Chapter 11
W ith another night came a familiar nightmare. Recently, they began to take the shape of memories altered and corrupted by Emer’s fears.
She was in her room, but it was not her room. It was painted in the gray of grief that seemed to wash out any true color. Whispered voices drifted down the hall, hoping to torment her.
Hushed conversations had become common since their father fell ill. Emer ’ s mother tried to protect her and Finn from the harsh reality they found themselves in, leaving them to fill in the blanks left by the unheard words. Even though she knew they would only lead to heartbreak, she followed the whispers as they coaxed her from bed.
“ We are losing him.” Lachlan ’ s words echoed until the walls began to wail and the house shook.
Emer clapped her hands over her ears as she crouched down, curling into herself. The shadows on the floor turned into a black fog that seeped over her bare feet. Soon, thick tendrils began to creep towards her hands and wrapped around her wrists. It wanted to pull her down into the darkness .
Ahead, she could see the inky black entity creeping through the open door to her parent ’ s room. She fought against it as it strangled her limbs. When she reached the entrance, she pulled herself through and slammed the door closed.
Her heart broke before she even turned around.
Every time, the dream was the same. She would burst through the door to keep out the darkness, and he would be there.
Her father.
Every time, the dream devastated her because this part was the memory.
His features were pinched and wary. His skin had taken on a gray pallor, but it still possessed the telltale warmth of life. Even in sleep, she could tell he had no peace.
Like a child seeking comfort from the monsters chasing her in the night she stood at his bedside. Curling up on the hard floor beside the bed, as though the proximity to him could make the realm a little less terrifying, she reached up and took his hand in hers.
She could almost feel the faint burn in her shoulder from the position she held her arm. Even in her dreams, she knew the weight and warmth of his hand in hers. It was something she had tried to memorize just in case.
She squeezed it twice.
Once for love and once for luck, promising that she would do anything to save him.
Emer sat up with a gasp. The tears she had wept in her sleep were cold and tacky on her cheeks. Slowly, her eyes adjusted from the pale world of her dreams to the equally glum sight of another morning at the keep. It took her several moments to calm her heart and breath. The dull hum beneath her skin, the wrongness that vibrated in her blood was still present, but the emptiness in her chest that she had so often felt was strangely absent. Perhaps the sadness that overflowed within her left no more room for fear.
The sharp sound of metal colliding rang through the early morning air. It was not the melody sung by a forge but rather the song of swords in battle. It was soon joined by a chorus of shouts that had Emer scrambling to look out her window. She was unsure which prospect was more terrifying, that the keep was under attack or that she allowed herself to hope Lachlan had survived and was there to rescue her.
Her eyes struggled to acclimate to the light. From her new vantage point, she could see directly into the courtyard. As the sunspots of her vision dissipated, she found it was not a siege on the keep nor a rescue attempt. The shouts and swords were wielded by the knights training in the space below.
Approximately, a dozen men formed a circle. Their boisterous shouts and attention were devoted to the two men who fought with short swords in the center. One with ink-black hair and the other with dark brown.
Each brutal strike was matched with raucous cheers, and every powerful guard with heckling. The man with brown hair was disarmed and replaced by another, and then another, and then another. The victor remained and continued.
He paused for a moment, running his hands through his hair and out of his eyes.
Calder.
Emer pushed off the windowsill, shrinking back as if he could have seen her. The thought was both fanciful and foolish. He would not be bothered to look up to her window, so she slowly leaned forward to peer out again.
The challenger approached and held two small axes to mirror Calder’s own. The Sea Raven struck hard and fast. The muscles of his shoulders rolled and his forearms tensed from the movement, confirming what Emer had long suspected. The man before her had been made for and by weapons. Yet despite the power behind them, his movements were impossibly fluid and graceful.
After only a handful of moves, he had the man disarmed and bent on one knee .
Even with the great distance between them, the hunger in his eyes was unmistakable. There was no weapon he was not proficient in and it was clear why he had been chosen to train the men. Whether by ax, short-sword, or his own hand, whoever faced him would fall.
Nervous pacing in the courtyard caught Emer’s attention. Dempsey circled Calder, watching and waiting. After two more opponents, Dempsey began pushing his way to the front of the crowd. The moment Calder made eye contact with him, his smile sharpened. He was the predator and Dempsey was a mere scavenger—only willing to approach once he thought his target grew tired.
Calder tossed away his ax and sword, challenging Dempsey hand-to-hand. They smiled, blatantly looking forward to whatever pain they were about to inflict on one another.
Dempsey was the first to strike and moved aggressively as he lunged forward. Calder moved inhumanly fast, dodging Dempsey’s fist with an unwavering grin. The force behind Dempsey’s movement caused him to stumble forward. Rather than moving to attack, Calder simply turned and waited for Dempsey to re-engage.
Dempsey’s flared nostrils did little to hide how quickly Calder managed to fluster him. A feat that was particularly impressive given that he had yet to lift a hand against him.
It was unclear if Calder used his opponent’s emotions against them or if he consumed them, fed from them to nourish his own savagery.
Dempsey thrust and threw his fists, each blocked by Calder’s palm or forearm with just enough degradation to cause his next blow to falter.
After the next block, Calder struck and no one was more surprised by it than Dempsey. Emer was a close second.
The longer Emer watched, the clearer it became that, while she had fought Calder, he had not fought her. Possibly more sobering than the realization of what he was capable of was why he’d been distracted enough that day for her to get the upper hand.
With each blow to his face and upper body, Dempsey’s anger became more evident in the decreasing strategy of his movements. Calder ducked low and swept the legs out from under his opponent in a swift motion. Dempsey stared up at Calder from his back. Rage, sweat, and blood poured from him.
Forgetting for a moment that the broken man on the ground was the same man who had her fighting for her breath, she allowed herself to feel the fleeting spark of sympathy. Something she was certain Calder did not possess. What he did feel was written across his face in a very intentional way—satisfaction.
Calder reached his hand out, confusing all who watched. He gripped Dempsey’s hand firmly and held his stare as he grabbed his sleeve and pushed it up his forearm.
Something wicked deep within Calder preened at the evidence of Emer’s ferocity written on Dempsey’s skin. His eyes darkened, though his expression did not waver. When his gaze made the slow ascent back to Dempsey’s, wide with shock, he ripped his arm back as he pulled down the fabric.
Emer didn’t breathe.
Dempsey didn’t move.
Calder didn’t hesitate.
“Again!” he ordered so loud that Emer thought she actually heard the words rather than read his lips.
The men cheered, wholly unaware of the shift that had taken place among the fighters. Dempsey hesitated for a moment but then once again squared off.
If it was not apparent that the game being played had changed by the way the men regarded each other, the crowd should have been able to sense it in the way they fought. Calder no longer fought defensively; this time, he was the aggressor. His fist connected with Dempsey’s chin, splitting open his lip. The spray of crimson blood as he spat was visible across the pale stones of the courtyard.
Dempsey charged.
Calder blocked the blows aimed at his face. Those that did land against his lower body did not seem to faze him. Instead, he took advantage of the position it left Dempsey in, bringing his elbow down against his shoulder. As Dempsey flinched, Calder brought his fist to connect to the other side of Dempsey’s head. He reeled back, leaving himself open to the powerful kick that Calder landed on his chest. The impact threw him back against the ground so hard that the crowd no longer cheered.
Calder’s chest heaved as he studied his victim, prostrated before him. He began to step forward, but a firm hand clapped down over his shoulder. Whether Calder was finished or not, the match was over. He looked at his keeper with a feral snarl. Banner’s hold did not yield, instead, he gave him a supportive squeeze before tugging him away.
In the heat of the fight, Calder had been distracted by the need to feel Dempsey break beneath his fists, but now in the calm, he could feel them. Eerie cries reverberated off the keep’s high stone walls as wraith-like shadows were cast on the ground. Low curses and sentiments of superstition slipped from the men. Several retrieved charms from their tunics, pressing them to their lips as they gazed above. Ravens had come.
Within moments, the beautiful and foreboding creatures found sanctuary on the limbs of the tree that Emer had once sought the same from. Perched along its branches like some terrible omen. All the knights of the keep began to murmur and point.
All except one.
Calder’s expression remained neutral as he turned his back to Dempsey, leaving him on the ground. Without drawing attention to the act, Calder turned his gaze to the window of Emer’s new chambers. Their eyes found each other amidst the chaos.
He kept watching her as he said, “I’ve got a job for you.”
A sinister smile pulled at Banner’s lips, and the pair left the courtyard together without another word.