Cat's Quill

by Anne Barwell

  Once they were free of the stables, they'd made their way slowly toward the side entrance of the keep, acting the part of someone meant to be there. They were late-night visitors passing through, having stayed only long enough to rest their horses. The courtyard was still deserted apart from the man on duty who acknowledged them with a nod, as he had done when Will and Tomas had entered just after dusk.

  They'd ridden the horses through side by side. That way they'd meet whatever opposition was out there together. Leaving one horse behind to save the riders of the other was not an option. Will had silently handed his knife to Tomas. One weapon per horse. It wasn't enough, but it would have to do.

  The night was still suspiciously quiet. Above them a bird circled, the occasional flicker of grey reflecting off the light of the moon. A few moments later, and their only guide would be the dim lights in the sky. They had unlit torches but were still too close to the keep to use them safety.

  Something whizzed past Tomas's head. Buttercup's nostrils flared, and she reared onto her back legs, spooked. Tomas hung onto the reins tightly, struggling to stay in the saddle. "What the...?"

  "Keep your head down," Cathal hissed, his breath hot against Tomas's ear. "Someone's out there."

  Another something shot past them.

  Christian cursed. "Head for the river," he yelled. "Follow me!" His horse whinnied. The outline of it winked out of existence, the moon disappearing behind a cloud. The squelching of hooves grew louder, closer, but it was impossible to tell from which direction or whether it was friend or foe.

  "I would if I could see you!" Tomas muttered, trying to calm his own horse. "Whoa, girl, easy does it." Behind him Cathal's arms shifted, tightening as he tried to stay mounted. Buttercup shook her head, mane flying out behind her, the reins pulling at Tomas's hands. He hissed, missing the gloves he'd worn earlier, not noticing he'd lost them until they'd begun this ride, and now it was too late.

  Voices sounded to the side of them, urgent, orders carrying on the still air but still unintelligible.

  Tomas bit his lip. The leather of the reins dug into his skin. Cathal leaned forward, trying to talk to the horse, to calm it. A dull thump sounded on the ground next to them, barely missing Buttercup's back leg. "She has to move; they're using slingshots," he urged.

  "I'm trying!" Tomas snapped. The bloody horse had frozen, the same way she had in the river. It seemed to be her answer to any form of danger. When in doubt, stay still. Stupid animal! Hadn't she heard that horses were supposed to do the opposite? It appeared that she followed rules about as well as Cathal did, a sure confirmation that Christian had been right in reminding Cathal that she was still his.

  "Hang on!" Cathal hissed in his ear. He slid back on the horse slightly, digging the heels of his boots into her, and yelled something in a language Tomas didn't understand. The same one he'd used in frustration when the door hadn't opened.

  Buttercup whinnied and then broke into a gallop. Tomas wound the reins around his hands more tightly, ignoring the leather digging into his skin. He had to stay on. Cathal was relying on him.

  Around them all hell broke loose. They had to get to the river. Why, he didn't know, but he trusted Christian on that point at least. He was the local. Surely he wouldn't head there without good reason? It had to be the way out, a safe passage where their attackers couldn't follow.

  "After them!" A deep voice barked the order. Ahead a lone dog howled, its cry chilling Tomas to the bone. Despair, darkness, death. The stench of emotions seeped through him, one after the other. He was cold, so cold. His breath hitched. His hands began to shake, his body shivering.

  "Keep going. Ignore it and keep going!" Cathal dug his heels into the horse's flank once more. His voice was hoarse, words slurring, his own grip on Tomas loosening. He was slipping, sliding, struggling to stay upright. "They won't follow us over the river. We're almost there!"

  A cry of pain ripped through the darkness.

  "Will! No!" Christian yelled, anger and fear mixing, merging. His tone was fearful, worried. Shadows gathered around them, drawing closer. How far was the river? Were they going toward or away from it? Where were Christian and Will? What had happened?

  "Keep going!" Cathal urged. Something flew past them. Cathal jammed himself up against Tomas quickly, jerking his body sideways, forcing Tomas to move with him. A burning pain nicked the side of Tomas's leg. He ignored it.

  Another thump sounded on the ground. Close, too close. Buttercup kept moving. Tomas could hear water, growing closer, a familiar stench of sulfur making him gag. "We have to go another way. She won't cross it."

  "She has to, and she will," Cathal replied grimly. "They're getting too close; that arrow nearly hit its mark."

  "It did bloody hit its mark," Tomas muttered, hoping that Cathal was right. Last time they'd got the horse across by dulling its senses with herbs. That wasn't an option now; it would take too long. Wait... maybe. He turned his head, whispering so that only Cathal could hear him. "I have herbs in my cloak from last time, can't we use them against," he nodded behind at their pursuers, "them?"

  "Not enough time." Cathal's lips pursed. "She won't stop, not at this speed, and not following Sebastian." It was an unusual name for a horse, to say the least. "They are still ahead of us. I can feel them, although...." He shook his head. "Don't worry, love, just focus on keeping astride. We're almost there."

  Almost there. How far was almost there? Loud splashing sounded ahead, the dog howled again. The clouds above them shifted, stars winked at them and were gone. He was urging them into darkness. What if there was nothing at the other end of it? A dead end, or worse, a sheer drop.

  Or just nothing.

  Cathal cried out in pain. One of his arms weakened its grip around Tomas's waist. Fuck, he'd been hit by something.

  Underneath them, the ground shifted; the sulfur smell was suddenly stronger. Tomas couldn't breathe. Water splashed, ice water seeping through his trousers. They were at the river. "Go!" he yelled at the horse. "Go!"

  They were wading, the water rising still farther. This wasn't where they'd crossed before. It was deeper, more dangerous. The current tugged at them. Buttercup kept moving, following the horse in front. Cathal leaned forward, his breathing coming in gasps, calling encouragement to her.

  How much farther? Tomas glanced behind them nervously but couldn't see anything in the darkness.

  Raised voices argued, angry, scared, but he couldn't hear anyone following. He caught the words "demon" and "death," and then there was silence.

  Buttercup began climbing again. Free of the water, she shook herself, neighing and pawing the ground with her hooves. Someone approached them, heavy, gasping for breath. It was another horse, although the ragged breathing belonged to one of her riders.

  "Christian? Will?" Cathal leaned into Tomas, head resting on his shoulder.

  "Here." Christian's voice sounded shakier than Tomas had heard it before. This had been a hell of a ride for all of them. Christian closed the distance between them, his horse coming up alongside. "Will has been hit." He faltered. "They aimed at me, and he took it in my place. His head is bleeding, and he's not lucid."

  Will curled in closer to Christian, his words slurred but still recognizable. "Amelia, wait for me... please."

  * * * *

  Tomas pulled his cloak further around himself and Cathal, although it wasn't enough protection from the cold. The fire gave off more light than heat; it was the nature of the wood and to be expected, apparently. Nothing survived here for long, at least not in a way anyone or anything would want to, Christian had said grimly as they'd gathered the kindling they needed.

  "I'm sorry, Tomas," Cathal whispered softly, snuggling in closer. He kissed Tomas, leaning into it, fingers stroking his face.

  At the other side of the fire, Christian and Will lay curled together, Will's breathing finally having evened out into sleep, although he murmured something every once in a while, not loud eno
ugh to be heard clearly. Deryn's soldiers had not followed them across the river, but from the little Tomas had seen of these woods, he didn't blame them.

  It had taken another five minutes' ride upstream before Christian had deemed it safe to dismount. The horses needed a break, and it was too dangerous to ride into the thick of the forest with the little amount of light available. They'd spend the night, take turns keeping watch, and ride again at first light. Hopefully, by then Will would be recovered enough to stay upright on the horse without help. Although Tomas was no doctor, the little he'd been able to ascertain seemed to suggest a mild concussion, and that at the very least, Will would have a nasty bruise on his temple for a while. The examination Doc McKenzie had done, together with the way he'd muttered over Tomas's own injuries after his initial encounter with the Falcons, echoed this current situation a little too well.

  Not taking into account the nasty things lurking just beyond the clearing they were in, of course. And whatever was making that howling noise. Tomas shivered, wrapping his arms around Cathal. Ever since they'd crossed the river, he hadn't been able to rid himself of the constant sense of death and despair. It ate at him, seeped into him, and gnawed at the edge of his consciousness. He had no idea how anyone could sleep through it, feeling too on edge to attempt it himself. It was why he'd offered to take first watch, glad of Cathal's offer to keep him company and even more so the promise to answer some questions.

  "You have nothing to be sorry for, Cat." Tomas returned the kiss. He'd wondered if he'd ever have the opportunity to do this again, to hold Cathal and to be with him. "How's your arm?"

  Cathal smiled a little ruefully. "Sore, but that is to be expected." He rubbed at his upper arm, then winced. "Whoever fired that slingshot was not very accurate. I was fortunate."

  "He still hit you!" Tomas didn't agree with Cathal's assessment of "fortunate." At least the arrow that had nicked his leg hadn't done any damage; there was just a fine line of blood which had congealed quickly. No permanent damage. Not compared to the aches in his joints and lack of feeling in his backside every time he moved.

  "I doubt he was aiming for my arm, love," Cathal said quietly. "Deryn does not give up that easily. If we survive the night, she will catch up with us by the time we are free of this place." He frowned. "I'm sorry that you got involved in all of this. I let my feelings for you get in the way of my better judgment."

  "It was my decision to come after you, and I stand by it." Tomas shook his head firmly. He had no intention of getting into an argument, not when there was a good chance that this could still be their last chance to spend time together. "We'll get through this, find that bloody tree, and go home." He fingered the pendant Cathal had given him and then tucked it back under his shirt to keep it safe.

  "Home?" Cathal sounded puzzled. "You're going back to your world, where it's safe. I don't belong there. I'm not sure I'd be welcome there any more than I am here."

  Tomas scowled. "I'm not leaving you, Cat. Either you come back to my world with me, or I'm staying here." He pulled away slightly, stroking Cathal's face so that he turned and their eyes met. "I love you, and you told me you love me. I want a life with you. I thought that was what you wanted too."

  "I do." Cathal sighed. He didn't look away. "As my cousin is fond of saying, I'm a romantic, Tomas. In a perfect world this wouldn't be a problem. We'd be together and take each other as one for life. But both our worlds are flawed." He kissed Tomas softly. "The pendant is a token of my love for you. Keep it safe. It's your way home if we get separated, and it marks you as under my protection once we are free of her land."

  "No." Tomas shook his head. He'd taken the pendant as a token of Cathal's love, and that meant it would be used as a safe passage out of here for both of them. "I'm not leaving you. Either we make a life together here or in my world."

  "If you stay here, she'll kill you." Cathal bit his lip. He shivered, avoiding Tomas's eyes. "I won't allow that."

  "I won't allow her to have you, so I guess that makes us even on that score." Tomas was growing tired of this argument. Surely Cathal had to back down on it eventually? He sighed. "Look, Cat. Staying here is dangerous for both of us. It makes more sense for us to try and go somewhere she can't find either of us."

  "She found me in your world before. There is nowhere safe, Tomas. As long as you're with me, you're in danger." Cathal shivered, glancing behind them apprehensively. The fire was dying down. He got up and added more fuel to it. "I want you. God, I want you, but not at the risk of losing you. Can't you see that? I was stupid to think she'd just give up on this. Maybe I should just give her what she wants and be done with it."

  "Not fucking likely," Tomas snorted. He stood and began pacing. It was getting more difficult to see anything positive in this mess. What was it with Cathal's change of mind? Had he been so wrong to think they wanted the same thing? He drew his cloak around himself tightly. Cathal was crouched by the fire, just staring at it.

  The bloody fire wasn't even producing any heat. It was so cold, the shadows lurking beyond the fire edging closer. The horses shifted nervously; neither of the two had settled at all once they'd got clear of the river. In the distance the dog began to whine. Why couldn't someone or something just shut it up for good?

  Cathal held his hands out in front of him, turning them this way and that, trying to warm them over red embers, the flames highlighting the stained bandages. Suddenly closing his eyes, he dropped to his knees, his shoulders sagging, his breathing shallow.

  "Cat!" Tomas was by Cathal's side in a moment, pulling him into his arms. "Are you okay?" How could he have let this happen? Cathal should have been resting with his injuries, not sitting up and arguing with him. They would need all their strength if they were to ride at dawn.

  "I'm fine." Cathal opened his eyes, gave him a tired smile, and then, to Tomas's surprise, kissed him hard. His voice was rough, choked. "I should have realized."

  "Realized? Realized what?" Tomas stared at him blankly, unsure to what he referred. The dog's whine changed to a whimper. "Bloody dog," he muttered under his breath. "Why doesn't someone put it out of its misery?"

  "If only it was that simple," Christian interrupted. He sat up, stroking Will's brow, trying to soothe him from whatever nightmare he was having. "Cat wasn't the only one who should have realized." He huddled his shoulders, curling in on himself but still staying close to Will. "We should have told you what this place was and warned you before it began to affect you, affect all of us."

  "This place?" Tomas kept Cathal firm in his embrace. He remembered the river, the stench, the fact that Deryn's men had refused to follow them, the words that had been spoken. "The dog...," he said slowly, wondering what had happened to it.

  "That thing is not a dog," Cathal said grimly, "and as Christian says, you can't put it out of its misery. It is misery, or rather, that is what it does and how it feeds before it moves in for the kill."

  "It's a diawl," Tomas realized slowly. Will had mentioned them before, that and something about a legend, although he had not elaborated on either, changing the subject when Tomas asked him directly.

  "How do you know about those?" Christian eyed him suspiciously. "They are native to only this one area on our world, and I doubt they are known in yours."

  "What are they?" Tomas demanded in return. "And don't give me that crap about it being misery. Some facts about now would be nice. I'm tired of the three of you speaking in riddles when I need answers."

  "It's not deliberate." Cathal's fingers stroked Tomas's arm. They were cold, yet the action still sent tiny pinpricks of warmth through him. "There is much you do not know about our world; it is not realistic to expect to learn hundreds of years of history in a few days. We also still need to learn about your world. Too much time has passed since the year we spent there, and Christian's access to information has been very limited during his more recent visit."

  "That's one way of putting it," Christian muttered, adjust
ing Will's cloak around the both of them, trying to keep warm. "I hate this place," he mumbled. Will opened his eyes groggily; confusion chased pain and fear across his features before he closed them again. Christian pulled him closer, murmuring soothing noises, making sure he was settled again before continuing. "I always have. It plays upon any negative feelings you might have and magnifies them. The diawl have no need to kill directly more often than not. Those who spend time here are driven to take their own lives and those of their companions. Already our tempers grow thin, and we jump at every shadow."

  "They merely watch, and project, and then feast on what is left," Cathal added grimly. "This is the dark heart of Deryn's lands. Legend has it that one of her ancestors created these forests and banished those who crossed her to them. In their desperation to escape, they turned to the little magic they possessed, but it backfired to produce the first diawl. Other legends say that the diawl are those people and they interbred with the animals that lived here." He shuddered. "Neither story is one I would like proven."

  "So the whole family are bitchy whackjobs then?" Tomas sighed. Of all the people to set her sights on Cathal, it had to be someone with a family history of kindness and light. It figured.

  Christian grinned. "I'm beginning to suspect at last what you see in him, cousin. Well spoken, Tomas. Well spoken." He shrugged. "If the stories are to be believed, her lineage is tainted by the dark arts. But then, nothing has been proven, and naturally her family took offense at the accusations. There is a harsh penalty for those who are caught speaking of it. But still the stories continue to grow. This particular one keeps intruders from her lands, as most do not dare risk this forest at night. Those who have do not survive long, and their mad ramblings merely serve to add to what already exists."

  Above them the clouds moved again, this time the moon coming into view for a few moments, the air around them tinged with an almost blue color. Whispers crept forward in the darkness of the surrounding trees, growing louder and then fading back to an aural haze, not quite a hum but enough to remind Tomas of bees hovering to protect a hive. A nearby bush shook itself as though by invisible breath before stilling.