The leader swung out with the cuff, the chain wrapping around August’s left arm. He stiffened, a cry strangling in his throat. August yanked down with his left arm, his wings swirling a small snowstorm as he launched himself into a spinning kick that pummeled the man to the ground.
August shook the chain free, flicking his hand contemptuously and knocking the man to the ground in a burst of magic. He lay stunned in the snow. August leapt toward him, sword raised overhead.
“August!” Dorian’s sharp voice halted him before he could plunge it into the man’s chest.
Dorian stood, half-turned away from where his staff blade rested at the other faery’s throat. August jerked a breath and slammed the sword into the ice beside the leader’s cheek instead, cutting a thin line through the scruff of his beard.
August stepped away, hands clenching in tight fists. “Get out of here.”
The bandit scrambled to his feet, taking in the sight of his men. The man Tonya had frozen had almost chipped free of the ice. Jakab stirred a few feet away. Dorian had only wounded the other man and the faery seemed almost grateful to surrender.
But two lumps lay unmoving at the other end of the clearing. The bandit broke free of the ice and lunged towards Tonya, cuff extended. August whipped his hand out.
The man stumbled to a halt, staring at his empty hand. August’s knife quivered in the nearest tree, the cuff dangling from the blade.
“I won’t miss again,” August snarled.
Dorian disengaged from the faery, jabbing with the point of his staff to shepherd the wounded men together. The bandit leader sneered as he staggered past.
“Maybe I’ll report you to the nearest garrison. Know what they’ll do to faeries who attack and kill humans?”
August shoved forward and the man flinched away. The bandits stumbled into the forest. Diane loosed a shaky breath and released aching fingers from around her staff.
Tonya made a faint sound in the back of her throat and Diane turned her from the sight of the bodies. August faltered a step before sinking down to the ground, elbows on knees and hands clenched in his hair. His shoulders jerked in gasping breaths as his wings lay limp behind him.
Dorian held his hand out by his side, a quick look telling them to stay where they were. He placed his staff in the snow and knelt a cautious pace away from August.
“All right?” he asked quietly.
August slowly unclenched one hand and rubbed it across his face. “I’m fine.”
But he didn’t sound convinced.
“You hurt?” Dorian eased forward.
August shifted, bringing one knee down and straightening enough to show a cut along his left side. Tonya made the small noise again and clutched at Diane’s arm. The blood stain spread across August’s shirt and began to ooze into his trousers.
Dorian pulled up the shirt to expose the cut. August didn’t flinch.
“Diane, will you get my bag from the tent?” Dorian’s voice didn’t show any alarm.
Diane ushered Tonya back a step or two until she sat unsteadily on the ground. Taking a deep breath, Diane went towards the tent closest to the bodies. Keeping her eyes fixed on the tent flap instead, she went inside and found Dorian’s pack. She dug out the healers’ bag, pausing a moment more to grab August’s coat from the top of his bedroll.
Dorian helped August take off his shirt as she stepped back outside. His wings had disappeared somewhere along his muscular back. One long scar traced his side above the new cut, and a patch of skin like an old burn scar wrapped along his left arm.
Diane swallowed hard. It matched the shape and size of the iron cuffs. A fresh stripe of red wound about his forearm where the bandit leader had caught him.
“Looks like I’m not the only one who kept some scars,” Dorian said as Diane placed his kit beside him.
August kept his head half-turned away, jaw clenched as he stared at the snow with the same distant expression Ralf and Edmund would sometimes wear when they thought no one was looking.
Diane placed his coat over one shoulder, tucking it around him enough to still leave his injured side exposed. He briefly looked up to give her a nod of thanks. She retreated a few paces, near enough to let Dorian know she’d help if she needed to.
Dorian extended the vial of pain medicine, but August shook his head. Dorian didn’t argue, just began cleaning the wound.
“It’s how my brother died.” August finally spoke, a shiver running through him as if he was waking up. “Some Durneans like—like them caught me after a battle went bad. Eryk—” His voice faltered before he went on. “Eryk came after me. We barely got out, but some renegade faeries and human were after us. It was a deep cut.”
He briefly touched his side. “I couldn’t do much with the cuff blocking my magic. He took the next blow that was meant for me.”
August lapsed into silence for a moment. Dorian kept working, threading a needle and pulling the edges of the wound shut. August barely flinched.
“My father and some others were too late. He’d already died. I was nearly there myself. I told them to leave the scars, because I didn’t want to forget that I was the reason he died.”
Dorian’s hands faltered. Diane pressed a hand to her aching chest.
Dorian resumed his task, tying off the last stitch, and placed his hand against the wound. But August nudged it away.
“No magic. Let it heal on its own. It’s the least I deserve.” He nodded to the dead bandits.
Dorian silently acknowledged his wish and wrapped a bandage around him. Standing, he extended a hand to August.
“Go change before you catch cold as well.”
August took a long moment before he clasped Dorian’s hand and pushed to his feet, shuttering away a grimace of pain and limping to their tent, his coat clutched around his shoulders.
Diane went over to Dorian as he carefully wiped his hands clean. She’d seen the look on August’s face, heard similar things before, but still had no idea what to do. Somehow the thought of it being the cheerful, vibrant August made it worse.
“What do we do?” she asked.
Dorian folded the cloth in his hands. “Break camp, get away from here.”
Diane crossed her arms, tucking her hands against her sides to stave off the sudden rush of chill.
“And I’ll talk to him if he wants. No offense, but you didn’t live through the same thing we did.”
But Diane only nodded. “I know. But it hurts almost as much to watch someone go through it. Just tell me what I can do to help.”
Dorian offered a brief smile that crooked the corner of his mouth. “I will.”
He left her and went to Tonya, who still sat with her knees tucked up against her chest.
“You all right?” He gently touched her arm.
She turned a watery smile up at him. “How soon can we leave?”
“As soon as you’re ready.”
She accepted his hand to stand, dusting away the snow that clung to her clothes. She and Diane ducked back into their tent to do up their packs and bedrolls. The tent folded back up as soon as they undid the ties. Dorian did the same with the other tent. August stood over the dead bandits, who were now laid out, side-by-side.
Diane held her breath as he extended a hand and a faint golden glow covered the bodies for a moment before abating. August turned away and helped Dorian fold up the tent, his face still a cold mask.
They left the clearing without a word and walked for nearly two hours before they stopped to share out breakfast.
“What did you do with them?” Tonya bravely asked.
“The ice won’t stay back long enough to bury them, so I made sure that their bodies would stay safe until their friends came back.” August rolled a few crumbs of waybread between his fingers. A bit of blood still stained the cracks around his knuckles.
“That was kind,” Tonya said.
August offered a ghostly version of his normal smile and returned to picking at his food. He still
hadn’t eaten by the time they’d finished and packed away the remnants.
Diane caught the look Dorian gave her and tugged Tonya out in front to lead the way. Eventually a murmur of conversation began behind them, and when she glanced back, August strode beside Dorian, hands wound about the straps of his pack, head down as they talked.
“What do we do?” Tonya migrated closer to her, giving a quick look back.
“Keep walking north,” Diane said. “How are you doing?”
Tonya took a deep breath. “All right, I think. I’ve never been in a fight before. And it appears that fighting combined with blood makes me nauseous.” She tried for a smile.
Diane rested her staff against her shoulder. “My knees have finally stopped shaking, so you’re in good company.”
“Really?” Tonya lifted a disbelieving eyebrow. “You seemed very confident while clobbering that whale head.”
Diane giggled at the unfamiliar term. “Thank you. It’s the first fight I’ve been in, so either Edmund and Ralf will be happy to hear that I handled myself well—or will begin running around like headless chickens because I was in a teensy bit of danger.”
“I’d hate to see what you consider a normal amount of danger.” Tonya smiled.
A smirk teased Diane’s mouth and the tension that still lurked in her muscles began to ease.
“As you know, remmikens are no match for us. And neither are oversized—whale heads, was it?”
Tonya’s smile built into a laugh.
“And you!” Diane wrapped an arm around the faery’s shoulders. “Using your ice to freeze that man’s legs!”
A flush spread over Tonya’s cheeks, but a triumphant grin livened her eyes. “I didn’t think I could do it, but whatever Dorian’s been doing has helped, I think.”
“It was genius.” Diane squeezed her in a hug before releasing her.
“But.” Tonya’s face fell just as quickly. “It’s still not strong enough to undo any of this.”
“Patience, young faery. Small steps.” Diane tried for the superior tone of a master scholar.
The brightness returned with Tonya’s snicker, and they trudged on with a new lightness in their steps.
*
As the sun swept lower to the horizon, Diane beckoned to Dorian. He jogged forward, leaving August trudging along in their wake.
“Is there a place we can rest and have a fire with dinner?” she asked.
Dorian rubbed at his chin, scanning the open hills around them. “There’s an abandoned Hold about half a mile away we can probably stay.”
Diane hitched her pack higher. “Perfect. Can we please go there?”
He offered his slight little smile and adjusted their path to the northeast. Tonya and August didn’t argue. Dorian finally stopped at the base of a hill that, at first glance, looked larger than its neighbors. But then Diane blinked, and it seemed nothing out of the ordinary in a sea of rippling earth.
Dorian shuffled around the base of the hill before finding a stone like he had at Csorna. A rap sent the fairy veil shivering and peeling back to reveal a broken door. Its green and yellow painted surface still presented itself boldly against the cold, despite the gaping wound down its center. Diane shivered, hating to think what could have broken the door like that.
Dorian’s face remained unreadable as he gently moved the door back and ushered them in. Unlike in Csorna, the entrance hall remained dark. No cylinders of magic sprang to life at their approach. Something clattered and Tonya stifled a soft cry.
“I kicked something!” Some panic edged her voice. The fading light didn’t penetrate far inside and Diane clutched her staff as the darkness weighed oppressive around her.
“Give me a moment. I can find some of the lights and maybe restore the magic.” Dorian cursed as he kicked something else and his boots thudded heavier in a stumble.
A flicker of light came from behind Diane and she turned to see August holding up a hand illuminated in gentle golden light. It snapped out just as fast, and a sharp cry of surprise came from his direction as he fell.
“Someone warded this place against magic,” August panted, a scuffling announcing him rising uncertainly.
“Should we leave, then?” Diane turned her head, as if she could see any of her companions.
Any reply was cut off as another gentle light appeared. For a moment, Diane couldn’t make sense of what she saw. A luminescent glow hovered on either side of Tonya, rippling in an odd pattern around the lower edges of a swooping outline. The light illuminated Tonya’s face and the hall around them, shimmering and dancing like light through water.
“Is—is that your wings?” A bit of breathless wonder coated Dorian’s voice.
Tonya ducked her head as she nodded. “Will it help figure out a way to get some light?” Her voice was edged with cold.
“There’s nothing here, except that spell. We should be able to stay here fine.” Dorian jerked his eyes from Tonya to Diane and August.
The other faery didn’t argue, just set his pack on the ground. The thing that Tonya had kicked was a bit of smashed pottery. Bits of broken furniture were scattered around the Hold. The doors leading deeper into the mound had been torn off hinges and lay in pieces.
“What happened here?” Diane couldn’t repress the question.
Dorian pointed up at the walls. Curled script that seemed to shift just outside her understanding had been painted across the carved stone.
“Sorcerers and rogue faeries attacked this place. It’s a curse against anyone who dared fight against them,” Dorian said.
Tonya stepped a little closer, her wings rippling again as the light brightened. August sniffed and grabbed his water flask. He nodded to Dorian, who stepped forward and braced himself against the wall. August placed his foot in Dorian’s laced hands and balanced precariously as he splashed water across some of the words and rubbed them away with his coat sleeve.
Once the curling pattern was disrupted, a shiver cut through Diane. The air seemed to lose some of its weight and a flicker of light sparked next to Dorian. August jumped down, leaving Dorian free to press his hand against the cylinder. It sprang to life, blazing brightly as if in thanks that it had been allowed to serve again. August stepped over to the next one. He tapped the surface and it did the same.
As if realizing they were free to shine, the rest of the lights around the room flared into life. They stood blinking in the sudden light. Tonya backed away a step, her cheeks flushing as they looked back at her.
“They’re beautiful,” Diane breathed softly.
Tonya’s wings held the same basic bony structure as the boys’ wings, but the edges curled and rippled like a fish’s fin. Dark spots scattered across the pale membrane in some sort of pattern. The luminous glow along the bones and edges shone brighter in the curled folds.
Tonya tilted a glance at her. “They’re absolutely worthless, is what they are.”
Her shoulders jerked and her wings disappeared, leaving the room a little dimmer.
“It looks like the same camouflage as my snow leopard pelt,” August offered. Diane smiled to hear his voice back to normal.
“Which is helpful in the ocean, how?” Tonya snapped. “I can’t fly, and I can’t swim, but I can glow and blend in like a land animal.” She retreated another step and wrapped her arms around her stomach.
They stared at her.
“They helped just now,” Dorian said gently.
She sighed and rubbed her forehead. “I’m sorry. No one’s ever called them beautiful.” She looked to Diane. “Or thought of a way they might actually work. They’re just another part of me that got mixed up at my birth.”
“You seem to have done all right so far.”
Diane’s jaw dropped at the abruptness of August’s voice. Tonya’s eyes widened.
“Let’s go find some firewood.” August gestured over his shoulder. She hesitantly joined him.
“Mind if we use your wings again for more light? I don’t want
to go around turning all these on just to find wood.”
Tonya mutely nodded and let her wings unfurl as she and August went into one of the tunnels. Dorian watched them go, nodding to himself with a slight smile. The expression wasn’t exactly what Diane had expected.
“Tough love?” Diane guessed.
Dorian shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe it’s what she needs.”
And I wonder if you’d be able to say the same thing to her. Diane bit her lip against the sudden giggle.
Dorian rolled his eyes as if he’d guessed what she’d thought. “Help me clear out this corner?”
They’d cleared a space in the corner opposite the smudged curse by the time August and Tonya came back with arms full of wood pieces. Dorian shifted the earth into a small divot and August kindled a fire inside.
The flames sparked in varied hues as the painted wood caught, then returned to their normal red and gold as they ate into the wood. Diane toasted the last of the fresh bread from Dorian’s mother and handed it out, along with slices of cheese to go with the inevitable dried meat. She leaned against the wall as she ate, grateful for a stable shelter from the wind and cold. The lights gave off a slight heat along with the fire.
“I wonder why no one ever came back,” she mused.
Dorian wiped his hands clean. “Likely found other homes during or after the war.”
“Aye, it looked like whoever lived here was able to clear most of their belongings before, or after, it was attacked. And this far north, I doubt anyone wanted to risk coming back to re-settle during the war.” August bit at the inside of his lip.
Diane nibbled at the last of her cheese. The borderlands had seen most of the heavy fighting, but central Durne had been ravaged as well. The north had been held by the rogue alliances. She shivered, hoping that one day someone would come back to the Hold and fill it with good magic again.
“How far north are we?” Tonya stared at the colors still burning off at the base of the flames.
“We’ll be at the Strait tomorrow,” Dorian said. “After that, I’m not entirely sure where we go.”
“I wish I had something that could help, but the things I know about the north don’t include maps.” Tonya’s lips quirked.
Winter Spell Page 16
