by Sanan Kolva
She sensed a lot of history hidden behind his explanation. Perhaps if Quicksilver tried less hard to convince them that a bunch of elves completely leaving the planet was “no big deal,” she might have accepted it more readily.
She started to ask another question, but Quicksilver abruptly jumped to his feet, tossing his cards on the table and turning in the direction of Lucian’s bedroom. “Well what the stars did you expect, Lucian?!”
Devin jumped at the unexpected outburst. Cylin set down her cards. “So, Lucian’s awake?”
Quicksilver glanced to her and nodded. “Thought he’d sleep longer.”
“Does he know where he is?” Devin asked, cautious.
Quicksilver fell silent a moment, then said, “He knows he’s in his room, in his cave, in Forest Town, and that his head feels like someone’s been hitting it with a hammer. Which is actually a tempting idea.”
“Good. If he knows where he is, he’s not having an episode.” Devin’s shoulders relaxed.
“How long has he been asleep?” Cylin looked around the room for a clock.
“It’s been four and a half hours. If he was Lonewind, he’d have slept until noon tomorrow.” Quicksilver settled back into his chair, apparently not about to rush back up the hall to check on Lucian in person. “Maybe that ritual works differently than just draining an elf’s magic. But then, I’ve seen Lonewind run himself dry more often than I have Lucian, so I don’t exactly know how long it takes him to recover.”
Devin looked toward the doorway. “Should someone see if he’s all right?”
“He’s all right,” Quicksilver said. “Pissed, and his head’s hurting strongly enough to come through his mind-speech, but he’s all right. Reminding me of his extensive and creative vocabulary of profanity. I’d tell him to go back to sleep, but he won’t listen to me.”
“You are weirdly open about all this,” Devin said.
Quicksilver frowned, confused. “About what?”
Devin waved a hand in a gesture to encompass the entire situation. “About... elves, magic, Lord Lucian, your clan, and all of this.”
Quicksilver grew serious. “Did Cylin tell you about my parents?”
“No, I didn’t,” Cylin answered, while Devin looked puzzled.
“Ayliad’s my mother,” Quicksilver told Devin.
Devin grew pale.
“My grandmother, Willow, and my mother, Ayliad, caused the clan a lot of pain. They used lies and secrets to twist and pervert everyone around them. I saw the results, the damage they did to people dear to me, and I vowed that I would never be like that. Sure, I’ll lie and pickpocket with the best around strangers, when needed, but within the clan, I don’t deceive, and I don’t hide information.”
“Within the clan,” Cylin repeated. “Fine, but what does that have to do with us, right now? Lucian’s here, but the rest of your clan is not.”
He blinked at her, as if the answer was clear. “You, Devin, Doctor Kinnel, you guys are part of the clan.”
Cylin and Devin both stared at him. “We’re humans,” Devin said, stating the obvious.
“You’re Lucian’s friends. You’re the people who support him, help him, the people who he counts on. Of course you’re part of the clan!” He turned toward the doorway. “Right?”
Cylin and Devin both followed his gaze. Lucian leaned against the doorway, drawn and pale. Streaks from the ritual still marked his face. His amber eyes lingered on each of them for a long moment before he answered. “Of course they are.”
Devin jumped to his feet. “Lord Lucian! You shouldn’t be up.”
Lucian waved a trembling hand, brushing aside the concern. He slowly made his way to them and dropped into an empty chair.
“Did you find him?” Cylin asked.
Lucian’s head jerked up at her voice, and he immediately winced at the sharp motion. “Yes. I found Chance. I tried to wake him. I don’t know whether or not I did.” He glowered at Quicksilver. “Since I got dragged back before I could be sure.”
“And how many wraiths took bites out of you on the way there?” Quicksilver demanded. “How many did you have to fend off? How much of your energy did you spend just trying to stop one of them from making a snack out of you, Lucian? Ten? Twenty? Or did you bother to keep track?”
Lucian’s jaw tightened. “Too many.”
“Was it worth it?” Cylin asked.
He gave her a long, unreadable look. “Yes.”
“Good. I’d hate to think you did something that stupid, throwing yourself into danger, scaring Quicksilver, and forcing Doctor Kinnel to perform a ritual that knocked him on his ass, if it wasn’t actually worth it.”
Lucian sat in silence for a long moment. “It’s been a long time since I was out there. I forgot just how bad it really is in the spirit realm. But not all the ghosts are malicious. Some were... familiar. They knew why I’d come, and guided me.”
“Well I hope you thanked them for helping you to not join them.” Now that she was sure Lucian was safe, Cylin’s worry turned into anger at him and his reckless disregard for... everything. “You could have died! And what if Doctor Kinnel hadn’t been able to pull you back? What if that ritual had killed him instead?”
“I didn’t ask anyone to drag me back!” Lucian snapped. “And now I don’t even know if I succeeded in waking Chance or not! You could have just—”
“I could have just not done what I believed was right,” Cylin interrupted, standing. “Is that what you’re saying? I should put aside my beliefs when they inconvenience you? Hypocritical asshole.”
Their eyes locked, neither of them willing to yield. Lucian said nothing.
After a long, tense moment of silence, Cylin said, “You’re welcome for hauling your spirit ass back, Lucian. I’m going home.”
No one stopped her as she left the sitting room and strode up the long hall and out of the cave.
She intended to go straight home, but before she got there, Dion, one of the sentries, rushed into town. Seeing Cylin, he rushed to her, panting for breath. She caught his shoulders to steady him.
“What’s wrong?”
“Bandits headed for the village.” He paused a moment to catch his breath. “Ten men, big guys.”
Bandits now? Dammit! Lucian’s in no shape to deal with that. “Alert the village. We’ve practiced this. Everyone should know where to go.”
Dion looked up the hill toward Lucian’s cave. “What about—”
“Report up there after you’ve alerted the village,” Cylin said firmly.
Dion hesitated, then said in a quiet voice, “Cylin, one of the men said your name.”
She froze. “What? Describe him!”
“Tall, hair turning a little gray, about fifty, I think? Seemed to be in charge. He wore a long leather duster with some kind of symbols on it.”
Pryor. Pryor is here. She swallowed hard, but kept her voice mostly steady. “Do what I told you. I’m going to scout these guys out.”
Dion gulped and nodded quickly. Cylin ran back to her house and belted on her gun. Her gaze fell on her backpack. She no longer kept it on a hook beside the door, but it was still close at hand, packed with a stash of supplies if she had to leave in an emergency. She hesitated, debating whether to take or leave it.
Pryor would expect me to have it, if he saw me. He’d never believe I’d settle down anywhere.
She slung it over her shoulders and headed into the forest, silently cursing Lucian for being a reckless idiot.
The forest was still and quiet under a blanket of snow. She moved carefully around the deeper drifts and tried to place her feet where her tracks could most easily be mistaken for natural breaks in the snow.
Why is Pryor coming here now? It’s been months since Hakon and the bone man attacked us. If Pryor wanted me that badly, he wouldn’t have waited this long.
It took at least half an hour to work her way quietly toward the road. She stopped when she heard steps trudging through the snow. Ducking behind a
tree, she waited to get a look at the intruders.
Six figures dressed in heavy winter furs worked their way through the forest, military-grade automatic weapons held at the ready. She didn’t see Alger or Pryor among them, and Dion had spoken of a larger force.
Shit, are they splitting up to attack Forest Town from multiple points? I’d better get back.
A heavy and far too familiar hand gripped her shoulder. “Ah, Cylin. I thought I might find you here.”
She turned slowly, hand sinking to her gun. Pryor loomed over her with an arrogant smile. Beside him, Alger stood with his gun casually aimed at her gut. A little behind them, several more men trudged through the snow.
I didn’t even hear them coming. Some scout I am. “I don’t owe you a damned thing, Pryor. Go fuck yourself.”
Pryor chuckled. “Don’t flatter yourself, girl. You’re not worth that much. No, I got myself a lead on a bounty around here. Someone’s willing to pay a pretty price for that freak who attacked us.”
A chill ran up her spine. Cylin tried to project an air of disinterest. “Really? Who’d want him?”
“The leader of the bone men, apparently.” Pryor grinned. “Oh, don’t worry too much. They were very specific in wanting him alive and intact.” He lowered his voice conspiratorially. “I know you know where he is, Cylin. You show me the way, and I’ll cut you in on the reward. Trust me, even with a fair split, you’ll be living well for a long time. Might even buy yourself a nice little town somewhere to call yourself lord of.”
“You’re so full of shit, Pryor.”
He shook his head. “I’m being one hundred percent straight with you, girl. No debts. A reward you can live on for decades, just for one man.”
“One man who kicked your ass without breaking a sweat.”
Anger flashed in his eyes. Once, she’d lived in terror of that look, and shadows of that fear crept through her. “I’m being reasonable here, Cylin, but you’re in no position to bargain. The boys are getting impatient for some plunder. I could step back right now, and every one of them will fuck you until you don’t know which way’s up. Or you can work with me, get yourself a nice payout, and move on.” His lip curled. “It’s not like you don’t have everything you need in that bag. I know you, girl. You’ve got no loyalties to him or this place, just whatever debts you owe. And I know full well that if someone had offered to pay off your debt in exchange for my head, you’d have taken the deal without looking back.”
“Yeah, but you’re not this guy. You have no idea what you’re trying to screw with, Pryor.” It didn’t matter that she was still mad at Lucian. She wasn’t about to let anyone come after him while he was weak. Especially not Pryor.
“Don’t I?” He chuckled. “Some mutated freak with a few tricks.”
“Yeah, that’s what Hakon thought too when you sent him here with that bone man.” She raised her voice, and several of the thugs turned to listen. “The forest ate him.”
Pryor snorted. “Don’t try to be pretty about saying he’s dead, girl. It doesn’t suit you.”
“Oh, I wasn’t trying to be pretty, Pryor. I mean that the forest ate him. Opened a crack under his feet. The vines came out of it and dragged him down screaming.” She made sure the other men could hear her. “Every last one of them died like that. Saw one guy get all four limbs ripped off before the plants tore his head off his neck.” Cylin looked Pryor in the eyes. “You still want to call that ‘a few tricks’?”
“Shut it, you stupid bitch,” Alger growled.
“Hah! I’m not the one leading a bunch of dumb thugs into a haunted forest to attempt to capture an ancient spirit.”
Behind Pryor, the men exchanged uneasy looks. Pryor sneered. “I know you don’t believe that shit, Cylin.”
“Uh, boss…,” Alger said, looking past Cylin. “Where’d the rest of the guys go?”
Cylin fought the urge to look over her shoulder. She was just buying time for the rest of the village to muster defenses, and couldn’t imagine what might have happened to the other group. If Quicksilver and Doctor Kinnel were right, Lucian shouldn’t have much, if any, magic to protect the village.
But Quicksilver’s an elf too, and he has plant magic.
She gave Alger a knowing smile. “Guess they were lucky. They got to go quietly.”
Pryor grabbed her and jerked her around in front of him like a shield, pinning her arms. Cylin felt the cold, hard press of a muzzle against her neck. “Show yourself, scumbag, or I’ll feed her head to your damned trees.”
“No you won’t.” Lucian’s voice whispered through the shadows. Snow spilled to the ground as tree branches leaned toward the men. The forest creaked and groaned as it shifted.
Someone fired wildly at the trees. Pressed against Pryor, Cylin couldn’t turn far enough to see who, or why. The sound abruptly ceased. She also felt the muzzle of Pryor’s gun warp and bend. She twisted against him and kicked at his shin. Pryor cursed and tightened his hold on her.
Alger raised his gun to aim into the forest, then gaped as a branch slapped it out of his hand. The men around them shouted in alarm. From the crashing, some decided to run.
Lucian appeared from the shadows, clearly floating above the snow. To Cylin’s eyes, he still looked exhausted, and she wondered how he had the strength to fly. He also looked like he was ready to rip Pryor apart with his bare hands.
“You think I’m going to stand by and let shit like you in my home?” Lucian snarled.
“I think if you want the girl safe, you’ll shut up and come along quietly,” Pryor said. Cylin could hardly believe the sheer brazen idiocy of his threat. He shifted his hold on Cylin, attempting to get something from his pocket. “I know how to deal with freaks like you.”
Cylin jerked forward, then threw herself back against Pryor. She was sure she felt a little extra push, enough to knock Pryor off balance. He slipped in the snow and fell, Cylin landing on him as hard as she could, elbows bent in the hopes of driving them into somewhere painful. She heard him grunt with lost breath, and his hold on her relaxed.
She scrambled to her feet. Alger was making strangled noises. A quick glance showed him trying to pry a branch off his neck as his face turned purple.
“Little bitch!” Pryor thrashed back to his feet. “You’ll pay for that!”
“This is one tab you’ll never collect, Pryor.” Cylin darted back, ducking under Alger’s reach.
Her gun was in her hand before she remembered drawing it. Months of target practice guided her aim as Pryor lunged at her. Cylin squeezed the trigger. Pryor staggered, blood spreading across his chest. He bared his teeth and grabbed for her.
Then she was in the air, flying above his reach. Pryor screamed in fury and threw something, but it fell short of either her or Lucian. They landed beside Quicksilver on a thick branch. Lucian’s nephew shot her a tight, nervous grin.
“Sorry we were a little late. You okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said.
Below, Pryor staggered through the snow, one hand pressed to his wound. Cylin raised her gun to finish him off, but Lucian pushed the barrel down. “Waste of bullets. He’s dead, just doesn’t know it yet.” His voice was heavy with weariness.
“Yeah? Well I’m not waiting until he figures it out.” She shifted the weapon out of his reach and fired.
Pryor crumpled with a cry of pain and anger, then he was still.
Lucian winced. “That wasn’t necessary.”
She looked him straight in the eyes. “Yes, Lucian, it was. And how did you manage to do any of that when you’re about ready to fall out of this tree?”
“I just had to deal with the guns. And that one.” He nodded at Alger. “Quick handled the rest.”
“I hate fighting, and I hate killing people, but I’ll do it when I must,” Quicksilver said quietly, looking away.
Lucian’s gaze moved to her backpack and lingered there. “When Dion said you’d gone ahead, I thought…”
“If you say you thoug
ht I was going to abandon Forest Town, I will punch you off this branch, Lucian.”
He shook his head. “No. But I thought you might try to convince Pryor to take you if he’d leave the village alone.”
“He wasn’t looking for me. He was looking for you, so even if I’d considered that, it wouldn’t have worked.” She looked at Quicksilver. “Can you put me back on the ground?”
“Sure.”
By the time the Forest Town defenders found the site of the confrontation, Lucian and Quicksilver were gone, but she was sure she could still feel Lucian watching her. Guarding her.
When Cylin left her house the following morning, Lucian was sitting on her platform, staring west, away from Forest Town. He didn’t turn.
“Quicksilver said I ought to make you a plaque to commemorate your joining the not-insignificant ranks of people who I’ve pissed off badly enough to send storming off at one time or another. I decided jewelry would be better for you. Easier to pack.”
He raised his hand. A silver bracelet floated from his hand to hang in front of Cylin. A gap in the solid metal band allowed it to slide onto a wrist. Vine-like patterns ran around the rim, and script swirled across the face, delicate and elegant.
“What does it say?” Cylin didn’t take it.
“‘Welcome to the fucking family’.”
She raised a dubious eyebrow at his back. “Really?”
“Really.”
The script looked too fine, with its swoops and looping letters, for the message. Cylin took the bracelet and ran a finger over the words. “How much of your family have you pissed off that badly?”
“Most of them, at some point. Sometimes there’s yelling and cursing involved.” Lucian finally looked over his shoulder at her. “I’m not sorry that I went out to find Chance. I am sorry that I wasn’t prepared for Pryor.”