The Swithin Chronicles 3: The Comet Cometh

by Sharon Maria Bidwell

  Markis looked at Ryanac’s condition, truly looked at him. From the sounds issuing through his throat, Markis expected the man to look pale, but his skin displayed an unhealthy redness as though he had burned in the sun. The big man had to steal each breath, dragging it down into his throat. His lips possessed a blue tinge. Meira would do what she could, but there was little hope. Grief closed Markis’s throat, made his heart stutter as though he too were poisoned. His eyes ached, but he refused the tears. He didn’t have time to give in to them.

  “Why?” Markis said. “Why let him live long enough to get here, but not long enough to give me a message?”

  “I think they already delivered it.” Meira didn’t look up, just bent down, grabbed something from the floor, tossed it to Markis, and turned back to her patient in one smooth movement. He caught it without thinking. “He had it in his right hand. He dropped it just now when we turned him.” Her green eyes flickered up to his face. “Your Samir has blond hair, does he not?”

  It still hadn’t registered until her words confirmed it. He had seen it, but refused to accept. He stumbled, and Harton’s hand caught him under the elbow, stopping him from going to his knees. The sight chased away his grief, his pain, his fear. He only felt numb. He was right in thinking he couldn’t even feel the comet. That too had deserted him in light of this horror. Someone had Uly. Whoever that someone was had cut off that length of hair that Uly had finally managed to grow long enough to twine into a braid.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “What are you capable of?”

  Meira had sent everyone else from the room, or at least made the attempt. Aware Meira never did anything without a reason, Markis had ordered the rest to leave. He stared at her now, frowning. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  She looked at him, her head tilted sideways. “I saw Antal when he first came in mere days after having three arrows in him. Most believed he had been lucky. I don’t believe in luck.” She advanced around the table towards him. “I’ve always believed the comet was for more than destruction. I think your father did too, once. I think he saw the fact that he was never able to use it for more as some kind of betrayal, almost as though the comet had withheld its full potential on purpose. He couldn’t bring himself to blame his own faults, accept his lack of strength or understanding. He might have been a different man, once.” She raised a hand as though she would touch him, and Markis took a step back. A small smile played over her lips.

  “You’re not meant to touch me without my permission,” he said. His voice held no power, but at least it didn’t waver.

  “As if I believe you’ll put me to death for it.” She touched him, her fingers pressing into his neck over the pulse. She stood almost as tall as he did. “I believe you are a different man. I believe you are what your father would have liked to be. I believe he never reached his potential.” Her gaze slid away towards her patient. “I’ve done what I can. All it means is that he is dying slowly, instead of quickly. He is unconscious and will soon slip into a sleep he will never wake from unless you do what you can.”

  Markis searched her expression while the thud of his pulse beat at his neck as though she held his heart trapped under her fingers. Ryanac had such a pulse. Everyone did. Ryanac’s was fading even as they stood here. “I healed Antal.” Even as he said the words, he knew he was taking a risk. Strangely, it wasn’t Meira he feared, but the council. He didn’t know who to trust anymore, but he had to trust someone. Why not someone with such an unlikely background?

  “Why have you not tried to heal your Sonndre?”

  “I’m not sure I can. It only seems to respond to unnatural deaths.”

  “And you don’t think being poisoned is unnatural?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What aren’t you saying?”

  Markis raised his gaze to the ceiling. “The comet save me from perceptive women.”

  “I have no sense of humour,” Meira told him. It was a warning, and he heeded it.

  “I can’t…” He struggled for a way to tell her. “I can’t feel the comet.” He looked at her then, right into her eyes. “I’ve tried. I can’t feel it. It’s like it’s not there.”

  “It’s there. You’re just blocking it.”

  Markis slapped her hand away from his neck. He could no longer stand the press of her fingers, the thudding sensation. It faded almost as though his heart had stopped beating. Perhaps, in a way, it had. “Why would I do that? If I could save him, do you think I wouldn’t?”

  “It’s not your choice. It’s your emotions.”

  “My emotions usually bring the comet forth.”

  “And what would that do? When you’re upset like this?”

  “It…would be destructive.”

  “So you’re suppressing it. You have to let go.”

  He shook his head, only to feel Meira’s hands on him, shaking him. Her green eyes glittered with something that looked terribly close to anger.

  “If you want him to die, then stand there feeling sorry for yourself. If you want to try saving him, then be the comet!”

  * * * * *

  I hoped to see you here. The abyss swirled and glittered, full of wry amusement. What took you so long?

  DON’T START. THIS IS HARD WORK.

  You’re…?

  HEALING YOU, YES. Relief and doubt danced with one another. DON’T EVEN SUGGEST IT.

  Ryanac thought otherwise. He believed he was dying, but along with the thought, there came the awareness that Markis knew everything he thought and felt. Almost instinctively, Ryanac tried to reach for reality. He couldn’t find it. Alarm was the sharpest emotion in the abyss now. It even dulled Markis’s grief. They hadn’t done this for some time, but had learned to share minds during the two-week journey here to the city. Markis never expected or wanted to be sharing the abyss like this. He couldn’t hide his fear.

  Am I dead?

  DON’T BE AN ARSE. HOW COULD I BE HEALING YOU?

  Give a dying man a break.

  YOU’RE NOT DYING.

  And you’re a terrible liar.

  YOU…MIGHT NOT DIE.

  Why can’t I wake?

  MEIRA SAYS YOU’RE IN A SLEEP YOU MAY WAKE FROM OR NOT.

  Meira, huh? The amusement bled back in then went away just as quickly. I don’t have time for this. I don’t have time to lie here. I have to find ‑‑

  ULY. I KNOW. Markis tried to clamp down on his despair, but he couldn’t hide his pain. He couldn’t lose them, either one or both. He would die inside. Ryanac wasted no time poring over his emotions.

  I tried to hold out. I tried to stay awake to tell you what happened.

  TELL ME NOW.

  * * * * *

  The air possessed a cool quality the way it always did when one stood near free-flowing water. Ryanac scanned the surrounding trees as unobtrusively as possible.

  “Shouldn’t we help them?” Uly’s voice broke in on his concentration.

  Glancing at the river, Ryanac shook his head. “There’s more than enough in the water already. We can’t get close without shoving those already helping aside. We need to warn people to stay away from the embankment, and I…want to get you away from here.”

  He could tell by the younger man’s expression that he had understood him. Uly swallowed. “You think there’s danger?”

  “I’m not certain, but I’d rather be safe.” He spoke only the truth, but some instinct told him that if he stayed with the greater number it would result in a large-scale attack, in more deaths. Something was wrong here. Ryanac wasn’t sure the damage had only been caused by the weather. Who would have known they would be out here today? He wanted to ignore his suspicions, but he couldn’t. Ryanac called out to a couple of the guards standing nearby. The four of them turned to the road. Some minutes later, the guard made a hand signal. Ryanac made one back. Uly frowned. He wouldn’t know if it meant someone followed them, and maybe that was just as well. He hadn’t started or shown his fear, giving Ryanac
good reason to be proud, but he didn’t know Uly’s limit yet. He didn’t know what would break the man’s spirit or his nerve.

  The skin on the back of Ryanac’s neck prickled. The first rider didn’t come from the back, but ahead. He tensed, even as he recognised the horse belonging to Kilan. The rider raised a hand in what seemed to be greeting, and then, in the distance, there arose the sound of a large commotion. Uly started; his horse lost its rhythm, making the young man fight the reins. The guard at his side had drawn his sword, but he suddenly yelped, slapped at his neck, flinched again, and slid from his horse. A stinging pain hit Ryanac in the side of the neck as the other man touched the ground, but he ignored it. He turned his horse to protect Uly, even as armed men rushed out of the woods. He managed to say, “We can take them,” and then dropped his sword. Staring down at his hands in horror, Ryanac had to accept that they had no strength in them, even as he fought it. He understood what the dart meant, but nothing he knew could work this quickly. He should have been able to fight long enough to send Uly on his way. He slid out of the saddle, hearing Uly call his name on the way to the ground.

  He lay on his back, staring at the sky, the sound of the sea in his ears.

  Not the sea. My blood.

  Gritting his teeth, he pushed to his knees even as someone said, “Drop it.” On hands and knees, Ryanac turned his head to Uly. They had cut the second guard down; the man lay in a pool of his own blood mingled with that of the two men he had taken down with him. Uly stood with a sword in one hand and the reaper blade Antal had given him in the other. Several men stood just out of his reach. Of the five, one man lay on the ground quietly moaning and another knelt much as Ryanac did, only cursing. Both bled. Ryanac was suddenly sure that Uly could take the other three, which left three at his back. Pity he wasn’t in the running. A sudden trembling ran though his hands. Even if he reached his sword, he wouldn’t be able to grasp it.

  It can’t end like this, with my not being able to help him.

  “Drop the weapons, or he dies. He’s dying right now while you delay us. If he gets back to the city quickly, someone might be able to help him. If he doesn’t, the poison will kill him.” The man speaking had a scarf over his face. His walked his horse forward to the first dead guard. “This one had more than twice the dosage. He’s dead already. We’re not going to hurt you. Just take you with us.”

  His eyes closed, and Ryanac blinked to clear them. He swayed, unable to help, using all his strength not to keel over in the grass. He managed to turn his head to look at Uly and made a small movement with his head, no.

  Uly looked at him and then lowered his gaze and let go of his weapons, letting them fall to the ground.

  “Help him up on his horse.”

  For a moment, Ryanac had thought they meant Uly, and then hands were lifting, pushing him. This close to, he wanted to get his hands on the men touching him, but he just didn’t have the strength. He tried to cling to the horse and couldn’t do that either. Someone bound one of his hands to the pommel of the saddle and wrapped the reins around his free hand so he couldn’t let go. He just had time to turn his head to look to where Uly was now back in the saddle as well.

  “One last thing,” The man moved his horse next to Uly’s. Reaching out, he gripped Uly’s hair, making him gasp as he wrenched him to the side. The man laughed. “You call this a braid?” With his sword, he cut through it. Uly’s eyes went wide. He lifted a hand to grab at the raw ends of his hair.

  Anger, worse than the idea of being poisoned, flashed through Ryanac. That braid meant something to Uly. It had taken ages to grow. It wasn’t just hair. It was a symbol of what he wanted to be and what Markis meant to him. These men had no right to take it. Someone handed the braid over and pushed it into Ryanac’s hand. Somehow, he managed to close his fingers around it.

  “In case you die on the way,” someone said, laughing.

  He swallowed around a tongue that felt swollen. His and Uly’s gazes met. “I’ll find you,” he managed to say. Those grey eyes bore into him, cool and clear. Then Uly nodded.

  “I know it,” Uly said, and then someone slapped Ryanac’s horse on the rump and sent it running.

  * * * * *

  “Come on. Wake up!”

  Markis had spoken aloud as well as within the abyss without meaning to. It hardly mattered. He and Meira still had privacy. The only person in the room with them lay under him. Aware Meira watched him more closely than he liked, Markis could do nothing about it. At first, he had sent a little of his power into Ryanac. The same way he had healed Antal, he had calmed Ryanac’s heart. It wasn’t enough. His friend had slipped into that strange sleep between death and life by then. If it hadn’t taken him so long to grasp the comet…

  No. Don’t think about that. It wasn’t his fault. If he was guilty of anything, it was having grown accustomed to the comet obeying him. Either that or loving too much. He had calmed his friend’s heart enough that Meira had been able to administer another drug without it killing him. Together they worked on Ryanac, she with her medicines, and he with his power. He’d had it in mind all along to try to reach Ryanac through the abyss. So she watched him, and her expression revealed she knew something was happening even if she failed to understand it. In the end, he had stripped off most of his clothing and lain on top of his guard. It wasn’t necessary, but skin-to-skin contact made this easier.

  Are you lying on top of me?

  He almost laughed in relief. YES.

  Eye to eye, mouth to mouth, cock to…cock?

  He did laugh. Meira started and took Ryanac’s hand as though to protect him from the crazy man.

  Meira’s holding my hand.

  YES. CAN YOU WAKE UP?

  Surprise shifted the stars, made them tumble. A little fear gave them a red tinge. The thought that he didn’t have time for this turned them yellow.

  WHAT? YOU DON’T HAVE TIME FOR DYING?

  I refuse to die like this. I’m not ready.

  AND I’M NOT READY TO LOSE YOU, SO OPEN YOUR FUCKING EYES AND WAKE UP!

  Ryanac struggled against something unseen. What is that?

  It felt as though a weight clung to him. On the other side was an absence of weight, a lightness of being. Ryanac let the weight cling to him, but it eased up. He rose closer to the surface before exhaustion dug its claws in.

  REST A MOMENT. Even as Markis waited with him, the king’s mind wandered back to the look on Uly’s face when he had tossed the blades down. He struggled to understand it.

  Not resignation or surrender. Apology.

  APOLOGY?

  He couldn’t stand by and let me die if there was a chance. Uly lowered his gaze in apology to me. I wanted him to fight and save himself. He couldn’t do that.

  NO MORE THAN YOU COULD DO FOR ME, OR I FOR YOU. Markis would give up his life for Ryanac or Uly. Ryanac would die for either of them. Now, it seemed Uly would do the same for them. IS THAT IT? ARE WE FINALLY COMPLETE? The irony that they could be whole now while one lay dying and the other under threat did not escape Markis.

  Not yet. I have to keep my promise to him.

  “You can’t do that if you die on me!” He spoke aloud.

  I heard you.

  I KNOW.

  In the abyss, Markis turned to look at Ryanac. His form shone with a sickly, green tinge. Blackness spilled from his mouth. Only one kind of blackness had a right to exist here, and that darkness belonged to the comet. Markis took hold of his friend’s hand. When he told Ryanac to open his mouth, he did without hesitating. Markis sealed their lips together, sucked the black poison out. The comet didn’t like it. Gold light rushed in and dispelled the darkness. Markis and Ryanac rose out of the abyss with a shout.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Who would do such a thing and why?” Tressa ran her hands up and down Ryanac’s arm as she spoke. She had taken to unconsciously touching him. They had sent Meira out of the room and called for Tressa, Harton, and Antal. Tressa was still acting as Meira’s ai
de, and the larger woman’s approving glances hadn’t escaped Markis’s notice. He just didn’t have time to pay attention to them. Tressa glowed under those complimentary looks, though. Now, with Meira out of the room, Tressa appeared ashen as she turned her full attention to Ryanac. The big man’s pallor had gone from red to grey, but he still managed to look better than when he had first opened his eyes. Markis watched the big man place a hand over Tressa’s, bringing her movements to a halt. She looked down at him where he lay.

  “I’m all right,” Ryanac reassured her. “And thanks for asking me not to die.”

  She blushed, which made Ryanac grin at her despite everything.

  “You heard that?”

  “We all heard it,” Markis said. When those in the room had been arguing or talking by turn, Tressa had held the big man’s hand and begged him not to die. She had also pleaded and threatened him by turn. “Like he said. He’s all right.”

  “I only wish we knew Uly was,” Tressa grumbled.

  “He is.” Markis caught his guard watching him and looked away. “I’m sure he is.”

  Harton spoke up. “We have an old saying that no one dies until everyone has given up hope or hope is taken away from us.”

  The saying covered Markis’s slip well enough, but that wasn’t what he had meant.

  “You’re sure she’s right, and this is a Kita dart?”

  “Yes. I recognised it. It’s the poison that’s unusual.”

  “No Kita would do this alone. They’re too broken up, disbanded. Someone trying to make it look like the Kita?” Antal’s interruption was timely, and Markis couldn’t help admiring the way the young man was managing to hold his nerve. Antal was clearly agitated.

  “It’s possible. Ryanac?”

  “I’d like to say there was definitely a Kita amongst them, but I’d hate to be wrong. They weren’t all Kita; there could have been one or two.”

  “The others?”

  “Swithin.”

  Antal swore eloquently.

  “They won’t hurt him,” Ryanac added. “They’ll let you know what they want soon enough.”