and dirt. Seeing Jonas over her, she tried to wriggle from his grasp, but he held her down, refusing to free her until the healing was complete. He was drenched, sweat and heavy fog wetting him from inside and out.

As soon as he released her, she pushed herself up to sit and take in the scene before her. Blood coated the road immediately surrounding her. The occasional leg or foot indicated a body just out of sight, thanks to the persistent mist and dark.

Jonas leaned back from her, still kneeling, and rubbed his hands over his thighs. Llew gripped his forearms, turning them to see his palms; red and blistered. “It’s alright,” he said. “I’ll heal. You might not’ve.” He looked pale and fought to regain his breath.

“Are they all dead?” Llew asked. Jonas nodded and she punched him in the shoulder. “Don’t do that! I could’ve killed you!”

“No, you couldn’t.” Jonas gripped her wrist, preventing further outbursts. “You weren’t dead, and I got more to give than most. I’ll be fine.” He released her and slumped, puffing out a breath.

“You’re exhausted!”

He brushed her off with a lazy wave of a hand.

“How long will it take you to heal?”

Jonas shrugged, and stretched one arm and then the other over his head, grimacing. “I’ll be sore for a few days.”

“Days?” Llew glared at him, eyes wide, incredulous. “Days?! We’re in the heart of Turhmos! They know we’re here and you leave yourself weakened for days?”

“I thought we were both gonna accept we’re a bit daft about this sort of thing,” said Jonas. “I’ll be fine, Llew. I can still fight, I can still...” He reached out and lifted her head with a bent finger, rubbing a thumb over her chin. He could still make her breath catch, that’s what he was saying – actually, he was probably talking about more than mere breathing – with a carefully constructed smoldering look, barely masking his amusement.

Llew forced herself to breathe and glared at him.

“Relax.” He chucked her gently under the chin. “I’m fine. And I got Hisham as backup.”

“Fine,” she said, not fully convinced. “Hisham and Braph?” She peered around to locate the two Kara in the clearing.

There was one “Here,” then another and two pairs of heavy boots stepped close enough to be visible.

“Everyone healthy?” Jonas asked.

Llew had enough time to recognize the swoosh of an arrow slicing through the air before Jonas toppled forward, pushing her back to earth.

Llew’s head hit the ground.

Hisham scrambled, dashing into the trees, Braph following, the Kara shouting directions at each other.

Jonas pulled himself up to his hands and knees, wincing. Llew worked her elbows under her and shook her head clear. The back of her head ached, but she could see enough to follow Jonas’s glance to the short arrow jutting out of his left side. After the initial surprise, Jonas looked more annoyed than in pain, but he grimaced again as he maneuvered himself to attempt an extraction.

“Wait!” Llew grabbed his hand. “Doesn’t that make it worse?”

He paused, and they both turned to the cacophony going on behind the wall of frozen mist.

A yell, grunts, and a cut-off cry. More shuffling movement, snapping twigs, scuff of sand, and Hisham returned to the clearing, followed closely by Braph.

“Just the one, and we got him,” Hisham said triumphantly, then swore when he saw Jonas’s injury. He knelt beside him. “This is...”

“Yep,” said Jonas.

The mist swirled where Hisham had been and then he was back, knife, bandaging, and a bottle in hand. He shoved the bottle under Jonas’s nose.

“You’ll need it,” he pressed when Jonas looked like he was going to refuse.

Jonas looked to Llew before accepting the flask, but she couldn’t condemn him for taking pain relief when it was needed, whatever her feelings on alcohol were.

“He’ll be alright, won’t he?” Llew asked.

“Sure.” Hisham got down on his knees.

An idea struck her, and she looked up to where Braph stood, shrouded in a light mist. “He can use my blood, can’t he?”

Braph nodded.

“He’s gonna have to cut it out first,” said Jonas, his voice already thick from the pain, and a long pull on the flask on an empty stomach.

Llew’s hands itched with a need to heal him, but of course she had to wait for the arrow to be extracted. Healing him with the arrow still embedded would only mean more pain when they removed it.

“Have you done this before?” She couldn’t take her eyes off the wound. It was a clean cut and gave no indication of depth. She had heard tales of arrow wounds, most not promising.

Hisham’s head lifted, preceded by one eyebrow.

“Llew. Go check on the horses.”

“But—” She was about to quibble over Jonas’s dismissal, but he was right. She was no good to him until the arrow was out and, giving herself a moment to think on it, she really didn’t want to watch Hisham slicing into Jonas, necessary or not.

Llew stood and was about to fend her way through the blanket of fog when Jonas spoke.

“Braph, you can help—” he began.

“No!” She spun back to them. “He can get his needles from the cart. But I will not be alone with him in this.” She waved a hand at the mist.

The men all looked surprised, but Jonas nodded and waved Braph back towards the cart, assuming they all still had their bearings right. It was the direction Hisham had gone to get his bandages, anyway.

Llew turned on her heels, diving into the murk, calling quietly to Amico and Chino. Chills carved up and down her spine. She knew Braph couldn’t do anything to her. He wasn’t weak, because, despite his shortened arm, he was still Karan, but he no longer had his magic and couldn’t subdue her as he had. There was no way she would willingly lay down for him and, with her Aenuk powers, forced relations were a dangerous move for any man. But the atmospheric conditions had her nerves on edge. She wasn’t about to risk him suddenly deciding he needed to pretend she was her mother again. She shivered. He was a sick, sick man, and she dearly wished Jonas could see past their family ties and recognize that.

Calling again, she heard a snort through the darkness, and it wasn’t long before she found all three saddle horses huddled together. Gathering reins, she began the less difficult task of returning to Hisham and Jonas. Jonas’s growls ensured she knew which way to go.

“How’s he doing?” she asked, in time to witness Hisham pull the arrow free.

Jonas growled around the strip of leather clamped between his teeth. That good, then.

Hisham poured a good measure of whisky over the wound, saturating Jonas’s already blood-soaked trousers, then took up a needle and thread.

“It’ll heal better if I stitch it first,” he said, folding back the cut flaps of Jonas’s trousers. The wound fair gaped. Hisham bent over it and set to work. Llew offered her hand for Jonas to squeeze while the work was completed. He hesitated in taking it, so she took up his hand and wrapped his fingers round hers but had to pull free when his grip bruised her, and she healed from him.

“Sorry,” she whispered, looking helplessly at Jonas. She could do nothing but hurt him more.

Hisham worked swiftly and soon tied off the last stitch.

Llew accepted the syringe Braph offered, and it wasn’t long before Jonas’s wound was properly sealed, and the stitches pulled free.

Llew couldn’t stop herself grinning, such a relief it was to be useful to the world at large, but especially her friends. She placed the syringe down and went to stand so she could heal off the grassy verge. Before she’d even gained her feet, Braph had snatched the syringe up and stuck the needle in the crook of his arm.

“Hey!” Llew smacked the syringe aside, having little care if the needle ripped a hole in Braph’s skin.

The syringe hit the road, the glass vial cracking on impact.

Instead of the bliss he’d shown the last time, Braph looked disappointed.

“Don’t get excited,” he sneered. “There wasn’t enough.” He glanced down at Jonas, still sitting on the road. “I envy you. What must it be like, to be Syakaran and have your power augmented by the blood of a Syaenuk? I can only wonder.”

“It’s …” Again, Jonas couldn’t look any of them in the eye while he talked about it. He jumped to his feet, brushing himself free of road dust. “It’s alright,” he finished, noncommittally.

With no more talk, Llew healed, and they were back in the saddle, Hisham in the cart, and away off down the road again, leaving bodies and riderless horses behind. There was little doubt the patrol would soon be found, and they needed to put as much distance as possible between them and the mess or, at the very least, replace somewhere to hide. There was still a couple of hours’ riding to go before they reached safety, and little more than that to get there.

Jonas was silent, more interested in moving than discussing the risk of running into another patrol. Llew figured there wouldn’t be many. The nearest town was still Hinden, and it had held no signs of a regular military presence – at least that had been the case when Llew had passed through a couple of months earlier. The patrol must have come from elsewhere, possibly alerted by the flying machine, traveling day and night to replace them. How the flying machine had happened to be in the area was anyone’s guess. Turhmos had no reason to suspect they traveled within its borders up until that point, unless scouts had seen them earlier and raced to inform someone, or...

Amico threw his head up as he sensed his rider tense. Braph had ridden into Hinden alone. Jonas had spoken of near instant messages. Telegrams, he’d said. She didn’t understand it at all, and wouldn’t have believed it could work if she hadn’t seen some of the little messages herself.

She narrowed her eyes at Braph’s back. Was he to blame for Turhmos now seeking them, nearly killing Llew and injuring Jonas? And yet, he’d helped them fight – not that she could see through the fog – and he hadn’t taken advantage of Jonas’s injury at all, apart from attempting to take another taste of Llew’s blood, of course...

The only conclusion she could draw was that she still couldn’t trust Braph. She hoped Jonas felt the same.