Jazz. I’d gotten her back. The thought made my head ache a little less and I almost smiled.
But then the memory of the harpy attack came rushing back to me. My eyes shot open and I bolted upright on the bed. My head spun so badly I almost threw up.
The first thing I saw was Jazz. She was safe! But then my gaze cut to my left hand and I saw the bandages wrapped between my fingers—my whole fingers—and over the two stumps in between.
I leaned over the side of the bed and everything came up in an acidic rush. My eyes watered and my chest heaved.
“Bren!” Jazz’s cry echoed in the healing hut, but I couldn’t look at her. I wiped my mouth with the bed sheet and tried not to throw up again from the smell of the puke.
Someone threw cloths and herbs over the puddle and the next thing I knew Jazz was on the bed, her arms wrapped around my neck and her face pressed against my chest. I smelled her cinnamon and peaches scent and once again I couldn’t believe that she was really there. I felt our magical strength combine again, just by being there together.
“You’re all right,” she said, my shirt muffling her words. “You’re alive and you’re okay.” She hiccupped and I could tell she was crying. I patted her on the back with my good hand, feeling so much emotion and pain I couldn’t sort one thing out from another. Love for her, anger at the harpies, fury at the bastard who had sent the golem into our Sanctuary.
And a keen sense of uselessness. My hand—I’d never be able to hold a sword in it again. I was as good as worthless. Maybe that’s why Jazz was crying.
I drew away from her, and our magic shimmered between us for a moment. She sat on the bed beside me, her golden eyes shining with tears. “I was so worried. The harpy—the dark magic it put into your wound. But the healers did an outstanding job. I think you’ll be okay.”
I looked at my hand then, really looked at it. My wrist was an angry red above the green healers’ wrappings. I could feel the poultice beneath the bandages, smell the yarrow, mugwort, marigold, and green tea that the witches had used to help speed the healing and knitting of my skin.
“Talk about useless,” I mumbled as I stared at the horror. “What good is a King of the Witches without his sword hand?”
Jazz took my good hand in hers and I looked up at her. “Don’t say that.” An angry spark lit her eyes. “You’re a good king. I’ve seen what you’ve accomplished since I’ve been gone, and I have no doubt that’s not going to change.”
“Yeah, right.” I jerked away from her and pushed myself off the bed, cradling my injured hand to my chest. For a moment, black spots floated behind my eyes again, and I had to steady myself.
When I gained my bearings, I stalked across the hut, Jazz following me. I threw open the door and stared at the destruction outside. “What a king. I couldn’t even defend my own people.” I whirled on Jazz and she jumped back. “I couldn’t even protect you.”
She looked like she felt sorry for me, and like she didn’t know what to say. “Bren—”
“Listen,” I snapped at her. “I don’t need your pity, or you trying to make me feel like I’m whole now. ’Cause I’m not. We both know I’m not.”
Great. She looked like she was going to cry again, and I couldn’t handle it. Not at all.
Without another word, I stormed out of the hut, ignored how tired I felt, and marched all the way to Rol, who was talking with my dad near the store. By the time I got there, I was covered in sweat, but I didn’t care. It felt good to move. At least my legs were whole.
As I glanced around, I could tell witches and oldeFolke had been performing spellwork to clean up the mess so that everything didn’t look so bad. A lot had been accomplished. Without me, of course.
“Your Majesties.” Rol inclined his head to me and then to Jazz, who joined us without comment. The big guy’s eyes held a special light when he looked at her, and then back at me, like he was proud and pleased with us both. When his gaze landed on my useless hand, though, that light in his eyes dimmed. “May I be of assistance to you?”
“I’m not helpless,” I snarled, and both my dad and Rol stepped back.
“Of course not, son,” Dad said. “I’m glad to see you up. Todd will be thrilled. He’s asked after you every day.”
I ignored all three of them and stared out at the Sanctuary. The landscape was busy with witches restoring everything back to the way it had been before the harpy attack.
“Where are the harpies?” I asked Rol. “Were they all destroyed?”
“They’re in the storage barns,” Jazz said and I jerked my attention to her.
“Why are they still alive?” I growled. “They attacked our people.” And took my fingers. And my ability to fight with a sword.
Jazz raised her chin. “The harpies were trying to tell us something. I’m certain they didn’t attack by happen-chance, and we need to discover their purpose, not to mention who sent them.”
Curses ran through my thoughts, one after the other. “Right. Now you listen—”
Before I could say anything else, my dad gripped my shoulder and my attention cut back to him. “I’m proud of you, son. You brought Jasmina back and helped stop the harpy attack.”
“Indeed.” Rol gave a deep bow. “You have proven to be a fine King of the Witches.”
“Listen. You can cut the crap.” I shook off my father’s hold. “What good am I without my sword hand?”
Rol frowned. Dad had an expression of pity on his face, which pissed me off.
Jazz actually looked mad. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Brenden. As you would so aptly put it, ‘get over yourself.’ We have work to do.”
We just stood and glared at one another for a long moment. Dad and Rol slipped away and it was only the two of us standing in front of the store, virtually at the head of the village.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said through gritted teeth. “This isn’t something you just get over.”
She balled her fists and rose up on her toes as if to match my height. “I was dead. Dead, Bren.”
The thought took me back for a moment and I couldn’t think of anything to say while she continued. “I had to fight to get to the gate to the real world, just as you had to fight to get to the gate of Talamadden. But it was you who saved me, you who brought me back.”
“I had my sword hand then.” My face was growing hotter by the second. “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have bested the Erlking, or reached you.”
“Fine.” Jazz threw her hands up in the air. “Poor you with missing fingers. You can’t swing a sword like you used to, so you’re just going to give up?”
“Never,” I growled, not knowing where that came from.
Before Jazz could say anything else, I pushed by her and headed away from the store, in the general direction of oldeTowne, Todd’s zoo, and the storage barns. The Queen of the Witches decided not to follow me.
Good. That was fine, too. Except it felt lousy at the same time.
As I got closer to the barns, the smell of dust and harpy filth deadened my nose. Oh, they were in there, for sure. Thoughts of setting fire to the whole compound went to war with fantasies of rushing in and slitting lots of harpy throats.
As it was, I just stomped into the paddock, and then into the first of the three big barns. Something clenched deep in my gut to see all of those ugly creatures bound with magical ties and forced to lie on their sides. They still managed to look proud and furious, despite the fact they were helpless.
One of the harpies, the biggest one, growled in what sounded like some kind of language. I jerked my gaze toward the beast and began shaking with anger. “Freak,” I said. “You’re the one who took my fingers.”
Again he spoke. I mean, it sounded to me like he was speaking. Not screeching in that unearthly way that they did when they were fighting. But like he was trying to have a conversation with me.
See? I imagined Jazz saying in that I’m-always-right tone she could get. They’re trying
to communicate.
“Bull.” I turned, my heel grinding in the dirt of the barn’s floor. Stupid monsters would probably give me fleas again if I didn’t watch out. Grumbling, I walked away from the things that had attacked my people and maimed me. One way or another, I’d deal with them. I just needed some time to think.
This time, I headed back toward the main village. I didn’t know exactly where I was going, but I had to do something, anything. As I walked, I glanced down and looked at my bandaged hand. An absurd thought came to me—all I had to do was hold my thumb in and I would be giving the Vulcan greeting. Permanently. The image made me sick. I shook my head and focused on my anger. Anger felt good right now. I was walking so fast that the moonstone around my neck bounced up and down on my chest.
Moonstone. Sherise!
My hand and head throbbed, and I started to sweat more as I picked up speed. How could I have forgotten about Sherise? If Jazz hadn’t expelled her, she’d be in the general store anteroom where we locked the occasional drunk elfling overnight. Intoxicated oldeFolke could do some real damage, so we kept the barred room cleaned out and ready, just in case.
Sometimes we used it for a witch or one of the oldeFolke who needed to cool off before they blasted somebody and ended up in major trouble. But those times were few and far between, and never lasted very long. I didn’t believe in making my own people prisoners. Ours was a society of compromise and treaty. Those who didn’t wish to follow our simple rules were escorted on the Path to other Sanctuaries that better suited their needs.
Jazz was still standing at the store when I got there. I didn’t speak to her as I yanked open the door and stormed inside. Still, I heard Jazz’s footsteps behind me, so I knew she was following.
When I reached the back, I turned left and walked straight to the anteroom. When I looked through the bars on the door, I saw Sherise. She was huddled on a wooden bench, her arms wrapped around her legs, staring into the space in front of her. She looked completely miserable, and her face was streaked with dirt and tears.
I whirled on Jazz. “Why are you keeping her in here? I told you, she’s no traitor.”
“She was carrying a golem that Alderon gave her. She brought the harpies to L.O.S.T.” Jazz looked angry and defiant as she spoke. “She is a traitor, and she’s dangerous.”
“She saved my life. More than once.” I pulled out the moonstone on the silver chain. “She loaned me this before I left to find you. It stopped an arrow, and I think it kept my soul tied to my body in Talamadden so I wouldn’t die.”
Jazz’s eyes widened at the sight of the stone. She reached for it, and I let her touch it. A memory passed between us then. Jazz, gripping the stone, using its strength to pull me away from snarling Shadows…
“But the vision,” she whispered, letting the stone fall back to my chest. “I saw her with Alderon, saw her agree to help him destroy you and Todd.”
“Maybe it was a mistake,” I said through clenched teeth. “Maybe he hid it or fooled her like he did me.”
Jazz shook her head. “She accepted it willingly.”
“Then Alderon tricked her some other way!” I turned my back on Jazz and tried to move the simple wooden bar from its hold with my good hand. It wouldn’t budge. It was spelled solid. I brought my right hand up for a spell, but it barely fizzled out, too weak to matter.
Man, did it piss me off to no end to know that I had to turn and ask Jazz for her help.
She just stood there with her arms folded across her chest.
“Help me.” I ground my teeth. “I want her out.”
Jazz shook her head. “I’m not about to turn her loose to hurt my people again. Something will have to be done with her.”
“They’re my people too, and you will help me let her go.” I approached Jazz with slow, even steps, growing angrier by the minute. My bad hand screamed with pain when I instinctively clenched my hands. Black spots danced before my eyes, but I ignored them.
When I reached Jazz, she tilted her head to look up at me, her arms still tightly crossing her chest. “Help me release her,” I commanded again.
Our magic crackled between us, silver and gold snapping with tension.
“No.” Jazz waved one hand to the anteroom cell. “Sherise is a danger to everyone. We’ll have to decide what to do with her, but we won’t just set her free to hurt us again.”
Taking a deep breath, I counted to ten, very slowly. Winter sunlight peeked through the clouds, shining through store windows. My injured hand ached like crazy, but I still managed to focus on the problems on hand. First problem, harpies. Second problem, Sherise.
I hadn’t been using my head. I was reacting instead of responding. I was trying to use intimidation and anger instead of figuring out a way to make everything work.
I exhaled and said, “I’ll make you a deal. We let Sherise out of the holding cell and we let her stay in L.O.S.T.” Jazz started to shake her head, when I held up my good hand to stop her. “You do your best to work with Sherise and figure out what’s really going on with her, and I won’t behead the harpies.”
That was surly and I knew it. “I mean, I’ll try to talk to those filthy monsters and figure out why they attacked. Negotiate. That’s what you want, right?”
Jazz paused a moment, like she was shocked. Then she looked like she was thinking it through. “Negotiation,” she murmured, as if she didn’t really believe me. “A compromise.”
“Compromise. Nice word.” I reached out my good hand. “And we start by letting Sherise out now.” Jazz paused again, then raised her own and gripped mine tight.
We both turned to look at the bar on the anteroom holding cell. Silver and gold crackled between us, and the bar easily slid out of its brackets, then fell to the ground.
I let go of Jazz, went to the cell door, and opened it. Sherise glanced up at me, but when she saw Jazz at my side, she turned away again.
My boots clunked on the wooden floor of the cell that smelled of herbs and cedar. The anteroom wasn’t uncomfortable, not like a jailor dungeon. There was a nice soft bed, a bench beneath the window on the other side, and a sink and toilet. There was even a small fridge that was filled with snacks for witches. I won’t even go there as far as what it held for the oldeFolke.
Anyway, the anteroom was only meant to be temporary. We never left anyone in there longer than a night.
“Hey, you.” I lifted the moonstone necklace over my head and gently lowered it over hers. “I think this is yours. It’s in one piece, and thanks to it, so am I.”
This got me a tiny smile. It lasted about two seconds. Sherise reached up and gripped the moonstone like it might give her a little warmth in a cold, cold place.
“Come on.” I held my good hand out to the scared kid and gave her a smile. “Everything’s okay now.”
Sherise avoided looking at Jazz, but took my hand. I felt her trembling as she got to her feet. She was so scared. The sight of her fear made me clench my jaw.
I glared at Jazz. “Stop looking at her like that. You’re making it worse—and we have a deal.”
Jazz turned away, and we followed her out of the anteroom, then out of the general store.
It was at that moment that Todd came storming out of nowhere, a herd of his biggest slithers following him. Some caused the ground to shake with every step they made and others swooped overhead. The flying slithers slowly circled us then landed with a reverberating thump.
“Good thing you let her out,” Todd said, his fiery glower fixed on Jazz. “We came to effect a rescue.”
My jaw dropped. Effect a rescue? Who is this guy? Sheesh. Too many old animal-care scrolls must have bent his brain and made him talk funny.
Jazz looked like she wanted to say something, but she didn’t.
“She’s okay, little brother.” I dropped Sherise’s hand, and she ran up to Todd and threw her arms around his neck.
He flinched. For a second I thought he was going to push her away, but then his face grew soft
er as he rubbed her back. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”
“Let’s hope,” Jazz grumbled under her breath.
I cut her a glare, then looked back at my brother. The sight of him with his girl in his arms made me happy. In fact, seeing Todd healthy and well—that was cool all by itself. During the battle, I was pretty sure that harpy had killed him. But no. Todd was a tough kid. Of course he was. He was my little brother, right?
After some arguing, Todd reluctantly agreed to the four of us having dinner at L.O.S.T.’s one and only restaurant. It was run by the best elfling chefs, and it had been ages since I’d eaten a good, full meal that didn’t taste like paper. I figured we needed to talk, but we also needed some good chow before we all snapped one another’s heads off.
We took a private room at the restaurant where we wouldn’t be disturbed. Jazz seated herself next to me, while Todd and Sherise sat down together. No one talked much, and I did my best not to show my frustration at having to use my right hand to pick up my glass of iced herb tea while we waited for dinner. My other hand ached and I could feel my missing fingers like they were still there.
Dinner was worse. I’d never used my right hand to eat before, and I kept dropping pieces of elfling-style lasagna off my fork when I tried to eat it. It really pissed me off, but I managed to maintain my cool. The whole time we ate, Todd kept glaring at Jazz, while Sherise wouldn’t even look at her.
When the table was cleared, the elfling waiter wisely vanished, leaving us free to talk.
Of course at first, no one did. It was up to me to get the ball rolling. “Sherise, will you tell us about the golem? Did Alderon give it to you?”
Fear, real fear, crossed her pretty features. She pushed a lock of wavy black hair behind her ear and kept her dark eyes downcast. “I can’t. I’m not supposed to say anything about it.”
“He can’t harm you here,” Todd said. “Don’t be afraid of him. I could defeat him—” He cut me a look, coughed, then changed course. “Bren and I could kick his butt.”
Jazz went stiff beside me, but she kept her mouth shut. Probably because I was using my boot to crush her toes. Just a little.
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