Mind Over Psyche (15 page)

He shook his head. She could never
know
as he did. “I can't.
We can't.”

He looked at her, saw the light of Barin reflected in her eyes. Her desires pushed at hi
s shields.

She had to have time to teach the world. If she could teach her people in time, no one h
ad to die.

His mind flickered on Joshua's idea. They could force the ships back even before reachi
ng Kanaan.

The power of her need pressed
upon him.

“I need you,” She whispered. “We
need you.”

To be needed by an ent
ire world…

A flaw appeared in his shields, became a buckle, then a tear. It was small, but enough. Her psyche flowed through like water and filled his consciousness. He gasped with
pleasure.

It felt like a caress upon his soul when she directed him to lift the sword, and he moved to kiss her as he starte
d to obey.

A cacophony of voices exploded in
his mind.

Deryl screamed and lashed
out at the thoughts that bore relentlessly on him. The sword he'd been levitating flung sideways and buried itself into a tree.

Deryl
, Tasmae cried, her call dim and distant in the tornado of thoughts tearing at th
eir minds.

Get out! Get out of my mind!
With a psychic and physical shove, he threw her from him. She slammed into a tree, jarring her into awareness while jarring her teeth, and her legs bucked under her before she could react. Her head spun with confusion. The world blurred. When her vision cleared, she saw Deryl curled up on the ground, gripping his hair as if to tear it out by the roots. He breathed in fast, shriek
ing gasps.

“Deryl!” Tasmae reached out to him. A maelstrom of bizarre and conflicting images took hold of her before he shoved her away again. S
he gasped.

The Re
membrance!

She scrambled backward, crablike, until she again bumped a tree, then turned and fled the grove. She had to find the healer. She'd infected him with the memories of
Gardianju!

Halfway through the grove, a unicorn met her in answer to her summons. She jumped upon his back, and he raced through the twisting path and ran full-out to the compound, even ducking his head to enter the building itself. At Leinad's door, she slid off and pounded upon it. When Leinad opened the door, the light of the setting sun from behind shrouded him
in shadow.

“It's Deryl!” She cried. “I thought—I didn't think—Please! Send th
e healer!”

In a moment, the healer came running down the hall to them. She gave Tasmae one quick check to see that she was all right, then mounted the waiting unicorn and headed to the
clearing.

Leinad glared at her. “Do you unders
tand now?”

She nodded, gulping back tears of shame, and let him lead her to the Re
membrance.

*

You are not me! You are not my memories. I reject you. Get out o
f my mind!

Deryl beat back the invading thoughts and regained his mind. He managed to uncurl himself and lay spread-eagled on the mossy ground. He looked at the tree-obscured sky dully. Minutes or hours? He didn't think the shadows had changed much. It didn't seem important at the moment. He supposed he should feel some satisfaction at coming back to himself, but couldn't make himself care. Without moving much, he glanced around the area. Tasmae was gone. He couldn't care about that, either. Being alone was good. He felt drained. He closed his eyes, seeking comfort in the
numbness.

The sound of hoof beats jerked him out of his malaise. Was someone looking for him? He couldn't let anyone find him like this! He jumped up and headed into a dense part of the trees. Once out of sight, he crouched behind a large trunk and concentrated on making himself psychically as well as physically
invisible.

He felt someone's concern, and a little surprise at not finding him. Not Tasmae. Had she sent someone for him? Why hadn't she stayed, or returned, or—He squashed his thoughts as he felt attention move like a beam in his direction. He chanced forcing a thought at the person:
He must be okay. Perhaps Tasmae read too much
into this.

He felt a flicker of doubt, then resignation. A moment later, he heard the hoof beats retreat down the other side of
the grove.

Once he could hear them no longer, he released the breath he was holding and sank his head onto his knees. His body ached as clenched muscles relaxed. Even his scalp hurt. None of that, however, compared to the battered feeling inside
his mind.

What were those voices? They were the same as his nightmares, from his time at the asylum. Yet they felt like they'd come from outside his shields. How could that happen? And what happened to his shields? After he'd fled the aftermath of the battle, he'd built them up as tightly as he could, pinning all the power of Kanaan behind them. They should have been impenetrable. Yet Tasmae's will sliced through them like a hot knife throu
gh butter.

That's not quite true
, he told himself, remembering how much he'd wanted to let her though his shields, the sudden rush of pleasure when he felt her mind moving within his. Even the memory of it overwhelmed his senses and made his pain and fear seem momentarily insi
gnificant.

He'd battle a hundred minds if only to share Tasma
e's again.

Like that'll ever happen again. I'm the Kanaan equivalent of a leper.
With that bleak thought, his battered mind fell silent and he stayed there absorbed in his own misery until it occurred to him that if he lingered past sunset, he wouldn't be able to see well enough to leave the grove until morning. Even so, it took all of his will to force himself up to make the long walk to the compound. The walking helped draw him from his stupor, but he was still loath to meet anyone. Fortunately, the warriors were still out on the cliffs. He snuck into the dining hall, snatched the leftovers still on the serving table for late-night snackers, and headed to his room. He needed
to think.

Nonetheless, after he'd gotten to the room, spread out his cache on the table and settled down in one of the soft bag-like chairs, he found himself drained of thought, and he sat there, knees up under his chin, enshrouded by his misery, for hours. Occasionally, he roused himself enough to ask, “What am I goi
ng to do?”

His thoughts had come to nothing when the first earth
quake hit.

*

Joshua stood on the plateau of one of those high, narrow, lonely mesas in the middle of Utah, the kind they used in SUV commercials. The altitude and a slight breeze cut the heat some, but it was still dusty, dry, and barren, and as he looked around at the bizarre desolate landscape, he wondered how he'd gotten there—and how he'd
get down.

“Joshua!”

“Sachiko!” Joshua turned at the sound of his fiancée's voice and started to run to her. No sooner did he take his first step, however, than the mesa shook violently, knocking them both off their feet. Joshua fell hard, but his need for her drove him up again, only to be tossed up and thrown to the ground by another forceful tremor. A ripping sound, then a roar like he'd never heard before, like a Niagara Falls of dirt and stone, and the stretch of mesa between him and Sachiko di
sappeared.

Sachiko, still on hands and knees, looked to Joshua
in horror.

Joshua judged at the rift, decided he could jump it
, and ran.

A third tremor knocked him backward. Sachiko screamed. The ground crumbled in his direction and he scrambled back. The wind picked up, as if the air rushed to fill the gaping hole bet
ween them.

“I'm okay!” He had to shout to be heard. His heart pounded almost as loudly as the splitting rock. When the tremors finally stopped, he crawled his way to the crevice and gawked at the gap filled with blackness
and stars.

He looked up and across to Sachiko's despai
ring face.

“I'll find a way!” H
e shouted.

“I believe you! I
love you!”

“I love you! Wai
t for me!”

“Forever!”

When Joshua awoke, he knew why tears dampened his face, but he couldn't figure out what he was doing on the floor. Then, the room shook a
nd swayed.

Earthquake! He froze, unsure of what to do. All he knew about earthquakes was from disaster movies or the news. Should he go outside? Stay indoors? People got buried in the rubble, but wasn't it more dangerous outside? Could a plant-building
collapse?

Tasmae collapsed one, but Deryl made it sound like she talked it into
doing so.

The room
shuddered.

“What do I do?” He demanded, though he didn't
know why.

The leaf door to his room opened. He hastily threw on pants and dashed into the corridor. He'd find someone and ask or follow them. People here knew what to do, right? As he neared the main hall, he heard hoof beats and broke i
nto a run.

He rounded the intersection and saw a unicorn carrying an unconscious warrior who was bleeding slightly at the temple.
The warriors were spending the night at the cliffs. Didn't Tasmae warn them?
He hurried to th
e unicorn.

“Are there more?” He asked, hoping the stallion understood. Joshua didn't reco
gnize him.

The unicorn jerked his head in the horsy equivalent of a nod. Joshua noted that, although blood stained his gray hide, it didn't seem to b
e his own.

Gently, Joshua pulled the woman off the unicorn's back. “I'll get her to the healers,” he said, glad that he'd finally memorized that route. “Go see who else you
can help.”

Again the nod, and the unicorn spun in a turn that should have been impossible for so large a beast in so narrow a hallway. As he headed back outside, Joshua hastened to the healer's den, doing his best not to jostle the inju
red woman.

He got to the healer's area just as another tremor hit, and he braced himself against the wall until it stopped. It was milder than the one that had tossed him from his bed, and he wondered if that was a good sign. A healer wordlessly took the warrior from his arms and carried her to a low bed to be examined. He took no notice of Joshua; n
o one did.

Now what? Head back the way I'd come and hope to run into another unicorn?
Joshua looked around the room. Anyone who wasn't a healer was scurrying about on seemingly urgent tasks; no one was going to take time to give him directions. He started out the door, but another tremor made him
hold back.

What if my route isn't the safest? It's not the most direct, I'm sure. Maybe I should wait until someone else comes and follow them.
He saw Terry, bent over another injured warrior, his expression serene yet deep in concentration. For a moment, Joshua thought of a saint in prayer. The room itself remained eerily quiet, except for the muffled footsteps and the occasional moans of the wounded. No machine sounds, no spoken directions, no
swearing.

There was, however, the healing energy, calling to him, teasing. He felt like he shoul
d know it.

A half-dozen others came in, two of whom carried a third that was unable to walk. As a healer rushed to them, Joshua stepped out of the way, sidling toward Terry as he did. No one took heed of him, and he hesitated to offer his help, for fear of jarring Terry out of whatever trance he was in. By the time he'd looked back to the people at the door, they
were gone.

Well, there's always one thing I can do
. He closed his eyes a moment and opened his heart
to prayer.

With a rush, the healing power moved into him, filling him with light and music and a sw
eet taste.

Terry's patient began to
convulse.

Without thinking, Joshua hurried forward to help hold him down. No sooner had he set his hands on the man's shoulders, than the power began to course through him and into the wounded warrior. He started to jerk away in surprise, but Terry slapped his hands over Joshua's, pinning them down. He had no choice but to let the power rush through him and try not to lose himself in
the flood.

The music crescendoed and faded, and the flow of power slowed. Terry released him, and Joshua sat down hard on the floor, huffing. He felt dazed and giddy. He blinked several times, then looked at Terry and the patient. The warrior, though unconscious, breathed
normally.

Terry smiled at Joshua. “And you said you were not
a healer.”

“I'm not. I—” Joshua shook his head, trying to focus. He couldn't catch his breath. He felt the melody of power around him, both comforting and pulling at him.
There are more
, it crooned. He shook his head again, looked back at Terry. “What just
happened?”

Terry took hold of his shoulders. “You are untrained, but you can channel power. There are others who need
our help.”

There are more.
The music whispered, l
uring him.

“I, I don't know what to do. This didn't happen when we were pr
acticing.”

“
No es importante.
I will guide you. Just call the power as you did before. Can you
do that?”

He licked lips gone dry. “I
suppose…“

There are more. Sing with me. Make heal
ing music
.

The initial confusion faded, leaving him with the kind of natural high he felt after Chipotle gave a great performance. He grinned and held out his hand for Terry to pull him up. “Let
's do it!”

Terry guided Joshua through healing the next patient, having him call the power then directing it himself to where healing was needed. He let the music/light/taste/caress overwhelm him so that he barely noticed moving on the next patient, then the next, then from healer to healer. He was suspended in a kind of rapture, until at last the melody faltered, the rainbow faded. He stumbled; still, power flowed through him, and healers wordlessly passed him among themselves, and he could not break free of the flood to voice
a protest.

When at last the song released him, he crawled into a vacated cot and gave himself
to sleep.

The power called out to Joshua, singing his name. “C'mon,” he protested weakly. “Let up. I'm so tired. I'm on
ly human.”