Death Wind

by Tara Grayce

  He opened his mouth, like he was going to reply, but his face twisted, and he cried out.

  Essie glanced over her shoulder. What were they doing to him?

  Prince Rharreth gripped his hand before shaking it, as if he’d been burned. “Laesornysh’s magic is still coursing through the stone. I can still remove it, but it will be difficult.” He met the healer’s gaze. “You will wish to slide your magic between the stone and his body. That is what Princess Melantha did, and it gave Laesornysh access to his magic. You should be able to shield him from my magic with yours.”

  The elf healer grimaced, but he nodded. Perhaps he didn’t want to protest that he couldn’t do it after Prince Rharreth just said Melantha could perform such a feat with her magic.

  An icy glow started around the troll prince’s fingertips again, but he didn’t reach for Farrendel until the elf healer’s fingers were surrounded by a green glow.

  Essie turned back to Farrendel, stroking his hair. Farrendel stiffened, his breathing growing ragged. How much pain was he in that even morphine and elven healing magic couldn’t numb it?

  She resisted the urge to glance over her shoulder again. She didn’t want to see the surgeon cutting him open, the troll prince dragging stone from his chest. She ran her fingers over his cheek. “I just need you to survive a little longer, Farrendel. Just a little longer, and this will be over.”

  Through the heart bond, she could sense the effort it took him to breathe, the struggle as he fought to stay conscious.

  He cried out, and a wall of pain blasted through Essie. Her vision blurred as she struggled to draw in a breath. Her chest hurt, as if her heart were tearing itself apart with each beat.

  Hands gripped her shoulders, keeping her standing. She braced herself against the table and buried her fingers in Farrendel’s hair. She squeezed her eyes shut and fought to stave off the wave of pain and blackness that threatened to crush her.

  She couldn’t breathe. She tried, but she couldn’t get her lungs to fill. A buzzing sound filled her ears, her legs buckling beneath her. Only the table and those steadying hands on her shoulders kept her upright.

  “Let go, isciena.” Weylind’s voice was soft and gentle near Essie’s ear, and only then did she realize he was the one holding her upright. “We cannot lose both of you.”

  “No.” Essie gasped the word with the last breath in her lungs. She pressed her forehead to Farrendel’s. Please, Farrendel. Breathe.

  “Isciena.” Weylind’s voice, pained and gentler than she’d ever heard, came from beside her.

  “Essie.” Averett, his tone both firm and anguished, gripped her arm as if he intended to physically pull her away from Farrendel.

  “No.” It was nothing but a whimper. She had promised Farrendel she would let go when the time came. That she would let this sacrifice be his choice.

  But now that the moment was here, she just couldn’t do it. If she could just...breathe...

  Farrendel gasped a choking, shuddering breath. Essie gulped in a lungful of air, her legs steadying, the blackness retreating. Her chest ached, but the sensation of having her heart beat for his faded.

  Weylind and Averett didn’t say anything, but stood there, prepared to keep her upright if she needed them to do so.

  But Farrendel kept breathing ragged breaths, punctuated only with a few moans of pain.

  Finally, Averett rested a hand on Essie’s arm. “They’re done, Essie. Step back and let the healers finish cleaning him up.”

  She swiped at her face and stepped back. The head elf healer had slumped against one of the poles holding up the tent, and another elf healer had taken his place, along with an Escarlish nurse. The nurse and healer appeared to be spreading salve and bandaging wounds. Why hadn’t the elves healed Farrendel completely? Was something still wrong?

  Farrendel had slipped into unconsciousness, but Essie could still feel a deep, lingering pain from him. As if he was still badly injured.

  The troll prince had his hands at his sides, sweat trickling in rivulets down his temples, though he had stepped back as if to prove he wasn’t a threat.

  Weylind braced his hands on the table, only moving when the new elf healer spoke to him quietly, and finally nudged him out of the way to continue bandaging Farrendel.

  Edmund and Jalissa remained sitting near the wall of the tent, Jalissa resting her head on Edmund’s shoulder. It would have been an adorable sight, if Essie hadn’t been so worried for Farrendel and if Jalissa’s eyes weren’t red and puffy.

  Essie glanced at the head elf healer and the Escarlish surgeon, trying to ignore the surgeon’s red-stained fingers. “Will Farrendel be all right?”

  “Thanks to you, yes, I believe he will.” The elf healer pushed away from the pole, stepping forward on shaking legs. “We removed as much of the stone as we dared, but he is too weak for us to risk more today. We have stabilized him, at least, though I will be more optimistic of a full recovery once he has rested and gotten some fluids in him.”

  “But there’s still stone in him? Won’t that hurt him?” Essie leaned against Averett, thankful that he had put an arm around her shoulders.

  “Yes, there is still stone in him, and, yes, it will continue to hurt until we can do a second surgery to remove the rest of it. But, right now, the strain of all the competing magics is too much for him and for you.” The elf healer shook his head, swaying as if the movement made him dizzy. “And for us as well. After the troll magic and his magic have had a chance to dissipate and he has regained some of his strength, it should be a simple matter to remove the rest.”

  The surgeon stepped forward, his fingers now clean. “We will use morphine to keep him comfortable in the meantime.”

  Essie nodded, letting out a long breath. Surely Farrendel would be all right once he rested and healed.

  She rested a hand on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his skin and the pain still coursing through him.

  But he was alive. And he would heal. Eventually.

  WHILE ESSIE DASHED to the shelter to retrieve her things, Edmund and Jalissa set up Essie’s tent, the one she hadn’t used for most of the march across Kostaria since she had been sharing a shelter, first with Jalissa, then with all the brothers.

  Weylind and Averett went with Prince Rharreth to see to settling down all three armies, finding shelter for the captured trolls whose fortress had been destroyed. They had agreed to meet in several hours to discuss a peace treaty.

  By the time Essie returned, her tent had been set up outside of the hospital tent beside rows of other large tents, probably more recovery tents for the wounded. She raced toward it, flung open the tent flap, and smacked into Edmund’s chest.

  Edmund stumbled back a step, as did she, though neither of them fell. He pointed over his shoulder. “He’s stirring.”

  “Already?” Essie hurried past him.

  Farrendel lay on an Escarlish army cot, blankets piled on top of him and drawn up to his chin, leaving only his wan face and shortened hair visible. Jalissa sat next to him, her hands clasped in her lap.

  A few feet away, a small wood-burning stove kept the tent warm while a few foldable stools provided extra seating if necessary. The floor of the tent had even been covered with a canvas rug, cutting down on the chill coming from the stony ground.

  Edmund held out a hand to Jalissa. “Why don’t we fetch some hot broth and some fresh water?”

  “But...” Jalissa glanced from him to Farrendel, her face twisting.

  “You don’t have to go.” Essie stepped forward, doing her best to put on a smile. Honestly, she’d rather have a few moments alone with Farrendel. But Jalissa was Farrendel’s sister. Essie wasn’t going to tear her from Farrendel’s side now. It might even do him good to see at least one of his sisters worried about him.

  “Let’s give Essie some time with Farrendel first. By the time we come back, he will be more awake and ready for visitors.” Edmund beckoned with his hand.

  Essie tried to pack all
of her gratitude for her brother into the look she shot him. Hopefully Farrendel really would be up for visitors, and not just promptly pass out after being awake for only a few seconds. Or he might only toss and turn at the brink of consciousness before sliding back into deeper sleep once again.

  With one last glance at Farrendel, Jalissa slowly climbed to her feet and took Edmund’s arm. “Very well. He may appreciate food and drink when he wakes.”

  As if bolstered by the logic that fetching food was the best thing she could do to help Farrendel, Jalissa all but swept from the tent with Edmund hurrying to match her pace.

  Essie sank into Jalissa’s spot beside Farrendel. He had his face turned away from her, his eyes and mouth tight with pain even in sleep.

  She reached beneath the blankets, traced his arm until she found his hand, and gripped his fingers. With her other hand, she ran her fingers through his hair. Even though she’d known the trolls had cut his hair, it was still a shock seeing it so short and ragged. He didn’t look like himself, and she ached for him because of it. It was one thing to choose such a drastic change in appearance, but another thing altogether to have it forcibly done against his will.

  At least he had her. While she’d found his long hair surprisingly attractive, she loved him. He could be bald, and she’d still love him.

  He shifted, murmuring something between cracked lips.

  A canteen and a cloth sat on a small end table. Essie wet the cloth, then dabbed first his mouth, then his forehead. “It’s all right, Farrendel. You’re safe now.”

  “Essie.” His eyes flickered open, his head tilting toward her. “Is this...a dream?”

  “No, this is real. We rescued you.” Essie held up the canteen. “Would you like some water?”

  Farrendel’s silver-blue eyes studied her, his eyelids drooping. “You would say that, if this were a dream.”

  Essie capped and set down the canteen. Leaning closer, she stroked his hair and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Would I do that in a dream?”

  “Yes.” If anything, his brow furrowed more.

  “How about this?” She kissed him on the mouth. More a peck, really. His lips were cracked and bleeding, and she didn’t want to hurt him.

  “Maybe.”

  She sat back and put her hands on her hips, giving him a fake glare. “Just what kind of dreams are you having about me?”

  “Very good dreams.” A hint of a smile tugged the corner of his mouth. He lifted a shaky hand and touched the end of her braid, where it had fallen onto his chest. “But...this must be real. I had forgotten how very red your hair is.”

  From anyone else, that would have been a snide comment. But Farrendel meant it as a compliment.

  Normally, she would have made a joking comment about his hair. But she didn’t want to remind him of it now. Nor did she think he was ready to joke about its current state.

  She didn’t know how to approach any of the past two weeks. Would he want to talk about it? Not talk about it? Pretend it never happened?

  How was she supposed to love him through this when she wasn’t even sure what expression of love he needed right now?

  Putting on a soft smile, she picked up the end of her braid and tickled the back of his hand with it. “I had forgotten just how playful you can be when tired. Or, perhaps, that’s the morphine talking.” She dropped her braid and rested her hand on his cheek instead.

  Farrendel’s eyes flickered closed, and he leaned his face into her hand. “I survived.”

  “Yes, you did.” A lump formed in her throat. He’d had to fight so hard to get back to her.

  “I chose this.” Farrendel’s voice was soft, so soft she had to lean closer to hear him.

  “What do you mean?” Essie traced the line of his jaw, the shape of his ear.

  Farrendel’s eyes cracked open. “I chose to live. To return to you.”

  “Thank you for surviving for me.” She pressed a kiss to his forehead, her eyes growing wet and a lump forming in the back of her throat. She blinked at the tears, though one dripped down her nose and dropped onto Farrendel’s cheek.

  His eyebrows scrunched, and he peered up at her. “Are you crying on my face?”

  “Maybe.” Essie quickly wiped her eyes on her sleeve before she dripped more tears on him. “But they are happy tears.” Mostly.

  “You do not have to stop. I do not think a few tears will kill me.” His eyes fluttered closed again, a small smile tugging the corners of his mouth. His fingers tightened on her hand. “Thank you for coming for me.”

  “I promised I would.” Essie leaned forward and kissed his forehead again.

  She wasn’t sure if he heard her or not. He seemed to have slipped back into a light doze. That was probably best. He needed sleep.

  But after a few minutes, Farrendel roused again. He gripped her fingers with more strength than she would have expected. “Weylind...your brothers...none of them were...”

  “They’re fine. All of them. No one got hurt this time except you.” With their hands clasped on his chest, she could feel the angular ridges of his ribs even through the layers of blankets.

  His muscles relaxed, but only for a moment. His gaze snapped back to her. “Melantha?”

  What was she supposed to tell him? Last she’d seen, the elf scout had been toting an unconscious Melantha over his shoulder. Essie hadn’t even spared the time to worry about what was wrong with her, much less find out where she had been taken. She probably should have. Melantha was her sister-in-law, after all.

  But something must have changed, if Farrendel was so concerned about Melantha. Though, this was Farrendel. He might be concerned even if she was still a traitor.

  “She is alive.” At least, she was the last time Essie had seen her. If that had changed, she would figure out how to break the news to Farrendel later.

  Farrendel sank back onto the pillow, closing his eyes. “She helped me. I would not have survived without her.”

  “I’m glad she helped you.” Essie remembered that time she’d passed out after feeling a wave of pain from him. She’d known he’d nearly died, though she hadn’t been sure Melantha had been the one to save him. How much had they bonded during their capture? Essie wasn’t sure how she felt about that. All she wanted to do now was protect Farrendel from the sister Melantha had been last time Essie had seen her.

  “I was not alone this time. I had Melantha. And I had you,” Farrendel murmured. His eyes fell the rest of the way closed, as if he was only partially awake. Perhaps he thought he was talking to her in a dream instead of real life.

  Even now, she could feel the pain breaking through the haze of the morphine. All this struggling and moving and talking wasn’t doing him any good. He needed rest.

  She gripped his hand between hers. “If you want to talk about it, I’m here. But if you aren’t ready to talk, that’s all right. I’m still here. Either way, you need rest.”

  The tent flap opened, letting in a blast of cold air. Edmund stepped inside, carrying a tray laden with food. Jalissa followed, with another tray. Good. They’d brought enough for them and Essie as well.

  Until the smell of roast beef and bread filled the air, Essie hadn’t realized how hungry she was. Her stomach gave a loud gurgle.

  On the cot, Farrendel shifted, his head turning toward her. Essie was going to blame the blast of cold air for rousing him and not her growling stomach.

  “Food is here.” She touched Farrendel’s shoulder. “Are you hungry?”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  “Farrendel?” Jalissa all but dropped her tray on the end table. She fell to her knees next to the cot. She cradled the back of Farrendel’s head, then pressed her forehead to his. “Shashon.”

  It was a more touchy-feely gesture than Essie was used to seeing out of elves. But, perhaps, it was saved for I’m-really-glad-you-survived-torture-and-didn’t-die situations. A mere shoulder hug didn’t quite do it.

  “Jalissa, isciena.” Farrendel reached
a shaky hand and rested it on Jalissa’s shoulder.

  Jalissa’s shoulders started shaking. She pulled back and swiped at her face. “I...” She trailed off, as if she wasn’t sure what to say. It wasn’t like she could say he looked well.

  Edmund worked his tray onto the small side table until both trays were balanced half-on, half-off the table. “We brought broth for Farrendel. It’s in a mug. The surgeon said it would be easier for Farrendel to drink that way.”

  “Good plan.” Essie turned back to Farrendel, reclaiming his hand. “I know you aren’t hungry, but could you try to sip a little bit?”

  Even though he was an elf and could probably go longer without food and water than a human, he still needed sustenance.

  His gaze flicked to her before he nodded. “I will try.”

  Edmund held out a mug to her, and she dipped the end of her pinkie finger into it to check the temperature. It was warm, but not scalding. Safe for sipping.

  Working a hand behind Farrendel’s head, she held the mug to his mouth...and promptly splashed far too much broth. Farrendel coughed as broth drooled down his face and onto his neck.

  “Sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m apparently not a good nurse.” Essie hurriedly set the mug of broth back on the tray, her face heating. Bad enough she got broth all over, but her brother and sister-in-law were also watching.

  Farrendel wrinkled his nose and gave her a raised eyebrow look.

  Edmund managed to keep a straight face as he handed Essie a cloth. “Remind me never to let you nurse me.”

  Since she had already thoroughly embarrassed herself, she stuck her tongue out at Edmund as she took the cloth. She washed the broth from Farrendel’s face and neck. “I’m so sorry. I’m not good at this.”

  Farrendel reached a shaking hand toward the mug. “I can feed myself.”

  There was something about the mix of determination and pleading in his voice. It wasn’t that he was offended at her efforts. But it was that he felt like he needed to do it to reclaim a part of himself.

  When they’d found him, he’d been pinned to the floor, unable to move more than a finger. He wouldn’t have been able to feed himself. Had he suffered a troll forcibly feeding him?