FIERCE: Sixteen Authors of Fantasy

by Mercedes Lackey

  He wasn’t speaking to me now, and that was fine. I didn’t blame him for being angry. I’d been too impulsive, forgetting that the dangers out here were far different from any I’d known at home. Aren wasn’t always nice about giving orders, but he’d been right, and like an idiot I hadn’t listened. I wanted to talk about it, but decided to wait until he was ready. I needed some space to think, anyway.

  Staying with Aren had been a terrible idea. I’d been curious about magic and thought, for just a moment, that he might even be right about me. I had acted without thinking of the consequences, and what had my stupid curiosity brought me? I’d almost gotten us eaten.

  And those poor horses. Aren had called them a small price to pay, but I kept thinking about them. They should have been back at the docks, getting their supper. They’d done nothing but carry us without complaint for two days, and now they were as good as dead.

  I had made a terrible mistake. It was time to go home. Even if Aren couldn’t straighten Severn out on what I really was, Callum would protect me. Not only that, but I’d be able to tell him what I’d learned about Tyrean magic, and how wrong we were about it. They didn’t sell their souls, and those people who used magic in Darmid really were born with it. It would change everything. Maybe useful information like that would make up for not telling him about the eagle.

  My head throbbed with heavy pain again, but I kept putting one foot in front of the other, crunching over dead leaves in a faltering rhythm as the afternoon passed. Aren walked with his head down, jaw clenched, frowning. I felt badly for him. It was clear that he couldn’t go home after what he’d done. Would that have worked out differently if he’d been right about me?

  Not your problem, I told myself. You never asked him for this. He took a gamble, and it wasn’t paying off. I tried to tell myself I had bigger problems to think about, but couldn’t help worrying about his. He wasn’t a friend, but we were in this together.

  Late in the afternoon we reached a place where the forest ended, cut back in a straight line. Harvested fields sprawled in front of us, and in the distance dark trees crowded up against a cluster of whitewashed farm buildings. In between, placid-looking horses grazed in a large paddock.

  Aren stopped and leaned on the fence. “Are you tired of walking yet?”

  “Yes.” Most of my injuries were nearly healed, but my ankle and shoulder still ached. “Why? Are we going to try to buy horses?”

  “What? No.” I thought the expression on his face was probably the same one I’d worn when he tried to tell me I was a Sorceress. “Can you ride without a saddle?”

  “It’s how I learned. But we can’t just take someone’s horses. That’s stealing.”

  He gave me that Are you serious? look again. I thought I’d see a lot of that one if we spent much more time together. He dropped his backpack and bedroll, and boosted himself over the fence.

  “Rowan, we have people hunting us who aren’t going to treat us very nicely if they catch us, so I think moving more quickly might be a really good idea.” He was talking like I was an idiot, and I wanted to slap him for it.

  “I was lucky earlier today,” he continued in a more normal tone. “The two men who were following us weren’t being careful, and it was easy for me to surprise them. We might not be so fortunate next time. Come on, there’s no one home here. It will be easy.”

  I had forgotten about the men who were following us. “Did you kill them?”

  “I did what I had to do.”

  How many people did you have to kill before you could just say it like that, without showing any more remorse than you would for killing a rat?

  “If it makes you feel any better,” he added with a sardonic smile, “I didn’t pay for the other horses, either. You’re already a thief and on the run from parties in two countries. A few more horses won’t hurt.”

  “Fine. It’s still not right,” I said, and dropped my own things onto the pile. “Let’s just hurry.”

  He held out a hand to help me over the fence. “Sometimes necessary has to come before right,” he said. “And look at it this way. Your new friend Ruby seems to be ready to get out hunting again. We’re saving a few of these horses from her.” He took a few steps, then turned back. “And no, we can’t take all of them.”

  “I wasn’t even going to suggest that.”

  We didn’t speak as we crossed the back fields. We entered the paddock, which sloped downward at the far side into a wooded area contained within the fence.

  From a distance, the herd seemed to be a common enough mix of work and riding horses. As we approached, though, I saw that these horses all had heavy jaws, and thicker legs than the horses I was accustomed to. Their hooves were massive, and their lower legs all covered in long hair that matched their shaggy manes and tails.

  “Wait for them to come to us,” Aren said.

  “What are these?” I whispered.

  Aren reached out to stroke a black mare’s white-blazed face as she approached. She shied at first, but seemed to warm to him quickly. He smiled. “Proper Tyrean horses. This will make things easier.”

  Another of the mares approached me, a stocky piebald-coated creature with the largest brown eyes I’d ever seen on a horse. She sniffed at my cloak and snorted. “You don’t like dragons?” I asked her. I reached out, and she allowed me to touch her face. “Aren, we’re still in Darmid, right?”

  “We are,” Aren said. “I’d say these are quite illegal because of their magical ancestry, but people are smart to keep them. They’re tougher than the horses you’re accustomed to. If they learn to trust us they’ll forage without wandering off or getting lost, and they can eat almost anything, plant or animal. They’re stronger, faster and more sure-footed than your horses, too. Gods, I miss Tyrea.” He left to search a nearby shed, and came back with a pair of simple leather bridles. “Your people’s stubbornness about this land makes your lives far more difficult than they need to be.”

  A pale gray mare trotted over and bared her teeth at my new friend, revealing long, sharp canines. She gave a friendly nip, then returned to the herd.

  We were adjusting the bridles when a brain-piercing scream ripped through the cold air from behind us. Somewhere near the house a dog added its howls to the racket.

  Aren cursed. “Hurry. We need to go.”

  What seemed to be a white stallion emerged from the trees below us and stopped at the top of the hill. It didn’t sound like any horse I’d ever heard, though, and when I risked another look back I saw the long teeth that curved up from either side of its mouth. Its eyes burned like hot coals, and the ground shuddered when it stamped a hoof.

  “Rowan, go.”

  There was nowhere to mount, and the horse was too tall for me to climb. I settled for taking the reins in hand and running. The mare seemed eager to escape, too, and tried to pull ahead. Aren and his mount kept pace beside us.

  “What is that?” I yelled.

  “Tusker,” he called back. “Nasty beasts, used for breeding these horses every ten generations or so. Didn’t think anyone was crazy enough to keep one loose with their mares.”

  We kept running, but the tusker was too close. He’d catch up when we stopped to open the gate, and I doubted he’d be content to just take back his mares.

  I caught a flash of movement from the corner of my eye as Aren leaped and pulled himself up by his horse’s mane. They sped ahead. You bastard, I thought, and in a moment of panic I almost let go of my own horse and ran for the closest fence in hopes of diving under it. When I looked ahead again, Aren had reached the gate. I expected him to try to jump it, but he swung down to the ground and started working at the lock, giving it a hard smack and hauling back on it until it popped open, sending sparks flying into the air. He hurried his horse through, and waited.

  The tusker’s hoofs pounded the grassy earth behind me, gaining with every step. I pushed my legs to move faster than they’d ever had to before, ignoring the pain that burned in every muscle and s
hot up from my ankle.

  We made it through the gate and Aren slammed it closed behind my horse’s tail, then reached through to snap the lock shut moments before the tusker slammed into the fence, bucking and shrieking. Aren yelled, and the tusker’s head snapped back as though it had been slapped, long white mane flying. It pawed at the ground and screamed, but didn’t hit the gate again.

  Aren stepped back and examined his hand. The skin on his palm was red, burned and blistering.

  “What happened?”

  He grimaced. “I couldn’t get the lock open. I tried to use magic. At least it worked, right?”

  We mounted our horses and raced back to pick up our things. The tusker continued his tantrum behind us as we rode off into the woods. My mare kept looking back, but settled when we were far enough away that she couldn’t hear him anymore.

  We stopped beside a wide stream to catch our breaths and let the horses drink.

  “There,” Aren said. “Wasn’t that easier than walking?” He was almost laughing. Unbelievable.

  I took a few more gasping breaths. “You knew there were people following us back at the dragon path, you felt Severn coming after we left the boat, but you didn’t know about that?”

  I crouched by the water and splashed some on my head and face, letting it run down the back of my neck. If it had been summer, I might have jumped into the river clothes and all to wash the sweat and dirt away. I still felt guilty for stealing the horses, but at that moment I would happily have broken into someone’s house for a bar of soap.

  Aren followed my example, and raked his wet hands through his hair. His expression and voice turned serious. “It’s not easy, you know. Just trying to be aware of human enemies takes concentration and energy. Focusing on everything else that might be out there is impossible. For me, anyway.” He shook his hands, sending droplets of water back into the river.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. You’re doing a great—”

  “We should keep moving.” His words were clipped, his voice tense. “There was no one home at that farm, but they’ll be out looking for us when they get back and find their monster upset.”

  We rode upstream in the shallow water until a short run of rapids blocked our path, then finished our crossing. The sun had set, and we had to move slowly through the woods. Still, Aren was right. It was better than walking.

  “Are we almost to the border?” I asked. “I think I’ve had enough adventure to last me the rest of my life.”

  He didn’t answer.

  Aren was quiet while he built the fire in a sheltered place beside a cliff in the forest. I was starting to feel lonely having no one to talk to, but what was there to say? At least he seemed to have let go of the idea that I’d healed him that night at Stone Ridge.

  He’ll probably be glad to get rid of me.

  There wasn’t much food left, but it was probably too dark for Aren to change and go hunting. I hoped he’d do it again, though, that I’d see the eagle I knew as Aquila one more time before I left him. The whole situation was beyond strange, but fascinating when I thought about the magic instead of how he’d deceived me. In a way, I missed Aquila. He’d been good company.

  Aren hardly ate anything, just sat watching the fire burn. I tried to leave some food for him to have later, but it was difficult. Excitement, exercise, and missing meals had made me ravenous.

  “If I’d been human that day you found me, would you still have helped me?”

  His voice startled me.

  “Yes.”

  He rolled his dirty white shirt sleeves up to his elbows and leaned forward. “If you’d known who I was?”

  “I don’t know. I would have been frightened of you.”

  He didn’t speak as I put the rest of the food away, then asked, “Would you let me die now?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If you saw me injured and dying again, knowing what you do now, what would you do?”

  I didn’t understand what he was getting at. “If I saw you hurt like that again, I couldn’t leave you. I don’t know how I would help.”

  “You still think I’m wrong about your magic, but you’d want to help me?” I didn’t like the way he was looking at me. Not threatening, exactly, but he looked half-insane in the flickering firelight.

  “Yes.”

  “I believe you.” In one smooth motion he reached into his knapsack, produced a long, dark-bladed hunting knife, and plunged it into his left wrist. I screamed. He gasped, then pulled the knife through the flesh of his arm, twisting it near his elbow. The blade must have been sharper than any I’d ever come across before. It cut through muscle and tendons like they were liquid. Blood gushed from the wound.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I shouted. Aren held his arm away from the blankets so that his blood poured onto the ground, burning on the fire-baked rocks.

  “This is up to you,” he said, speaking calmly. “You probably have a few minutes, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t leave it for too long.”

  “No.” My legs went weak, and I had to sit down and push with my feet to back away. “You’re crazy.”

  “And I’m dead if you can’t manage a repeat performance. I…” He grimaced. “Gods, that hurts.”

  I told myself that he was tricking me, that this was some kind of illusion, but as his eyes grew glassy and his breathing shallower it became harder to believe that. “You ass,” I whispered, and he tried to laugh.

  “Rowan, I can’t—”

  “Shut up.” I picked up the knife and used it to cut into a blanket so I could tear off a ragged strip. I dropped the knife and kicked the handle as I stepped back toward him, sending it spinning into the trees.

  He looked at the fabric in my hands. “You don’t need to do that.”

  “I said shut up!” The sight and smell of blood sickened me. Panicked tears made the world tremble, but I managed to start wrapping the cloth tight around the butchered arm to try to slow the bleeding.

  Aren placed his other hand over mine, then unwrapped the bandage when I pulled away from his touch. “Don’t. You can do better than that.”

  I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes to stop the tears, then grabbed Aren’s injured arm in both hands and squeezed. He yelled.

  “You deserved that,” I whispered, and forced myself to look at the gaping wound. It was a cleaner cut than the one the arrow had given him, but longer and deeper, and there was more blood. The flesh twitched at the edges, trying to come together, but it seemed that his magic wasn’t able to take care of such a severe wound.

  My focus was drawn toward it, slowly. Suddenly I remembered every detail of the night I’d found Aquila in the woods.

  The back of my head began to pound with a heavy and increasing pain. The flesh twitched again, but this time the muscle pressed together, starting near Aren’s elbow and closing down to his wrist. I wanted to close my eyes or to run away, but I didn’t.

  I’m doing this. A wave of joy washed over me at the realization, but pain burst from the back of my head, drowning it completely. I fought to stay conscious when white spots appeared in my vision. I needed to see what was going to happen.

  The bleeding slowed, then stopped. I felt his magic responding, drawing mine deeper, accelerating the healing process. Seconds later, all that was left was a long, red scar twisting its way up his forearm.

  Aren’s blood was everywhere, on the blankets and my hands and our clothes, but when I looked back at his face, he seemed relaxed. Almost happy.

  “Thank you,” he whispered.

  I turned, crawled away from the fire, and threw up my supper under a tree. Sharp pain hit between my eyes and my arms gave out, sending me crashing into the musty leaves.

  I wanted nothing more than to faint as I had before, but it didn’t happen. I had to let Aren help me back to my bed. The light made everything hurt more. I turned away from the fire and pulled my knees toward my chest.

  Aren pulled a blanket ov
er me, and I pushed his hand away. “Leave me alone,” I whispered. He’d been right about the magic in me, but I wasn’t prepared to thank him for what he’d done.

  “I’m sorry I had to do that. I didn’t think—”

  “Just go.” His shadow moved away, and I was left shaking and trying to hold back tears that would only make the pain worse if I let them come.

  Chapter XVII

  Rowan

  AREN WAS NOWHERE TO BE seen when I woke the next morning—not that I spent much time looking. The previous night’s pain lingered, and the rust-colored stains on the rocks beside the burned-out fire were vivid reminders of what had caused it.

  It seemed I had what I’d always dreamed of, but it was nothing like I’d expected. The healing had been beautiful, but the memory of the pain tarnished any sense of wonder I felt at it. I didn’t want to think about what any of this meant for my life back home. I just wanted to get away, and think about it all when my head was clearer.

  I found Aren with the horses. He didn’t say anything, but at least had the decency to look concerned. I ignored him, still not ready to forgive. He packed up the campsite while I went out into the woods to strip a bit of sweet-smelling bark from a heartleaf tree. Taking too much would have caused permanent damage to the tree, but I thought about doing it. I’d need it later.

  Your species is in trouble, my friend, I thought as I tucked some bark into my pack, and reached up to rub my fingers over a sweet-smelling pink leaf. You and me, both.

  Neither Aren nor I spoke as we rode away. That suited me at first, but after a while I began to wonder if he wasn’t speaking because he was angry with me for almost letting him die. Not that it would have been my fault, but he seemed to have strange ideas about these things. Finally I asked, “Are you mad?”

  He snorted. “Angry, or crazy?”

  Good question. “I meant angry.”

  “Then no, not at all. I have no reason to be. I just didn’t want to say anything until you were ready to talk.”