Keepers of the Flame

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?”