Recurve

Cactus swung the door open.

Ash didn’t move. “You first.”

The implication was clear and Cactus was no dumbass to miss it. His eyes narrowed. “I wouldn’t put Lark in danger.”

“Still, you go first.” Ash didn’t put me down, nor did he step forward. I squirmed.

“I trust him, Ash.”

“I don’t. I remember him too, and I clearly remember the queen stole his memories. We don’t know what she put there instead.” Ash’s honey eyes met mine. “She said she would have use for him.”

A chill swept through me, and I turned my head to see the confusion written clearly on Cactus’s face. His eyes drawn, a furrow in his brow, lips down turned. “What are you two talking about?”

“Cactus,” I said. “Please, go in first.”

His eyes widened, hurt hovering at the edges. “You don’t trust me?”

My throat tightened and I shook my head. “I don’t trust Cassava.”

He frowned hard at me. “You aren’t making any sense.”

“Please, Cactus, go in.”

He shrugged and stepped through the doorway, muttering under his breath. “Fine. Crazy earth brats.”

He disappeared into the shadows of the room and then called out. “Satisfied?”

Neither of us answered. Ash stepped forward through the gilt edged doorway. The darkness was an aspect of the doorway, as we stepped through, the room lit up as if ten thousand candles had been set out. I blinked, my eyes watering in the sudden light after the dim corridors.

Around us was a room not unlike our own healers’ rooms in our own barracks. Well lit, clean, beds laid out in rows. Shelves of bottles and fresh wrappings. The scent of herbs cleared the air of all aspects of sulfur. If I were stuck in the Pit, I wouldn’t wander far from the healers’ rooms.

The only difference between here and the rooms back in the forest was here, the beds were empty.

A healer, his top white, his pants jet black, strode toward us. “Put her on a bed.”

Ash did as told, setting me on the bed closest to us.

“My name is Smit. What have you done to yourself, little lady?” He gave me a soft smile as he prodded my knee.

I winced. “Oh, the usual.”

Ash crouched beside me. “Smit, we come from the Redwoods.”

“Oh, I know that very well. Can smell the cedar on your skin clearly enough.”

Ash put a hand on Smit’s arm. “The lung burrowers are back. We need the cleansing fire, or our family is lost.”

Smit rocked back on his heels, his eyes taking us both in. “This is a request that needs to come through our queen. I can’t just give out the cleansing fire to anyone.”

I leaned forward, putting a hand on his arm, willing him to help. “Please, our people are dying. We would have come through the proper channels if we’d been able to. Our king is waylaid with the disease too.”

Smit looked at me, then Ash and back again. “Let’s get your leg dealt with first. That much I can do without repercussions.”

The healer walked over to a side table against the wall. “A quick serum if I know you Enders well. Something that heals fast, even if it hurts all the way to the core of your bones.”

The blood drained from me. I swear I felt it sliding down the veins in my neck, but I nodded. “Yes, fast is best, I think.” The pain couldn’t be worse than what I faced when I tried to reach the power of the earth.

Smit hummed to himself as he mixed and stirred, singing under his breath. Cactus sat on a stool, spinning around and around, his head bowed. Like a kid bored with all the adult talk.

“You never had to grow up, did you?” My question stopped him in his spinning.

His eyes glittered with unspoken laughter. “Not really. They don’t mind half-breeds so much here and that’s worked out well for me. I come and go as I please, and don’t really have much to do.”

“Nothing but find trouble, you mean,” Smit said, a smile tipping his lips. The smile faded as he looked at me. “Okay, you two are going to want to hold her down for this.” Smit stepped in front of me, a crystal vial in his hand. Smoke trickled out the top of the vial, and the scent of sulfur filed my nostrils. I wrinkled up my nose. “No one has to hold me down.”

“You Enders always think you’re so tough. But there is a truth all healers know. It hurts far more to heal a wound, than to be wounded in the first place. When you heal, you are aware, and you must consciously take the steps to put things aright. When you are cut open, there is always some strong emotion tied to it. Fear. Anger. Passion. Those emotions hide the pain of the injury, which is why many don’t seek help until the wound festers. By then, it is a great deal harder to mend.” His eyes met mine, and I had a feeling he wasn’t just talking about my bones.

“I can handle it.” I lifted my chin.

“I can’t hold her down,” Cactus said. “I’ll throw up on her if I smell that tonic.”

Great, down the one friend I had.

Even so, Ash put his hands on my shoulders. “I’ve been at the end of their tender mercies. Trust me, you want someone to hold you down.”

Smit tipped the vial to my lips, the smoke curling up my nose making me gag. “Drink it all. You throw it up and we’ll have to dose you again.”

Rotten eggs and a heavy layer of wood smoke coated my tongue and I gagged, but kept the vile tonic in. Then it hit my bloodstream.