by Jocelyn Fox
“Got him,” she announced, and Merrick let go of the rope to anchor Vell’s legs as she helped Finnead up over the edge of the cliff.
“How do you manage to look graceful even when you’re climbing over the top of a cliff?” I asked indignantly.
He gave a tired but game smile. “I am a knight of many skills, I suppose.” As Vell ushered him away from the cliff edge, a slight grimace crossed his face, like a minute ripple across a still pond. His hand twitched toward his side. Merrick’s quick fingers untied the rope at his waist, despite the tight-drawn knot; and then Vell and Merrick both turned their attention back to the cliff’s edge. Forin took the bitter end of the rope and dove over the side of the cliff, the rope arcing behind him. After a moment, the Glasidhe scout reappeared and signaled the Northwoman and our navigator. They hauled on the rope, taking in all the slack, and Merrick took the strain again. Shortly after Vell slid up to the edge of the cliff, her legs went rigid with effort.
“Do you have him?” Merrick called, but as he listened for her reply the rope jerked in his hands. He instinctively dropped into a crouch, all the lithe muscles in his shoulders and arms standing out as he fought to keep the rope from sliding through his hands.
Vell gave a short little cry and her body slid forward suddenly. Finnead leapt forward and a black streak hurtled past him. Beryk trapped Vell’s legs beneath his long black body, giving Finnead enough time to reach Vell before she slid over the side of the cliff. I slid toward them but Finnead said in a voice clipped with effort, “Help Merrick.”
I stumbled to my feet, ignoring the flash of fierce pain in my thigh. I grabbed the rope behind Merrick and leaned back, balancing as much as I could on my good leg. We hauled on the rope and Vell pulled, and Finnead grabbed the huge Northman under the arms, heaving his unconscious form up over the side of the cliff. Merrick nodded to me and we both let the rope go slack. Merrick raked his fingers through his hair and took deep breaths. I scrambled over to where Vell and Finnead worked over Luca. By the time I hobbled over, Luca was stirring. Blood covered the side of his face. I didn’t want to think about his shoulder.
“He hit the cliff when he swung back toward it,” Vell explained. She already had her healer’s kit open, wiping away the blood from Luca’s face with a clean cloth. He opened his eyes and immediately lashed out. Vell leapt back and Finnead pinned him down with lightning-fast speed.
“Easy,” Finnead commanded, and then he said a Sidhe word that made the air tremble with power. Luca stilled.
“He won’t like that you used one of your words of power on him,” Vell said balefully.
“Would you rather I hit him in the head again to calm him down?” Finnead replied. He leaned down and said firmly to the Northman, “Rest easy, brother.”
Vell raised an eyebrow and looked at me questioningly. I shook my head slightly, hoping she’d understand that I would tell her about our encounter with the sirens later. I didn’t want to shatter the tenuous peace that had settled over Luca. He said something hoarsely to Finnead, who shook his head and put a hand on Luca’s shoulder reassuringly. Vell knelt again next to the two men and added her own murmured words. She spoke in the North-tongue, and Luca immediately looked at her with an expression of longing on his blood-covered face, saying one word again. For a moment I didn’t understand, but then I heard the word he kept saying: “Kianryk.”
Luca was asking for his wolf.
“Come on then,” Vell said, standing. Finnead helped Luca to his feet. When the ulfdrengr swayed on his feet, he quickly found himself between Vell and Finnead, Finnead under his good shoulder and Vell with her arm wrapped around his waist. Merrick silently offered me his arm, and I took it, leaning on him tiredly as we limped our way toward the copse of trees. As we walked away from the cliff and the sound of the Darinwel faded behind us, relief rushed up within me. And then, immediately afterward, I felt a scathing wave of guilt.
“Kavoryk is dead,” I said out loud, more because I needed to say the words than tell Merrick.
“We know,” he replied quietly. We caught up to the other three, all of us stumbling along side-by-side like drunkards weaving their way home from the neighborhood bar.
“What I wouldn’t give for a good shot of vodka,” I muttered, every aching muscle in my body protesting my continued movement. “Or vinaess,” I added.
We reached the copse of trees. Graceful runes carved into the first trees glowed faintly with silver light. Goosebumps skittered in a wave over my skin as we passed the rune-trees and there was a slight sensation of something pulling on my skin, as though I was walking through a sheet of plastic that stretched and stretched and then finally broke. The Sword hummed softly. Merrick glanced at me. “What’s it saying?”
“The Sword doesn’t particularly like being called ‘it,’” I replied.
“My apologies,” Merrick replied with a slight smile.
“The hum, though, is approval. Of the runes,” I clarified.
Slight color came into Merrick’s cheeks.
“Are you blushing?” I asked curiously.
“I appreciate the…compliment,” Merrick replied awkwardly.
“I didn’t know Sidhe could blush. I though your skin tone was pretty much the equivalent of marble, you know, all the time.”
Vell turned her chuckle into a cough. Then we all sobered as we neared the center of the copse. Forin and Farin’s auras provided most of the illumination underneath the shadowy embrace of the trees. Beryk’s eyes gleamed. He sat silently next to a huge oak, watching over the two still forms carefully laid in hollows by the oak’s roots. Rialla lay curled around Chael, the silver patches in her fur gleaming in the scant light. I looked over at Luca. His face was a tight mask—Northerners were not quite as skilled at hiding their emotions as the Court-bred Sidhe.
Merrick gripped my elbow lightly, holding me back as Vell helped Luca forward. He dropped to his knees next to his wolf. I couldn’t see Kianryk’s whole form, but it seemed to me that a Northern wolf should not be able to fit into so small a space. I looked at Merrick questioningly.
“They’re both alive,” Merrick said quietly, “but it was a near thing.”
I felt his body tighten with anger. “We got them, though. We saved them.”
“Perhaps only to die among friends,” Merrick murmured.
“Don’t say that,” I hissed.
Merrick sighed. “Tess, sometimes you refuse to see the truth, especially when you don’t particularly like it.”
“And sometimes you refuse to see hope, especially when something seems hopeless,” I replied rebelliously.
Vell watched, Beryk standing sentinel by her side, as Luca murmured Northern words over his wolf, his large rough hands tenderly stroking Kianryk’s fur. An ache built in my throat at the gentleness in his movements, and the anguish written openly now across his face. Merrick pulled slightly at my arm, guiding me away from the sight of the ulfdrengr and the wolf.
“It might be best to give them a bit of time,” he said softly.
“I can…I should help them,” I said. A thick fog wrapped around my thoughts, exhaustion pressing down on every inch of me. A slight breeze rippled through the copse, pressing my still-wet clothes against me. I shivered, my skin damp with cooling sweat.
“Vell is a skilled healer,” Merrick reminded me.
“I know that.” I blinked, my movements sluggish, matching my words. Another, stronger shivering spell gripped me. Merrick steadied me. “Can we light a fire?” I asked through my chattering teeth, even though some small part of me thought that was a stupid question. “The runes...”
“Runes against discovery. Runes of silence and concealment.” Merrick paused thoughtfully. “I’ll strengthen a few of them, to hide the smoke. But I think we can manage a fire.”
“Should build it…near the ulfdrengrs. They need it…too.”
“Vell and Luca will take care of their own,” Finnead said, emerging from the shadows with one of the packs in hand
. He nodded at Merrick. “If you would like to start the fire, I will assist our Bearer.”
Merrick handed me over to Finnead. The Vaelanbrigh’s touch was firm but gentle on my arm.
“Why am I so…tired,” I wondered out loud. A spasm of shivering coursed through me.
“It could be mild hypothermia from falling in the Darinwel. Or shock from your leg. Or exhaustion from climbing the cliff. Most likely a fortuitous combination of the three,” Finnead replied. “Here, let’s sit.” He guided me to the ground, supporting me while I arranged my wounded leg, stretching it straight in front of me so that I could sit without agony ripping through me. I still couldn’t help the small groan that escaped me.
Finnead opened the pack and sorted through its contents deftly. I tried to keep my eyes open. Faintly I heard the sound of flint striking—or whatever tool the Sidhe used to light fires—and Merrick muttering a few curses under his breath as he tried to light the fire.
“Here.” Finnead touched my shoulder, holding out a white shirt, blue tunic and black trousers.
“You found my extra clothes,” I said in slow surprise. “I thought they were lost with…Kaleth.” My voice caught. I took a hitching breath and tried to push down the tears pressing behind my eyes. The sound of the black arrow slamming into Kaleth’s side echoed in my mind.
“They’re not your clothes,” the Vaelanbrigh replied. “They’re an extra set from Vell.”
My eyebrows furrowed. “Stealing….not good.”
“I was going to give you the clothes to change into yourself, but that’s clearly not going to work,” Finnead said with a sigh.
“S’ry,” I muttered. My chin fell forward. I was so sleepy. Still shivering, still pulsing in pain from my leg…but the tiredness overwhelmed me. My eyes drifted shut.
“Tess,” Finnead said sharply, tapping my cheek. “Stay awake for a few moments more.”
I opened my eyes. His face was very close to mine. “Your eyes are like the sea,” I murmured, gazing into them. They were so dark, almost black, in the fading light.
Finnead gave another sigh. “All right. I’ll help you.”
That shocked me awake. “What?” I squeaked. I cleared my throat, hugging myself as another shiver rippled through me. “You are not helping me change clothes. Get Vell.”
“She’s busy with Chael and Kianryk,” he replied. “Would you have me call her away from them?”
“No.”
“You have to get out of those wet clothes,” he said, his voice even and smooth.
“No,” I said again, clutching at my elbows.
“Tess,” he sighed. “Stop being so stubborn. I’ve dressed many a wound and tended many a sick Knight. Not all my Knights have been men.”
I vaguely remembered the story of Finnead riding into hopelessly overwhelming enemy forces to rescue a female Knight so she could die among her companions, and be buried with proper Sidhe honors. I couldn’t remember her name. I bit my lip. The sleepiness started to hover over me again. I couldn’t believe what I was about to say. “Fine,” I said, gritting my teeth. “But I’m going to punch you in the face if you look.”
He gave me a measured glance. “You must think me a cad, to suggest such a thing.” In the dimness I couldn’t be sure but I thought I saw his eyes glimmer with repressed humor. He motioned for me to take off my shirt. I angled my torso away from him as best I could. He draped his cloak about my shoulders wordlessly, averting his eyes from the flash of bare flesh. I felt a furious blush rising to my cheeks and was grateful to the darkness. My arms felt so heavy. I didn’t know whether I’d be able to raise them to get the dry shirt on, so I settled the cloak about my shoulders more firmly for a moment.
“You’ve acted like a cad,” I pointed out truthfully.
Shrugging one shoulder elegantly as he smoothed the wrinkles from the white shirt, he replied, “I thought you would have surmised the reason for that long ago, my lady Bearer.”
“Don’t be all formal with me, punk,” I muttered.
“Punk,” Finnead repeated to himself with a small smile. Then he skillfully held up my shirt for me, holding it open at the hem and collar.
“Like my mom used to do,” I commented, mostly to myself. “No peeking.”
“None,” he agreed solemnly, his eyes closed.
I winced as I slid my arms into the sleeves and tugged the shirt away from his grasp. The dry fabric felt heavenly against my skin. I tipped my head back sleepily. “Don’t think I can do…the pants right now…” I murmured.
“Come then, at least the boots.”
I felt a slight tug at my left foot and looked in surprise at Finnead, sliding off my boot with two hands. His knuckles brushed the strip of bare skin between my sodden socks and my shredded pants. I shivered again, but not from the cold.
“Careful,” I whispered as he gently grasped the right boot. He drew it off with infinitesimal care, but even so I grimaced and bit back a whimper. I almost protested when he slid my wet socks off my feet, but the new dry ones felt so good that I relaxed back into the haze enfolding me.
A steadily growing golden light danced over us, deepening the shadows. Through half-lidded eyes I saw that Merrick had successfully started a fire.
“Come on then,” Finnead murmured, wrapping his cloak about me. I couldn’t control my limbs, so I let him bundle me up and lift me closer to the fire. He settled his back against the closest tree and arranged me so that my head leaned back against his shoulder, my bad leg still stretched out. I almost murmured a protest at the intimate position…but the strength of his arms as he drew me closer felt so good. So secure and safe. One of his graceful hands came up and tucked an errant strand of hair behind my ear. The fire warmed my legs. I shivered a few more times and then slowly stopped, relaxing back against Finnead.
“Does this hurt your ribs?” My words sounded far away, drifting through the dusk.
Finnead settled me closer against him in reply. “No.”
“Don’t lie,” I told him, my eyes drifting shut. I turned my head, tucking myself against the curve of his shoulder and neck. I shivered, and not from the cold anymore. Finnead took a deep, deep breath and exhaled very carefully.
“No,” he repeated in a whisper. “You’re not hurting me at all, Tess.”
“But your ribs…” A yawn interrupted me.
“I heal faster than your average Knight, remember?”
“But you’re not…”
Finnead cleared his throat. I stopped talking as I heard the soft footfalls behind us.
“The runes are all reinforced,” I heard Merrick report to Finnead.
“Well done,” Finnead replied. I felt his voice rumbling in his chest, even though he spoke quietly. It was oddly soothing. “Wake me for the second watch.”
“No. You need to sleep.”
I felt Finnead stiffen at Merrick’s contradiction of his orders.
“No disrespect meant, Vaelanbrigh,” Merrick added softly. “That is to say, I know that you and the ulfdrengr and the lady Bearer endured much this day, and you deserve a night’s rest. Vell and I will keep watch.”
“And us,” came Farin’s voice from above. “We shall sound the alert if any enemy approaches!”
I smiled a little, my eyes still shut, at Farin’s enthusiasm.
“And I thank you greatly for it,” replied Finnead. His voice sounded tired. I shifted against him to find a more comfortable position and he froze, holding carefully still until I settled and quieted. Then he breathed a small sigh and one of his hands stroked my hair with a feather-light touch. “Rest well, my lady Bearer,” he whispered, and I gave myself up to sleep as the twilight deepened into night around us.
Chapter 21
“You know, Liam,” I said, “I really wouldn’t have thought that I would be the knight in shining armor.”
We sat by the pool at the house that we’d sold when I was in the fourth grade, soon after Dad died. The summer sun overhead warmed the concrete. I relaxed
into the warmth of the dream, letting it wrap around me. It was nice to sit by the pool with my brother, even if it was a dream. Liam wore camouflage pants, rolled halfway up his shins, and one of his brown uniform shirts. The dark ink of a tattoo peeked out from underneath the sleeve of his t-shirt. I tilted my head and frowned slightly. Liam had gotten a tattoo of St. Michael on his right shoulder soon after graduating the Academy, but I didn’t remember the tattoo on his bicep. He leaned back on his hands, feet in the water. I watched the ripples spreading from around his ankles, and the pattern of light playing across the tile of the pool.
“You’ve never given yourself enough credit, Tess,” my older brother replied, a smile lifting his lips. He leaned over and nudged me with his shoulder, like he’d done when we were kids at the dinner table. It had sent me into a fit of giggles every time when I was younger, for some strange reason, and the memory of it brought a smile to my lips now. “You’ve always been so tough and strong. You just never really realized it yourself.”
I shook my head, tracing one toe through the water idly. “I wouldn’t have made it without you.”
“That’s what big brothers are for,” he replied teasingly. Then he sobered. I could see our dad in some of his expressions. Maybe that was why Mom ignored us, because we reminded her of him.
“You’d think she would have hugged us closer,” I murmured, blinking back the sting of tears behind my eyes.
“A loss that deep twists people in strange ways.” Liam stared into the water. An expression I’d never seen before lingered on his face, equal parts guilt and grief and an attempt at stoicism.
A bark rang out across the backyard, joyous and unbridled. I turned to look and saw Lila, our golden retriever. She’d been a Christmas present to both Liam and I when I was five, and I’d been heartbroken when we had to put her down my sophomore year of high school. And now she was as I remembered her in the best years, bounding across the backyard toward us. I smiled. Obviously after the harrowing events of the day, my subconscious was giving me my best memories, weaving them all into one blissful dream. Lila bounded over to us and greeted us exuberantly, jumping on first Liam and then me, whining and grinning, brown eyes warm and loving and trusting. I wove my fingers through her golden coat.