Prophecy (The Destiny Series Book 4)

by Christine Grey

  “Yes,” she answered simply. She pressed her lips together in a grim line of determination.

  They both scrubbed their arms and hands with fresh water and strong-smelling soap that Meeshe kept with her tools. Meeshe shook the water from her hands and took a few deep breaths.

  The blade cut through, but it was still difficult, even with the scales gone, and Meeshe had to make repeated shallow cuts instead of the one quick slice she would have liked. Brin cried out each time she cut, even though he remained unconscious. With the last cut, the dragon’s blood spilled out in a gush. The heavy rush of blood did not last long, and it soon lessened to a constant weeping of the bright red fluid. Meeshe reached in, pulled out black clots, and tossed them aside. She worked quickly, but not hastily. Soon her entire arm was buried in Brin’s side, as she groped blindly, pausing now and again to feel for any sense of where the flow might be coming from.

  “I cannot feel anything broken in here, which is good news. Some ribs are likely broken higher up, but they are not the cause of the blood. I think…yes, here. I think the artery was severed, but it appears to have sealed itself off as I can feel a large clot. I do not want to disturb it too much or else—”

  There was another burst of blood and Meeshe swore under her breath. “Well, so much for that idea. Siusan, I knocked the clot loose, and the artery is pumping blood again. It is not severed as I feared, but it is torn. If it had been severed, it probably would have been better. It would have constricted on both ends and likely healed cleanly. I am currently holding it in my fist. You must reach in and sew while I hold. You are going to have to do it blind. It is too far in for you to be able to see while you work. Do not worry about using fancy stitches, just get them in, and when you think you have enough, add some more. We do not want to have to try this twice.”

  ***

  It was done. Actually, it had gone fairly well, considering she was sewing by touch. Still, she had managed to jab the needle into Meeshe’s hand at least twice that she knew of. Not that Meeshe had said anything, but Siusan had felt the difference when her needle missed its mark, and she had seen the way Meeshe’s eyes had tightened.

  When it came time to sew the outer wound closed, Siusan had gratefully relinquished the needle to Meeshe. She was shaking so badly she would have been as likely to sew her own hand to Brin’s side as to actually close the open wound.

  With the most pressing of Brin’s injuries attended to, they worked to bandage and clean the rest of his body. His sides should have been wrapped to stabilize the fractured ribs, but if there was a way to get the dragon in position to accomplish that feat, they could not see it, and they decided to leave well enough alone. Later, when he was able to sit upright, they would do what they could for his ribs.

  Meeshe had left her with four large packets to steep in hot water and slowly pour into his mouth. She had assured Siusan that Brin’s natural reflex would be to swallow, and even if some of the fluid was lost to the dirt, anything she could get into him would help. It was for healing, she had said, as well as for pain, but she warned Siusan not to share that last part with the proud dragon, should he revive. If he thought he was being coddled, he might become stubborn and refuse the medicine altogether.

  Siusan lay beside him, resting her head on her outstretched arm, watching him sleep. In the years since he'd first come to Etrafa, they'd become the very best of friends, though Brin would likely say he'd merely taken pity on her. He delighted in telling her that if it weren’t for his generosity of spirit, she would have no friends at all. It was no secret that she held some very different ideas, progressive, even, but she did not spend so much time with him because she did not have many friends, she did so because, honestly, his company was all she wanted. He seemed to spend more and more time in Etrafa as the years passed. In the beginning, he would come for infrequent, short visits, usually not willing to stray from Maj for long. After a while, the visits grew in length and regularity. His last visit had lasted for two full months, and during that time, they had spent many long evenings in comfortable conversation that continued until the sun had made an appearance, reminding them how long they had been talking. Seeing him beside her, broken and clinging to life by a fragile thread, made her heart constrict painfully in her chest.

  She traced her fingers on the brow ridge above one of his eyes. She knew he delighted in being touched. Ever since his release from the sword, he thrived on that physical contact and being able to feel again. So now, as she watched him sleep, she could offer him at least that much.

  She paused for a moment and whispered, “Do not leave me,” and she caressed him once more.

  Chapter 13

  Holly unwrapped the bandage from her hand and coated her palm with some of the cream that Tabitha had given to her. It worked well, but what a stink! In only a week, the skin had already closed, and the flesh of her palm was a smooth, shiny pink. It was still tender and it itched like mad, but that was to be expected. It wasn’t the wound itself that bothered her as much as it was the memories it evoked. She'd been out cold for most of the drama, but the terror she'd felt while waiting for Aesri at Meeshe’s house was still fresh in her mind. Though no one openly blamed her for what had happened, she still felt as if it were there. It showed itself in the way Brint was almost overly accommodating and kind and the way Tabitha looked at her from under her lashes.

  Logan was the worst. He didn’t speak to her much at all, except for when she asked him a direct question. Not that he was much of a talker to begin with, but he had at least started to open up before it had all gone wrong. Sometimes it was nothing more than a comment on the weather, or asking her if she'd like more berries at dinner, but it was something, at least. Now, there was only silence. He didn’t even look her way most of the time, and when he did, his eyes slid over her, invariably coming to rest on a spot just over her shoulder.

  She wrapped her hand once more. Though she probably no longer needed to, it felt better to cover it, to hide it. She stood up and looked around herself, turning slowly in place. Tabitha had gone to search for leaves and roots to make more of the foul-smelling cream, and Logan had accompanied her.

  Of course he had, Holly thought with a grimace. He followed after her wherever she went, like a faithful dog. She told herself that she didn’t care. If Logan preferred Tabitha’s company, that was fine with her. Nevertheless, a small part of her couldn’t stop hoping, wishing, that he'd one day look up and see her—really see her. Then he'd realize he'd been trailing the wrong girl all along.

  Holly sighed.

  Brint was…who knew? Probably hunting. Now that they were no longer under such close scrutiny, Brint decided it would be safe to add meat back into their diet. Logan would not partake, but at least he'd stopped making those faces when Brint came back with a rabbit or grouse.

  So, here she was, alone in the woods with nothing but trees to keep her company. She'd promised to not go any farther from camp than calling distance, and she'd kept her promise for the most part, as long as they called very, very, loudly.

  A movement caught her eye. At first she thought it was a bird, but then it moved again, and there was a strange hissing sound. It was such an unusual little creature, there could be no doubt what it was. She'd never seen one before, personally, but the descriptions had been more than sufficient for her to know that if it was not Dibbuc, it was at least a close relative.

  She hurried away from the thing, trying to keep her step measured. It wasn’t easy; her brain was screaming at her to run.

  “Wait!” Dibbuc said in a rasping voice.

  And for reasons completely unknown to her, she paused, stopped, and turned back toward it.

  “Sssweet child, do not be afrrraid. Dibbuc hasss not come to do you harrrm. I only wish a worrrd.”

  Holly looked over her shoulder, then back in the direction of camp, and then back to the winged, furry creature, hovering not more than ten paces from her. If she screamed, surely someone would hear her and come
running. Armed with the knowledge that she could call for help if need be, she took one step nearer to Dibbuc.

  “What do you want?” she asked in a voice sounding more confident than she felt.

  “Nothing, nothing. Dibbuc hasss sssomething forrr you. A messsage. My missstrrresss hasss hearrrd about the terrrible trrragedy. Yesss, yesss, terrrible. She wantsss Holly to know it isss not herrr fault, not herrr fault at all. Rrrah orrrdained that thisss should come to passs, long ago.”

  Despite herself, Holly wandered even nearer to the little creature as he spoke. Maybe it was the odd way he'd said the words, or maybe she was simply trying to hear and understand him better, but she was soon only a few short feet from him.

  “Why would your mistress care what I thought? Why send you all this way merely to pass along a message like that? Are you trying to trick me? It won’t work. I know you and your mistress. Go away! Go away and do not come back!”

  “Prrretty talk. Sssomeone goesss out of theirrr way to offerrr you a bit of comforrrt, a few kind worrrdsss and the hand of frrriendship, and thisss isss how you behave? Yourrr parrrentsss would be verrry proud, Dibbuc isss sure.”

  The mention of her parents pricked her conscience. After all, he hadn’t done anything to her so far, and they had raised her to be polite, and give everyone the benefit of the doubt. They'd told her that caution was always a good thing, but they'd also told her to temper it with an open mind and an open heart. Well, here was an opportunity to put that into practice. Even the stories she'd heard about Dibbuc accused him of no more than trying to steal the Sword of Cyrus. A crime, to be sure, but who knows what he'd been told. Maybe he'd thought he was doing the right thing. There was the incident with the kraken, she argued with herself, but she had no proof Cifera had anything to do with that, now did she?

  “Very well,” she said. “I apologize. You may thank your mistress for me.”

  Dibbuc nodded his head. “Good. Good.”

  “Is that all?”

  “Not quite. Dibbuc wasss alssso to tell you that we will be watching. If you arrre everrr in need of ourrr help, you have only to call out, and Dibbuc will come.”

  “I don’t understand. Will your mistress be watching, or you?”

  “Yesss,” he responded before flapping his wings and disappearing back into the forest.

  ***

  “Have you found everything you were looking for?” Logan asked.

  Tabitha opened the leather bag she wore slung around her neck and checked the contents. “I think so, but I wish I could find more comfrey. It grows everywhere, but as soon as I want it, it hides. No matter. I’m sure we’ll find more as we go.”

  “We should be headed back. We have strayed farther than I had intended, and the last thing I need is for Holly to come looking for us. We will end up spending half the night looking for her.”

  Tabitha suppressed a giggle at the truth of that statement. Holly was bright, but she was hopeless in the forest. Growing up, she'd preferred life in the keep, or better yet, the capital. Nothing pleased her more than a trip to the mainland to visit the court of King Jaymes. It wasn’t that Holly didn’t like the forest—she took plenty of walks in the woods—but she favored the well-worn and well-traveled paths.

  “You shouldn’t be so hard on her,” Tabitha said.

  “I am not trying to be ‘hard on her,’ I am trying to be practical, unless you want to go wandering around in the woods after dark. Forget I said that. It is probably exactly the type of activity you would enjoy.”

  “As a matter of fact,” she said, sweeping her hair back and away from her face. “Besides, it isn’t really that dark with all of those trees that give off light. There aren’t as many here, though, are there?”

  “No, not in this part of the forest. I do not know what it will be like as we travel farther. I have not gone much beyond this before. There was always plenty to explore closer to home, and I did not like to be gone from Grandmother for too long.”

  “You’re worried about her, aren’t you?”

  “Not really worried, more concerned. Grandmother is no fool, and the animals will keep watch, besides.”

  “That’s right! I keep forgetting the two of you can talk to animals.”

  “Not just the two of us. It is not a common skill, but it is not incredibly rare, either. It almost makes up for the fact I cannot hear the trees. Sometimes I get a feeling from the trees, but that is as close as I have ever come. It is not like the rich communication enjoyed by the rest of my brothers and sisters, but as I told you before, I have reconciled myself to it.”

  Logan shrugged his shoulders indifferently, but Tabitha doubted he was as apathetic as he seemed.

  “So, with the animals—how does that work? Do you growl, chirp, hiss, or what?”

  He looked at her with one eyebrow raised, and the corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk.

  Tabitha scowled at him. “Well, I don’t know! You tell me how you do it then.”

  “I talk to them, and they understand me. They talk to me, and I understand them. It is as simple as that.”

  It didn’t sound simple to Tabitha. “But how do you understand them?”

  “When we speak Etrafarian, do you understand what we are saying?”

  Tabitha shook her head slowly from side to side.

  “Brin’du Drak’Tir does. He knows many languages. Think of it like that.”

  “Fine, you understand them because you naturally know all of their languages, but how do they understand you? Don’t tell me a squirrel knows Etrafarian. I’m not that gullible.”

  “That is more complicated. My answer is that I do not know. There is something in our voices, perhaps, that translates for them.”

  “If you say so, but it still sounds strange to me. My father can hear the thoughts of animals, but he says that it isn’t like words, at least, not usually. More like feelings than words. Brin's the exception.”

  “What can you do?” Logan asked. He looked genuinely interested.

  “Me? I can’t do anything. Only Breken men have abilities, and they have to be tattooed and have a ceremony and all that before they even know what they are.”

  Logan laughed. “You believe that drivel? Breken are born with their abilities, they simply lay dormant. The tattoo and the ceremony are meaningless, an archaic practice used by Breken priests to perpetuate the illusion of power. About all the priests do is read the individual to see what their gifts are. They do not have anything to do with creating those abilities. And, of course the women have power. Most do not develop their gifts because they do not even know to look for them, but they are there, just the same. Breken women who are unlucky enough to discover their abilities learn to hide them, or they find themselves dying younger than they would like.”

  “Tabby! I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” Brint said, surprising them both by his sudden appearance.

  “Looking for me?” Tabitha asked innocently. “Sorry, Brint. I thought I told you I'd be in the woods.”

  Logan chuckled.

  “Don’t encourage her!” Brint shouted, turning on the man.

  Logan held up his hands in a gesture of surrender, but his smile never dimmed.

  “Yeah, yeah, you’re completely innocent, right? I’m sure my sister forced you to wander so far from camp. Overpowered you, did she?”

  “Sounds about right,” Logan said with a laugh. “She’s pretty convincing when she wants to be.”

  Tabitha was glaring at the two of them, and Brint froze. “What did you just say?”

  “Pardon me?” Logan asked, as if unsure of what he had done.

  “You said she’s pretty convincing.”

  “No, I didn’t,” he said, shaking his head.

  “You did it again! Right there! You used a contraction.”

  “He’s right, Logan,” Tabitha said. “I didn’t notice the first time, but you definitely said didn’t that time. Are you all right?”

  “For Rah’s sake, it is not lik
e I had a seizure. You need not get so worked up about it. It’s…it is probably the result of being isolated with the three of you. I am simply picking up bad habits.”

  “I like it. Makes you seem almost like a real person,” Tabitha teased.

  “Ha, ha, very funny. I’m…I am glad I amuse you.”

  Tabitha was amused, but she didn’t think it would be a good idea to tell him so. She had long believed the Etrafarians were far too uptight for their own good, and hearing Logan loosen up like that was a good thing, as far as she was concerned.

  Brint was still looking at Logan in an odd sort of way, as if trying to get a read on the man, but then the moment passed, and he shrugged his shoulders slightly. “Is Holly still at camp, at least? You did tell her not to go anywhere, didn’t you?”

  “We told her,” Logan said. “It probably was not necessary though. I cannot imagine Holly wandering off on her own without a very good reason.”

  “Still,” Brint said, “We are supposed to be watching them. We shouldn’t have left her at all. I know it seems harmless enough in the light of day with no one around for miles, but it’s pretty stupid to risk it if we don’t have to.”

  “You worry too much, brother. What could possibly go wrong?”

  “And you, sister, are naive. How many times have the storytellers come to Maj? Did you pay any attention at all? I think there must have been at least a dozen stories where it all went downhill for the characters immediately after they uttered those exact words. What could possibly go wrong? A lot.”

  “Darach Croi is right. It makes no sense to take chances. We will go back, and from now on, we do not leave anyone alone unless we absolutely have no choice.”

  They made their way back to the small camp they'd set up, and when they got there, Tabitha satisfied herself by giving Brint her very best look of smug superiority. Holly was exactly where they'd left her, looking completely hale and hearty, and certainly none the worse for having been left unattended for one whole hour.