When the lion had their attention it sprang forward, no longer content to pace quietly. Its mouth opened in a forceful snarl and powerful legs propelled it forward.
Gwen knew she was going to die. Too late, she remembered her portal-making powers, but there was no time to use them in the split-second left to her. She didn’t want to see her end, not like this, but she couldn’t force her eyes closed. Instead, she crouched, useless and trembling, and waited for death.
Aidan stood and tried to shout but his voice only croaked feebly. The lion ignored him and tensed its mighty legs in one last spring. It soared toward them and Gwen gazed into its golden eyes. This was the last thing she would ever see.
Then, the eyes rippled. They undulated, and faded, until only inches from Gwen the lion disintegrated into thin air. Nothing was left but memory and the stillness of the darkening forest.
Gwen’s breath, now that she wasn’t holding it any longer, came in great heaving gulps. She crawled over to Aidan and clutched at him, pulling him down until he knelt with his arms around her. She gasped and clung to him, needing his presence, his warmth, his solid realness, the safety she felt in his arms.
Once she had enough breath to speak, she pulled away and scrutinized him, grabbing his forearms.
“You’re okay?”
He looked dazed and a bit wild, but nodded his head. She turned to Bran, who lay in his former position against the tree trunk, eyes more alert than before but otherwise unaffected. When he saw her look at him, he gave a little laugh.
“Kitty has some teeth, hasn’t he?” He readjusted himself with a wince. “Lucky the enchantment is still partly up. The forest hasn’t reverted completely to its wildest self.”
“Is that what happened?” Gwen asked, sitting on her bottom. She wasn’t sure whether her legs would hold her upright, even while kneeling. “Is that why it was so—insubstantial?”
“Looks like. We’ll be out of here and in my realm by mid-morning tomorrow, though, so the remainder of the enchantment should hold by then. We can sleep easy.”
Sleep was the last thing on Gwen’s mind. From Aidan’s trembling hand on her shoulder, she guessed he felt the same. But there was nothing to be done—they couldn’t go any farther tonight, in the dark and with Bran’s health worsening, and there was no shelter nearby.
“I’ll take first watch, shall I?” Aidan said, squeezing her shoulder before releasing it to unroll a sleeping bag. Her shoulder felt very cold and empty when his hand left.
“Okay, thanks,” she said, and moved to help Bran into a sleeping bag. She had the feeling it would be a very long night.
***
As Gwen had suspected, it was a very long night.
Every crack in the woods and every rustle of dry leaves woke her from her fitful dozing at Bran’s side. Aidan’s profile in the darkness showed no signs of sleepiness, and his eyes glinted watchfully. The darkness pressed in on all sides, a cloying mass of suffocating weight. Finally, Gwen sat up and touched Aidan’s arm.
“I’ll take watch now. You rest.”
Aidan didn’t answer right away, but shimmied over to put an arm around her. Suddenly the darkness didn’t feel quite so malignant against the warmth of Aidan. Gwen relaxed into him.
“Let’s watch together for a minute,” Aidan said. He glanced at Bran, who lay with his mouth open, utterly unperturbed. Aidan snorted. “Glad to see someone’s resting well. Do you think a freight train would wake him?”
“Probably. If only because he’d want to check it out. Something human, you know.”
They lapsed into silence. Aidan stroked Gwen’s hair lightly, and it was as if every stroke brushed away Gwen’s fear and worry. She nestled closer to Aidan.
“Do you think we’ll ever be together somewhere normal?” she asked.
“You mean, not in a dangerous parallel universe? Too much excitement for you?”
“Just—yeah, the two of us have always been here, fighting for our lives. What do you think it will be like when everything is regular?”
“Peaceful. Restful. Glorious,” Aidan replied easily. He kissed the top of her head. She smiled in the dark, but her anxiety reared its ugly head.
“Do you think we’ll be okay?” She fidgeted, annoyed with herself for not clearly stating what she felt. The words weren’t coming out right, and Aidan wasn’t reading between the lines.
A twig snapped to their left. Aidan’s hand paused mid-stroke and Gwen froze. A second later, leaves rustled closer, as if something were walking toward them.
“Oh no oh no oh no,” Gwen whispered frantically. “What are we going to do?”
Aidan leaned over and clamped a hand over Bran’s mouth. Bran opened his eyes immediately and Aidan brought his finger to his lips. When Bran nodded, Aidan released his hand.
“There’s something coming,” Gwen breathed into Bran’s ear.
Aidan stood carefully, hauling Bran up with him. Gwen threw her backpack over her shoulder and grabbed Aidan’s. She left the sleeping bags—it would be impossible to outrun anything with them in her arms, and a lion would have no interest in blankets. Aidan and Bran stumbled toward the path. Gwen turned to follow, but took only two steps before a voice shouted in the silence.
“Get them!”
Gwen’s mind worked frantically as she whirled in the direction of the voice. No ghostly lion chased them, but what did they have to contend with now?
She hardly had time to register the sight of two men bursting through nearby bushes before the nearest man grabbed her. He pinned her arms to her sides. Gwen thrashed her body and kicked her legs in every direction, but the man held firm.
Aidan and Bran fared little better. Aidan, hampered by Bran, was captured easily. The second man threw both of them to the ground and knelt on Aidan’s back, twisting his arms until Aidan hissed in pain. The men didn’t bother to contain Bran, who lay limply where he had fallen during the attack.
When it was clear that her struggling was in vain, Gwen stopped to study their attackers. Who were they? Why did they want to capture their party of three?
Gwen could see little of the man whose arms enclosed her body in a suffocating grip. His sleeves were sewn from rough leather, dirty and with ragged edges in place of a cuff. The other man, perched on Aidan, wore a vest of ratty fur over a coarsely woven shirt. His long hair was unkempt and his eyes were cold. He saw Gwen looking at him and he narrowed his eyes.
“This is what will happen,” he said. His voice was low, but Gwen had no trouble hearing the ominous words. “We take your food and supplies. You don’t struggle. We don’t kill you.”
Gwen shivered. The man’s tone was featureless, matter-of-fact. This was not his first capture. It was a business transaction, nothing more. She had no doubt that if they didn’t submit, things would go badly for them.
“We’ll starve without our things,” Aidan forced out. The man leaned until his weight lay directly over Aidan’s chest. Aidan coughed weakly and lay still, wheezing shallowly.
“Better you than me,” the man said without emotion. He looked back at Gwen. “Do we have a deal?”
The man holding her squeezed more tightly.
“Maybe we should change the terms,” he said, his breath hot in Gwen’s ear. She grimaced and turned her face away from the rank smell. “The girl could come with us.”
A cold rush of fear traveled throughout Gwen’s body, from her spine right to her toes. Aidan twitched but no sound escaped his compressed lungs. The kneeling man sighed with exasperation.
“Fine. The girl comes too.” He pulled Aidan’s head up by his hair. “No fighting back.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” Bran said calmly. Gwen jerked her head to look at him. He had pulled himself into a seated position, although the effort had clearly cost him—his face was as pale as the moon.
“You’re not going to start making a nuisance of yourself, are you, cripple?” the kneeling man said with a firm hold on Aidan’s hair.
“Not me,
” Bran said. His eyes flickered briefly to Gwen and then rested on the man’s face. Gwen had never seen him so calm and collected. Bran wasn’t himself—he was up to something. He said, “It’s the others that you might want to worry about.”
“What others?” the kneeling man said with a hint of scorn.
“The rest of our party. Most of the able-bodied men and women went ahead to scout for better shelter, but they’re due back soon.” Bran paused and then said, “Actually, I think I hear them now.”
They all went silent. Gwen strained her ears, almost taken in by Bran’s story. She wondered what he was up to and desperately hoped he had a plan. To her surprise, a rustling in the distance greeted her ears, followed by the sound of clanking as if many people in armor walked toward them. Murmurs and occasional laughter floated in their direction.
“Help!” Gwen screamed. She didn’t know if Bran was doing something, or whether there was actually a small army headed toward them. Either way, playing along had to be better than the situation they were currently in. “Over here!”
A hand clamped over her mouth. She could taste dirt on her tongue. The kneeling man’s cold eyes darted warily between Gwen and Bran.
“Come on,” he growled at the man holding Gwen. “Grab her pack and let’s go. There will be easier pickings farther on.”
Gwen found herself thrown to the ground and her backpack wrested from her shoulders. The army noises grew louder as the men made their escape, running through the undergrowth with light feet that disappeared quickly into the night.
With the men out of earshot, the sound of the approaching army stopped abruptly. Gwen and the others were alone in the stillness. Gwen pushed herself up, intending to make sure Aidan wasn’t hurt. Before she could crawl over to him, Bran collapsed. His body convulsed with spasms and sparks, and steam of all colors streamed into the air. To Gwen’s horror, fire began to flicker along Bran’s fingers and down the bridge of his nose between his half-closed eyes.
Gwen scuttled over and held down Bran’s shaking torso. Aidan appeared a second later. He floated his hand above Bran’s face, his eyes narrowed in concentration. Bran’s body shuddered uncontrollably. After a moment, frosty air flowed from Aidan’s hand to the flames dancing above Bran’s nose.
The dancing of the flames slowed from a tarantella to a waltz before flickering out entirely, leaving black scorch marks in their wake. Bran’s body continued to shudder, but at a slower pace. The sparks came at less frequent intervals, and smoke stopped curling from underneath Bran’s hair.
Aidan flopped backward onto his bottom and heaved a huge sigh.
“What just happened?”
Gwen placed a shaking hand on Bran’s forehead, stroking his clammy skin.
“I think Bran protected us with the sounds of his own made-up army. But it cost him.”
The puzzlement on Aidan’s face cleared to understanding, swiftly followed by concern.
“He made the sounds by magic, and now he’s paying for it.” He sighed again and his hands balled into fists. “Dammit, that was a good idea. I might have been able to do it if I’d been thinking straight. And now Bran’s out of commission.” He stood up and paced away from Gwen and the unconscious Bran, turning back after three steps. “I can’t stand being so powerless. I have to step it up. This could have been so much worse.”
“But it wasn’t,” Gwen said. She hated to see the distress on Aidan’s face. “You can’t blame yourself. Bran’s been using magic a lot longer than we have. It’s his default skill.”
“But now he’s even more ill than before. And we can’t afford to rely on him. We can’t afford to make mistakes like that anymore. This place is too dangerous to be complacent.” He turned away again. The only part of his face visible was his clenched jaw.
Gwen didn’t have anything to say. Aidan was right. They had jumped in the deep end, and they didn’t know how to swim. The thought of the two men with their dirty furs and cold eyes made her shiver.
Bran’s head moved under her hand and she glanced at him. He opened his eyes and looked at her with recognition.
“Bran,” she said quietly, trying to appear calm. “How are you feeling?”
“Peachy,” he replied, wincing as he drew in a large breath. “Did it work?”
“You bet. They ran. Took my backpack, but left Aidan’s. And left me.”
Bran tried for a grin, but only managed a grimace. Aidan knelt down beside them again.
“Those men were Breenan. Why didn’t they see through your trick?”
“They were forest men,” Bran said with a ghost of a shrug. “The common people don’t have a lot of magical power. What they do have is deeper forest magic. It’s useful for hunting and growing things. Not so helpful for tricks.” He coughed twice, and red and purple sparks flew out. He continued, “They have a harder time recognizing flashy magic because they don’t see much of it. Besides which, we don’t exactly look royal at the moment.”
“What kind of things can they do?” Gwen asked. “Should we be on the lookout for magic from them? They didn’t use any here.”
“Perhaps they could encourage animals to come near you, or trees to fall. Might take a while, though. I wouldn’t worry about it. Worry about their tackling skills more.” Bran closed his eyes, pale eyelashes in contrast to the dark shadows below.
“Okay, have a rest.” Gwen stroked his forehead once more and looked at Aidan, whose face was set in grim lines. “Now what?”
“Now we wait until morning, then we get the hell out of here.”
Chapter 6
Well before the sun made an appearance in the sky, while the forest was still gray and cold, Gwen and Aidan stuffed the sleeping bags into their single backpack and prepared to depart. Gwen swung the pack over her shoulders and looked at Bran, who shivered despondently on the ground.
“How are we going to do this?” she whispered to Aidan. “Bran looks like he won’t last five minutes.”
“I don’t know what else we can do. We have to keep moving. I’ll do my best to drag him along.”
“What if we went back to England for a bit, traveled there by taxi or bus? At least we won’t have lions and Breenan robbers.”
“Now, there’s an idea.” Aidan patted his pocket enthusiastically, then grimaced. “If I hadn’t left my wallet at home, of course. I didn’t think we would need money in the Otherworld.”
“Damn, and I don’t have mine, either.” Gwen’s shoulders slumped. “So I guess a ride is out.”
“And what would we say about the mobile weather system?” Aidan pointed at Bran’s head, encircled by a purple fog that puffed out of his ears. “No, I’m afraid we’re stuck here. Bran, is there a spell I can use to move you along? We really need to move today, and well—” he shrugged apologetically. “I’d rather not carry you the whole way. And since we’re stuck in the Otherworld, we might as well use magic while we can.”
Bran’s eyes lit up with a hint of his old enthusiasm.
“Yes! You can falsely lighten me, for a while, at least. Here, I’ll show you.” He held out his hands.
“No, no. I’ll figure it out. Don’t use any magic.”
Bran’s arms drooped and he nodded his head glumly.
Aidan rolled his shoulders and dropped his hands to his side. His face grew still in concentration.
“Do you know what you’re doing?” Gwen hissed at him, alarmed. What if he got it wrong, and hurt Bran somehow?
“Relax. I’ve played with something similar before. It should work.”
“Should?”
Before Gwen could protest further, Aidan closed his eyes and released his breath in a forceful sigh.
Bran yelped as he rose off the forest floor. Dry leaves drifted down from where they had stuck to his pants. He hovered there, a foot from the ground, oscillating slightly until he twisted himself back into a seated position.
Gwen laughed. The sensation felt unfamiliar after the stress of the previous night. She whirled a
round and threw her arms around Aidan, whose face beamed. He staggered slightly from the surprise of Gwen’s hug.
“You did it! That’s so much better. Now we can actually make some headway.”
“Hey,” Bran said weakly, but he too was smiling.
“Yeah, it worked,” Aidan said. “But it’s still a fair bit of effort. Much easier than hauling this deadweight around,” he waved at Bran, who feebly flicked his hand at him in a dismissive gesture. “But still, not free.”
“We can take turns. We’ll trade Bran and the backpack every so often.”
“So I’m baggage now?”
“Yes. Be quiet and rest like a good piece of luggage. We’ll get you home soon.”
Despite her lack of sleep after the perils of the night, Gwen had a spring in her step. Aidan set a brisk pace and the forest passed by smoothly and quickly. The cool crispness of approaching winter still bit at Gwen’s bare legs and dead leaves rustled underfoot, but now Gwen felt that they were getting somewhere at last.
After an hour’s walk, during which Bran dozed on his bed of air, the canopy of naked branches and coniferous foliage above Gwen’s head started to thin. Sunlight slanted in and highlighted craggy bark.
“Is it just me, or are we coming to the end of this bloody forest?” Aidan said, peering forward.
“Oh, I hope so. The sooner, the better. Not that we know what’s up ahead. Could be even worse.”
“Now there’s positive thinking at its finest.” Aidan turned and looked at Gwen quizzically. “It’s not like you to be so pessimistic. What’s the matter?” He walked back to Gwen and took her hands in his. She sighed and gazed into his familiar green eyes.
“I don’t know. It’s everything, all at once. Bran is sick and Isolde is sick and the realm is sick—now I have to fix everything and I don’t know what’s coming next, not at all.”
“Look on the bright side. You don’t have to fix everything by yourself. You have me.”
Aidan was right. They were in this together. Gwen’s heart, under its heavy load of guilt and fear, lightened considerably. A warm glow that had nothing to do with her core started burning in her chest. She and Aidan had had so little time together by themselves. She had a sudden urge to kiss him—she wanted to feel his arms around her, to press up against his warmth and feel loved and held. His eyes told her he felt the same way. She leaned forward, and her lips met his waiting ones. Her inner heat increased from a gentle glow to a fiery sun. She kissed Aidan intensely and slid her hands up and around his chest to clutch him tightly. His lips responded to hers with equal fervor.
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