Alone, Together

Braph pressed his fingers to the smooth bark. Again mesmerized by the way the tree’s shimmer responded to his touch, appearing to ripple out and wash back. While pale blues and pinks dominated, the full rainbow made appearances, if one watched closely. The effect would be truly impressive beneath a night sky. Romantic, even. But that was several hours away. Lights were pretty, but of no value to Braph.

“Whoa,” Orin murmured behind him obliterating any thoughts of romance. Children and romance did not mix.

Orinia completed another circuit of the tree, her attention fully captured by the display, despite the continuing panic beyond the garden’s borders. A true island of calm. She appeared not to need to check where she placed her feet; her gaze remained fixed on the rippling branches above, her mouth open.

“Ajnai,” she murmured, having only just learned the name herself.

Braph was mildly curious at the fact Aenuks knew less about these trees than Quaven natives, but the fact that no modern Aenuks could expect to come across an Ajnai in their lifetime answered any potential questions before they fully formed.

“None other quite like this, though.” Braph pressed his hand flat against the tree. The shimmer washed out from under his touch and back again repetitively, a heartbeat, as if repelled by his touch, but desperate to refill the void created. “Your daughter had this one planted. It is a memorial to your grandchildren.”

Orinia winced each time Braph referred to her daughter. Even now, after he had assured her Llewella was once again free. He supposed there were some complexities when one had to choose between their children; not that Braph doubted for a minute Llewella held any sway verses himself and Orin. Still, Orinia’s freedom had been won at the cost of Llewella’s. A mother might be expected to have some feelings about that.

At the mention of her grandchildren, though, she stopped and looked at him, all the unvoiced questions clear in that gaze.

“Yes. My brother and Llewella nearly became parents, but sadly lost the children early on. The unborn Immortals are buried here, beneath this tree.” Braph had Orin’s attention now, too. “There are Ajnais in Turhmos, too, but they don’t shimmer like this. One can only imagine the power contained in this tree, what good it might do for the world.” For me, at least . He moved his hand, shifting the focal point of the ripples. A pretty light show, but he felt nothing. Likely, to access that power he would have to drain it out, just like with an Aenuk or Immortal donor. Luckily, he had expected as much and come prepared.

“Did they marry?”

The inane question jolted Braph from his wonder. He shook off his musings and laughed. “No. My brother’s mission is to spread his oh-so-special seed far and wide.” He smirked at the revulsion on Orinia’s face. How he loved her for it. “Yes, Llewella got caught up in his apparent superiority. But she will learn.” He looked up into the rippling branches. “Along with everyone else.”

Out of curiosity, he lifted his flesh hand from the bark, pulled the glove off his metal hand and pressed it to the tree. He had no sense of touch through that hand, of course, but it was very much a part of him. The tree’s rippling took on a frenetic rhythm. Yes, the tree had an awareness, and it didn’t seem to like him much. He pulled the metal hand back, looked to Orinia. As much as she had looked at the tree tonight, she had yet to place a hand on it.

“Touch it,” he said. “It is family, after all.”

She looked to him before tentatively reaching for it. Just before she touched, Orin leaned in with his hand bared, pressing splayed fingers firmly across its surface.

“Ha!” he exclaimed at the lighting display he had set off; a quick pulsing.

Orinia’s fingertips brushed the bark gently. She swept them back and forth lightly, initiating an array of lighting effects. Then she pressed her hand flat and a gentle pulse set in around her touch like a calm breathing, revealing the full spectrum of colors in turn, while further around the tree, where Orin touched, the dominant pinks and blues surged out and in and swirled, almost – if Braph allowed himself to believe such a thing – as if the tree were panicking.

Orin pulled his hand back and knocked the tree a couple of times with his knuckle and laughed at the display. He knocked it harder.

“Orin!” Orinia admonished.

“It’s just a tree, Ma.” He took an inexpert boxer’s stance, punched the tree lightly a couple of times. If he hit harder, he would be the one who hurt. Braph was pleased to see he wasn’t so stupid, but the lighting effects were entertaining to an eight-year-old, he supposed.

Braph tapped the bark with his metal index fingertip. Time to open you up.

He squeezed two sprung clips, pulled off the finger tip and reached into a pocket, released the fingertip into its depths and pulled out a proprietary drill bit that clicked into place via the same sprung mechanism. A brief pulse of magic to start the drill, followed by a lower intensity hum to maintain the rotation …

Orinia gasped. “You—” she began, but had the sense to stop there.

Braph pressed the tip of the drill to the bark, applying just enough pressure to ease it through the wood without straining the bit or the mechanics behind it. The entire tree sent out surges of color outwards from the point where Braph made contact.

“You’re hurting it,” Orinia whispered harshly.

Braph gave her a flat look. “It’s a tree.”

“But look at it. It’s reacting. It must feel.”

“It’s a tree. It’s full of power I can make better use of, and it will heal, just as you and Orin do.” Braph stopped the drill to meet her eye and reach out his flesh hand to her wrist in what he thought might be a reassuring touch. “Trust in my vision, my love. This is for the betterment of us all.”

He turned his attention back to his drill tip, fitted it into the shallow divot he had already created, angled upwards. The bit was short, little over an inch, and he drilled until it disappeared. Then, with a thought, he reversed its spin and eased it back out. Sap beaded around the hole, puddled at the bottom lip and rolled down the trunk. Braph caught some with his flesh thumb and brought it to his tongue. Somewhat sweet, unsurprisingly woody, some sort of spicy tang, and a dirty, dusty undertone. He suspected that, like Aenuk blood, ingesting it would have no effect. Still, there was satisfaction in attaining it. Holding his drill fingertip out of the way, he fished in his pocket again and found his tubular funnel, lined it up with the hole, filled his muscles with Immortal magic from the crystal in his device, and gently hammered the funnel into the hole with the gloved tip of his mechanical middle finger.

He clicked his bare flesh fingers at Orin. “Bag.”

Orin swung the bag from his shoulders and placed it beside Braph. Honestly, what would be the point of bringing a child if he didn’t carry something?

“Pot,” Braph stated plainly.

“It got me! I’m going to die, aren’t I?” Someone wailed out on the street.

“We don’t know that.” Another voice.

“Yes we do,” the first voice sobbed, continuing past the garden. “They started dying yesterday, too weak to even breathe. Oh, gods …”

Braph lined his pot up beneath the funnel. The sap flowed slowly. This would be an exercise in patience. So much patience.

***

Llew hadn’t had a moment alone in days. She needed time with her feelings without having to manage anyone else’s.

She crossed the carriageway to the Ajnai trees, sat beneath one and breathed. She wished she had Merrid and Ard’s calm wisdom to turn to instead of their loss to mourn, Jonas broken and weak, Karlani possibly weakened, too, and Braph … Braph with his mind-control and flying machines. Would he ever leave them in peace? She was starting to think she might never find peace again while that man lived.

She looked up to find Jonas still standing at the door, leaning heavily on his crutch, and gave him a small smile. He accepted his other crutch from Anya and maneuvered his way onto the porch. Llew sat watching him, figuring it more likely he’d want to make his way alone than have her rush to help. Anya stayed at the door, also watching. Jonas’s prosthetic had a cuff cushioned with rags for his thigh to sit in, a hinged knee and a sculpted lower leg and foot connected by a second, less mobile joint. Jonas had to concentrate for each step he made on it. Once he was on the carriageway itself, Anya closed the door.

“I thought maybe you weren’t wantin’ to be, uh, alone alone,” Jonas said as he reached Llew.

“Depends how much talking you want me to do.”

Jonas shrugged. “You don’t gotta talk. Don’t even have to listen, if you don’t want to. I don’t have much to say. Just thought … Well, maybe you wanted to be alone … in company.”

Llew smiled. “That’d be nice.”

“Give me a hand to get up after?”

“Of course.” Llew patted the ground beside her.

Jonas let his crutches drop, leaned on the tree, and eased himself down on his good leg, letting the prosthetic slide out in front. As he sat beside her, he nudged her with a shoulder and grinned at her. “That feels right strange, but at least it don’t hurt, thanks to you and your blood.” He grimaced at the last. He didn’t like using her blood like that. Llew didn’t mind and shrugged her shoulder gently against his.

They sat in silence for several minutes, Llew’s nerves settling.

She sighed. “Thank you.”

Jonas leaned forward, his elbow resting on his knee, his hand to his mouth, watching her. It looked like he might have wanted to say, or ask, something, but either hadn’t fully formed the words, or didn’t know if she was ready to hear them. Llew was struck by how beautiful his eyes were and found herself smiling. He smiled back. And Llew had to look away. It would be so easy to lose herself in the moment, pretend they were wrapped in a bubble, separate from the rest of the world. But they weren’t. And it wasn’t all about to stop while they took a few minutes just to be Llew and Jonas: young lovers.

As always, that glimmer of Braph lingered, too. If Jonas had beautiful eyes, then so did Braph, and that thought filled her with revulsion. There was no beauty in that man.

Damn it. Would she ever be able to openly admire Jonas without also feeling repulsed? They were brothers, perhaps, but they were vastly different men.

“You know,” Jonas drew Llew’s attention back to him. He tapped his shortened thigh. “This might not work quite right anymore. But this—” He tapped his head. “—and this—” He pressed his open palm to his chest. “—still do. I know I ain’t been much help to you the last few weeks, but you’re not alone. You don’t have to fix this alone.”

“I know.”

Jonas leaned back against the tree, leaving Llew to be alone, together.

“If Karlani is infected, I’m going to have to decide if I can handle helping her, or watching her die slowly.” Llew’s skin crawled at the thought of giving Karlani her blood. She imagined Karlani would feel the same about receiving it.

“You wouldn’t have to watch.” Jonas watched her reaction to those words and Llew suspected her distaste for the idea of sending a sick woman out into the world alone was clear for him to see. Even if the woman was Karlani. Every inch of Llew hated the idea, but could she really bring herself to help the woman who had helped murder their babies?

“You know, if I was … If things were different, she would’ve been dead the second she stepped foot on this land.” Anger grated through Jonas’s voice.

“I know. And I would’ve cheered you on.” Llew swallowed. This seething anger was foreign, and yet so deeply a part of her now. “But things aren’t different.”

Jonas’s jaw clenched on his feelings on that matter. “For your sake, I hope she ain’t infected. I hope you don’t have to choose. But don’t forget, she needs us as much as we need her, maybe more. She’s a Karan in the heart of Turhmos. She don’t have friends. Not anywhere.”

“Alvaro seems to like her well enough.”

“Well, there’s no accountin’ for Al’s taste.” His eyes narrowed in jest.

Llew gasped and smacked his shoulder and he laughed. They leaned into each other, shoulder to shoulder, heads close, and Llew joined him in his chuckles diminishing to intermittent titters until they settled to a solemn calm once more.

“How long before Turhmos soldiers return?”

Jonas shrugged. “Braph knows we’re here. I wouldn’t put it past them to show up tonight. Put Karlani, Rowan, and Alvaro on watch, we’ve still got a chance.”

Llew screwed up her face at relying on Karlani to keep her safe.

“There’s a reason Aris warned me about you. You’re dangerous, Llew. With my knife, I had a chance if you and I had ever fought. She don’t have a knife. You might be surprised how much time there is between her makin’ a killin’ strike and your Aenuk grip being able to close on her. I got caught out countless times, and I had trainin’, and Karan backup. What she’s had ain’t nothin’. You’re dangerous. Stand up to her like you believe that, and she can be useful.”

His words had the desired effect and Llew felt herself bristle with ‘danger’, her Aenuk powers sizzling beneath her skin, ready to burn whomever did her harm. I am dangerous .

“We haven’t lost, yet. You’ve got hands and tools waitin’ for you to put them to use. No matter how any of that lot feels about me, they like you well enough. They’ll all follow you. And, while I can stand, I’ve got your back. I’ve been a lieutenant a long time.”

Llew laughed. “What would that make me? The Captain?”

Jonas shrugged again, smiled, leaving Llew to take the thought wherever she wanted to.

“My guess is that a captain isn’t meant to … snuggle with a lieutenant, though, huh?” She placed an arm across his shoulders, pulling herself into him.

Jonas opened his mouth, shut it, shuddered.

How could he shudder at the thought of cuddling? Oh. The only captain he’d known had been Aris. She threw her head back and laughed. It had been a long time since she’d done so whole-heartedly and she felt a shift inside, the stresses of recent days falling away. And when she caught her breath and met his somewhat befuddled expression, she saw the man she’d fallen in love with.

“Thank you. That helped.” Llew sighed. “Well, I suppose there’s a whole world of trouble waiting for us. We might as well start with dinner.” She stood, collected the crutches, leaned them against the tree trunk and held out her hands. Jonas grasped them and Llew set her feet and bent her knees to anchor herself in place, giving Jonas sturdy support. Once he was up, she handed him his crutches and steadied him as he arranged them under his armpits.

“Aye, Cap’n.” Jonas flicked a hand in a casual salute, inviting Llew to relax into her role and the weird juxtaposition of being, effectively, at war while still having such ordinary needs as eating and sleeping to manage. She’d never had cause to think on it before, and yet, she realized, it must always be thus. Battle plans and basic needs.

“If I’m Captain, I suppose I set the rules.” Llew smiled, turned so they stood side-by-side and wrapped her hands about his arm again, resting her head on his shoulder. “Lucky for me you’re so snugglable.”

“Hmm. Ain’t been accused of that before.”

“Being snuggly?”

“I like it.”

They made their way back to the homestead together.

Back in the homestead, Karlani wore a loose shirt and trousers pulled tight at the waist with a belt – something dug from Ard’s wardrobe. The fire in the range flickered behind a window in the iron door, and chunks of bacon simmered in a heavy pan. The lid of the other pot tapped along with the rhythm of the water boiling beneath. A higher pitched tink tink may well have been smaller bubbles popping, but Llew could only imagine it as the metal pieces of the critter floating in the heat currents and bouncing off the pot walls.

A kerosene lamp sat in the center of the table, casting everyone in a white-yellow glow.

“Bacon? Eggs?” Rowan asked, gesturing to a basket of eggs on the bench by the stove top.

“You bet.” Llew smiled while holding the door open for Jonas.

Jonas swung through on his crutches and eased onto the nearest bench. Llew sat beside him, bumped his shoulder with hers, and gave him a smile, which he returned.

Karlani cleared her throat, drawing Llew’s attention to where Elka sat beside the Syakaran woman, stretching a hot, poultice-coated bandage around Karlani’s hand.

“You got cut?” Llew asked.

Rowan placed a plate of food each in front of Llew and Jonas. “Just a tiny shallow thing; didn’t draw blood or anything, but Elka thought it best to try a poultice, just in case we can draw out that stuff, if it was on the glass.”

“So I sure hope you’ve got a plan.” Despite the accusing tone she was trying for, Karlani’s anxiety was palpable. “You need me.”

“You know how it’s done.”

Karlani shuddered. “But he’s not cured, is he?” While she continued to sound indignant, her eyes took on a haunted cast. “You’ll have to do that again. And again, and again.” She stared at the half-eaten food on her plate.

So much for the time outside. Llew’s own anxiety fed off Karlani’s.

“She’ll only do it once for you. If at all.” Jonas fixed Karlani with a flat glare. “Now, just eat your food.”

Karlani opened her mouth, but Rowan got in first.

“Not sure if it’ll help much with your edginess, but we should look at these pieces.” Rowan had finished eating and requested Alvaro aid him in straining the boiling water outside. When they returned indoors, Rowan poured the still hot metal segments onto the table.

Llew’s instinct was to withdraw, but she had to learn, just like the rest of them, so she leaned forward to study the parts under the dull light.

“We buried the glass as best we could. It was too fragmented, thin and fragile. I hope that’s enough to contain this thing.” Rowan gently prodded the pieces apart with the end of a wooden spoon, allowing them to cool faster. “From what I could tell, it must have been a perfect sphere, and possibly flawless. I don’t know any glass-blower quite so capable.”

“Braph uses magic. All he needs is a good imagination,” said Jonas.

A couple of the legs were still whole, jointed, and connected to what remained of the body. They blurred the line between the mechanical nature of the devices and the sense that they lived. With the way they’d crawled over her skin, autonomous by all appearances yet clearly controlled by Braph, they’d certainly seemed alive.

Karlani maintained a backwards lean, her arms folded.

Rowan picked up a leg and flicked it with a finger to make it swing on the joint. “Smooth. I’d have no idea how to create something so perfect so small.”

The light glinted off something dark and round, and Llew’s revulsion was overpowered by her need to look closer. Almost of its own accord, her hand reached out and picked up the tiny crystal; such a deep purple it was black except under direct light.

Her mother’s blood had created red crystals. Llew’s own blood had generated deep red, and later purple crystals, when she’d become pregnant.

“His son must be letting him bleed him,” she said. “This must be from Immortal blood.”

“He’s more powerful than ever,” Jonas murmured.