Magician's Touch (Deadly Touch book 3) Chapter 2: 2: Like Heroes

Read chapter 2 of Magician's Touch (Deadly Touch book 3) by Deb E Howell on NovelPedia.

They left the riverside and pushed on through the day and well into the night, under no illusion that stopping for anything more than a nibble was a sensible idea. Anxiety gnawed at Llew. She’d already been worried about his growing weakness, with no idea of when it would end. A ‘bug’ invented by Braph – of course – shot into Jonas on the tip of an arrow had already stripped Jonas of his Syakaran strength and speed. Braph had explained to her that it attacked the very source of Karan power. Llew barely understood her own Aenuk power, she certainly lacked any understanding about what had made Jonas the fastest and strongest man she’d ever known, but she couldn’t help the feeling that what made him Syakaran was integral to what made him him . And just where would this bug stop? He was merely ‘normal’ now. Had it run its course? She hoped so. And yet, if it had, did that mean she was too late to restore his powers? She couldn’t be. Too many people relied on Jonas being Syakaran. Llew’s ma, for one. Jonas’s son, also in Braph’s custody, was another. And all the Aenuks still held captive by Turhmos would need a Syakaran hero to show up and release them from their prisons. Now he had this sickly foot as well. Another side-effect of Braph’s bug? Or something from the fight? She didn’t know. But it seemed highly unfair for the world to be trying to kill Jonas in two different ways at the same time. She’d lost her ma as a child, and her pa had disappeared just when she needed him most. Since then, she’d never found anyone worthy of her trust and, yes, love. Yes, she needed his strength and speed. But even more, she needed him. Exhausted, hungry, and weak, they hobbled through the night and into the next day as fast and as invisibly as Jonas’s weakened leg allowed and always under the cover of forest while it lasted. But whatever head start the confusion over the fight between Braph and Aris had given them had passed. They were too slow, and someone must have realized they were both gone. Initially providing a source of drinking water, a little food, and the semblance of normality only bathing could bring, now the river gave them cover. Over its constant hiss they caught the clippings of shouted commands, acknowledgments, and dogs barking. Llew was painfully aware of the time she’d spent in the Turhmosian Aenuk dungeon, sleeping in their sheets, giving the hounds a taste of her scent. To make matters worse, spring was late in coming to Turhmos, or, rather, it was behaving exactly as spring did: like a hangover from winter. Llew supposed that was a small blessing. The cold drizzle that settled into their bones gave them no reason to sweat and dampened any odor they may have released to the hounds. Mostly, it seemed, the troops and dogs kept to the roads. But, occasionally, a group broke away, crashing through the undergrowth, and Llew learned that while she had little talent for tree-climbing, she did a not too shabby job with Jonas guiding her from below and, with a firm grip on her perch, she could even help haul him up after. He kept the pain and discomfort his foot was causing him to grimaces and clenched teeth, never once putting them at risk by crying out, even when Llew scraped an elbow on the bark and bruised her shin while clasping his hand. She healed off trees, too, but flesh was thinner than bark, the transfer quicker. Unless the tree was an Ajnai. None of those this close to Duffirk, though. *** Braph leaned over his workbench, flicking the tip of this new right index finger with that of his left. The metal pivoted on its joint easily. Too easily, as it folded nearly ninety degrees both forward and back. But that would change as his work continued. The three segments of the finger were attached to a longer metal tube that extended to a partial cuff. Beginnings. That’s all he had. One finger, five metacarpals, and an inelegant germination of a wrist of sorts. Yes, it was a start. And, really, what better way for a father to c