Keepers of the Flame (4 page)

Elizabeth
stared at Bri, hands fisting. Bri sensed her yearning to help. But Elizabeth
would have to admit to having a gift. Which she’d denied since they were teens.
Would she help?

Elizabeth
stretched out her hand. “Twin?”

Bri
rocked to her hands and knees, levered herself to her feet. Swaying, she
reluctantly lifted one foot, then the other, stamping them down to ground
herself, connecting again with—
not
Mother Earth. She ignored a heart
twinge, took a step, saw Alexa sidling toward the bags of potatoes and had a
flash of insight.

“Those
potatoes are ours! So’s the food chest.” She glanced around. Who could they
trust to guard their “treasure”? As she focused on people, she heard tunes
coming from them. Most were fascinated, many were grateful, only one had an
essential defining characteristic of pure honesty. She nodded to the guy
dressed all in white leathers. “Will you keep our belongings for us?” she asked
in careful French, gesturing to their pile of stuff, including Elizabeth’s
healthy back bag and Bri’s solar-paneled backpack containing her cell, her PDA,
her music player. All those would help in discovering whether the others spoke
the truth and she and Elizabeth were in a different place.

The
man nodded and came to stand near their things, careful not to touch them. His
nostrils flared, he closed his eyes and shuddered, but his face remained
impassive.

Narrowing
her eyes, Alexa shot Bri a speculative look. “You heard enough of his Song to
choose him to watch your stuff.”

That
deduction jolted Bri, emphasized the strange things that were happening.

“Bri,”
Elizabeth called from near the big door.

Bri
turned and scanned the round room. She and Elizabeth might have to return here,
recreate the setting. So she stopped to soak in details before her mind focused
on other, more critical matters.

The
gong was gigantic and polished silver about nine feet in diameter. The altar
had lamps made of precious gemstones containing flickering candles. A small
mallet lay by the lamps. Since they were in the colors associated with the
seven chakras, Bri figured they served as light and the chimes. Her stomach
quivered as she recalled their effect on her.

The
room was a huge cylinder of white stone, with sections partitioned off by tall,
fancily carved wooden screens like she’d seen in India. The large rectangular
pool she’d skirted smelled of herbal water—acacia, lavender, something
resinous—Balm of Gilead?

Built-in
stone benches circled the room, their hard lines broken with colorful pillows
in all sizes.

People
had gathered in clumps, usually those dressed alike, and were studying them.
The way Alexa, a small woman, strode through the chamber let Bri know that she
expected most people to get out of her way, and they did. An attorney from
Denver, huh? Well, she’d certainly made a name for herself here. The thin scar
on her cheek, the toughness of her body and the weapons that she wore made
Bri’s bad feeling return.

One
more step and she reached Elizabeth and the man, who was a lot taller than Bri
expected, with big shoulders and a body that looked as if he did hard labor
every day—but not with the air of a soldier that Alexa had.

“So,”
Alexa said with a measuring look. “Your name is Bry? Brianna?”

It was
Brigid. Bri shared a glance with Elizabeth. How much to say? Were names power
here? Should they hide their names? When neither of them answered Marian
sighed.

The
man handed the child to another guy dressed in pants and shirt. He put his
fingers near his heart and bowed deeply. “Sevair Masif,” he said. Looking
straight in Elizabeth’s, then Bri’s eyes, he spoke and Bri got the gist of
heartfelt thanks since his words were halting and full of rich tones.

Marian
translated, “Thank you. We have lost several from this dread disease, but not
one so young. He is an only child of a widow and his mother treasures him.
Thank you.”

Bri
inclined her head. Elizabeth pressed her lips together. In regret that she
hadn’t helped cure the boy? In denial that she
could
have helped
with…magic?

Marian’s
mouth curved in a smile that Bri distrusted. The Sorceress held out a little
bottle. “One drop of this would banish that language barrier for an hour,
though you both seem to know French.”

“A
little,” Elizabeth said.

“Some,”
Bri said.

“No,”
they said together as they stared at the bottle.

Marian’s
smile faded. She tilted her head in the direction of the door. “Additional
patients await you outside. It will be more efficient if you can speak well to
direct us.”

Alexa
said, “We all work in healing circles, but we haven’t been able to effect any
cures. More cases surface every day, more deaths every week.”

Do
we dare leave here?
Elizabeth asked.

Bri
licked her lips.
They sound as if they need us
.

“Why
does everyone have to be bribed to take the potions?” Marian said.

The
blond woman who was dressed all in leathers, Calli, smiled at this. “Oh, just
because we’re not stupid.” She glanced at the twins. “It
does
work.”

Cocking
her head, Bri said, “What’s the bribe?”

“I
answer
every
question you have for two hours,” Marian said promptly.

“If
this is really a different place, you promise to send us home,” Bri countered.

“Can’t
be done,” Marian said, with a finality that left no argument. She gestured to
the groups of people drifting toward them. “It took all of us to Summon you
here. Returning you is an even greater feat.”

The
big door was flung open and a hysterical woman shot in. She saw the boy and
shrieked, grabbed him. Bri and Elizabeth moved instinctively, then checked as
the woman began kissing his face all over, hugging him tight, tears pouring
from her eyes.

Moaning
came from outside.
Twin?
asked Elizabeth.

Bri
squared her shoulders, tried a hard expression as she looked at Marian. “You
three know English and this mangled French. You can translate.”

“Three
days,” Marian said. She drew herself up. “I’ll be at your disposal for three
days.”

“Take
her up on it,” Alexa advised.

Bri’s
hand met Elizabeth’s and they linked fingers as if they were little girls again.
Bri felt wonder, the willingness to heal…. “We don’t anticipate being here
three days,” Bri said. “Someone will find us in the elevator.”

“Elevator?”
Alexa sounded fascinated. “You came here by
elevator?
”

They
left the room for a covered outdoor portico. Before them was a huge courtyard
surrounded by dark shapes of buildings like a medieval Castle in excellent
condition.

The
air!
Elizabeth said.

Much
more humid than Denver.

No
traffic sounds.

The
smells are different, too.
Rain, wet stone, even the people smelled subtly
different than any other culture Bri’d visited.

Sevair
Masif turned right, toward the sound of moaning. A tide of pain swept to Bri
from Elizabeth, who’d gotten hit first. Her twin doubled over. Bri bent down
and hugged her,
reached
again for the energy flow, felt it rush as if a
faucet had been turned on above her. The current washed away the echoes of
pain, let her put a thin bubble of protection between her and their patients’
hurting. She helped Elizabeth erect mental shields.

Sevair
had stopped and turned to observe them.

Bri
became aware of reverberating sound—this time thready melodies that pulled at
her heart with a yearning to mend. She was still considering the strange notion
that she could
hear
tunes coming from people when Elizabeth
straightened, squeezed her hand, then crossed the stone courtyard with a steady
step. Her sister headed to a covered walk along what looked like a Castle
keep—cloisters, with lacy stone half-walls and open “windows.”

Elizabeth
looked down the walk, her emotions amplified and easily felt by Bri. Pity.
Hope. Most of all, the desire to help, to heal. She looked at Bri.

“Are
you with me?”

They
exchanged a glance. Bri could almost see the reflection of herself in
Elizabeth’s eyes, knew Elizabeth thought of her as a new-age rebel exploring
fringe healing. Did Elizabeth sense how Bri saw her—a buttoned-down doctor?

Someone
cried out. Elizabeth flinched. “You saved a life.”
And I stood aside
,
she added mentally, blinking hard.

Don’t
beat yourself up. I took a familiar risk
.

Elizabeth
sighed.
I’m willing to risk it with you.
“Can we heal fifteen?”

“We
won’t know until we try. We’ll give it our best shot.”

Elizabeth
nodded. Bri hurried over, all too aware of
otherness
surrounding her.
She joined Elizabeth and saw cots set up all along the walkway.

Elizabeth
sent red-headed Marian a cool glance. “Take us to the worst cases, first.”
Marian spoke to a man and a woman who wore red tunics with white crosses on
them, and they went to the far end of the corridor. Elizabeth and Bri followed.

Glancing
down as she followed her very impressive twin, Bri saw that the people were
definitely different from those who’d been in the round building. Their clothes
were shabbier, seemed more lower and middle class. She clenched her jaw; she
wanted to help. Elizabeth had positioned herself on one side of a pallet. Bri
took the opposite side. Elizabeth had also set her teeth.

Relax
, she sent to
Elizabeth, opening her own mouth to ease her jaw muscles.

I
am relaxed.

Check
your jaw and shoulders.

Elizabeth
stiffened, then moved a little, loosening her shoulders and her stance. She
took a slow breath in and relaxed her muscles as she exhaled. When she looked
at Bri, her eyes gleamed from a pale face. All this strangeness was getting to them
both, but the restless shifting and the sheer
hurt
of the sick people
around them demanded their attention.

Other
people had followed, most standing in the courtyard outside the cloister
windows. The three Caucasian women—Alexa, Marian, and Calli—remained near.

Bri
stepped up to their first patient, an elderly woman. The woman had a slow, thin
tune with little embellishments. Bri put her left hand on her head.

Yes,
said Elizabeth,
you take her head. I don’t trust myself to send the proper amount of energy
to her head.
A shiver rippled through her.

It
was cooler here, especially in the stone cloister walk, than in Denver. Or
maybe it was just later in the night.

Elizabeth
spread the fingers of her right hand over the woman’s heart, Bri extended her
own right-hand fingers, with one finger touching Elizabeth’s over the woman’s
abdomen, felt loose flesh, the laboring of lungs. Milky eyes stared up at her.
Bri swallowed hard. The woman was as tall as the rest of these people.
Elizabeth set her other hand, spread to touch Bri’s, over the woman’s crotch.

Bri
and Elizabeth matched gazes, breaths.

“Ready?”
asked Bri.

Elizabeth
nodded.
You handle it.

Fear
puddled in Bri’s stomach, but she shut it away, hoping her sister couldn’t
sense it. She opened herself to the energy. She
pulled
, gently, gently.
It rushed through her like a river. She felt the briskness of the night, an
effervescence that twinkled like stars in the sky outside the walk. She swayed.

A
woman clasped her shoulders, helped ground and steady her, though she didn’t
seem able to grip or work the healingstream. Marian.

Incredible,
echoed in Bri’s
mind from the sorceress, went to Elizabeth.
I’ve never sensed Power like
this.

Elizabeth,
mind sharper than Bri’s, monitored their patient, cut the healingstream when
they were done. Bri wriggled her shoulders and Marian stepped back.

“She’s
still very dehydrated and undernourished,” Elizabeth said, looking to Sevair
Masif who stood near, and Marian translated. “You’ll ensure that she gets
additional treatment?”

“Of
course,” said a female dressed in a red robe with a white cross. A medical
person.

“Good,”
Bri said. The one word was harder to form than she expected.

“Next?”
Elizabeth said in a too-brusque voice as if squelching fear. The healingstream
was new to her. Elizabeth might have used a surge of healing energy from
herself, or touched on the stream, but had never opened herself to it.

Bri
had been the one kicking around the world, finding herself in villages or
refugee camps with people who needed help while she only had her hands and the
healingstream to depend upon. Many times that had not been enough. Then she
grasped a wispy thought of Elizabeth’s. She was thinking how she’d shut herself
and her talent off and had depended only on her medical training, not her gift,
except in rare instances. Many times all her knowledge and training had not
been enough.