by Anne Barwell
"Careful with that one," Deryn warned. He glanced at her, the cold, calculating look in her eyes sending a shiver down his spine. She smiled, very obviously enjoying the battle, anticipating her victory before it had even happened.
Tomas took another step back. His ankle twisted, caught in a hole in the ground. A wave of pain shot through his foot as he hit the ground. One of the men laughed. The sun hit Tomas's eyes. He brought his hand up to shield his face, a sliver of steel catching the edge of his vision just as the soldier slashed with his knife. Tomas rolled, trying to dodge his assailant. The man grabbed him, holding him down, pulling his head up by his hair, making him watch the battle around them, the knife against his throat.
Arrows flew through the air. Buttercup broke into a gallop, but it was too late. Will cried out, at least one of the projectiles finding its target. Buttercup whinnied, panicked. She froze. Will slumped forward in the saddle.
Deryn laughed.
Christian tightened his grip on his knife, pulling it from the shoulder of the man who'd opposed him, not bothering to wipe the blood from the blade as he crawled to his feet, ready to take on someone else.
Deryn gestured. One of her men aimed, the small, sharp object leaving his hand to rapidly fly through the air toward the bull's-eye it sought.
"No!" Cathal threw himself, diving toward Christian, trying desperately to get between his cousin and the dagger heading straight toward him, its point mere inches from its new target.
Time slowed. Tomas watched in horror, unable to do anything.
And reality seemed to turn in on itself and shift.
* * * *
He was surrounded by grey nothing, mist that melted through his fingers when he tried to hold onto it. Tomas blinked several times and sat up, trying to clear his vision. He must have died, that was it, but surely there was supposed to be something in the afterlife? Not this damp, grey, annoying as hell... excuse for whatever it was supposed to be.
Where was this place, and what had happened to everyone?
He swallowed, the visuals of the last few moments chasing each other through his mind. Cathal! The dagger had been going straight for him. What had the idiot been thinking diving into its path like that?
"Cat!" Surely if this was the afterlife, Cathal must be here with him. He wasn't going to do this alone, damn it. Not when Cathal had pulled that kind of stunt.
"Cat!" The mist twisted and turned, brushing against his skin, cold and clammy. Fuck, for an afterlife, this was not what the church preached, that was for sure. Unless he'd missed that part of the sermons he'd been forced to sit through with one of the families who'd fostered him.
Unless he'd been sent to hell for whatever reason? Yes, that must be it.
What was left of his sanity snorted at the idea. He stood, testing his ankle cautiously, but it felt fine. That figured. If he'd left his body behind because he was dead, he'd hardly be likely to still have a sprained ankle.
That still didn't explain what this place was or what had happened. He took a step forward, and then another, trying to push his way through the mist. "Cat!" he yelled again. If this was going to be one of those stories where some higher power hit the reset button and the time he'd had with Cat hadn't happened.... No! He wasn't going there. This wasn't some bloody book, even if it followed on from one. This was reality. Reality didn't work that way.
There had to be consequences for actions, and follow-through and.... Tomas sat down, his legs shaky, not wanting this other version of reality either.
The dagger had been coming for Cathal. If this place wasn't real, and just his mind trying a last-ditch avenue of escape, was that the only future he had to look forward to? Cathal's death, followed by his own, and then nothing?
"Cat is not here," a voice said softly. It was a woman's voice, gentle and reassuring, although she needed to work better on the latter as he didn't feel particularly reassured.
"Who are you and where are you?" he demanded. He knew he should stand, that he at least could run if he did, but his legs refused to cooperate.
A woman stepped out of the mist. She was slender, of medium height, with blue eyes and blonde hair, which curled around her face. She smiled, and for a moment Tomas swore he saw an echo of Cathal about her.
"You are Tomas." It was a statement, not a question. She was watching him carefully, her hands folded in front of her, pale against the turquoise of her long gown.
"Yes, and you are?" If she was going to sound all-knowing, he at least was going to find out who she was and what this was about. "If Cat's not here, where is he?"
"He is safe for the moment," she replied. "That is why I am here, Tomas. I wish him to continue to be kept safe."
"Oh?" He didn't like the calmness in her voice. It was too controlled; in fact it reminded him of Cathal when he was outlining one of his plans. He frowned, wondering if they were related.
"I have something to offer, but it comes with a price." Her eyes grew wistful. "Everything does. It is the way of the universe and what is required to keep the balance, especially between our worlds."
Tomas scrambled to his feet. "What are you offering, and at what price? If it will save Cat, I'll do it. Whatever it is, I'll do it." Prices could be negotiated later; for the moment if he could keep Cathal alive, they'd figure a way around it later. "Who are you?"
"Someone who can help, Tomas. That is all you need to know for now." She took a step back, keeping just out of his reach. "As for the price...." She frowned, looking him up and down intently, her eyes so intense and focused that he shivered, feeling as though he lay bare before her.
"What is it?" he asked hoarsely. Would he have to give up Cathal to keep him safe? Even if the price was that, he'd do it, although he hoped like hell it wasn't. He hadn't agreed yet though, right? Not until she specified whatever it was. He and Cathal couldn't have gone this far to lose each other, but he couldn't let Cathal die either. But there was one thing that would be unacceptable: losing Cathal to Deryn. It was something he couldn't agree to, especially as it was not his decision to make.
"You and your betrothed are bound to this world, Tomas, as are those who are of his blood. When you are called, the answer you will give is yes, no questions asked."
"Betrothed?" Tomas frowned, his fingers going to the pendant still around his neck. "But we never...." They'd both said they would, but it had been too late for that.
She chuckled. "That pendant was given in love and received the same way. In our world, that is a sign of betrothal and keeps you safe on our land. It marks you as Cathal's, as the one he intends to take in marriage."
"Oh." Tomas felt himself blush. So that was what Christian had meant about Cathal being romantic and sneaky.
"It sits well on you. I wish you well for your future together." She glanced behind her as though in response to something or someone he could not hear. "Our time here is almost over. I cannot risk staying longer, and neither can you. I already came too close to being discovered when I kept watch in the catacombs. Accept the reality you find yourself in, Tomas. I will do what I can to close the path behind you."
"What do you mean when we're called?" Tomas took a couple of steps toward her. She shook her head. She'd wished them well for a future together. That meant they would get one, right? "Who are you? I don't even know your name."
Could she be one of those mages Cathal had mentioned? But why the hell would one of them help? They were supposed to be the enemy, weren't they? Had he just sold both their souls to the proverbial devil?
Already she was beginning to fade, as was the mist around them. Her words were soft; he strained to hear them. "Look after my brother, Tomas. Make him happy and give him the life he deserves."
And then his reality shifted once more.
* * * *
Pain screamed through his ankle, sunlight temporarily blinding him. Tomas sat down with a thump in the grass, panting, trying to get his breath back. He felt exhausted, l
ike he'd just run a marathon, not to mention confused as hell.
Where was he? What had just happened?
Around him, chaos ruled. Buttercup neighed loudly, pawing the ground. Will was slumped forward on her, not moving. Cathal lay on his stomach in the grass, looking dazed, his own breathing coming in gasps. He was bruised; his lip was bleeding, as were his hands. On top of him, washing herself, was a familiar black cat.
Of the dagger, there was no sign.
"He... what... there was a man, and now there's a cat." Mikey had sprung to his feet, a discarded book flung to the ground at the base of the oak tree. He looked around warily, eyeing the group of people, and horse, in front of him.
What the hell had just happened?
"Cat?" Tomas whispered the name, hoping this was real. He tried to stand again, his already swelling ankle refusing to cooperate.
Cathal looked up at him, his eyes glazed over and dull. "Tomas? Where? There was a dagger. I thought...."
"Cat! Tomas!" Mikey ran toward Cat, closing the distance, helping him to his feet. Tomas scowled, pulling himself to his knees, trying to get upright and regain some semblance of dignity. "What happened to you guys? Everyone's been worried."
Blackthorn... no, Christian, meowed, noticing the horse. The cat leaped onto Buttercup's back, rubbing herself... no, himself... against Will, trying to rouse him.
That animal, the oak, and Mikey.
Tomas risked a glance behind him and then to his right and left. "We're home," he whispered numbly. They were in the field next to the old oak, the inn behind them. But how? Was this what Cathal's sister had meant about keeping him safe? She'd sent them all home, even the bloody horse.
Christian meowed again. Louder this time, more insistently, definitely not happy about being back in cat form. "Will!" Cathal realized, a little farther ahead in the rational thought department than Tomas was. "He's injured." He pulled away from Mikey, breaking into a run toward Buttercup and her unconscious rider. An arrow protruded out of Will's leg. He groaned when Christian meowed again but did not open his eyes.
A door slammed in the distance, two figures already starting to sprint from the house toward them across the field. Donovan and Heidi, it must be.
"We need to get away from the tree." Cathal caught hold of Buttercup's reins, wincing when he twisted them around his fingers. "Deryn will be right behind us."
Tomas struggled to his feet. Mikey, to his amazement, left Cathal and decided to lend some assistance to Tomas. "Who's Deryn? Who's Will, and what's going on?" he demanded. "You guys all appeared out of thin air by the tree, and then he," Mikey pointed to the cat, "changed shape."
"That's your great-grandfather," Tomas said, unable to resist the introduction, too tired to care about Mikey's reaction at this point. "Christian... he's a cat."
Mikey's jaw dropped. "Cool!" he breathed. "So there is magic here. I knew it!"
"Deryn," Cathal urged. "We need to get away from here. If we came through the portal, so might she." He laid a hand on Will's forehead, murmuring something to him, reassuring him, even though he was still out of it.
"She won't," Tomas said slowly. "Your sister, she said she'd try and close the path behind us." Surely if Deryn was coming, she'd be there already, or at least they would have heard that music that played when the portal opened.
"My sister?" Cathal stared at him. "You spoke to Irene? When? What did she say?" His hand stilled suddenly, his eyes shifting to rest on Mikey. "You're Christian's great-grandson?" His voice softened. The cat stopped washing; he--as Tomas's brain was not going to cope with thinking of Christian as a she--pressed up close to Cathal looking for attention or maybe comfort as he continued speaking. "I had no idea."
Tomas limped over to Cathal, taking the reins from him. His hands were in no state to lead a horse, not after that last fight. "I was going to tell you, but we had no time. I only just found out before I came after you." They were going to have to talk about such a lot. But first they needed to get help for both him and Will.
Explaining all this was going be interesting, to say the very least.
"What the hell's going on?" Donovan finally reached them, almost out of breath, Heidi still a good few feet behind him. She took in the situation at a glance, pulled out her mobile, punched in a number, and held it up to her ear, listening for a reply.
"Where have you been? We've been so worried, we've had the cops out searching the area, and then you show up again like this!" His tone was a mix of concern and anger.
"They appeared out of thin air by the tree!" Mikey butted in. "One minute I was alone and the next they were there, and Blackthorn's not even really a cat!"
Tomas sighed. "We'll explain later. Will's hurt, and so is Cat. It's been a hectic few days."
"Few days?" Mikey rolled his eyes. "You must have hit your head, Tomas. You've been gone six weeks!"
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Epilogue
Tomas stirred, his subconscious registering that something, or rather, someone, was missing. He shifted, ignoring the twinge in his ankle, and attempted to move closer to Cathal to snuggle up to him. His eyes opened with a start when he realized he was alone in the bed, although the mattress on Cathal's side was still warm.
"Cat?" He rolled over, fumbling around for the bedside light, found the switch, and turned it on. A pale haze filled the room, outlining the lone figure standing by the window.
"Go back to sleep," Cathal replied softly. He shivered but didn't turn around. The old T-shirt and cotton boxers of Tomas's he wore didn't give much protection from the chilly night air. The boxers fit, as he and Tomas were of a similar build, but the T-shirt was very long on him with the height difference between them. Heidi had taken the clothes they'd returned in with mutterings of washing them, although it was doubtful that anything could be salvaged with the state they were in. Tomorrow they would find suitable clothing, but for now, resting and recovering from their injuries was more important. "I will be there in a moment."
"You're cold." Tomas sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He yanked the patchwork duvet off the top, wrapping it around him as he gingerly put his feet on the floor. The ankle still wouldn't take much weight, but he could move slowly, using a motion somewhere between a shuffle and a limp.
"It is a little chilly but still warmer than the forest at night." Cathal turned to see what Tomas was doing. "Dr. McKenzie told you to keep weight off your foot," Cathal reminded him, frowning.
"I'll be fine," Tomas reassured him, hobbling over to the window. He leaned forward, his head resting on Cathal's shoulder, wrapping his arms around him, using him to take the weight off the injured ankle slightly. The duvet he draped over both of them. It was chilly out of bed, and Cathal's arms were covered in goose bumps.
"Thank you." Cathal tilted his head to kiss Tomas gently on the lips. Tomas leaned into it, returning the kiss slowly before breaking it, running his fingers through Cathal's hair, which smelled faintly of the apple scent of the shampoo they'd both used. It suited him. "I'm sorry I woke you."
"What were you thinking about?" Tomas kept his voice low; it was quiet outside, and he felt as though he was encroaching on a private moment.
"The past, and the future," Cathal replied, returning his gaze to the window. The oak stared back at them, tall, unflinching, and silent with its secrets. It had left its mark on him quite literally. The bracelet of twigs he'd taken from it to wear in this world to counter the magic of his punishment had transformed into a tattoo on his wrist since he'd returned, the original having disappeared supposedly when Christian had changed shape.
Tomas nodded. "I'll take care of you, and we'll take the future together as it comes." He traced the outline of the marking on Cathal's wrist with his fingers. "You're safe now, we're home." At least with it having transformed into something more permanent, it meant that they did not have to worry about the consequences of him leaving the shadow of the tree.
"Are we?" Cathal didn't seem so sure. "This is your world, Tomas, not mine. I feel as though I belong with you, but I am not convinced I do here." He sighed. "There is Will and Christian to think of too."
"Will is going to be fine." Tomas pulled Cathal closer; already he was beginning to warm. "The antibiotics Harry gave him will clear up any infection from the arrow, and it came out cleanly. He just needs to be convinced to rest." However, he hadn't missed the confusion in Will's eyes; not all of it was down to his injuries. He'd never been in this world before. It was all new, and there were so many things to learn. Will was a man out of his place and to some extent, with the more advanced technology here, out of time. He and Cathal both. Christian was a cat, so that didn't count, at least for the moment. Any ramifications that concerned him could be dealt with later. In the meantime he was spending the night on the end of Will's bed with any efforts to convince him to move being met by glares and hisses of the feline kind.
"Will is not one to rest." Cathal shook his head, his attention still on the oak. "Although Irene said she would close the path behind us, with the way time passes differently between our worlds, it could be several days before we are safe, even if she succeeds."
"Then we need to be careful, while still having faith, love." The sentiment was not one that Tomas would have voiced even a week ago, but there was something about Irene that made him believe that she would not have made a promise she did not intend to keep. She had taken a great risk in taking him briefly out of time to speak to him and then shifting them all through space as well as between worlds. Apparently it was a talent very few mages possessed, making her someone not to be trifled with. Even so, her abilities were limited, or she would have been able to save her own betrothed. Mages had their own weakness, and abilities could be interfered with.
Tomas didn't want to think about the price that could be asked of himself and Cathal for their own safe passage. The words that his sister had said about them being called was something they would have to discuss and consider at a later date. He had no doubt that Irene had not spoken lightly; nothing was given without cost, but for the moment they were together and safe, and that was what he planned to focus on.