Chapter 9 #3
Surely this means that he’ll let someone find me. Or take me somewhere so that I don’t die out here.
But then I feel a knife slide swiftly into my gut.
It’s pulled out just as fast, and then I hear a plonk in the water as he throws it in.
I'm left alone.
I'm thirsty. The river's so close. I could probably get to it, but I won't drink it because I haven't seen any marks on the stone. It could kill me. But wasn’t I already in it? I don’t know. Aren’t I already dying?
I cough weakly and it feels wet. But I can’t smell any blood.
Where am I?
The light is waning.
My arm is broken, I think. Some of my ribs as well. I claw my way to sit against the nearest boulder. I'm well outside of Halsford’s wards, I remember with dread.
The sun is still up.
There’s something wet on me. It feels cold. My hand wipes at it, but comes away clean. I can’t see what it is, but it hurts.
Is there a hole in my gut?
How did that get there?
Wasn’t Voss here? Or did I imagine him?
I shiver, drawing myself into some semblance of a ball, though one of my legs won’t move properly. I’m not sure what to do now. I can barely move. I can’t crawl up the steep hillside. No one knows where I am. How would they even know to come for me?
How would they ever find me?
I’m going to die, I realize. Because of a bunch of cowardly human men, and a fae who wasn’t supposed to want me dead.
I never thought this was how I’d go.
LOCKE
I've been searching for hours. I'm tired, and my light conjure is wearing thin, but I keep going.
I almost miss her slight form in the twilight. She's by the bank, sitting up against a rock. My heart lurches when I see her clothes are gone. Where the fuck are they? What happened?
I skate down the steep edge of the hill to get to her. Her eyes are closed but she’s breathing. She doesn’t look injured in the dim glow of my conjure.
I kneel down in front of her.
‘Bryn?’
She doesn’t stir. Conscious of the dropping temperature and her lack of clothes, I pick her up.
She feels so cold and small. I glance around, taking in the curve of the river and the jagged peak to the south.
We’re further from the village than I’d like to be with my magick so weak from fatigue especially now that the sun is setting, but I realize that Gwen's new home can’t be too far from here.
I begin to trudge down the bank of the river, being careful as I wrap my human female in my cloak, wishing it was ermine-lined and not the lightweight one I wear at this time of year. She's freezing.
As I traverse a high rock and jostle her, she whimpers a little, but her eyes remain closed.
I survey the steep cliffs of the gully around me, sure that Gwen said her new home was in the bottom of this valley, so I keep moving.
The light in front of me flickers ominously, and I'm hoping I have enough strength to get us to safety before it goes out entirely and we're left in the dark because there's no way I'll find my way out of this gorge tonight under the clouds that have begun to roll in.
I walk for a long time, almost slipping into the churning river more than once, and just as I'm about to give up hope of finding the place, I notice a faint, glowing light ahead.
I'm cautious in case it's a band of mercenaries or marauders, because I don't have any weapons with me bar my weakened magick and one small knife.
But as I get closer, I can see the vague outline of a pitched roof against the cliff wall.
I go to the door of the small house and kick at it with my foot.
‘Gwen!’ I yell. ‘I need help!’
It opens a moment later, and a snarling orc peers out angrily. His face changes as he sees me.
'Locke. What are you doing out here at this time of day?'
‘Grim, please,' I say wearily. 'Is Gwen here?'
He moves to the side. 'Of course.'
I bring my human into the warm house. It's light and somehow airy, even though the casements are shut for the night.
'Gwen,' Grim calls into the back, and she appears, her red hair piled high upon her head.
Her eyes widen when she sees us.
'Gods, Locke, what are you doing here? What happened?' she asks.
'It’s Bryn,' I say. 'I don’t know. She was in a faint when I found her. She hasn’t woken. It’s been hours. There’s not a mark on her, but she's so cold.'
'Bring her in here and lay her on the bed.'
I take Bryn into a small chamber, putting her gently on her back on the cot in the corner. Gwen waves her mates away as she uncovers Bryn and glances at me when she sees her state of undress.
I shake my head.
'I found her like that by the river. She was training with the fae today. When she didn’t return with them, Jak, Morgan, and I went in opposite directions to look for her.’
‘You got outside the wards?’ she asks absently as she checks Bryn over.
‘You aren’t the only ones who can when it’s necessary,’ I mutter quietly and she gives me an assessing look much like one that Jak gave me when he also realized I was able to this evening.
I didn’t tell anyone that I could, not even him and Morgan, so I imagine he’s not best pleased. There’ll be a reckoning for it, I’m sure. But I can’t worry about that now. Bryn’s safety is more important. I’m just glad I knew where the evening run finishes each day.
'I'll bring some blankets, but you should…' She glances at me. 'Take off your tunic and shirt.'
'Why?' I ask.
'She needs heat. You’re hotter than I am. Your body will have more of it to give her than mine. Unless you'd like Drakar or Grim to do it.'
The snarl that rises from my throat makes her give me a wry grin.
'So, she is something to you,' she says.
'She's mine,' I snarl.
'Then help her.'
I do as Gwen says, and I cuddle Bryn's cold body, wrapping us in the thick coverlet. When she begins to warm, her eyes flutter, and she lets out a weak cry of pain.
'It's all right,’ I tell her. ‘You're safe. Everything's all right.'
But when I try to move her, she cries out in agony.
'What is it?' Gwen asks, coming into the room. ‘Where does it hurt?’
‘My—My back and my leg,’ she whimpers weakly. ‘My stomach.’
Tears leak from her clenched eyes. ‘Everywhere!’
‘But there were no injuries that I could…’
I look up at Gwen in confused helplessness. Every movement I make hurts my human.
As Gwen bustles around, muttering that there are no marks, so where can the pain be coming from, I see Lia lurking in the doorway.
What is she doing here?
The question must show in my countenance because she shrugs at me.
'I'm the Harbinger,’ she says. ‘I go where I will. Didn't realize there'd be so much excitement here tonight, though. I only came to speak with Gwen and have a bit of dinner.’
She steps into the room. ‘What's wrong with her, Gwen?'
'I don't know,' Gwen mutters, her brow furrowed in worry.
She covers Bryn with the blanket again to protect her modesty, but even that seems to hurt her because she writhes in my arms and then stiffens and whimpers.
Lia’s expression goes from bemusement to sudden, stark horror, her face paling so quickly that my gut lurches.
'Do a revealing conjure, Locke,’ she whispers.
I frown at her, wondering if I have the strength.
‘My reserves are depleted from the magick I used earlier,’ I say, but I’m already trying. ‘Why?’
'Just do it if you can,' she commands quietly. 'Indulge me.'
My brow furrows. Though the Harbinger is a powerful entity, Lia rarely gives orders or expects to be readily obeyed.
My eyes close and my fingers move as I whisper the words, grunting at the exertion.
I hear both the women in the room gasp loudly and my eyes snap open to look down at my human.
My stomach twists as I find Bryn covered in a mass of bruises, cuts, and scrapes.
There are new marks all over her chest, her face, her arms, and legs.
Everywhere. Her fingers are all at odd angles on her right hand.
There are places where her flesh has blackened and swollen where bones are clearly broken. So many places.
And blood. It trickles from a deep wound in her stomach.
‘Gods,' Gwen exclaims softly and lurches forward, snatching a vial from her apron pocket and immediately tipping the contents down Bryn’s throat.
In my arms, Bryn convulses.
'Hold her still,’ Gwen commands me and my arms tighten around Bryn as much as they can without injuring her further.
‘One won't be enough,' Gwen says toward her orcs who are standing just outside the room, looking troubled by the events of the evening. 'Bring me at least three more. From the old stock we made last summer when the flowers were at their most potent.'
Both orcs’ shadows disappear from the doorway.
‘She’ll be all right,’ Gwen assures me, her hand landing lightly on my shoulder, but her jaw is tight.
She’s lying.
‘Just need to get her healing quickly, is all. She must have been bleeding for a while. Though,’ she looks back at the door in consternation, ‘it’s odd. Neither Grim nor Drak mentioned smelling it.’
‘I didn’t either,’ I whisper, staring down at my hurt human.
Lia is peering down at my shuddering human, her face drawn.
'What is this?' I ask her lamely. 'This was no typical conjure. Who would have the skill to do it?'
'A fae certainly,' Lia mutters quietly, but nothing more.
‘That doesn’t make sense,’ I say. ‘The Underhill needs Bryn for the next mission to try to get Fiana. Why would she be attacked like this?’
A fury begins to bubble inside me.
‘She should have been safe!’ I half-yell.
Lia startles at my tone and her jaw clenches in anger that isn’t directed at me. 'I don’t know, Locke.’
Grim enters the room and hands Gwen the vials.
‘Keep her still again,’ Gwen mutters and grips Bryn’s chin gently, pouring the first one into her mouth.
Bryn coughs and splutters, and Gwen puts her hand over Bryn’s mouth to stop the potion from dribbling out.
‘Swallow, Bryn. This will help you heal,’ she says.
Bryn does what she’s told. Her body goes limp and I loosen my grip as Gwen administers the rest of the vials.