Are You Sure?

“Come.” The girl turned and started walking, not waiting for them to argue.

Looking to Jonas for concurrence, Llew received a shrug. No. Llew didn’t know if they were making the right decision either, but it seemed better than loitering. She invited him to lean on her, and they moved off after the girl, catching up to her slowly.

Once they found their rhythm and it was clear Jonas could support himself with his arm across her shoulders, Llew fought with the tough crust to tear the loaf in half. Finally splitting it, they found a buttery crumb inside, light with air bubbles. The rain did little to spoil it, and after days of making do with what they could forage, it satisfied in a way only baked goods could.

The young woman initially led them down what must have been a main street, with business banners mounted above or beside doors. It must have been a non-trading day as most stores had ‘Closed’ signs hanging in a window by the door. Llew sure was grateful the bakery had been open. The rain seemed to keep most people indoors, or heads bowed. Any glances at the trio were brief as people returned to hiding beneath their hoods. So, a couple of days out of Duffirk and Llew’s likeness hadn’t been disseminated and, hopefully, Jonas was still assumed dead. Again. As much as Jonas couldn’t help looking like Jonas, almost no one would be expecting to see him up and limping. For now, they would take all the luck they could get.

Every couple of steps, Llew thought she heard a squeak that sounded awfully like metal-on-metal; something she’d only heard on the train … and at Braph’s house. She shuddered. Jonas looked at her and she shook her head. The sound was quiet, not like the train, and she wasn’t even sure if she was really hearing it, or if her mind was playing tricks. Braph wasn’t here. Surely, he had no need to hunt them down now. His son had absorbed Aris’s power. He had already beaten Jonas in a fight. They had to be free of Braph.

Llew realized the metallic squeaks were coming from the girl in front of them, and Llew felt nauseas. This young woman, leading them couldn’t possibly be working for Braph, could she?

After watching a little longer, the flash of metal caught her eye. The girl wore some sort of contraption around one of her feet, the one turned a little inward. Llew didn’t know what to think. She’d never known anyone but Braph to wear metal devices, but maybe this young woman simply wore something to aid her walking. Under the long skirt, Llew could see nothing to suggest the device connected to the girl’s bloodstream, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a connection farther up. That would make more sense, anyway. Braph had mentioned good veins in the thigh.

But why would Braph offer such power to a young woman such as this? Why would he offer it to anyone? Llew calmed herself with what limited knowledge she had of Braph. He’d invented his magic system for himself alone, no matter how much he might speak of offering it for the greater good. There was no good in that man.

They turned off the main road and made their way between shuttered apartment buildings. After hobbling several blocks, they approached one door out of three set into a long, two-storied wooden building. A plaque attached to the wall introduced: Flint and Greving. Medical Practitioners*.*

“Grieving?” Llew asked. That didn’t sound inspiring.

“Gr e ving.” The girl emphasized the softer ‘e’.

Llew wasn’t entirely put at ease, but what choice did they have? Pondering choices, and lack thereof, she glanced at Jonas. It hadn’t turned out all that bad, so far, having to rely on him as a protector.

Catching the ornately swirled lever door handle with her elbow, the girl pushed the door open, collapsed the umbrella and slipped it into a waiting stand just inside by a staircase. Immediately adjacent, a corridor led to the rear of the house.

“Up. Last door on the left. It’s s— storage now, but we can clean it up.” The girl gestured up the stairs. “I need to take the bread to the kitchen. I’ll be up with my mother to assess you.” The girl’s smile turned shy, and she bobbed a curtsy, the depth and grace hampered by the limited space as well as her own inflexibility. “We will take care of you. But if my grandfather learns you are here, he would report you immediately.”

“Does he live here?” Llew asked.

The girl let her gaze rest with Jonas a little too long for Llew’s liking before shifting her attention to Llew. She glanced conspiratorially over her shoulder. “You’ll be s— safe up there.” She glanced up the stairs. “My grandfather doesn’t do s— stairs.” She gave them a self-congratulatory smile, somewhat deserved, since Llew was a little surprised this girl ‘did’ the stairs. She’d taken long enough on the few bakery steps.

“What’s your name?” Jonas peered out from between clumps of drenched hair. He and Llew were both making small puddles on the floor.

“Elka.” She dipped her head reverently, spoke softly.

“Thank you, Elka,” Jonas said.

Elka’s eyes lit up and she grinned, like Jonas had proposed marriage to her. Still smiling, she turned and rocked her way down the corridor.

“Can you do stairs?” Llew turned to Jonas.

“Seems I don’t have much of a choice.”

With Llew’s shoulder hooked under Jonas’s arm, they made it slowly, if not silently, up the stairs over a background of muffled voices. One they knew as Elka’s, the others must have been her mother and grandfather, but without the luxury of quick, silent movement, neither could they afford to eavesdrop. Jonas gritted his teeth through his pain, neither of them willing to test Elka’s grandfather’s mobility.

At the top of the stairs, they turned into a corridor wide enough for the two of them to shuffle and stumble side-by-side, past a couple of doors either side, to the end. Jonas turned the loosely attached dulled brass lever-style handle and swung the door open.

Dust swirled into the air, soon lost to sight in the dim room. Llew pushed her way between a pair of cushioned chairs loaded with books, pillows, blankets, and stuffed dolls and animals, to the window, beneath which stood a small table big enough for a seat on each of the four sides, though Llew could only imagine bumping knees if so many people sat there. Perhaps just two. Such a simple thought, and yet the memory of sitting at Braph’s breakfast table inserted itself and she had to fight to calm herself again. There were no chairs at this table, anyway. And it held more books, and some folded blankets. No breakfasts to be had. Definitely not seated across from that monster.

She pushed back the thin curtains. The rain continued outside, the light gray and muted. She turned back to the room. At first glance, the mess overwhelmed. Certainly, Llew was no stickler for cleanliness, but it was clear there had been no intent for this room to be a bedroom any time soon.

After having visited Lord Tovias’s mansion in Rakun, and the presidential palace in Duffirk, the room was small, and yet, it held the table, two chairs, and a tall, narrow bed not unlike the thin-mattressed one Llew had spent many weeks in, recovering from Aris’s attack, pressed up against one wall. The base was about hip-height, and it, too, was piled with a scattering of books and other discarded objects – mostly contraptions that Llew had no name for – she guessed they had medical applications. Or had, at one time.

Jonas supported himself on the back of one of the plush chairs, its low seat loaded with books and papers. Once again, he had his eyes closed, breathing deeply. How much pain was he in? He was also cold and wet, as was Llew. A stack of woolen blankets stood on a table corner. They would have to do.

Llew crossed back to Jonas, cleared the seat, and reached for his shirt buttons. Naked was perhaps not the most proper way to present themselves to their hosts, but there would be no warming in drenched clothing. Jonas straightened to make it easier for Llew to help him, but his attention remained focused inwards.

Revealing his chest, Llew was struck by the new burn marks.

Llew had worked the forge with her father. Neither of them had needed the assistance of a doctor to treat a burn, just a living object, usually a tuft of grass growing where it wasn’t wanted anyway. She hadn’t even thought of what assistance Jonas might need after the fight. Although, what more could she have done?

Her failure as a healer settled deep once more.

At least they were in the right place now. She hoped.

She unbuttoned his trousers and supported him to sit so she could help him work free of them. As he settled himself, she grabbed one of the blankets and spread it across his shoulders. Then it was off with his boots, and socks, which revealed the whiteness of his right foot, as if blood no longer flowed to it.

Llew gripped the cuffs of his trousers and pulled. Jonas raised himself off the chair to help, then sat heavily again. As the waistband cleared his knees, further damage became evident. A red line trailed up the inside of his calf muscle, fading out near the knee.

“What’s that?”

Jonas huffed out a laugh, like she was stupid. “Like I said. I’m a walkin’ dead man.” He looked down, his attention inwards again. “Hobblin’. Can’t even walk properly,” he muttered.

The fever must have been playing with his mind. Sure, his injuries and growing fever had slowed him down, but they’d made it here where they would get help. He was not, despite his claim, dying.

“Don’t you think they can help?”

Jonas shrugged.

“Best to assume they can.” Llew retrieved another blanket and laid it across Jonas’s lap, offering modesty and added warmth, then she shucked her own wet clothes and wrapped a blanket about herself, tucking it so it would stay wrapped beneath her armpits. “Does it hurt? I mean, now, while you’re not standing on it.”

“I need to rest it on somethin’.”

Not far from Jonas stood a haphazard pile of books. Llew slid them beneath his heel, then added to the pile one book at a time until he was comfortable.

Llew stood and glanced around the room again.

“Well, I suppose you’ll be sleeping on that, so …” She wound her way past the other seat to begin clearing the bed.

“Llew,” Jonas grunted.

Llew hesitated, waiting for him to continue. When he didn’t she returned to him and crouched by his chair again. “You alright?”

He didn’t respond for several moments. He looked at her, but not in the eye. He seemed lost. Maybe the fever. Maybe the fact they were utterly vulnerable. When had Jonas, the Great Syakaran of Quaver, ever been so helpless?

Suddenly, his hands clasped her head, pulling her to him and his mouth took hers, twisting and prying to open hers to him. Her initial response to anyone grabbing her like that was to pull back and give them a fist. But this was Jonas, so she relented at first. Her lips relaxed and their teeth collided. It was clumsy, sloppy, desperate. Llew tried to pull back to take a breath, but he clung to her, possessing her. Even without his Syakaran power, he was strong enough. He kissed her hard, his several days’ stubble pricking her. Her lips sizzled hot and cold, pulling ghi from him. He released the kiss and chuckled – a cold release – still holding her forehead to his, then let her go.

She fell back, catching herself on a pile that gave way under her, and she collapsed among the debris, hard corners of boxes and books digging into her, blanket exposing far too much. Trembling, she wiped her arm across her lips.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, his head turned from her.

Anger flooded through Llew. She jumped to her feet and pushed aside the other chair on her way to the bed where she re-tightened the blanket to shield herself, and set about picking things up off the mattress and dumping them on the floor with little care. He was sick. He wasn’t himself. But that didn’t mean she had to put up with such behavior, did it?

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, louder and clearer.

She paused; kept her back to him.

“I was wrong,” he continued.

Llew’s eye twitched from the desire to agree and demand explanation, but there was little to be gained in doing so. Whatever his justification, her anger wasn’t about to dissipate with a few words.

“You should let me go, Llew,” he murmured.

“ Let you go ?” Llew turned, folded her arms, and glared at the side of his head, his face hidden by a curtain of hair. Had that been his intention? To make her so mad she’d abandon him?

“This is bad.” He indicated his right leg. “Worse than I thought. And I ain’t Syakaran no more. Can’t save you from what’s comin’. All I ever was, was what I could do. Can’t do nothin’. Ain’t nothin’.”

If it hadn’t been for that kiss, that assault, she would’ve jumped to his defense. But in that moment, she couldn’t bring herself to do so.

“If not for yourself, or me, live for your son,” she said flippantly.

Tension slid from Jonas’s shoulders.

Llew turned back to her task. She wasn’t about to let him go. Despite that kiss, they were good together. Ever since they’d met, they’d just … fit. Despite Aris. Despite Karlani. Even despite Braph.

The arrhythmic thumps and discordant scrapes of Elka making her way up the stairs sounded over Llew’s peevish efforts to clear the bed. When the other girl arrived at the doorway, Llew brushed her hands down the front of her blanket as if she could wipe her mood away, and they stood there a while, looking at each other, as seemed to be becoming their habit. Llew still didn’t know what to make of this girl. In some ways, it was easy to dismiss her as a non-threat, but there was nothing wrong with her ability to communicate, and that’s all it would take to call in Turhmos’s troops. Elka glanced between Llew and Jonas, a tiny smile lifting one corner of her mouth and creasing her eyes.

“Alright,” Llew began. “Why are you helping us?”

“I thought it was obvious,” said Elka, only slightly taken aback.

Llew shook her head, arms folded. Not obvious at all.

Elka smiled, like Llew was simple. “I grew up utterly adoring you.” She fixed her gaze on Jonas.

Jonas didn’t seem to know what to do with that statement from this Turhmosian girl. And a shot of jealousy fired through Llew. She hadn’t even heard of Jonas until a few months ago, and Elka had ‘loved’ him for years? Some part of her thought She can have him after that … assault , but she didn’t mean it.

Elka looked amused. “Well, the idea of you. You inspired me,” she said. “Don’t get me wrong, I love my life. Me and my ma help people, and we hear all kinds of s— stories from people who live around here, but your adventures took you everywhere, and me with you. I don’t know if I’ll ever get to go anywhere, but through your s— stories I did. And it doesn’t hurt that you look like, well—” She blushed. “—that.”

Alvaro had mentioned books about The Syakaran of Quaver . So, Elka had fallen in love with a character? Llew uncrossed her arms and leaned back, gripping the edge of the bed. She didn’t know how to take Elka. Her admiration for Jonas was plain, and there was little doubt that played a big role in their being here, in relative safety with medical care on the way. Well, whatever worked to get them safely on their way again.

In the meantime, with the reminder of what he had been versus what he now was, Jonas had sunk into himself again, slumped in his chair, his expression dark.

“Those books gave me more dreams than any other,” Elka continued. “Maybe I’ll never adventure all over the place like you. But whenever a fell into a s— slump, your tales always picked me up.” Elka was watching Jonas’s retreat, but she wouldn’t understand why. To her, he only had a sore leg. How would she feel if she learned he was also weak?

Jonas glanced up at her, his expression and voice sardonic. “Glad I could help.”