Harbinger

by Nicole Conway

  I closed my eyes. My chin trembled, so I clenched my teeth and fought to keep my composure. “He’s … never going to be the same, is he? We were too late.”

  “I was able to stop the progression of the venom, but I can’t undo what’s already been done to him,” he admitted. “The physical changes won’t get any worse—”

  I stopped him cold. “No. You know that’s not what I meant. I don’t care how he looks. I just want to know if the man I … ” I choked on my words and struggled to get control again. As soon as I opened my mouth, a sob escaped. The words poured out and I was helpless to stop it. “I-I always took him for granted. He was so theatrical about everything. He’d look at me with that dumb, crooked grin on his face, and I just assumed he was teasing or trying to embarrass me when he told me how he felt.” Tears ran down my face. Every hitching, sobbing breath was like a white-hot knife in my lungs. But I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t keep it in anymore. “I just want to know if he’s still in there somewhere. Does the Phillip I knew even still exist?”

  Jaevid put a hand on mine. “I haven’t given up, Jenna. I don’t want to give you false hope, but if there is anything I can do to keep his mind intact, I’ll do it.”

  All I could do was bob my head.

  “Aedan talked me through what the Tibrans were doing with the switchbeasts. Their bite contains venom that changes you into one of them. Usually it’s a very fast process and the victims lose themselves quickly, essentially becoming an animal with no memory of being anything else. But by giving it to subjects slowly, the Tibrans hoped to make warriors infused with switchbeast speed and strength.” He squeezed my hand firmly. “The fact that there is even a chance that anything of him might be left is a miracle, Jenna. Phillip fought hard. He resisted the venom for days. He may still be fighting, even now. Let’s be strong for him now, all right?”

  Looking over at him, I still couldn’t speak. I squeezed his hand back instead.

  “I’m going to try working with him again after I’ve seen to the others.” Jaevid leaned in, using his thumb to wipe away the tears on my cheeks. “Let’s get you fixed up.”

  Talking about lost memories brought a question back into my mind—something he’d only mentioned in passing while we’d been escaping from Northwatch. “Do you really not remember anything about your life before this?”

  He tensed. His jaw stiffened, and his shoulders drew up ever so slightly. It only took a few seconds for his expression to close up completely. Turning his face away, he muttered, “I don’t know anymore.”

  I decided not to push him. It had been a tough day for all of us. I didn’t envy where he was sitting in the slightest. Everyone would be looking to him for answers now. He was the one who was supposed to save us all, right? He was supposed to have all the answers.

  “Will this hurt?” I asked instead.

  Jaevid’s expression softened again as he turned back toward me. “No. Just lie back. Take a deep breath and let your body and mind become calm. I’m going to fix it all.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  I gasped awake to the distant sound of combat. Swords clashing. Men shouting. My pulse raced. Had the Tibrans come already? How had they found us so quickly?

  My body was shaky and strange, tingling along the areas Jaevid had healed, as I dragged myself out of bed and fumbled for the first thing I could find to use as a weapon—the bathing pitcher. I wobbled out of the bedroom like a newborn fawn, staggering into the main room ready to join the fight.

  “Gods, Jenna,” Eirik chortled loudly.

  I blinked around in bleary confusion. Where was the fight? All I could see was Haldor and Aedan wrapped up in a complex wrestling hold on the floor as though they’d been sparring. All the furniture had been pushed back out of the way, and Eirik, Miri, and Calem were standing by watching. Jaevid, however, was nowhere to be seen.

  “I-I heard … fighting,” I rasped.

  Eirik laughed so hard, he started choking. Miri giggled and patted him hard on the back.

  Calem’s expression never changed—as usual. He came striding smoothly over, snatching a loosely-knitted wool blanket off the back of a sofa on his way. “You might consider putting something on,” he murmured as he plucked the bathing pitcher from my hand and draped the blanket around me.

  I blushed right down to the tops of my knees. I’d completely forgotten to get dressed. The Tibrans had taken all my clothing and armor except for my undergarments, so I’d stayed wrapped up in Calem’s cloak until last night when I’d gone to bed. I was still nearly naked, brandishing the bathing pitcher in my linen underwear and top.

  “Thank you,” I whispered as I hugged the blanket around myself tighter. “Where’s Jaevid?”

  “He’s with Phillip,” Calem’s deep voice replied.

  My heart lurched. Glancing up, I studied the piercing glint of the firelight in his gray-blue eyes. It was silly, I supposed, to think I might have found some clue as to how things were going hidden in his face. Calem wasn’t the most expressive person.

  “Where? In their room? I’m going in.” I whirled around.

  Calem caught me by the arm, the strength of his grip startling me to a halt. He met my gaze, a slight furrow sharpening his already-serious brow. “He asked that no one go in until he’s finished.”

  “Finished what?”

  He shook his head slightly. “He didn’t say.”

  Cold chills shivered over my body. What was happening in there? Was Phillip awake? What if he needed me?

  “We should get you cleaned up!” Miri’s voice rang like a cheerful chime of bells as she skipped over and took my arm. “Don’t worry. Aunt Adeline sent down something for you to wear. Right this way—I’ll show you.”

  As she led me toward the washroom, I heard the sparring match between Haldor and Aedan resume. Haldor was barking instructions at him as though he were trying to give him a crash course in hand-to-hand combat. Glancing back, I saw Aedan kick backward into a roll, landing on his feet and snatching up a long wooden shaft that looked suspiciously like a mop handle. He brandished it with incredible speed and even scored a few whacks across Haldor’s jaw. Impressive.

  “He said he was a shepherd—that his family raised sheep in the Farchase Plains,” Miri explained in a quiet voice. She had paused to watch them as well. Then I saw her eyes track to Eirik again.

  “Seems like Aedan’s full of surprises,” I agreed. “And I owe him my life. I owe them all, actually.”

  Her fair cheeks turned rosy. “We don’t get visitors here often. It’s nice to hear laughter again.”

  It only lasted a second or two, but I saw it—that look in her eyes as she watched Eirik laugh and taunt Haldor. Even if I wasn’t any kind of expert when it came to social grace, that look was one I knew all too well. I forgot my own misery for a moment.

  “Eirik is handsome, isn’t he?” I turned my face away, fighting a sheepish smile as we closed ourselves inside the privacy of the spacious washroom.

  Miri made panicked, sputtering noises. “I-I, um, well—I hadn’t thought, I mean I did think that, but—!”

  I smirked. “If you like him, you should tell him. Days like these don’t guarantee a second chance, you know.”

  She hung her head a little. “I know. I’m just no good at talking to men like that. Or anyone, for that matter. We don’t leave Cernheist very often. Aunt Adeline mediates between the merchants and miners, so she works nonstop. They’re constantly giving her trouble. We don’t throw many parties or balls and it’s been ages since we went to one elsewhere in the kingdom.” She sighed and went to arrange several towels and bottles of scented oils on the edge of the large stone tub. “I understand it’s a long journey, but sometimes I feel like I’m smothering to death in this place. I’d love to go out, maybe see some other parts of the kingdom.”

  Shrugging off the blanket, I dared to look at my reflection behind the sink. Horrifying didn’t even begin to describe it. My hair was scr
unched up and tangled into filthy, ragged clumps. It would take an eternity to get all the knots out. While my injuries were gone, I still had heavy, haunted circles under my eyes. My skin looked ashen because of the sheen of sweat and grime caked onto it.

  “Gods,” I grumbled as I leaned in to study the tired redness in my eyes. “I look awful.”

  “It’s not that bad,” Miri consoled as she tested the bathwater. “I’ll help with your hair! I’m good at braiding.” She swished her own intricate braid proudly.

  I decided not to admit that I couldn’t braid my own hair. Not like that, anyway. I could manage exactly three hairstyles on my own, and I was currently sporting one of them. Disheveled, down, and a messy ponytail were the extent of my skill set. My mother would have been sorely disappointed.

  I felt a bit less like a goblin after a bath. When it was clean, my hair was a burnished golden color. Miri wove the top portion of it into a fishtail braid and combed the bottom half out smooth so that it hung down to my lower back.

  Of course, Baroness Adeline had given me a dress to wear. Not my first choice of clothing, especially if I had to take up arms and fight later. But beggars couldn’t be choosers and the baroness had already been so generous with us.

  I slipped into a white linen chemise and leggings before working the soft wool dress over my head. It was a pale, dove gray with a velvet lavender bodice that laced up the front. The sleeves came to my wrists and were laced up the back to be form-fitting. Thick socks and short boots lined with fleece kept my toes warm, but I still shivered with anxiety. I hadn’t worn something this feminine since my mother had been alive. Scrutinizing my reflection, I tried not to blush and cringe. I could just imagine what the others would say.

  “You look lovely,” Miri crooned with a dreamy sigh. Standing beside me, her head barely came to my shoulder.

  “I never wear things like this,” I admitted as I turned toward the door. “But thank you. Your aunt has been very gracious to us.”

  She beamed and fell in step beside me as I left the washroom, hands clasped behind her back. As soon as we reappeared in the main room, all eyes turned to me. Haldor blinked a few times, like he thought he might be hallucinating. Even Calem furrowed his brow slightly—which was more expression than he normally showed about, well, anything.

  I resisted the urge to run out of the room screaming.

  “I’m dead, right?” Eirik swaggered over to us, his arms crossed as he surveyed my change of wardrobe. “That’s the only reason I can imagine I’m seeing this.” He waggled a finger, gesturing to my outfit.

  My cheeks blazed, and I raised a fist in front of his face. “Do I need to remind you who you’re dealing with? I can re-break that leg.”

  Eirik raised his hands and ducked his head in surrender. “Not at all, dragonrider! I’m well aware of who would win that match.”

  “I’d still enjoy watching it,” Haldor said with a half-smirk. “Someone beating Eirik’s face in has yet to bore me.”

  “Says my wing leader! The rider I was supposed to partner in battle until death!” Eirik feigned a wounded expression. “How’s that for comradery?”

  Haldor rolled his eyes. We were all well acquainted with Eirik’s melodramatic sarcasm. Miri seemed to be catching on to it as well. She covered her mouth, bashfully hiding her smile. That only seemed to fuel him on. He followed Haldor and the two men bickered like angry chickens, exchanging playful arm-punches until Eirik swung a bit too hard on one of his blows. Then it devolved into another sparring match on the floor.

  Miri and I stood back with the others to watch. The commotion attracted a few servants, who stuck their heads in to watch, too. Maybe this was a little more rough-and-tumble action than this place was used to, but that was the price you paid for harboring dragonriders.

  I couldn’t enjoy it for long, though.

  My heart sank, and my gaze was instinctively drawn away to the hallway that led to our rooms. My insides wrenched and squirmed, making my hands feel jittery. Not knowing what would happen to Phillip had my mind in knots.

  “It’s been over a day,” Calem muttered, reappearing at my side again. “Aubren has not returned.”

  I closed my eyes.

  “How long do we wait?” he asked. “And at what point do we discuss a second rescue attempt?”

  I didn’t have answers to either of those questions. But that wasn’t what scared me. Far more terrifying than the idea of Argonox still having possession of my brother was the notion that he might have Reigh, too. Reigh was dangerous. He was an unlit fuse—a catastrophe waiting to happen. And the last thing in the world Maldobar needed right now was to have that sort of power fighting against us instead of with us.

  “We’ll wait for Jaevid,” I replied at last.

  Calem’s face had resumed its usual calm, cool indifference. “And if he doesn’t know what to do?”

  I shuddered at the thought. “Then gods help us all.”

  My anxiety was a monster I’d yet to tame. It was like a wild wind, whipping around me, ripping through me—leaving me tangled, frantic, and utterly exhausted. And it never stopped. No matter how I tried, those racing, ripping, whipping thoughts never calmed. I was stuck in my own private storm.

  That storm drove me from the laughter and lively conversation of the others. Normally, I’d have gone to Phevos. He brought me comfort and stability in moments like this. But I couldn’t bear to be too far from Phillip. If anything changed, if Jaevid came out, I wanted to be close by. I wanted to be the first one through that door.

  Sitting alone in the study, I curled up in one of the reading chairs near a tall, skinny window and drew my legs in close to my body. I tried not to think about Phillip—and failed miserably. I scoured my brain trying to remember the last thing I’d said to him in the back of that Tibran wagon. Had it been nice? Gods, I hoped so.

  The glass windowpane before me was caked with frost and ice around the edges. It offered a view of the bleak frozen lake and the dark shapes of the surrounding mountain peaks. Everything beyond this castle seemed so lifeless, entombed in a never-ending winter. The storm outside kept the skies dark and the air far below freezing, but for now the snow had subsided. I wondered how Miri hadn’t lost her mind after staying here day after day. No wonder she was lonely.

  A warm hand touched my shoulder. “Jenna?”

  I startled, cringing away with a gasp.

  Eirik shifted uneasily. His mouth was pressed into a tight, uncomfortable frown. I knew that look. There was something he didn’t want to tell me, but he had to.

  My stomach dropped. “What is it? What happened?”

  “He’s asking for you. It’s time.” He wouldn’t meet my gaze as he rubbed a hand through his dark brown hair. I noticed he was wearing his weapon of choice sheathed across his back—a two-handed longsword over fifty inches long.

  My throat constricted, seizing up on anything I tried to say.

  Eirik must have been able to read the panic on my face because he offered a hand and a half-hearted smile. “Come on. You know I’ve got you. We all do. You’re not in this alone.”

  I wished that were true.

  Taking Eirik’s hand long enough to get to my feet, I walked slowly behind him out of the study. We crossed through the main room and down the hall toward the room that Jaevid and Phillip were sharing. No one had come in or out of there all day.

  The closer we got, the louder my heartbeat thrashed in my ears. I couldn’t bring myself to meet the gaze of Aedan or Miri as we passed. Their apprehension and fear were palpable enough already. Seeing it would only make it worse.

  Haldor and Calem stood on either side of the door like two gargoyles. Haldor gripped his bow with an arrow already fitted to the string. Calem stood disturbingly still, hands resting on the pommels of his dual scimitars that hung at his hips. I didn’t have to ask why they were there. If this went badly … it had to be stopped as quickly as possible.

  The me
mory of what had happened last time rose up in my mind. I could almost feel his hand around my throat, threatening to crush the life out of me. Would that happen again? Would anyone be able to stop him if it did?

  I held my breath as Eirik opened the door to let me go in first. He followed, closing it behind us. There was sobering finality in the click of the bolt as he locked it.

  The room was nearly dark. Jaevid had pulled all the drapes over the windows to blot out the sunlight, and only one oil lamp burned on the bedside table. He sat in a chair at the foot of the bed, hunched over with his elbows on his knees and his head bowed.

  Laid out before him, covered mostly by a downy padded quilt, was all that was left of Phillip. Physically, I couldn’t tell that he had changed from the state we’d found him in at Northwatch. But seeing him again transformed into this distorted mixture of man and beast hit me hard. His immense stature, tightly-muscled frame, slate-colored skin, and strangely feline features were the same as when we had found him in Northwatch.

  My breath caught. I clenched my teeth, trying to will myself closer, but my feet wouldn’t budge.

  “It’s all right.” Jaevid sounded exhausted. “I haven’t woken him up yet. I thought you should be here for that. You know him better than any of us. You’ll be the best judge of how stable he really is.”

  “I thought you were a healer,” I whispered. “You … couldn’t undo any of what this did to him?”

  Jaevid raised his head to meet my stare. His eyes were bloodshot and ringed with dark circles. Guilt soured my stomach. That question had sounded ungrateful—which wasn’t at all what I’d intended. We’d all been resting, eating, and roughhousing while he’d been in here working.

  “It’s the venom,” he replied. “I can heal injuries, but what this has done to him isn’t a wound. It’s changed his physical being. I can’t reverse that.”

  I took a steadying breath. “Thank you.”