Relax

Raena supported Jonas as he maneuvered himself onto the bed and lay down before them all. At first, he seemed reluctant to meet an eye in the room, but once his gaze met Llew’s he held it. She placed a hand on his shoulder.

Raena lay a blanket across Jonas’s middle, offering him some warmth and dignity. She took a moment to examine his other injuries, rolling him on his side to see the one high at the back of his thigh. Her lips pressed tight, but then she said, “These look clean, at least. We should be able to prevent further infection.” She let him roll to his back. “But this …” Raena pressed her fingers into various points on Jonas’s leg, beginning with his upper calf and pausing above his knee, once again watching him closely for reaction, then bent over him, hovering her ear over the area she was pressing, her expression grim. And when she nodded to herself, there was no satisfaction in it.

Raena’s words hung in Llew’s mind: a complication even beyond Aenuks . Did that include Braph’s bug?

Jonas pressed his lips together and rolled his shining eyes to the ceiling. All Llew could do was squeeze his shoulder. His opposite hand came up to rest over hers, but he didn’t look at her now.

Elka dug through Raena’s bag, bringing out a small brown bottle, grasped awkwardly in her twisted hand. Llew went to reach for it as Elka appeared to fumble, the bottle toppling against the edge of the bed beneath the mattress, ringing out as glass and metal met before Elka steadied the bottle again, giving Llew a look that suggested she resented Llew’s assumptions about her ability to handle the bottle. Duly chastised, Llew tucked her hands behind her.

Jonas’s breathing and blinking rates increased, and he didn’t seem to know where to look.

“Relax,” said Raena.

“You won’t have a choice soon,” Elka quipped as she shuffled alongside the bed, approaching Jonas’s head, bottle and rubber hose brandished.

Llew picked up Jonas’s hand, clasping it in both of hers.

A few weeks ago he’d been the most physically gifted man alive, apart from, perhaps, the Immortal Aris. When she’d met him, Jonas had oozed confidence. And why wouldn’t he? A man whose advantages were many and responsibilities few. And here he was, already stripped of his Syakaran powers, now left to choose between his leg or his life – no choice, in other words.

When had he ever been more vulnerable than in this moment? Even as a new-born babe he’d been under the protection of two Syakaran parents. Now? Now, he just had Llew. And her Syaenuk power felt wholly inadequate if things went wrong here.

Jonas’s eyes stopped darting about to lock with Llew’s again, as Elka opened the bottle, fed a rubber tube into the top. That look was filled with so much fear. All Llew could do was breathe deeply and give him some assurance in a smile. Their lives were now in the hands of these two Turhmosian women. Llew had to have faith in them, if for no other reason than to give Jonas peace of mind as he was sedated.

Raena pulled a belt from her bag, fed it under Jonas’s thigh, strapped it tight and turned back to dig through her bag again.

Elka offered the free end of the tube for Jonas to take into his mouth.

“Breathe deep.”

Jonas accepted the hose between his lips, nodding his thanks to Elka before looking back up to Llew. His chest began rising and lowering more slowly and his eyelids grew heavy, but he refused to look away from Llew. She returned the steady gaze, having no idea how else she could support him on this journey.

A metallic scraping drew Llew’s attention. Raena had extracted a saw from her bag and lay it on the edge of the bed. What was about to happen became very real.

Thankfully, Jonas’s eyes were already closed.

“You don’t have to s— stay,” Elka said. “There’s a room you could wait in across the hall. It won’t take long.”

“Plff. Dmph. Mngrr.” Jonas’s eyes opened long enough to make his plea.

“I’ll stay.”

As soon as Jonas’s eyes closed again, Llew looked back at the saw with its deeply serrated blade. Raena splashed liquid from a glass bottle over her hands and rubbed it in, then picked up a fine blade and waited. Llew felt sick.

“You don’t have to watch,” Elka said. She lifted one of Jonas’s eyelids, then nodded to her mother. “He’s out.”

With surprising dexterity, Elka held a cloth to the mouth of the same bottle the rubber tube was inserted into and tipped, soaking the cloth. She shaped the cloth into a loose cone and placed it over Jonas’s nose and mouth, extracting the rubber hose. While unused, her hands were normally either locked straight or curled, but put to use, her thumb and first two fingers proved no less capable than Llew’s own. Elka spared a sympathetic smile for the unconscious Jonas before turning to watch her mother’s progress.

In the time it had taken Elka to swap the hose for the cloth, Raena had already cut deep scalloped curves through the top and underside of Jonas’s thigh and wielded the saw. Llew turned her head and closed her eyes and wished she could do the same with her ears, but she kept a hold on Jonas’s hand. It took only a few seconds for the bone to be sliced through, but Llew still couldn’t watch whatever Raena was doing. A mere few minutes later, a crinkly sound had her daring to look as Raena wrapped a thin sheet of metal over Jonas’s new stump.

“To prevent infection,” Elka murmured. “Carbolic acid and tin. Seems to keep the bacteria at bay.”

“Bacteria?”

“Germs. Bugs.”

Braph had mentioned bugs on the train to Duffirk when he’d admitted involvement in Jonas’s loss of powers, but he’d used a different word.

“Micro—?”

“Microorganisms? Yes.” Elka smiled the smile a pleasantly surprised parent might give their clever child.

“Does it just kill the bugs in his leg? Or can it fight them in the rest of his body?”

“This is topical.” Raena pulled a soft bandage roll from her bag and freed an end. “It only acts to prevent infection establishing at the wound site.”

Llew projected a look of curiosity satisfied, not the full disappointment washing through her.

“We will address his fever while he rests. Hopefully I’ve removed the primary cause,” Raena said. Llew hoped so, too.

Llew allowed herself to be mesmerized by Raena’s quick hands as they wound a bandage over and around Jonas’s new stump. “So fast,” she murmured. Not just those hands, either. The whole procedure seemed to have barely taken a minute.

Raena smiled. “I mentioned working the railways earlier.”

Llew nodded.

“They brought out a select few Aenuks to work the lines,” Raena spoke while she wound the final layers around Jonas’s thigh. “But healing those bigger wounds damaged the environment too much. They can’t risk killing farmland so close to the towns.” She sighed as she reached for tape and tore off a section without releasing the end of the bandage. “I can’t help but feel there should be a better way. It wasn’t always like this.”

Of course there was a better way: grow Ajnai trees, free the Aenuks. Llew wondered if that was what Raena referred to with her last comment. If so, it seemed they had found allies as supportive as Merrid and Ard. Another beacon. The thought was more than a little reassuring when she glanced again at Jonas’s bandaged thigh. They weren’t exactly in a position to fight or run any time soon. Still, Llew would feel better with some sort of plan in place. They were still too close to Duffirk as far as she was concerned. “Where’s Keldely from here?”

Raena stepped back and nodded once to her daughter who lifted the cloth cone from Jonas’s face, and said, “Northeast, thereabouts. No train between here and there. A day or two, depending if you walk or ride.” She nodded down at Jonas’s thigh. “Though he won’t be doing either of those soon.”

Jonas stirred, ending further conversation. Llew hadn’t noticed the tension in Raena and Elka, but its release was palpable. Whatever Elka had used had acted swiftly and ceased its effect just as quick. Jonas blinked, looking from Llew to Elka, and realization slowly dawned. After a few more blinks, he sighed.

“It’s done, ain’t it?” His eyes flickered through a range of minute expressions; confusion and something dour – Sadness? Anger? – dominant.

“Yes. All done.” Raena’s smile wasn’t that of pride in a job well done. Everyone in the room knew what full physical prowess was to a Syakaran. It was who and what Jonas was.

Jonas nodded at the ceiling. Then he blanched.

“Bucket,” said Elka. Raena passed one across to her. “This way.” With a gentle hand, Elka guided Jonas over the bucket as his body convulsed. He retched once and then heaved. “Many patients react to the ether this way,” Elka spoke across Jonas, as if she and Llew were enjoying a conversation over cups of tea. “He’ll feel s— sick for a day or two, but it’s nothing to be cons— concerned about.”

Raena slid the detached leg from the bed, wrapping it up in a sheet and placing it beside her bag, before continuing to place her used surgical instruments away.

Having had little food or water over the previous days, Jonas was soon dry retching until his body seemed too tired to try anymore. He rolled back, his eyes gaunt and streaming, his skin pale and moist, and his hands trembling, his breath shallow and fast.

Finishing up gathering her surgical utensils and that great, bloody saw, Raena pulled out a tiny bottle and coaxed Jonas to open his mouth enough for her to administer a dose of clear liquid. She handed the bottle to Llew. “Just when he needs it.”

Llew clapped her fingers around the bottle. Not long ago, she had needed its magic. Now it was Jonas’s turn.

Raena shook out a woolen blanket, and Llew and Elka helped pull it up around Jonas’s chin as footsteps sounded on the stairs. Llew looked sharply from one woman to the other. Elka had said her grandfather didn’t ‘do’ stairs.

“Mama?” A female voice reverberated through the door.

“Leela,” Elka whispered.

“Elka’s sister,” Raena clarified, collecting her bag and the bundle that contained Jonas’s leg from the floor. “Elka and I must go,” Raena continued. “I’m afraid Leela never understood our admiration for Jonas, and certainly didn’t approve of my encouraging Elka.” She turned to go. Turned back. “Elka.”

“Yes, Mama.” The young woman lingered a moment before reluctantly sidling out from behind the bed and drawing herself away.

Raena paused at the door. “He should sleep now.” She spoke quickly and quietly. “Rest while you can. In fact, we will see to a bath for you soon.” Raena and her daughter slipped through the door.

“What were you doing in there?” Leela asked.

“Just looking for something,” Raena said, as the door closed behind them. The footsteps retreated, heading back down the stairs, Elka’s slow efforts continuing several prolonged paces after the other two had disembarked at the bottom.

Llew turned back to Jonas. He lay, eyes expressionless in an impassive face. Either he was in so much pain he daren’t move, or too exhausted to show it. Or he was simply off wherever the opiate took him.

In the absence of comforting words, she asked if he was warm enough. The fraction of a nod he gave nearly had him retching, and Llew dived for the bucket. He waved her back, his hand falling heavily back by his side and his breath already slowing.

Llew let her eyes linger on the blanket covering him. The rounded end of the stump alongside his full-length leg a difficult contrast to fathom, let alone accept. Maybe it was best not to think about it too much.

Jonas soon slept.

Llew allowed herself to doze in one of the cushioned chairs, though she dared not let herself sleep; every bump or voice raised within the house pulled her alert. She had to remind herself they were as safe as they could hope to be in the heart of Turhmos, and even with Jonas incapacitated, she could fight for them. She hoped she wouldn’t have to.

***

Leather-encased fingers exhibited more grip than bare metal. Glove fitted, the next stage for Braph was learning to mitigate his natural grasp. Thrice now he had broken eggshells, sending albumen oozing across the leather and yolk dolloping onto the bench-top. It was an improvement – without the glove he’d failed to pick up the egg at all – but far from perfection, and with no haptic feedback he was relying entirely on visual assessment.

Braph curved the fingers around the fourth egg, magic coursing from the crystal into the device clamped to his stump, through his veins, to his heart, through arteries and back down his arm, back into the cuff and farther to the tiny pistons and pulleys that pulled the fingers closed. By now, his brain thought of the metal hand as his own. He didn’t need to move the left to get the right hand to mimic. It was just a matter of refining these movements so he didn’t spend his life crushing things he didn’t wish to. The fingertips of the glove depressed as they made contact with the egg. Too light a touch would see the egg fall from his grasp. Too tight a grip and he would crack yet another egg. He brought the fingers round a smidgen more, then raised his arm. The egg came up in his leather and metal grasp. He released the pent-up tension. He’d done it. Such a silly little thing, but it was a success, and now he could build on it.

His cheeks ached, so unfamiliar an expression was a broad grin on his features. And no one to share it with. Orinia was resting after a long and difficult labor and birth. At least she had willingly handed over the boy. She had little interest in bonding with the child of Turhmos. There was no way to tell this early if the child was merely Aenuk, or carried the extra Sy abilities, but that no longer mattered to Braph. What interest did he need to maintain in the Syaenuk line when he had an Immortal son willing to share his blood with his father?

Several more eggs were sacrificed before Braph developed confidence in the new hand’s grip.

He pushed his tall, caster-wheeled chair back from his bench and swiveled, pulling himself farther along for a closer look at his glass cabinet filled with vials of what would appear to the untrained eye as goop. To date, he had simply referred to it as a micro-organism. One of hundreds, thousands, maybe millions, that existed, but it was the only one, that he knew of, that had been manipulated so thoroughly by a person. One might call it domesticated. And domestic pets had names. It was time to bring it out into the world. It was time to name it. Should he share the glory with his brother and include their family name? His brother was the first full test subject, after all.

Braph wondered at Jonas’s progress. He didn’t know the full extent of the micro-organism’s effects. He’d tested it on a few cells he’d isolated from himself. All had eventually perished, but there were too many variables to draw any conclusions from such a result. He’d tested it on himself, of course, but he’d let it progress no further than to confirm that he felt weaker a day after inoculation. Jonas had weakened so far as to lose everything that made him Syakaran, even Karan, in a matter of days. While Braph had ascertained that the bug had no effect on mundane humans, he didn’t know if a powerless Karan counted as mundane. Orinia had been unable to heal him with a touch from the minimal loss he’d suffered. He’d still needed to inject her blood to direct its power himself. He surmised that even in the absence of his Karan power, the Aenuk-Karan barrier persisted.

Glancing at the nearly black crystal in his cuff to check its luster – no longer high-gloss, perhaps half used – he pursed his lips as he considered another direction in which to stretch his power. Well, one never knew unless one tried, did they?

Knowing his brother so well, it took little effort to conjure an image in his head. Closing his eyes and focusing on his breathing, he entered a meditative state, then stretched his mind out. He didn’t know in exactly which direction to go, but he surmised he could easily dismiss east, and likely south. He was almost certain they would head for the Ajnai tree in Taither, but he couldn’t dismiss Llewella’s pull to her friend in Brurun. North and west was a vast area to cover, and he did not know how much such a task would tax his power reserve, but Braph had never been one to quit before even trying. Besides, Orin found the extra rations allowed after he provided crystals reward aplenty, especially when offered a sweet treat, and Braph’s staff liked little more than spoiling the boy.

Braph didn’t know what he was doing, but then, he had done plenty with his magic with little understanding of the mechanics behind it; a strange way for a natural engineer to work, perhaps, but so be it. He knew nothing of healing, yet he healed easily. He knew nothing of propulsion without the use of spinning blades to generate lift, and yet he had flown. An expensive exercise, but both time saving and exhilarating. Now, he stretched his awareness over miles, seeking his brother. It did not feel unlike when he had flown, minus the wind resistance.

His search ended in blackness. The abruptness almost sent him scuttling back to his local reality, but his breath hitched on his first assumption that Jonas was dead. He had to know for sure. He lingered, finding a calm in the dark, which was not so absolute once he acclimatized. Dizziness washed through him. He held firm, both in his head and with a hand on the edge of his bench. Should he reach some finality, he wanted an anchor to draw himself back.

He probed. Again, not fully knowing what he was doing, he jumped and twisted, throwing his consciousness around like a bouncy ball inside Jonas’s head. After several minutes, light temporarily blinded him. He mentally blinked, and the image flickered before him. Peering into the light, he could only see hazy blobs, no detail. Something slid across his vision, blocking out all else. He blinked again, seeking clarity.

He had access to more than vision, though. He lay on something soft; a bed, he presumed. On his back, looking up at a white pressed tin ceiling, as was becoming popular in many places across Turhmos. A house of some quality, then. There wasn’t much noise. Breathing. His own, and, yes, a light snoring from across the room. He turned his head to find Llewella seated in a chair, her head hooked back over the top of it, eyes closed, mouth open.

Pain lanced through his knee. A throbbing pain, deep in the bone. He lifted his right leg, thinking that applying pressure might dull the pain enough to allow him to keep gathering information, but when the leg came up, there was something wrong. Where the knee should have been, there was … nothing.

The horror sent Braph scuttling back, returning to his own body still sitting before the vials of goop, his heart hammering. He reached out instinctively for his right knee with his right hand. Only, his right hand wasn’t his, not really – oh, it belonged to him, but it wasn’t him – and while his knee sensed the hand land on it, the hand gave no real feedback, not enough to confirm the knee’s existence, and he already knew his brain could fool him into believing the knee could feel even when it wasn’t there. He’d experienced pain in his missing forearm several times over the past few months.

He reached across with his left hand to confirm the permanence of his right knee. Only then did Braph breathe a sigh of relief. He was as whole as he had been before his experiment. His brother, though …

For a fleeting moment, Braph was deeply concerned at Jonas’s predicament. The Great Syakaran of Quaver missing a limb? A leg, at that. No more racing to the rescue for Jonas. No, indeed. Without Braph’s gift for engineering, Jonas would be relegated to clumsy crutches, maybe a wheeled chair – though, those were rare and who would bother with Jonas now he was so useless?

Jonas lived.

Braph sat for a moment with that, trying to resolve the unusual sensation in his chest. He supposed it wasn’t contrary to reason to feel some pleasure at the continued existence of his brother. Family, after all. And, of course, Braph had always been drawn to the idea of being the one to kill Jonas himself. Preferably in a fair fight, which clearly was off the table now. That was a disappointment.

Jonas lived, was weak, and had received medical treatment. That he had received that treatment within Turhmos wasn’t entirely surprising, but where was he?

Curious as he was, on balance, Braph was in more of a hurry to reach the Taither Ajnai than he was to chit chat with his brother. Jonas could wait, clearly. He wasn’t going anywhere in a hurry.

Braph had garnered no further information regarding any effect of his micro-organism beyond what he’d already observed. It shouldn’t matter. The micro-organism removed Karan powers. To what extent neither negated nor enhanced its potential. And it didn’t break the Karan-Aenuk barrier. Perfect.

Dead Kara. Weakened Kara. Either would decimate the Quaven military. Peace would be assured.

Braph reached out a finger and touched one of his curled up mechanical critters with an empty glass globe on its back. He sent a jolt of power through his finger and the critter unfolded eight legs beneath it and a thin post above that held two pairs of blades that folded out on horizontal planes, slighting offset. The blades spun, clockwise and anti-clockwise, lifting the spider-like device into the air. For years, he’d used similar automatons in the collection of Aenuk blood. Orin had learned to tolerate them of late, happy to aid his father. It helped that Braph allowed the boy to keep one of the non-flying critters as a toy. This new version had a new purpose.

The critter hovered in the air, sensing its surroundings. Rotating to face Braph, it paused. Then it came at him. Braph swatted it off course, then mentally built a shield to hide his Karanness from the machine. Once righted, it hovered a moment more, then moved off slowly, tasting the air.

Braph summoned it back with a gesture and zapped it once more to return it to sleep. It curled up like a dead spider, innocuous. The fingernail-sized black crystal atop its head reflected in full luster, plenty of power still contained within.

Flexing his metal fingers in the leather glove, Braph concluded it was time to agree to the appointment with the Turhmos president.