“And what of your companions?”
“My men remain with me.” Garen turned away from the window. “The girl will stay with her father’s caravan. Now, let us adjourn to the arena to discuss its renovation.”
The Earl of Foley frowned. “You must be exhausted from your travels, Lord Garen. Surely tomorrow—"
Garen’s green eyes flashed. “I will be the judge of my stamina, Ving, and you would do well to remember who it is that keeps you here. See that runners are sent to every town within three days hard journey, and meet me at the arena before nightfall. Do I make myself clear?”
To his credit, Sedrik did not take a step back in the face of Garen’s anger. “Perfectly, Chancell— Lord Garen. It will be done.”
“You are dismissed. And send me your steward on your way out, I require his services.” Garen reserved his small, satisfied smile for the Earl’s back, and returned to the window.
Yes, this place would do nicely.
16
Melody kept her eyes shut when she woke, praying that it had been a nightmare only, that everything was normal. The choking stench told her otherwise. She reluctantly struggled to a sitting position beside Jovan, and opened her eyes.
“Easy, Melody.” Kaeliph reached to steady her. “How do you feel?”
She could not reply, transfixed by the sight of Jovan’s shoulder. Black lines spread out from beneath the stained makeshift bandage in all directions, and the smell … it was not the stink of the bodies below them that she had woken up to. It was this.
“It’s bad?” Jovan saw truth in Melody’s face – Kaeliph might lie to him, but he doubted she could.
Not good. If his shoulder looked like that, then what of her leg? Enough of her dress had been sacrificed that she could easily see the same black lines snaking from underneath the wrappings, encasing her calf in a web of pain.
Kaeliph met her eyes. “I hate to ask, I know you're hurt— but can you … what you did before, for Jovan?”
I can try.
When she began to hum, a familiar surge of nameless hostility surrounded her. It was far stronger than what she had encountered in the tunnels, but she continued. Shaping the sound into a song, she breathed deep and laid her fingers lightly on his spreading wound.
Jovan screamed.
The sound pierced the small room and echoed off the stone walls and Kaeliph panicked— but Melody had frozen, mid-note, she couldn’t stop singing. Her voice was a cry of her own. The pain – it was as if every black creeping tendril on her leg had grown teeth and tightened down, and she could feel identical agony in Jovan's shoulder through the music. Tears streamed down her face.
“Stop!” Kaeliph leaned forward, slapping her hands away. With the connection broken, her song broke off and Jovan fell silent. Melody curled where she lay, weeping without sound. Echoes of remembered pain shuddered through her body, and her breath burned in her chest.
I’m so sorry, she sent to Jovan.
I didn’t know, she told Kaeliph. I’m sorry.
“Lich be damned,” Jovan cursed. He closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe. The throbbing agony in his shoulder made his arm feel weak and disconnected. It was his sword arm, too. He couldn’t keep anyone safe without that.
“Maybe it’s just this place?” Kaeliph’s voice wavered, hopeful.
Jovan, focused solely on breathing instead of screaming, scowled. Kaeliph fell silent.
Melody tested the muscles in her wounded leg. They were stiff and painful, but not useless yet. Wiping hot tears from her cheeks, she sat up.
We need to leave this place, Kaeliph.
He looked at her, then at Jovan. “Melody, we can’t. We should, yes, but in your conditions ...”
Jovan spoke, his eyes still closed. “She’s right.” His voice betrayed the strain of the failed attempt at healing. “We don’t have a chance here. We’ll go, while its still daylight.”
Kaeliph offered no further argument, he simply packed their belongings as quickly as he could. Jovan hauled himself to his feet, and helped Melody stand, but she could put precious little weight on her wounded leg. He noticed.
“Kaeliph.”
I’m all right, she protested silently. I just need a minute. Jovan ignored her.
“Of course.” Kaeliph handed their packs to Jovan, and carried her down the stairs, stopping abruptly at the bottom. “Jovan. Look.”
Jovan looked. The main door was untouched. The door to the back room had been torn apart, the table shoved aside as if it weighed nothing. The front window was shattered, and from the air whistling through the room, they guessed the back window had been broken as well. But the front door had been ignored, the rusty iron latch had not even been tested.
“That doesn’t make sense,” Kaeliph said, setting Melody down and heading for the door. Jovan steadied Melody with his good arm.
“There’s nothing out here,” said Kaeliph. “Just some footprints— wait.” He bent, and when he stood he held Melody’s staff in his hand. “This was across the threshold.” He brought it to her. “You dropped it.”
Thank you. She took the staff, shifting her weight to the sturdy carved wood that felt satisfied in her hand. The matter was dropped.
Kaeliph led them back to the edge of the island, stopping frequently to let the others rest. Each time, Melody and Jovan both refused any food, and took only sips of their diminishing water. Kaeliph checked and re-checked their wounds. Each time, he shook his head in defeat. The lines were spreading further, and fast.
“This is the wrong side of the cove,” Jovan observed when they finally reached the beach. He sank onto a fallen log and braced Melody as she eased down beside him. She was pale and cold – he could feel her hurt as vividly as his own, and he suspected she was enduring his pain as well. He pulled her against his chest to share what warmth he could, pleased at how easily she leaned into him.
“We can’t go back to those tunnels, Jovan. I thought we’d try to beach further up the coast.” Kaeliph eyed the darkening sky. “Tomorrow, though. We’ll have to camp.”
No.
“Melody, we can’t keep going,” Kaeliph said. "Neither of you can swim that far, in the dark, after hiking all day. Not with your injuries.”
Jovan agreed. “You need the rest,” he said. “That thing is dead. We will be safe.”
We can’t stay. Not all night. I can’t … She wanted to tell Kaeliph that she couldn’t protect them, and it was the truth, but it sounded ridiculous. She was weakened, and not just in her body. They would not be fine. This whole island reeked of a power she wanted nothing to do with.
I will swim; the water may help the wounds, just please, we can’t be here another night. We can’t, please...
“But Melody…” Kaeliph bit off his protest in the face of her rising desperation. He turned to his brother, as he always had. “Can we make it?”
Jovan could feel the tightness in her shoulders as she silently pleaded with his brother. She was on the verge of tears. He met Kaeliph’s eyes. “We’ll have to.”
Melody needed no more encouragement. Standing with the help of her staff, she skinned out of her dress and handed it to Jovan without hesitation. After a pair of surprised coughs and averted eyes, the brothers followed suit, stripping down to their trousers. Melody was in the water by the time Kaeliph finished slinging all of their packs across his shoulders.
“Be careful,” he called out, wading in behind Jovan.
I’m fine, she assured him, easing out into the waves with her staff. Jovan swam after Melody, and although the cold water did numb some of the pain, their progress was slow and awkward. Kaeliph kept watch from the rear, keeping them on course – until Melody stopped.
“Melody?” Jovan paused beside her, understanding her exhaustion. The combination of the swim and his wound had pushed him to his limits as well, but they had to keep going.
She clung to her staff, unable to go any further.
Kaeliph moved up on her other side a
nd pointed towards the distant shore, much closer now. “It’s not far,” he encouraged her. “You can do it.”
She tried again, but her muscles would not respond. Hot tears dripped from her eyes, and she choked back a sob.
I can’t do this alone. It was a silent prayer, a last breath of faith in the Power that had guided her this far.
You are never alone. Warmth flooded Melody’s chilled body, renewing her limbs and her spirit. Her staff seemed to float higher in the water, and the chill wind slowed to a stop. I am with you.
Melody was again calm. And I am Yours.
Yes.
Clarity burst in Melody's thoughts. She swiveled and propped her head on the staff. It buoyed her, and she let herself relax against it. She passed her braid to Kaeliph, who understood immediately.
“Brilliant. Jovan, hang on to the staff, I’ll tow you.”
Jovan’s face was gray with effort and exhaustion, and he did not argue. He slid himself under Melody, resting his neck beside hers and wrapping his good arm around her waist. He tried to help Kaeliph and ease the strain on Melody’s hair by kicking, but it was slow going.
An eternity later, Kaeliph touched bottom and walked them to the sand. Melody was already unconscious, and Jovan was not much better. Once free of the water, Kaeliph’s legs would not support him, and he sank to his knees.
“Get out … the waves,” he gasped, tugging at his brother. Jovan struggled to his knees and together they pulled Melody’s limp body just past the vegetation that marked the tide line. Unable to go further, Jovan collapsed beside the girl. Kaeliph’s every muscle ached, every breath burned in his chest – but the wind still hinted at the colder weather to come. He could barely open their packs for his trembling.
Kaeliph found their cloaks and wrung what water he could from them.
“Get closer,” he told Jovan, helping his brother tuck Melody against his chest before lying down beside them. Kaeliph pressed his back up against Melody’s front, protecting her from the wind as much as he could. With the last of his strength, he pulled both cloaks over them before sinking into sleep.
The sun found them in the same position come morning, but the trio did not wake to the noisy cries of sea birds in search of breakfast, or the lapping of the waves close by. Their warmth was each other, the cushioning sand was their bed, and they slept on until well past the peak of the sun’s path.
Kaeliph was the first to open his eyes. He blinked against the glare, and brushed the itching sand from his bare chest, remembering.
He sat up, trying to ignore Melody’s nakedness as he examined the horrific wound on her leg. The makeshift bandages had come off in the water, and the black, rotting skin looked even worse than before. The tendrils had spread; they now not only encased her bare foot and thigh, but curved along her hip, lecherously caressing her waist.
“Lich be damned.” Jovan had propped on his elbow, staring. “Does my shoulder …?”
Kaeliph looked. Black lines almost encircled Jovan’s neck, and one of them had crept up onto his jaw. The web of tendrils now reached to his elbow.
“Same? Not quite as bad, but bad enough. And I can’t stop it.”
Jovan eyed Melody. “It’s taking her faster.”
Kaeliph nodded his agreement. “If we don’t stop this …” He didn’t have to finish. They had two days, maybe three, before the wounds took them both. “Maybe she can … do something?”
Jovan didn't hesitate. “No.”
“But Jovan … we’re not on the island, she can try again.” Kaeliph was reluctant to give up. "Maybe ..."
“Doesn’t matter. Whatever was there … we brought it with us.” He pointed to Melody’s leg. “In us.”
“She could still sing.” Kaeliph’s face was achingly optimistic. “It could work…”
Jovan shook his head. “I won't go through that again, little brother.”
Kaeliph sighed, miserable and frustrated. “Are you hungry?”
Jovan didn’t have the heart to tell him no. “Sure, I could eat a little.”
Kaeliph stood and dug in his pack. “I’ll get us some fish, then. Rest, I’ll take care of it.”
Jovan lay back on the sand, feeling the bone-deep weariness dragging at him. The wind had shifted, bringing a bite of cold, and Melody shivered against him. He readjusted the cloak and tightened his arm around her body once more, thinking.
For more than twenty years his life was normal, ordinary, even boring. He took care of his brother; he took care of his family. Leaving his apprenticeship as a stonemason, becoming a pit fighter against his father’s wishes – that was an adventure, but after seven years, the Arena had become routine as well.
So how was he here on a beach in the middle of nowhere with a witch in his arms, both of them with spreading wounds that would not heal, inflicted by a creature that couldn't exist, and on the run from soldiers that wanted them all dead? He sighed, and surrendered to his exhaustion. He didn’t dream.
When he woke, Kaeliph was cooking fish over a small fire, and Jovan watched his brother's anxious face until the smell of the food made his stomach growl. Melody shifted against him, and he tucked the cloak more tightly around her.
“She should eat,” Kaeliph said. “You too. And then we’ve got to find a town, or a healer, or something.” He rummaged in Melody’s pack for her dress. A small, leather wrapped bundle fell to the sand.
“What’s that?” Jovan watched Kaeliph unwrapping the piece of oiled leather.
“A book,” he said. “I’ve seen her look at it before.” He opened it carefully, and his brow furrowed. “I can’t place the language. It looks like some of the books mother used to read from. Maybe if I had more time …”
Jovan rolled his eyes. His little brother was distracted by only two things – women, and books. “You don’t. Put it back. We’ve got to get moving or we’ll never find anything before nightfall.” Kaeliph reluctantly replaced the book as Jovan shook their companion awake.
I— Your neck! Melody’s red-gold eyes widened as she looked up at him.
“I know,” Jovan said. “Here, sit up.”
“There you go.” Kaeliph handed her the dress. “Are you hungry? I caught some fish.”
Still exhausted, Melody needed Jovan’s help to get dressed. She forced down a few bites of fish and tried to stretch some life into her stiff muscles, but it was as if she were frozen to her core, she was so frighteningly weak. She could feel each insistent tendril advancing painfully up her leg and onto her belly.
Kaeliph had to lift her to her feet when they had finished eating; she couldn’t manage alone even with the staff to balance her.
“We should go up,” Kaeliph said, looking at the sand to either side of them and the steep grassy hill ahead. “We’d get a better view, anyway.”
Jovan tried to nod, and winced. The pain in his neck was extraordinary, and he was not optimistic. Even if there was a town they could reach, they were still in Duke Korith’s lands. They were not likely to find a healer – even an herbalist, at this point – who could do anything for their wounds. If Melody couldn’t, a stranger had no chance at all.
17
Bashara nearly turned back twice on her way to the soldiers’ practice fields. Only the memory of her Lady’s pleading tears kept her feet on the path. Maybe Orrin wouldn’t be there, she thought, though of course she knew he was. He was in the dinner tent. Hadn’t she studied his routine every moment she had free, didn’t she watch him at drills and pray for his safety every night he was gone off on the Duke’s missions?
Her hands twisted in her apron, then smoothed it out again. She took a deep breath, trying to ease the frantic shaking deep in her gut. Lady Bethcelamin couldn’t know what she was asking. This was impossible. Bashara hadn’t spoken to Orrin in years, not since—
She had regretted the fight every day for seventeen years, but now here she was, seeking him out. Her destination approached too quickly, no matter how she slowed her feet. Breathless, Basha
ra stepped into the tent. Her chest ached, too tight. He was there. She would know his shape anywhere. Her nerve faltered, but then Orrin turned. He saw her. It was too late.
“Basha …” His name for her on his lips looked like a smile.
It took an eternity for Orrin to cross the distance between them, and her voice abandoned her as he took her hands.
“It’s good to see you again,” he said, his smile as warm as she remembered.
Bashara opened her mouth, but there were no words, only tears she couldn’t shed. Every part of her wanted to sink into his arms as though their past didn’t matter – but it did, and she couldn’t.
She stiffened her spine and found a whisper. “Is there somewhere we can talk?”
“Of course.” Orrin nodded and led her outside, trying to warm her hands in his own. “It’s been so long, Basha. You’re so cold. Are you well? What’s wrong?”
Bashara left her fingers in his gentle grasp. “Not here,” she said. “Not yet.”
“That tree, then,” Orrin said, and let them walk in silence.
For a moment Bashara could be thirteen again, and in that moment, nothing was complicated. Her heart was young, and her love for Orrin was exactly as it had been. There was no guilt, no anger. No pain of knowing that her best friend was dead – because of him. For the time it took to walk across the scuffed grass of the training field, they were just Orrin and Bashara as they had been. The tree arrived too quickly.
“Please, Basha. I’m worried, what is this about?”
Bashara thought of Lady Bethcelamin. She focused on her Lady’s desperate need for information. Orrin was the only person in the Duke’s whole army that might be persuaded to help. All she had to do was ask him about Lady Bethcelamin’s daughter. She pressed her back against the broad tree and took a deep, steadying breath.
“I love you,” she blurted. She bit her lip, a hot blush rising in her cheeks.
Orrin said nothing at first, he just squeezed her hand.
“I’m sorry,” he said after a long moment. He traced the lines of her palm with his fingers. “About … everything.”
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