Keir Page 3

  “Yes, sir!” The guard saluted, departing as quickly as protocol and a closed door permitted.

  Rialto glared after him, before pouring another cup of wine and making a toast to himself. “To the death.”

  Chapter 2

  Light rain woke Quin to a gray and chilly dawn. Grumbling to herself, she resurrected the fire before everything became too sodden, then checked on Keir. He slept, shaking and hot to the touch. She restrained her impulse to strip back the rags and examine him more closely. It could be taken as a betrayal of trust–something he appeared to have very little of.

  Instead she gingerly laid her fingertips on his forehead, checking his temperature as best she could. Each time she had touched him before something had sparked, albeit briefly. Telepathy required focus to join to a mind not gifted with it, and yet she had felt his faint presence in her thoughts. It frightened her even as it intrigued her.

  Before she could raise her mental shield, the contact came and his thoughts seeped into hers, tinted in shades of red and black. Pain and fever.

  Keir groaned and she started. To her dismay, he jerked in a sudden convulsion. Quin had no idea what to do and tried to hold him in case he thrashed around and hit his head. The terrible heat of his skin burned through the layers of rags and fragments of his pain splintered into her consciousness. A vision of a dark-haired woman appeared, the oval face marred by concern as she reached out a hand, soothing words on her lips. Quin shook her head, banishing the image.

  As soon as the fit subsided into tremors, she released him. After a few moments Keir opened his eyes and seemed awake, aware and no worse, as far as she could tell, but it was a bad sign nonetheless. His condition would only deteriorate without medical help.

  “Water,” he whispered, his breathing ragged.

  Quin helped him drink, taking care not to touch and upset him any further. The water seemed to revive him and he looked around as if he had forgotten where they were.

  “How are you feeling, Keir?”

  “Cold.” He shivered. “And a bit dizzy.”

  “Can you walk? There’s some food, but we can’t stay here too long.”

  He managed to stand without Quin’s help. She retrieved her robes from his makeshift bed of branches and drew them back around herself, grateful for the extra warmth they provided.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked.

  Keir shook his head adamantly.

  “Keir, listen, I’m going to get us out of here, but I need your help. I need you to tell me where to go. We have to head back toward the city if I’m to find the way home. Do you know where we are and how to get back?”

  “Never been so far from the city,” he murmured, surveying the landscape beyond the stone circle that had sheltered them overnight.

  His prolonged silence increased Quin’s unease. If Keir thought himself lost, how could she hope to do better?

  “Through the trees,” he managed at last. “Need to see the other side.”

  “All right.”

  They had only taken a few steps before Keir stumbled and fell to his knees. Quin hesitated. Not only did she fear to touch him for his own sake, but also for the strange sensation that rippled through her with each contact, the disturbing sense of familiarity.

  Keir lurched to his feet, but fell again. This time he stayed down, his breath rasping.

  “You need to let me help you,” Quin ventured at last.

  He shook his head. “I can do this alone.”

  After several moments, he levered himself to his feet and stood swaying. Quin clenched her fists, holding herself back. How many falls would it take before he had no choice but to accept her aid? Or would he rather lie down and die than permit her to touch him?

  What is it with me and helpless men? she wondered. I’ve spent a hundred years looking for one. Pulled another from the ruins of his world though he never forgave me for it. You’d think I’d be over this by now.

  A dozen more steps and Keir collapsed, wheezing heavily. Quin fought down the irritation that warred with her concern. “You have to let me help you.”

  “No.”

  “Damn it, Keir!” She crouched down at his side and grabbed his robes. Even though he resisted, she wedged herself under his arm and grasped his waist. She braced herself as the connection between them threaded into her mind, but this time she encouraged it and tried to soothe the turmoil in his head.

  “Allow this.”

  His feeble struggles ceased, but her apprehension spiked at the state of his mind. Acquiescent now, Keir leaned on her far more heavily than yesterday and the heat from his skin was like fire. She wondered if they could make it back or if it would be wiser to leave him somewhere sheltered and fetch help. In the end, her cold certainty that her chances of finding the gateway without him were almost nonexistent, and that assistance would likely come too late, meant she had no choice. They were running out of time.

  Finding their way through the trees and tangled undergrowth was a nightmare. Keir tripped and stumbled over tree roots, broken branches, puddles and loose stones. Quin’s back and shoulders soon burned with fatigue and she wanted to scream her frustration. The trees formed a narrow belt around what seemed to be farmland– recently plowed, heavy soil made sticky by the light drizzle that continued to fall. They skirted the edge of the field to avoid the worst of the mud then sat to rest on the hedged border in sight of a small, rustic village. Keir appeared lost in a world of his own, slumped forward with his arms across his knees, barely responding to Quin’s questions. When she mentioned the village, however, it seemed to send him into a panic.

  “We must go around,” Keir insisted. “Stay out of sight.”

  “But that will take longer. I’m not sure you’re up to it.”

  He grabbed her arms so hard it hurt, pulling her down to his level. “I cannot go into the village!” he spat. “It would cost us more than time. Why do you not understand? They call me a demon and accursed. Do you really think they will let us walk amongst their houses and their children? I am not welcome, and if you are with me, you will not be either.”

  “How will they know it’s you, bundled up like that?”

  Keir released her, his brief burst of energy spent. “No normal person would go hooded and cloaked like this. They will not kill me for fear of becoming cursed by my blood, but that will not stop them hurting us both.”

  “All right. We can follow the fence line around the edge,” she agreed reluctantly. “It will be quicker and it’s easier than going all the way around. We’ll just have to be careful to stay behind the fence and out of sight.”

  Keir raised no further argument, hauling himself up awkwardly on a post. “If we are seen,” he warned, “run. Do not wait for me. Do not try to save me. They will kill you.”

  “Keir, that’s ridiculous. I’m not going to leave you.”

  “Do you truly wish to die?”

  “No. I don’t intend to let them kill either of us.”

  Keir accepted Quin’s shoulder and her help through the fence. There were perhaps a dozen houses, built as rough squares with wooden walls turned gray with age and the pointed roofs patched with greenery amidst the beige thatching. The homes lined a muddy walkway. Behind them rose a cluster of larger barns. A log fence separated an enclosure of grubby sheep from the rows of houses. Keeping to the back of the huts, they had to walk at a constant crouch through the animals to be out of sight, but they had almost cleared the last wooden hut before a pair of rangy farm dogs came racing past and stopped to yap their alarm at the intruders.

  Within seconds, curious women and children surrounded them. Quin hesitated as two large male farm workers emerged from an adjacent paddock of sheep, armed with a pair of shears each. They stared at the trespassers in silence, before the elder of the two men whispered to the younger–who shot off into the open farmland as though pursued by the devil.

  “Quin,” Keir whispered urgently. “You have to go. Now. Leave me and walk away.”

&n
bsp; “No, I’m not leaving you.”

  Tugging him upright, Quin carried on walking at a slow but deliberate pace through the silent throng of watchers. Two young children closest to them scuttled out of the way and a woman snatched back a third. They’d only taken a few steps farther when the younger man returned with half a dozen others, ranging from a teenage boy to a gray-haired man armed with a long knife. He barred their way as two or three others took to each side, hemming them in. The dogs crouched, growling, but were called off by another young lad who backed away as the strangers kept coming.

  When it became clear the older man had no intention of moving, Quin spoke. “Can you let us pass, please? We mean you no harm.”

  Muttering came from the people behind. Quin realized they were now completely encircled, and more men seemed to be running up from the fields below the village. She waited, hoping the elder had the authority to say yes or no, that he would give them the chance to leave in peace. Their continued silence disturbed her, and her back felt horribly exposed.

  “We want to get to the city. Will you let us through, please?”

  The old man looked at those behind Quin and nodded. A twist of dread knotted in her stomach as she recognized the sound of at least one knife being drawn, and sensed the ring of people closing in.

  “We, y’say?” asked the elder, crossing his arms. “Are ye with him, then?”

  “No, she is not,” said Keir, but Quin hushed him.

  “We don’t want any trouble. We’re going to the city. My friend is hurt.”

  “That is nae friend to anyone, girl,” the old man responded, shaking his head. “Do ye want to be cursed? Are ye a devil too, with that hair of yours?”

  “I don’t understand,” Quin persisted. “What has he done to you?”

  Suddenly, someone grabbed her from behind, their arms around her throat and waist as they dragged her backward. She froze as another hand came into view waving a knife in her face, the threat made clear. Without her support, Keir dropped to the ground and another man, his face crisscrossed with scars, grasped the back of his robes.

  “Maybe she has nae seen it right,” the elder continued, his tone mild. “Best show her the truth, Caiman.”

  Muted sunlight flashed from a blade in motion. Quin wriggled in panic, expecting a fatal strike on her companion’s undefended back. Instead, the sound of ripping cloth filled the air as Caiman slashed the robes and rags into useless tatters, stripping Keir’s head and back to reveal the so-called demon underneath.

  For a moment, Quin stared. Shock blazed a hot trail through her veins. Oh, Hades, I never thought it would be human!

  Now she understood the nickname given to him and how the legend had misled her into believing the Blue Demon might be the Sentiac. His bare torso was the rich blue of an evening sky, the long, unkempt hair a knot of black curls tangled at the nape of his neck. Deep black tattoos, resembling some form of runic lettering, were carved into every inch of his skin.

  A thread of disappointment wound over her surprise. All that searching, all that effort, to find the Sentiac and she’d been so wrong.

  “See, girl? That is the Blue Demon, a curse on the city of Adalucien and friend to nae living soul.” The old man shook his head and sighed, as if under a dreadful burden.

  Women hid their children’s eyes or made mystical gestures against the creature that had entered their grounds. A terrible fear and anger rose in Quin, not for herself but for Keir, helpless and half-naked in the midst of a hostile gathering. No words could rescue him from this. She saw the knife lift for another strike and clawed at the man who held her, shrieking urgently for Keir.

  Despite her warning cry, Keir didn’t move from his hands and knees, as if too exhausted to rise alone. With agonizing slowness his bowed head turned toward her, revealing an expression of deep shame, blue eyes full of despair.

  Heart torn to shreds at his torment, Quin shook her head in mute denial. “Get up,” she willed him. “Save yourself.”

  He stared, a flicker of hope lighting his face. Weakly he tried to rise, only to be floored by a stabbing blow to the shoulder. The knife strike seemed to trigger the pent-up aggression of the other men and they ran forward, kicking and hitting.

  Quin writhed in her captor’s grip as each blow landed, a moan escaping her throat at the dull thump of fists on flesh. The gang parted briefly–long enough for her to see Keir huddled on the ground before a boot caught him in the side and flipped him over and the men piled on him. Each desolate cry that came from Keir stabbed her in the chest. He made no attempt to defend himself or break free.

  Something inside Quin snapped at the unwarranted attack. Rage sent white fire scouring through her veins and flickering over her skin in silver tendrils. She threw her arms back, screaming Keir’s name, and sent out a blast of energy that flattened fences and tore the roofs off the nearest buildings. A second surge of power flung his attackers across the fields and drove any remaining bystanders shrieking to shelter.

  In the sudden, shocking quiet that followed, Quin stood with arms outstretched, psi energy whipping her hair about her face and sparking over her skin in threads of lightning. The sting of it only intensified her anger. The old man cowered before her as she strode over to Keir. Dropping to her knees in the mud, she gently turned him over, biting back tears at the sight of his bruised face and the blood oozing from the wound in his shoulder. The energy playing over her skin dimmed and died away.

  “Oh, Keir,” she whispered, bending over him.

  His eyelids flickered in response. “Quin,” he murmured. “Go now.”

  “I will not leave you here!”

  She glanced up. The jolt of telekinesis had stunned or scattered the villagers, but that wouldn’t last long and she couldn’t guarantee another burst. They had to leave. Now. Already one or two people were on the move, gathering courage and, no doubt, weapons. She had one last trick she could use.

  “Keir, I’m not very skilled at this, but I can take some of your pain,” she said, softly. “I’m hoping it will be enough to help you move. Will you trust me? Will you come with me?”

  He opened his eyes, but his gaze was unfocused, turned inward. “I trust you. I will come with you. Am I dying, Quin?”

  Oh Powers, no, she prayed in silence. Please.

  “No.” She laid her hand on his forehead and reached into his mind. He shuddered at her touch, groaning as her thoughts merged with his. The backwash of his distress lashed at her. “I won’t let that happen.”

  Pain ripped through him. Without giving herself time to think, she pulled a strand of it into her own mind, wincing as it burned through her. She took a second, a third and tried for one more, but a scream clawed at her throat and she had to let go.

  Keir stared up at her, his gaze clear but bewildered. “Why?” he rasped. “Why are you not afraid of me? Why are you risking your life to help me?”

  “Why did you save mine?” she countered.

  “Devils!” yelled the old man, finding his voice and his feet. “Kill them! Kill them now, before they use their black magic again!”

  Quin drew Keir to his feet, supporting him as some of the men moved forward cautiously, looking back and forth at each other. More shouts came from others still hiding, urging them on. Their fear wouldn’t hold them much longer.

  “Move, Keir!”

  She dragged him forward and they stumbled past the raving elder, heading for the edge of the village as fast as they could. Those who had regained their feet only stood and watched them go, one or two jeering, but it wasn’t long before a youngster felt brave enough to lift a rock and throw. Within seconds, the air filled with missiles, rocks and mud raining down on them. It seemed forever before they were out of range, staggering into another band of trees and the protection of the woodland.

  * * * *

  With his trackers leading the way, Rialto and his men came through the edge of the copse toward a small village. The trees thinned and gave way to open farmland.
A cluster of timber buildings stood between one band of woodland and the next.

  Rialto surveyed it. There seemed to be some commotion, and several houses were missing their thatching. They had barely made it to the first fence before they were surrounded by irate villagers, desperate to tell their tale. As their strange procession reached the center of the village, Rialto reined in his horse and nodded to his second-in-command.

  “Who is in charge here?” the second demanded.

  A gray-haired man, his eyes wide, stepped forward. “It should nae be allowed to happen to innocent people, my lord,” he protested loudly. “We have done nae wrong. We cannot protect ourselves from witchcraft!”

  Rialto stared impassively at the peasant. “Who cast magic against you?”

  “It was that witch, the woman with hair like fire. Knocked us flying, she did, with just a wave of her hand! We could nae stop her.”

  Rialto signaled his men to move on and nudged his mount into a walk, but the villager kept pace with him.

  “What will you do, my lord?”

  “We will deal with them. You have my word on that.” He kicked his horse on, determined to be clear of the village as soon as possible.

  The forlorn villager called after him, “But, my lord, what about the damage?”

  “I suggest you get to work repairing it.” Rialto spurred his mount into a canter.

  * * * *

  Quin breathed a sigh of relief as they came, at long last, to terrain she recognized. The small river marked her arrival point on Salusan. She lowered Keir to sit against an earthen bank that ran above it, before dropping down next to him. It felt as though an entire lifetime had passed instead of the mere forty-eight hours she had spent here. Strange that such a backwater planet could have caused her this much trouble in so short a time.

  On her knees, she scrabbled under the bank for the hidden hollow in which she’d tucked the small pack of supplies she always left at a gateway when uncertain of her safety. She took out the first-aid kit, knowing even as she did the meager offerings within wouldn’t be enough. The portable scanner revealed broken ribs and a cracked skull, injuries she had neither the knowledge nor skill to deal with. All she could do was clean his cuts and seal the shoulder wound, and give him as high a dose of pain relief as she dared.