Soon, he rose, gathered up the baby, and walked over to me, picking up my dagger as he came. He handed it to me, then reached out his free hand to my nose, but I brushed it away.
“I’ve got to get pa home,” I said, choking back tears.
He just reached out again and took my broken nose between finger and thumb. It tingled violently, and then he was handing me his handkerchief to once more mop blood from my face. “I’ll help you,” he said. He gave the bow an absent-minded shake, turning it back into his stick.
Ignoring him, I got my arms around my father and tried to lift him myself. But even in his emaciated condition he was far too heavy for me.
Ystevan eased him away from me, slipping the baby into my grasp instead. “I’ll take him; you bring this little one,” he said gently, and rose, lifting the Duke without apparent effort.
I trudged after him as he strode from the room, too numb for thanks, or protests, or anything. My marvelous hopes of earlier had been cruelly smashed to pieces, but at least my father had avoided a fate worse than death and I had been spared the most terrible of choices.
But as far as his imminent death was concerned, that now seemed inevitable.
~+~
CHAPTER 43
MERCY
My father lay in his big bed, barely making a lump in the blankets. He looked helplessly fragile against the expanse of white sheets, and bruises were already visible on his hollow face.
Ystevan had absent-mindedly healed the burns on the journey home but had shown, how my father had just acquired them notwithstanding, no inclination to do anything more—no circumstance, ever, he’d said, and clearly he meant it. He must’ve acted on pure reflex when he pulled the Duke out of the fire.
Now my father’s chest barely moved as he breathed, and he was unconscious still. I took one bony hand. His fingers were cold. He wasn’t even going to wake up, was he?
The thought was too much. I folded forward silently over the bed and clung to him, tears pouring down my face as sobs shook me. I cried so hard I could barely breathe. Raven quivered against my neck, pawing at me in helpless comfort.
A hand touched my shoulder gently. “Serapia…”
Ystevan. I ignored him.
“Serapia, don’t cry.”
“Don’t cry!” I sobbed. “There’s nothing else I can do, don’t you understand? I’m out of ideas. Lord Vandalis was my last hope and look what came of that! There’s nothing else I can do!” My last words came close to a wail of despair.
I dimly heard the sound of the room door being closed and the key turning in the lock. A slender hand entered my field of vision, placing three things on the bedside table: a pair of spectacles, a pair of stud earrings, and a hair clip.
Blinking, I sat up, wiping tears from my eyes as I looked around. Ystevan’s ears rose to graceful points, his hair fell around his face, that strange shimmering mixture of gold and black, and his gold-green eyes stared solemnly down at me. He looked quite gloriously eldritch.
“I will take the sorcery off,” he informed me. “But you must understand, Serapia, he has virtually no strength left. He is drained. He may not survive the removal, and there is nothing I can do but my best.”
I stared at him in shock, too afraid to hope again. Eventually I bit my lip and nodded gingerly. I watched as he stepped forward and began to run his hands through the air a fraction away from my father’s body, fingers spread and twitching in a gathering movement like a peasant woman carding wool. His eyes bled almost to pure gold.
Although I could see nothing, I could easily imagine him clawing and collecting the sorcery from around my father’s helpless form. It took some time, and he worked steadily, a strange feeling building in the air and especially in my father’s thin hand, which I still held. Eventually I had to lay it gently back on the bed, and yet I could not define what made me unable to go on holding it.
Ystevan’s hands moved away from the Duke now, working together in the air on something that made me think of a cord... He took a good grip and started to pull, and pull, like drawing a bow, and to my shock my father’s body began to bow up from the bed, arching, as if under some great strain.
My heart pounded faster and faster as I watched. It was brutally physical yet so much of it was unseen... Like every battle between good and evil? Strange thought. My skin was crawling with the dread and the strangeness of it...
Ystevan pulled and pulled grimly, apparently no way to soften it, until finally he staggered backwards a couple of steps, quickly regaining his balance, and my father’s body fell back onto the bed and lay still, hair fanning over the pillows. Too still; he was not breathing.
I hunched in on myself, hands clenched, staring at him, willing him to breathe, willing it not to be true... “No, no, no,” I whispered to myself, as if the very force of my words could make it not so.
Ystevan had finished disposing of whatever unholy, invisible thing he had removed from the Duke and now strode quickly to the bedside. He leant over and touched an investigative hand to the Duke’s quiet, still face, laid another over his heart.
Then he flung back the blankets and with equal haste tore the night-shirt open to expose his chest. Unfastening his own coat swiftly, enough to reach his collar, he touched something—a hidden spring?—and one of the largest jewels swung up, allowing him to take a ring from a concealed cavity. It bore a diamond, faceted to a razor-sharp point, and he slid it onto his left forefinger, fitting it in between the knuckles. After a pause to collect himself, he drove the diamond, quick and hard, into the Duke’s chest above the heart.
My trusting stillness broke as my father jerked, drawing in a long breath. But his breathing steadied, and my father and I both settled back onto the bed. Ystevan calmly withdrew the diamond, healing the tiny wound it left with a touch of his finger. He cleaned the ring carefully on a sleeve, making sure no trace of blood remained to stain its purity, then replaced it in its hidden home.
At first, I could only sit and watch my father’s chest moving, up and down, up and down. He lived! He lived.
Oh thank you, thank you, thank you... I felt weak, drained with joy and relief.
After a while I noticed Ystevan, clip, spectacles and earrings back in place, heading for the door. I leapt up and hurried to him. “You’re not leaving?” I questioned anxiously.
“I…I’m sorry, but really, I just want to go home now,” he said softly. He looked tired, but I doubted it was primarily physical.
“Wh…why did you?” I faltered. “Thank you, thank you more than I can ever…but why?”
Ystevan stared at the man asleep in the bed for a long moment.
“I confess, I was standing outside that cellar room for some time before I showed myself,” he said quietly. “And, well, when I said in no circumstances… I have to admit I hadn’t ever conceived of anything like that. When you said before that he wouldn’t do it again…well, of course I didn’t believe you…”
“But you called it immoral before,” I said, wonderingly.
Ystevan looked back at me, his eyes too bright. “Well, perhaps tonight there had been enough death,” he whispered. And after a moment he added, as though he couldn’t help himself, “It could have been me.”
“What do you mean?”
“It could just as easily have been me. Me who wandered away from my friends. Me who…” He shook his head as though to shake his words away. “You are a good, brave girl.” He touched my cheek gently.
I stared at him. He must’ve been referring to what had happened this evening, but really... “I couldn’t possibly let him do it!” I exclaimed. “No matter what happened to me! How could I possibly?”
Ystevan just smiled. “Exactly,” he murmured.
I frowned at him. I couldn’t see that I had done anything exceptional, myself. And as for the terrible thing, unbeknown to him, I had almost done, it had seemed my only option at the time, but... Now I wasn’t so sure. What had my father said? There was never any excuse for
sin...
Ystevan’s eyes strayed to the door again and the matter slipped from my mind. “Won’t you stay just a little?”
He shook his head. “I will not. But since there is not the slightest point any elfin attempting to cloak your memories again—every time a memory cloak is applied, it is less effective, you see—you are welcome to visit us again. Since you really are one of the exceptions. As a guardian I have the authority to issue such an invitation.”
My heart leapt—then sank again. My eyes went to my father and I began to shake my head.
Ystevan held up a long-fingered hand. “When your father is quite well, naturally. I do not mean at once.” He drew several little cards from inside his coat and flicked through them. They looked blank, but he seemed to be reading them. Finding the one he wanted, he put the others away and ran his hand over the remaining one. He held it out to me, and several lines of writing appeared upon it. “You may write to me at this address to arrange your visit, when you are free to come. We have an…arrangement with a local farmer.”
I nodded, accepting the card. “When my father is better I would love to come and visit properly.” I could feel my eyes shining at the thought. “I would love to see Haliath again! And you never did show me a dragon!”
He smiled, at that. “I will look forward to it.” He raised his stick in salute, then tilted his head meaningfully towards the bed.
I glanced that way as well, saw that my father was stirring and ran to his side. A few minutes later, I heard the sound of hooves receding down the drive and knew that the he-elf was gone.
~+~
EPILOGUE
FIVE MONTHS LATER
The steady clop of dinner plate-sized hooves ceased as Velvet reached the mounting block, but I had already slid lightly from Hellion’s back, Raven flapping her wings for balance—rather gleefully—as she clung to my shoulder. I looked up at my father and my chest tightened in delight, as it always had this last month, to see him riding again.
Despite his use of the mounting block, he slid from Velvet’s back energetically enough. Noticing my beaming face, he chuckled and patted the great black horse beside him. “It’s like riding on a sofa,” he told me. Velvet lipped at his hat placidly.
“Cannon proof,” I agreed, tightening my grip on Hellion’s bridle as his teeth strayed towards my elbow and handing him over to the hovering groom.
My father offered me his arm to walk back to the house, and I took it happily. It had taken him a long time to regain his strength, but he was so much better now. He hadn’t exactly been pleased with me when he woke to find himself alive and recovering. To put it mildly. But life was sweet, even if you did not believe you deserved it.
“Post, my lord,” said the butler as we headed for the dining room.
“Thank you.”
“Post, my lady.”
“Oh, good.” Something from the urchin home, no doubt. Maybe an update on baby Felicity, as Father Francis had baptized her. All efforts to trace her mother having failed, I’d employed a wet nurse to care for her and she was not just alive, but thanks to Ystevan, flourishing, and the darling of the home.
As Raven raced down my arm in surely excessive excitement, I accepted an envelope of thick parchment and turned it over. It was addressed in a peculiar, flowing script that I’d only seen once before, on a small card.
“Oh, good!” I gasped, with considerably more feeling. No wonder Raven was excited. I had to admit, the previous elusive behavior of the card-giver had made me wonder if he truly would reply.
“Who’s that from?” asked my father absently, sorting through his own letters, as Raven pawed impatiently at the envelope I held.
“A friend,” I replied, hugging the letter gleefully to my chest.
###
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~+~
unSPARKed
1.0
DRIVE!
Carol’s scream assaults my ears, even as I’m bringing the gun round… I fire, hitting the raptor in the tail as it darts away… No time to check on Carol, I turn again…the pack matriarch is busy ripping the grille back from Harry’s window…
One gun’s enough, is it, Dad? Really? We have so had it…
IN DARRYL’S WORLD, THE WILDLIFE IS RATHER…
…WILD!
When Darryl’s Dad suddenly remarries, she and her brother Harry are taken completely by surprise. Their new step-mom is a glamorous fashion designer who’s never been outside the city fence in her life.
How will she cope with a life of dinosaur farming? Still, they try to make up their minds to be welcoming.
But first, Darryl’s Dad needs to get his new bride safely to the farm. And things don’t go quite to plan…
“A cross between Jurassic World and Mad Max! I read it 3 times in 2 days!”
- Steven R. McEvoy, Blogger
Keep reading for a SNEAK PEEK of DRIVE!
Or click HERE for the 1st chapter of I AM MARGARET!
Or check out the following:
The I AM MARGARET Series
Brothers (A Short Prequel Novella)*
1: I Am Margaret*
2: The Three Most Wanted*
3: Liberation*
4: Bane’s Eyes*
5: Margo’s Diary*
6: The Siege of Reginald Hill*
7: A Saint in the Family (Coming Soon)
The YESTERDAY & TOMORROW Series
Someday: A Novella*
1: Tomorrow’s Dead (Coming Soon)
The UNSPARKED Series
BREACH! (A Prequel)*
1: DRIVE!*
2: A Truly Raptor-ous Welcome
3: PANIC! (Coming Soon)
STANDALONE WORKS
Elfling*
Mandy Lamb & The Full Moon*
Secrets: Visible & Invisible (I Am Margaret story in anthology)*
Gifts: Visible & Invisible (unSPARKed story in anthology)
Three Last Things or The Hounding of Carl Jarrold, Soulless Assassin* (Coming Soon)
The Raven & The Yew (Coming Soon)
~+~
DRIVE! Sneak Peek
DARRYL
I knock back my last swig of coffee, slip on my denim jacket, and pause on my way to the gun locker to check my reflection in the hall mirror. Shoulder-length brown hair brushed—and loose, for once—face clean, blue eyes...glum. But this has happened, whether I like it or not, so I might as well make a good first impression.
“Harry, get down here, we’re going to be late!”
The volume of Dad’s latest bellow up the stairs shows that he means business. Well, I’m ready, at least.
I thought my younger brother had come around to the ‘might as well make a good impression’ viewpoint as well, but there’s still no noise from upstairs. The fact is, when your dad comes back from a routine weekend market and supply trip to the city and announces that he’s got honest-to-God married, and that the woman—sorry, step-mom—will be coming to live with you, three weeks really isn’t enough time to deal with it.
Harry totally lost it. Screamed Lord knows what at Dad, then ran off to the nearest barn. I managed not to do any screaming, but I had to go up and shut myself in the turret for almost an hour, and talk to myself a lot. You know: Dad’s been alone a long time, Darryl; if he’s fallen in love that’s wonderful, isn’t it, Darryl; you want your father to be happy, don’t you, Darryl?
He totally sprung it on us, though. I guess he was so scared Potential Step-Mom—sorry, Carol—would come to her senses and decide that no handsome, propertied man of her own age was worth going and living OutSPARK on some farm. Carol’s a city girl, all right. When I finally managed to go back down and say something about being happy for Dad and try to show some interest in his new bride, he showed me a photo on his phone, and my heart didn’t lift. Just sank even further. M
anicured Carol looked like she’d never got within a mile of the city fence in her life, let alone stepped outside it. A less likely farmer’s wife I had never seen.
Dad could tell what I was thinking, of course. Brain not completely scrambled by love. “I know Carol’s no farmer, Darryl my girl,” he told me, “but really, it doesn’t matter, does it? We’ve run the farm by ourselves all this time. She can run her fashion consultancy business from the house—I’m getting a faster Net connection put in. And we’ll run the farm, just as before. And you and Harry will inherit it, Darryl, no question. Carol has her own money.”
I reach the gun locker and place my hand on the scanner. Much as I hated to hear Dad talking about his will, it’s a relief to know the farm is safe. I could put up with a harem of step-moms if I had to, but if someone took the farm from me...
As I take my rifle from the rack I can’t help smiling at the thought of Dad with a harem of Carols. No, not Dad. We’re Catholic, you know. One spouse at a time. Carol’s ‘not religious’, apparently. I hope that won’t matter. Dad did say he thinks she’s ‘open to it’ so that’s something.
I throw my ammunition sash on and check the pouches. Three hold full mags, but since we’ll be travelling unSPARKed... I’ll add the fourth pouch. I put my hand on the scanner to open the ammo box and take a handful of HiPiRs, or Hide Piercing Rounds. Penetrate any hide up to T. rex, these will. Though for T. rex, I really would prefer a bigger gun. Much bigger.
Elfling (U.S. Edition) Page 33
