Chapter 5
Talwyn groaned. Her body felt like lead. As sensations returned, the pain overwhelmed her. She panted with the effort to roll to her side, groaning once more.
“It’s about time you woke up,” Sybil called from outside the makeshift curtain wall of her room.
Talwyn pushed herself upright with shaking arms. Her leathers lay in a heap on the ground. Someone had changed her into a white cotton tunic.
Carrick placed a pitcher of water on the table opposite her. He sat beside her with a full cup and held it to her lips. She gulped quickly and spilled water down her chin.
“You didn’t listen, did you?” Sybil crossed her arms, leaning against the wall. Her tall frame took up much of the vertical space. When Tal didn’t answer, she sighed. “How much fury did you use?”
Tal finished the water, and Carrick helped her scoot back against the wall. “Enough to weld a steel door shut. That’s it.” Her voice grated against her throat.
“That’s. It?! Why in the blazes did you think I told you not to unleash it?
Hmm?” She threw her hands in the air. “What if someone saw you? What if someone finds the welded door? There are no other Furies in the kingdom, Tal.” Sybil huffed in frustration.
“I need to think.” She left Talwyn alone with Carrick.
“How long?” Tal croaked.
Carrick left her bedside and crossed the room. “You’ve been out for two days," he said while refilling her cup.
She sighed noisily. She’d been building up her power for weeks, and yet one concentrated use knocked her out. Perhaps she’d used it too soon after her attack on Pochette.
Carrick returned with another full glass and scrutinized the lacerations along her arms and legs.
The tunic did little to conceal her bare limbs, but she didn't move to cover herself. Carrick had seen her strip nearly as many times as she’d seen him.
Modesty was not a trait afforded to those who grew up owning only the clothes on their backs.
“I thought you were a better fighter than this,” he said, handing her the cup.
She ignored his question long enough to finish the second glass and handed it back.
“They’re superficial cuts. I left an opening so they would betray their weak side.
” She did her best to hold her chin up, but her head fell back against the stone wall.
She closed her eyes, wondering if sleep would come once more.
A hand on her knee made her flinch, and she opened one eye.
“Superficial?” Carrick said.
Above his hand, stitches held a long gash together. “Shit. I forgot about that.”
“You’re cut up worse than a pig at the butcher’s, Tal.”
She sighed. “I’m fine. I made it back.”
“Unconscious. You made it back unconscious and only because Faron brought you back,” he snapped.
“Who?” she asked without caring, her eyes closed again.
“The swordsman.”
“Ahh, you mean the dewberry who ruined our perfect rescue plan and then tried to play the hero.”
“I mean the swordsman who pulled you out of the Taralin and carried you through the tunnels until he ran into one of us. He’d been walking for two hours.”
She lifted her head. “Two hours? Damn. I would have left his ass.”
“This isn’t funny Tal.”
She ignored his irritation. “How did he carry me? Over the shoulder? Across both forearms? I wonder if his muscles ache. Serves him right, the dingbat.”
“Tal,” Carrick said, his voice pleading.
She sighed and rested a hand over the one still on her injured leg.
“I’m sorry. You had to go, and someone needed to stay behind to make sure you got them out.
” Tal and Carrick both knew he needed to go.
Both Sybil and Rainier were nearly useless, with Sybil carrying the girl and Rain injured.
If either of the twins fell, he would be able to get them back up.
Talwyn would have only been able to burn everything to the ground and then pass out.
Carrick sighed and hung his head. “The moment I got them to safety, I went back, but you were already gone. The apparitions and mage had all disappeared. I thought they’d taken you.”
“Hey.” She squeezed his hand. “I’m okay. I got out, and they don’t know where to find me. They probably don’t even know I’m the one they’re looking for. For all they know, I was just a random person trying to help.”
Carrick hesitated. “There’s a reason Sybil told you not to use your element.” Talwyn narrowed her eyes, but he ignored her. “You can join us, Rain,” he called.
Sybil’s brother edged into the room looking worse for wear.
His tall form hunched, and his inky black hair hung in his eyes.
Sweat glistened on his skin in the candlelight, and blood soaked through the cloth wrapped around his torso.
He held his side and eased himself into the chair at the table, wincing as he did so.
“Rain, you should be resting. Do we not have any healing elixirs?” Tal admonished.
“So should you. And I’m fine.” He attempted to sit up straight and grimaced, resigning to rest an elbow on the table. “They’re searching for something. The girl won’t say much, but we know the mages thought she had it.” He winced again, shifting in his seat.
“You’re assuming they’re after other Furies? Is that it? We have no proof.”
Carrick frowned. “Sybil saw a vision of you. She can’t make much sense of it, but it has something to do with you, a group of nobles…” he paused, “and the Pyrie.” He met her gaze.
Tal stilled at the name. Pochette mentioned it before he burst into flame. She bit her lip. “What’s the connection?”
Rain took a deep breath and stopped short, grabbing his middle. “As kids we were told a story about the Pyrie, a Fury from eons ago. Some call her the original, others say she was the most powerful of her time. The legend says the power drove her mad, and she tried to destroy the world.”
“So, what happened to her?”
“Another elemental betrayed and killed her.”
“What does this have to do with me? Do you think I’m about to go mad, too?”
He sighed, frustration creasing his brow.
“Power is dangerous, especially when it’s untamed like yours.
You know that better than anyone. I only remember pieces of the story we were told as children, but there’s a reason generations of people passed it down.
I need to learn more, but I can’t help but think this is a warning. ”
“And the nobles?”
Rainier shook his head. Sybil’s gift created more questions than answers.
Tal's arms shook as she pushed to her feet. She grunted. “I need some food.”
Carrick helped her to the table as Egan arrived with a plate overflowing with a meal worthy of a king.
“Go rest,” she dismissed Rain as he stood slowly.
Egan paused at the door. “We’ve got your back, Tal. Whatever it is.” He gave her a small smile and followed Rainier down the tunnel.
Carrick handed her a fork and motioned for her to eat.
“We need to take this seriously,” he began, but Talwyn waved him away.
With a sigh, he changed the subject. “Faron has been wandering the taverns searching for you. I told him to stay out of the tunnels if he knows what’s good for him.
” He didn’t wait for a response and left Talwyn to finish her meal in silence.
Using her fury left Tal ravenous. She asked Egan for a second plate before energy returned to her limbs. And after gulping down half of a healing elixir, she made her way through the tunnels, her wounds mostly healed.
She found the children in one of their storage rooms. Rainier’s various glass bottles sat against the wall; the large crate that used to contain them overflowed with hay.
Egan’s oversized blanket cocooned the children sleeping there.
It wasn’t permanent, but it would work until they could figure out what to do.
“Evania. That’s the girl,” Egan said behind her.
“How is she?” Tal asked without taking her eyes off the sleeping forms.
He stepped next to her. “She screams in her sleep, clings to Sybil, and won’t let anyone leave her by herself—not that her brother will let her out of his sight. He thinks it was his fault. He tries to act tough, but one crack in his armor, and the boy will be a blubbering mess.”
“Will they eat?”
Egan nodded. “They’re skin and bone. Covered in bruises.
Evania flinches when anyone besides Sybil comes near.
They won’t tell us, but we suspect they’ve been abused.
Sybil’s been using her visions to figure out who did it.
I’ll take pleasure in shaving the skin from their bones when we find out.
” He paused, steadying his breath and turning his thoughts away from violence.
Talwyn gave him a moment to reign in his inner beast.
“They mostly sit together and watch us, but they’ve begun to play a little.” He paused, gathering the courage to say what Talwyn knew the whole crew felt. “We can’t send them back to the street,” he pleaded. “They won’t make it on their own.”
She pursed her lips. “Have the others been told of the danger?”
“I warned what orphans I could find to stay out of sight. They’ll tell the others.”