The Healing Wars: Book III: Darkfall (30 page)

So beautiful.

Soldiers collapsed one by one, entire rows falling in unison. Soft gasps grew into cries and then screams farther down as soldiers started running.

Whoomp, whoomp-whoomp! Whoomp…

They couldn’t run fast enough. The pynvium fireflies chased them down, exploded around them. They bit with our teeth, stung with our blood.

A chorus of childlike screams rose above the others.

WHOOMP!

Blue-white light lit the sky. A darker glow pulsed blue, then faded, pulsed again a little brighter, then dimmed and pulsed once more, over and over, brighter and brighter.

Blue glyphs.

Panic hit me a breath before the life-draining pulse did.

The Duke’s weapon. It was here!

S
aea save us.

Cries of shock and fear behind me—the League guards.

I heard the noise again in my mind. The grinding of rock on rock, the sound that had twisted inside the huge disk of glyphed pynvium and silvery kragstun—and in me. The Duke must have gotten the weapon working again. Must have found someone besides me who could trigger it without dying.

I shivered, picturing the boats sent in to trigger the sinkers.

Maybe he didn’t care if they died.

I had to stop it. The pulse would expand every time, stealing life from everything it touched. Brick and wood would withstand it for a while and protect those inside, but soon even stone would start to crack and crumble, same as the Duke’s palace.

I grabbed Danello’s hand and
drew.
He opened his eyes, groaning. “What happened? I feel weird.”

“The Duke’s weapon is here.”

“Oh Saints, no!”

“My flash triggered it, like in Baseer.”

He winced. “Can you stop it?”

“I don’t know.”

He rose, and another pulse hit us, draining the life from us. The League guards ran. How soon until the pulse reached the League’s walls? How soon until it covered all of Geveg? Maybe that had been the Duke’s plan all along. Control the League and trigger the weapon to drain the city.

“What if we shoved it into the bay?’ Danello said. “Would the water stop it?”

“I don’t know. It’s too big for us to move on our own, though.”

“Aylin’s still down there, maybe she can help.”

Last time I couldn’t stop it—I’d only made it worse. Flashed enough pain to shatter the Duke’s palace and several blocks around it. I wasn’t sure there was anything I
could
do.

Except find Aylin. Get her away from it. Get as many people to the edges of the city as possible.

Danello’s hand tightened on mine. “We’ll find her together.”

We started running. I tripped at the edge of the pynvium sand, right before the bodies. Danello lurched for my arm, but I crashed onto the street, grinding pynvium sand into my palms.

“Nya? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Something heavy rolled past me. Glints of silvery blue sparkled in the faint moonlight as it spun.

The cylinder.

“Wait.”

Silvery blue. Just like the metal on the weapon.

I pictured it, sitting there in the Duke’s palace, a misshapen disk of pynvium and kragstun, that same silvery blue metal. It had a spire in the center of the disk, with a hole right in the middle of the spire.

I looked at the cylinder. A hole
that
size and shape.

Vinnot’s voice drifted into my mind…

We had someone working on a control device, but then I heard about the Shifter’s flashing ability and her amazing immunity.

Zertanik. He
had
to have been the one working on a control device. Was this it?

Onderaan had said the glyphs were odd, forcing a flash, not just enhancing one. The size and shape couldn’t be a coincidence. The cylinder had to control it, and if it could control it, maybe it could stop it.

I grabbed the cylinder, my hand itching where it touched me. My stomach flipped as fast as my racing heart.

“Find Aylin and get her out of here.”

“Nya, what are you going to do?”

“See if this fits the weapon.”

We ran toward the light. Danello broke away and headed for where Aylin had gone. I continued toward the weapon. My steps faltered when I got closer and the pulses got stronger, draining more and more. Running slowed to walking, then staggering. Then crawling. I dragged the cylinder along with the rest of me.

Almost there.

I kept crawling. Over the unconscious bodies of the Duke’s soldiers.

The weapon loomed ahead, a glowing blue beacon with unconscious Takers chained to it. Carved glyphs shone bright in the dark, the blue and silver metal shimmering around it. It seemed smaller in the open. The pedestal rested on a cart this time, the driver lying on the bench. Even the horse was unconscious, trapping a soldier under its bulk, its harness snapped and dangling.

The weapon pulsed again—brightened—and drained. I screamed and dropped the cylinder, but swallowed the pain and snatched it again. Kept moving.

I braced myself for the next pulse and clawed my way across the fallen horse, the unconscious soldiers.

A girl lay where the Duke had once chained me, in the trigger position. I covered her hand with one of mine. Felt my way in. Faint pain cycled through her, her heart barely beating. I had to get her out of there. Had to get all them all out of there.

“Hold on. Fight it.”

The weapon pulsed again and I shrieked, curling into a ball against the pain. So different from the blades or the kicks. Deeper, stronger.
Move—you can’t quit now.
I gathered the draining pain between my heart and my guts, forced it back, trapped it. Hand over hand I climbed onto the disk, my stomach quivering so badly, it was hard to walk. My skin itched where the disk touched me, but I grabbed the spire, pulled myself up, and shoved the cylinder into the hole at the center.

Please work.

Light burst from the weapon. I dropped back to the disk and squeezed my eyes shut. The light stabbed through my lids, bright as day. Wind sucked at me, pulling me toward the device. My skin stretched, cracked—

Silence.

The wind eased. The pulsing stopped. Blue light dimmed to black. I trembled, every muscle sore, my skin stinging as if I’d flashed all the pynvium in the Three Territories. Was it over? Had it stopped?

No pulse. No more light.

I opened my eyes. White aftershimmers hovered before me for a heartbeat, then faded. The Takers weren’t moving. Were they even still alive?

Weak and shaking, I crawled to the edge of the disk and rolled off, dropping to the street. I landed on my back on a soldier, but it was better than being on that pynvium. My stomach still quivered, but I didn’t have the energy to move farther away.

“Nya!” Danello called.

I stared at the stars. They were twinkling blue. My eyelids drooped closed.

Leather scraped against stone. Swears, grunts. Staggering steps, coming closer, getting louder. “Nya!” Danello gathered me in his arms. “Can you hear me?”

“Help them,” I said, shivering, but not cold.

“Are you hurt? Can I take any of your pain?”

I hurt, but not the same as when I carried pain. More weak than sore. I touched his arm, hot under my trembling fingers.
Pushed.

“Nothing to shift.” Every word took effort. So much effort.

Hands on my cheeks. Warm hands. “Nya, hold on,” Danello said. “Aylin’s here, but she’s unconscious. Wake her up, and she’ll get help.” He put my hand on her arm.

I
drew
, just a little. Shuddered.

Aylin woke. Gasped. “What happened to her?”

“Get Lanelle. Now!”

More running feet. Danello stayed with me, stroking my hair. I tried to lift my head, but my neck felt made of lake weed.

So many sounds floated in the air: shouts, running feet, clanking armor. War. There was a war going on. And Danello, yelling. Yelling at Lanelle to move faster.

Tali. I had to say good-bye.

“I need Tali.”

Soft hands pressed against my skin, tingling. “There’s no injury—she feels…”

“Feels what?” Danello said. “Lanelle, is she
okay
?”

“I don’t know! Last time I sensed something like this, the person was dying. I don’t know what to do to help her.”

Nobody spoke. I tried to feel my way into my own body. Was I dying? Felt more like falling asleep.

“Danello,” I whispered, “get Tali.”

“I’m not leaving you,” he said. He sounded angry.

“Maybe you should find her,” Lanelle whispered. “Nya may not”—she paused—“she doesn’t have long.”

“This wasn’t part of the plan,” Aylin yelled, grabbing my shirt. “You’re supposed to beat him. You’re supposed to win.”

“I believe that’s
my
plan,” a man said. I knew that voice.

“No,” Aylin whispered.

Whoomp!

Thuds, like bodies falling, as pain stung my skin. I forced my eyes open a crack, my heart pounding. A man stepped out of the shadows, then another, and another, with even more behind. Soldiers.

“Hold her.”

Two soldiers pinned my arms to the street. The third man knelt over me, trapping my legs.

The Duke of Baseer.

W
here in Moed’s name did you get the control rod?” the Duke asked, pulling a knife from a sheath on his belt. “Zertanik swore he couldn’t make it work, the lying rat.”

I struggled, helpless as a bird in a croc’s jaw. My fingers flexed, straining for skin, but I had no real pain to shift even if I touched someone.

“I’m going to make you scream.”

“Now, now, Verraad,” another man spoke. I knew that voice too. He’d been with the Duke when they’d put me into the weapon. Erben, Eker—no, Erken. “No time to play.”

“There’s a little time.”

“No, she’s too dangerous to keep alive, even to torture.”

“You … won’t win,” I gasped. So hard to breathe with them holding me down.

The knife came closer. “Yes, I will.”

I clawed at the ground, unable to move more than my fingers. I brushed against Danello’s pants leg. Found a rip at the knee.

“The best way to kill a Healer is straight through the heart,” Erken said.

The Duke raised the knife. “Let’s see if that works for Shifters too.”

I stretched my finger and touched Danello’s skin.
Drew
with everything I had left. He snorted awake. His pain surged through me, mingling with Aylin’s.

The knife plunged down.

Danello leaped at the soldier on my right, knocking him over. My arm came free and I rolled right. The Duke’s knife sank hilt deep into my chest, barely missing my heart. I gasped, unable to breathe in enough air to scream. Danello crashed against the second soldier, and he jerked back. My other arm pulled free.

The Duke. Get the Duke.

I swung uselessly at him. Missed. My hand dropped and landed on the hand of the second soldier. My fingers wrapped around his, and I
pushed
the knife wound into him. He shrieked and fell away.

Stop him. Stop the Duke,
then
you can die.

“Get her!” Erken yelled. The Duke charged forward. He grabbed my throat in both hands and squeezed.

My vision blurred. I grabbed his cheeks and
pushed
.

He sucked in a breath but didn’t let go. “Shift all you want, but I’m stronger than you.”

Soldiers surrounded us, swords out, looking confused. If they stabbed me, I could shift it into the Duke. But maybe they knew that.

“Don’t touch her!” The Duke squeezed harder, far too much pleasure on his face.

I
pushed
harder. The shifted pain crashed against a wall, like he was keeping me out. Something strong.

Light sparkled at the edge of my vision. My lungs felt ready to burst. I needed air. Needed … strength…

I
drew,
clawing at that wall, trying to tear it down, get past it and make him let go of me. My vision cleared. I dug deeper,
drew
harder, reached beyond blood and bone and muscle. He grunted but still held on. My fingers ached, but I didn’t let go. I had to get through that wall or I was dead.

The Duke’s hands tightened more and my head spun. I kept
drawing
. Fire raced into me, sizzling up my arms and filling my lungs. The wall cracked and his grip loosened. Mine stayed firm. I
drew
harder. My heart beat with his heart. My blood sang with his blood. The strength of that wall poured into me. He tried to pull away but I held tight,
drawing
more and more, bringing it down.

“Look at her,” Erken gasped. They’d pull me away now, make me stop. Kill me.

“She
is
Saint touched!” a soldier cried.

I held on. One last
draw
, one last heartbeat.

And then it was gone.

No,
he
was gone.

I shoved the Duke away. His body fell in a heap and lay still, his hands curled and pressed against his chest. His skin was flaky, his cheeks sunken like a frail old man’s. His black hair was lighter, even in the dark.

What had I done?

My heart pounded strong. My pain was gone. I felt …
powerful.

“Saints, what did you do to him? What
are
you?”

I looked up. Erken and the soldiers stood around me, swords drawn. They gaped, fear and confusion on their hard faces. Erken’s held fascination as well.

“I’ll do the same to you if you don’t leave my city,” I said.

The soldiers turned and ran. Soldiers, running from
me.

Saints forgive me, but I kinda liked it that way.

Erken stood his ground, watching me. “He went about this the wrong way,” he said. “Force was wrong. He should have asked you to help him.”

“I would have said no.”

“I imagine you would have. Perhaps
we
could strike a deal?”

I lunged toward him, hands outstretched. He shrieked and backed away, then fled into the night toward the transport ship still docked in the bay.

Grunts caught my attention. Danello wrestled on the ground with the two soldiers, kicking one while he swung at the other.

“Leave him alone,” I said, moving toward them.