The mood turned jovial as Alan pulled a face at Seb. “Right big guy... hardly fair is it? You are twice my size.” Mathilde looked at the two men and couldn’t help but agree. Though Alan was wiry and pure muscle he didn’t look like a match for Seb’s huge arm.
“I will give you a chance and wrestle left handed then.”
“You’re on,” said Alan, rubbing his hands together and putting the handsome, silver knife on the ground between them. “I fancy my chances with you playing left handed. Put your throwing stars into the ring and we have a deal.” Alan grinned.
Mathilde tried not to laugh when Seb winked at her. Alan obviously hadn’t twigged onto the fact that Seb was left handed anyway. Five matches later Alan had finally given in and relinquished his knife. Seb still didn’t let on that he had retained the advantage throughout. The group settled down to chat and laughter again and for the first time Mathilde felt like she was really a part of the group; just the same as Louisa and Jewel, not their leader or the weird girl with the prophecy. As the night wore on Seb moved closer until Mathilde suddenly realised that their legs and arms were touching. The urge to put her head on Seb’s shoulder and fall asleep was almost uncontrollable. With a full stomach, the heat of the fire on her face and the sense of security created by being surrounded by so many good fighters Mathilde felt her eyes drifting closed. She lay back on the ground and looked up. Above the settlement walls the air was a patchwork of black, the heavy velvet of the hills, rough linen layers of high trees and satin smooth sky punctured with diamond stars.
Lying down made Mathilde wake up a bit as the heat of the fire was beaten to her face by a cool, frosty breeze. Sitting up again she joined the conversation which had turned to gentle teasing of Alan. Mathilde joined in the conversation again but the conversation quickly lulled and became less comfortable. Mathilde looked over her shoulder, following Jewel, Alan and Louisa’s eye-line to see what had dampened the conversation. Seb did not follow their gaze but looked at his hands, an angry look crossing his face. He had obviously seen the rest of the group react this way before, as if caught having fun when they shouldn’t have been.
Mathilde smiled as she saw Dash walking towards them then, turning back to the group, realised that it was Dash that was the cause of the change in mood. Jewel and Louisa looked guiltily at Mathilde and Alan shot Seb a sympathetic look but before Mathilde could ask any questions Dash had arrived and lowered himself down beside Mathilde.
“Hi,” he said to Mathilde, giving a brief smile to everyone else.
“Well I’m off to bed,” said Seb, standing up.
“Yeah I had better turn in too” said Alan, standing then holding his hands out to help Louisa and Jewel up.
“Night everyone,” Mathilde said and felt a tinge of sadness as the evening drew to a close. It seemed so unfair; everyone else got life so easy but she always had to choose; love or the prophecy; friends or the prophecy; friends or love. Why couldn’t she have it all? Everyone else did.
Dash held Mathilde’s hand and they sat silently, watching the fire. Mathilde felt heavy inside and sad but she finally gathered her courage and decided to be truthful and damn Dash’s feelings. She no longer had the patience to just go with the flow. If she was going to be distracted from her supposed prophecy and risk losing her friends and, more importantly, Seb then she had to be sure that it was for something important.
“Do you really think we will work? You’re so secretive Dash. I never know where I stand.”
Dash looked resigned to the conversation and Mathilde was thankful that he seemed to be in an open mood.
“I am sorry Mathilde. I grew up not knowing who, outside of my family, I could trust. I am not used to opening up and sharing my thoughts. I have spent my life using my words carefully. Every word I said had to be carefully weighed and made with a purpose. I am not accustomed to chit chat.”
“But with me it should be different. If you truly do love me then you need to be able to talk to me. Not just these intense, heavy conversations. We need to be able to laugh together and just have fun.”
Mathilde hated the pleading tone that had crept into her voice and the uncomfortable look on Dash’s face did nothing to make her feel any better.
“I will try Mathilde, just be patient with me. Give me time. Perhaps when Suzanna is safe I can relax and it will all be easier. More... fun.”
Mathilde was not convinced and from the way that Dash had to force the word fun out she doubted if he had ever had much chance to have fun in his structured life. More worryingly, it worried her that they could never have the same bond that she had with Seb.
Dash turned her face towards him by putting a hand at either side of her face then kissed her passionately. His lips mashed against hers and she felt weak as she pushed back. Every part of her body was on fire and the cool of the air blowing on one side of her face did nothing to soothe her. Dash pulled away and stared deep into Mathilde’s eyes.
“You must give us time Mathilde. I love you and need you. Just give us time.”
Mathilde smiled, her feelings far too strong to ignore. “Ok. I will wait. We’ll save Suzanna then we will concentrate on us. We’ll be fine.”
Mathilde hoped that saying the words out loud would make it come true but snuggling up to Dash to watch the fire she couldn’t help but feel it would not be easy. If they could build a life together, though, then Mathilde would happily choose Dash over the prophecy; but first to save Suzanna and the captives.
Chapter Twenty Four
Costin flew through the air, higher than he had two days ago when he had done his impressive knife juggling display. He bounced, whirled and leapt with the explosive energy of the wendigo but the tight control of his Brotherhood training. Around Costin his training mates threw knives at him, jabbed with spears and slashed with swords which sliced just a whisker’s breadth away from Costin’s flesh but he dodged every cut and deflected the thrown knives and stars with his own sword. The Protectors joined in the fight. Mathilde shot arrow after arrow at Costin, Seb aimed punches and axe blows, Alan threw knives and Louisa and Jewel twisted and turned, kicking and slashing with swords held in each hand. Costin dodged and deflected with ease. Finally all of Costin’s attackers backed off; exhausted after the two hours of aggressive attack. Costin landed in a crouched fighting pose and looked around at the group. He looked as if he had enough energy to keep on fighting for another hour. When he saw that no-one else was going to attack he stood and bowed, grinning at the claps and whoops that followed.
Jean Louis strode over to Costin and addressed the crowd and fighters. “My friends, we have seen that the serum does work. I want you all to think carefully about what this means to us and how it can help our chances in the fight against the wendigo. I ask you to consider if you want this power and strength. Over the past two days we have seen Costin jump half as high as the church tower, pull tree trunks from the earth and deflect every attack we have launched at him. An army with these powers will be unstoppable.
Thirty of your Brotherhood will now go to rescue the captives along with the Protectorate. We have enough serum for twenty five volunteers. Think, talk, imagine; then come to the church tomorrow morning. If there are twenty five brave men or women among you then I invite you to take the serum and help your fellow man.”
The crowd erupted into a cheer which hinted that there may be more than enough volunteers to come forwards the next day. Everyone stayed around to chat and Mathilde made her way through the crowd to congratulate Costin on the fight. He smiled as she approached, though he looked distracted.
“Well done Costin. You took a brave risk and it paid off,” said Mathilde as the crowd broke up and she went to talk to their newest hero.
“Yes. I had the blessings of God upon me I when I took that serum. I am happy to have served my Brotherhood and mankind. Now we shall slay the wendigo and they will plague our earth no more.”
Mathilde longed to believe that the wendigo could be slaught
ered and all gone without her having to fulfill a damned prophecy, but it seemed too easy. Costin hopped from foot to foot as if unable to stay still and his eyes darted from left to right. Now that Mathilde had the chance to see him close up she noticed that he had lost weight, though she had seen him eating three times as much at meal times. His pallor was tinged with grey and he had circles under his bloodshot eyes. Costin smiled at Mathilde but his eyes did not meet hers.
“Sorry I have got to go. Nice talking to you though. See you tomorrow,” Costin said and set off walking before Mathilde could say anything. She watched as he moved from group to group, never staying with each one for long and moving erratically like an agitated animal. After a few moments of watching Mathilde lost sight of him. She wandered through the crowd trying to find him, passing very brief pleasantries with the groups who tried to start conversations with her. Finally she spotted him heading towards the library and, to her surprise, he went in.
By the time Mathilde had arrived at the library door Costin was nowhere to be seen. Pushing the door open Mathilde saw that there was no light in the library and she didn’t know how he could have navigated his way through the piles of books and armchairs in such darkness. Not even a shred of light came through the small, high windows. Mathilde grabbed a flaming torch out of a sconce on the wall outside of the library. Walking into the library Mathilde held the torch at arm’s length, sending a flickering amber light ahead of her. The book covered walls absorbed the light meaning that anywhere outside of the arc of light stayed completely black. Mathilde stood in the middle of the room. She closed her eyes and listened.
A rasping, breathing noise came from her left, not quite by her ear, in fact lower than her shoulder, but still close. Mathilde’s eyes shot open and she swiveled on the spot, torch still held in front of her. Looking down she saw Costin curled up on an armchair. He shrank away from the torch and his face held a terrified hunted look. He chewed at his thumb and Mathilde wondered why she hadn’t noticed before that his nails had been chewed so short that his finger tips looked like fleshy, bloody meat.
“Costin! What’s wrong? Are you ok?” Mathilde dropped to her knees to be able to meet his eye-line. Costin’s eyes still darted left and right and his feet tapped quickly up and down making the armchair shake.
“Yes. Doing fine. Nothing wrong. Going to be ok. My heart is just a bit fast. I need food that’s all. Food and sleep.”
“When was the last time you ate Costin?” asked Mathilde, instinct telling her to keep the torch between them.
“Don’t know. Before the fight. Two hours ago. Then a bit before that and a bit before that. Can’t stop eating.”
“When was the last time you slept?”
“Before the serum. Three days ago? My heart goes too fast. The dark doesn’t calm me; I can see everything. I can see the writing on all of the books on that far wall from here without your torch. The torch is burning me. Too hot. Please move it.”
Though still sounding agitated Costin had also begun to sound scared. Mathilde reached out to him and gently pulled his hand and mashed up fingers away from his mouth. Even in the dark she could see patches of colour on his lips which looked like they could be blood from the damp fingertips which she now held. Against the warmth of her palm Costin’s fingers felt like ice. Mathilde pulled gently on his bony hand until he stood up.
“Come on, we need to see Tobias and my father. They will know what to do. It must be the serum. There will be an antidote; Fleur will have something to help.”
Mathilde slowly made her way out of the library and placed the torch back in the sconce. Costin kept flitting between trying to pull away and getting so close to Mathilde that he was almost hugging her like a frightened child. There were quite a few people still in the courtyard but most people had turned in for the night and everyone was absorbed enough in their own chats or games not to pay them much mind. Nevertheless Mathilde kept close to the wall and led Costin along the perimeter of the courtyard until they reached the door nearest to Father Tobias’s rooms.
When they got there the door was open and Mathilde could hear Jean Louis and Dash talking animatedly to Tobias. Watching them for a moment Mathilde was bemused to see Jean Louis laugh heartily and clap Dash on the back. She was equally bemused to see Dash give her father one of his rare smiles. Though they hated the wendigo for different reasons it seemed like their single mindedness had brought them together.
Tobias sat in a red velvet winged armchair with a high back. Though the buttons remained the majority of the velvet seemed to have worn away to make it patchy. Mathilde knocked on the door to get the attention of the three men then walked in slowly, still tugging Costin behind her. When the men saw Costin their mood sobered a little and Jean Louis looked crestfallen. Dash began to look panicked as the realisation of what he was looking at hit him.
“He’s turning. It was too soon,” said Jean Louis, taking a seat. Dash sat down in a third armchair and put his head in his hands.
“You have to give him the antidote Father.”
“Mathilde...there is no antidote. We’ve only just stabilised the serum. We have not yet had chance to make an antidote.”
Costin began to whimper and before long he was sobbing as an odd guttural noise erupted from his throat.
“Take him to the church. We have a room there at the back. The door locks. It will be safer for him...and us. I will sit with him tonight while you talk,” said Tobias, standing up and moving slowly towards Costin. Costin shrank away from him but Father Tobais put his arm around him gently and spoke quietly and reassuringly as he led him from the room.
“What now?” asked Dash, finally lifting his head from his hands. He looked deflated and Mathilde longed to comfort him but the presence of her father forced her into a business-like mood. Out of everyone in her life he was the one person who she felt the least comfortable and the least able to be herself with.
“We draw up battle plans. Normal battle plans,” said Mathilde.
“No. Perhaps we could use the serum still. If we give it to our volunteers tomorrow then Fleur still has three days to create an antidote to give to them.”
“Dash...no! We cannot sacrifice twenty five lives on a gamble.”
“But the captives...Suzanna...”
“No! You are blinded by the need to rescue your sister. I understand, truly I do, but we can’t sacrifice people to save her. This thing is bigger than the life of one person. It is bigger than the lives of the captives. Even without the serum the Brotherhood are the best fighters I have ever seen. To sacrifice twenty five of them would be foolish and selfish.”
“But you are happy to sacrifice Suzanna and the captives?”
“No that’s not what I’m saying Dash,” Mathilde called as Dash stormed out of the room.
“Leave him Mathilde. He will calm down. You have made the right choice, you are a good leader. I will talk to Fleur about trying to make an antidote and we will see what tomorrow brings for poor Costin.”
As Jean Louis left the room he gave Mathilde a proud smile. The long awaited acceptance was bitter sweet for Mathilde as she sat down by the fire, once more unsure of Dash’s intentions.
Hours later, not realising she had fallen asleep in the first place, Mathilde woke up with a start. A shaft of grey morning light streamed through the window, dust motes dancing merrily in the rays. Mathilde rubbed her neck which ached after sleeping upright in the armchair all night. Her eyes were dry, hot and itchy from having faced the now smoldering fire all night. Someone must have found her asleep as she had been covered up with a blanket. Mathilde wondered if it had been Jean Louis or Tobias. She doubted Dash would have returned after leaving in the foul mood he had been in last night. Standing and stretching out her muscles some of Mathilde’s last remaining injuries from the Fire Dance caused twinges of pain which made her wince. Skipping breakfast she made her way towards the church.
“Mathilde...wait up. Where were you last night?” Seb jogged up behi
nd Mathilde, in high spirits as usual. Before she could stop herself Mathilde’s mind skipped back to conversations of antidotes the night before. Seb’s energy was the constant antidote to Dash’s intensity and Jean Louis’ constant focus on the prophecy and Mathilde was happy that he was the first person she had seen when her mood was so downbeat.
“I fell asleep in Tobias’ study. I went there with Costin,” Mathilde said then filled Seb in on what he had missed.
“Poor Costin. Can we help him?” Concern crossed Seb’s face and Mathilde realised that this was the first person who had seemed to show concern for Costin himself rather concern purely for the battle plans.
“I don’t think so. Fleur is going to work on an antidote but I don’t want to trust the serum again. Not even in three weeks; not without more testing. We need new battle plans, normal ones, and I know just where to find them!” said Mathilde as a bolt of inspiration struck her.
“Hey where are you going?” called Seb as Mathilde jogged away. “Father Tobias has called a meeting in the church.”
“I know what he is going to be saying. So do you now. You go though...give my excuses. I have an idea.” Mathilde kept on jogging as she called over her shoulder. As the library came into view, Mathilde felt hopeful again.
Chapter Twenty Five
Mathilde grabbed the two books she had been looking at a few days before and curled up in an armchair. She had known when she first saw the dusty covers that they held something useful and now it all made sense. Perhaps some part of her had known all along that the serum wouldn’t work.
Two hours later Mathilde put the books down and rubbed her eyes. Laying her tired head back against the back of the chair she allowed herself the luxury of a rest. The library was quite warm, despite there being no fire. The rows of books and comfortable chairs seemed to insulate the room. Breathing in with her eyes closed Mathilde felt more relaxed. A plan was forming in her mind and the dry papery smell of the rarely used library was reassuring. The noises of the day carried on outside in a muted fashion making Mathilde feel safe and hidden away from responsibility and decisions.
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