by Lisa Rector
Meuric nodded. Distressed about the toll on Catrin he asked, “Can you? I feel bizarrely fine, given the extent of my injury.”
“That’s my doing, but I don’t want to hang around. Suppose more savages come and the ones who aren’t dead wake?” Catrin tried to rise, but she was too weak.
“Hold on there. I’ll help you. Standing will take a combined effort.” Something was definitely wrong with Catrin. His mother never showed such fatigue after healing someone.
He rolled onto his good side and pushed himself up with Catrin’s assistance. She held a hand out to Meuric, and he pulled her to her feet. Leaning against each other, they staggered away from the scene of carnage.
They stumbled through the woods for some time. Catrin’s footing became more sure, but Meuric still clung to her trembling body.
She’s depleted. Drained. As if a leech sucked her light instead of her blood. Meuric didn’t like this one bit. He detested the idea that her light withered because she had healed him.
They slid down a slope, grabbing at leaves and roots to slow their descent. Too weary and too worried, Meuric didn’t feel the cold splash as they stumbled through a small creek. After a trek downstream, they emerged on the other side, tripping over slimy rocks and hoping they couldn’t be followed. They moved farther into the forest, and at the base of a fallen tree, they found a bowl-shaped impression that made a place to lie down.
Meuric collapsed with Catrin tucked against his side. They had been attacked exactly where the skull was marked on the Eilian’s map. Figures.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
SOAKED
Catrin woke to birds chirping. A pretty gray and yellow one perched on a thick root, staring at her, cocking its head curiously.
She lifted her head off Meuric’s uninjured shoulder and looked around. He was still asleep. When they stumbled into the hole of the fallen tree, night had already descended. In the morning light, the roots poked out of the tree’s base, like gravelly knotted hair slicked with rocks and mud. Catrin tilted her head up after a sprinkling raindrop splashed off her nose.
Meuric’s body was bent awkwardly with his knees to the side. His olive brown skin had taken on a sickly hue. With his clothes covered in grit and blood, he was a frightful mess.
Catrin touched his forehead. He was slightly feverish.
“Is it that bad?” he asked through cracked eyelids.
She swallowed. Yesterday she faced the terror of the emergency with calm. Today, as she inspected his left shoulder, bile rose in her throat. Where his shoulder should have been well muscled and rounded, a hollow dipped into his flesh. Muscles were the only thing holding his arm to the rest of his body.
Catrin didn’t realize the severity of the damage until she laid her hands on Meuric to heal him. She held herself together long enough to stop the bleeding and take the pain away. That was the point at which she lost everything in her stomach. His shoulder socket and the top of the bone were completely crushed.
“I’ve had worse,” Meuric muttered. “Tell me straight.”
“You’ve had worse injuries?” She couldn’t imagine. Catrin uncorked a waterskin and tilted it to Meuric’s mouth before he replied. Water trickled down his chin, and Catrin wiped it with her cloak.
“Sure, once I was caught in a rockslide, which mangled my right leg and broke most of my ribs and my left forearm. I lay in bed for a month. Those half-wits practicing the light took forever to heal me. Their skill was not as proficient as yours.”
After rummaging in Meuric’s pack, Catrin broke off a hard crust of bread. “So you’re experienced with pain. You didn’t show too much discomfort.”
He took the bread with his good hand and noisily crunched on the crust. “I had a distraction.”
Catrin’s face burned hotter than dragon fire, but luckily, the rosy hue she was sure blotched her cheeks went unnoticed. “Oh, by the way, that didn’t happen.”
Meuric swallowed and wiped his mouth. “What do you mean? You didn’t like it? I’m an excellent kisser, and it worked. How did you know it’d work?”
Oh, bother. Good question. Kissing him had certainly never crossed her mind. “I don’t know. I just did. I didn’t quite understand what was happening.” If she wanted to be held in the present, a kiss would most definitely anchor her. The logic made sense.
Catrin parted the opening of Meuric’s overcoat. A black and blue shoulder was covered in dried blood. She sucked in a sharp breath.
Meuric kept his eyes on her face. “Ever since I discovered my ability to ether jump, I have episodes when time moves slower and sometimes faster. Since we traveled here, I’ve been reliving the past. It’s a torment when I lose control.”
Catrin wasn’t sure what to make of that. She had no experience with moving through the ether until Meuric. She wasn’t sure how time altered either. How did the dark and light powers inside Meuric work to make such an event occur? As a half-emrys, what was different about him that granted this power to Meuric and not Einion? Catrin knew of no pure emrys who could claim the same skill.
Silence confirmed that Meuric expected no answers.
She squeezed her mouth into a thin line and dove into cleaning Meuric’s shoulder. From her pack, Catrin took a piece of cheesecloth, wet it with the water, and swabbed Meuric’s injury. She didn’t bother to remove the layers of clothing. Sliding them off his shoulder would be too difficult, so Catrin reached into the cut’s opening. His outer sleeve was a mess—an ugly brown-red color. Dylis would die if she saw it.
“Catrin?”
The intensity with which he scrutinized her face made her nervous.
“Ummmhmm.” She touched his lumpy, swollen flesh.
“Did you like it?”
“What?” She didn’t stop cleaning, knowing exactly what Meuric meant.
“The kiss. You can’t act as though it didn’t happen.”
Why couldn’t she? “It didn’t. I told you.”
Meuric’s weak smile showed just how disappointed he was. “And why not?”
Catrin stopped fussing with his injury. She busied herself with packing the belongings, ignoring the inquiring look on Meuric’s face. What did he expect? Why should he care? The kiss was selfishly given. She needed Meuric. That’s all there was to it. She wanted him to take her home. If he died on her, she’d be stranded.
She stood and stretched her hand out, intent on pulling him to his feet.
“No, Catrin. I’m not budging until you tell me the truth.” He folded his good arm across his chest. “We’ve spent too much time with each other to hold anything back now. You should be honest.”
She scowled. Honesty. If she’d concealed her feelings about Einion, she wouldn’t be in this mess. Einion wouldn’t have become involved with Rhianu, and Catrin and Meuric would probably be in their own time.
She studied Meuric. He wanted her to be honest? But what did Meuric hold back from her? She was no simpleton. Even now, as she pushed against his light, trying to sense his emotions, she slammed into a wall. Meuric was full of kept secrets.
But she had seen into his soul. She snuck into his memories without permission. She had to throw him one dragon scale. Tensing, fully expecting Meuric to laugh in her face, Catrin said, “It was my first kiss.”
If Meuric was astounded or thought she was pathetic, the emotion didn’t show on his face. “Aww, Catrin, I’m sorry. If I had known, I would’ve made the moment special.” A pained smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “You wasted it on me.”
Oh. Was he being sincere? Catrin shook her head. Whatever he was being didn’t matter. She was eager to travel on before Meuric pried any more.
Catrin reached her hand out again, and a firm grip met hers. She pulled Meuric to his feet, and he leaned toward her. “I promise to make next time special.”
Hearing his playful undertones, Catrin nudged Meuric. “There won’t be a next time.”
She climbed out of the hole, scanning the understory before pulling Meuric after
herself.
“So you mean to tell me you never kissed Einion?” Meuric asked. “How old are you exactly? I would think you’ve had your share of young men falling over you.”
“I’ve kissed Einion, just not on his mouth. We’ve never had a romantic relationship.” Her heart twinged.
Meuric’s brow lifted. “Your heart’s broken over a fantasy?”
Something within Catrin snapped. Regret oozed through her. The beginnings of a headache pinched between her eyebrows. “Come on, Meuric. It’s not a fantasy. Einion loved me, just not the way I loved him. Our timing was off.” Even as Catrin said those words, she felt foolish. She’d been pathetic all this time. Too embarrassed to look at Meuric, she studied the leaf-strewn forest floor as she dragged her disheartened feet.
Meuric piped up after a few minutes of silence. “I like this.”
“What?” He approves of my misery? Her shoulders sagged. She was too tired to retaliate.
He surprised her with his reply.
“You’re opening up to me.” Meuric shifted the pack slung over his shoulder. When Catrin didn’t reply, he continued. “Well, so… are you around four hundred?” Meuric flinched, holding up his hand. “Don’t hit me.”
Catrin didn’t bother. She wouldn’t waste her energy. She felt Meuric’s disappointment over his wasted banter.
“I didn’t want to insult you by over or under guessing,” Meuric said.
Through her weariness, Catrin smiled. Meuric was trying to buoy her up, despite his being in pain, which she saw creeping into his face.
She wasn’t the one with the smashed shoulder. She should stop being a baby. “I’ll heal you more this afternoon. By the time we break to eat, you’ll be begging for pain relief.”
“Don’t change the topic. How old are you?”
“Seven hundred and ninety. The day of my birth is ten days after the fall equinox.”
“That just happened…”
“The day before the battle. Yes, I know.”
“Getting to be a smidge late to choose your life mate,” Meuric huffed. “My mother told me that happens when emrys are between seven and eight hundred.”
Catrin sighed. “Don’t remind me. You make me feel like an old maid.”
“Never, Catrin. Never. You can pick your life mate whenever you want.”
“He should have been Einion.”
“Things change. We live a long time. Whoever said you had to choose by a certain age was wrong.”
“I know. The date’s not set in stone. When did you marry?” Catrin asked.
“I was young, six hundred and fifty-nine.”
The rain fell faster. Catrin helped Meuric pull his hood over his head. She grabbed his hand, warming him with her light. “I’m exhausted. I don’t have the energy to project the shield around us. This will have to do.”
“I’m grateful, Catrin. Truly. Thank you. But I’m concerned about how much energy you’re expending. I can see your brilliance has dimmed.”
“I’ll be fine. I promise. We should keep moving. I imagine the natives know this forest as well as I know Einion’s dragon stone pattern. They’re probably tracking us. Finding our trail on the other side of the stream wouldn’t be hard. We lumbered around, breaking twig after twig. I don’t like it.”
Meuric squeezed her hand. “Neither do I.”
***
They moved without disturbing the undergrowth. As the day pressed on, Meuric’s steps became heavier, and Catrin supported him.
“We need to stop,” Catrin said, weary after lugging him for miles. “You need rest. I’m not sure how much longer I can hold you.”
Meuric grunted. His face was pasty, and his head lolled against her shoulder. Catrin had removed his hat earlier and dropped his hood so he could feel the cooling rain on his face. Meuric burned with a fever and hadn’t needed her warming touch for the past few hours.
“I see a rock overhang that should keep us dry for the night. You can make it a tad farther.” Catrin tugged on Meuric’s waist, and he moved with her.
She stumbled the last few feet and dropped Meuric. He lay there, groaning weakly, like a mewling, newly hatched dragon, not caring that his appendages were splayed awkwardly and his pack rammed into his back. He was beyond consciousness. Delirium had set in.
Catrin roughed up the leaves to soften the area and unrolled the bedding.
The soaked bedding.
They were soaked.
Their packs were soaked.
Everything in this confounded forest was soaked and reeking of earthy rain.
Exasperated, Catrin whined, cursing herself. Why didn’t she ask Meuric to take them back to Delyth this morning so he could safely heal? It was too late. Meuric would be going nowhere. She doubted he could summon the energy to make the morph.
What would be the best use of her energy? She had to dry the blankets. Meuric would need them, but she was about to pass out herself. Her shoulders were cramped from half-carrying Meuric, and her back had knotted up.
Catrin picked up the blankets and with a flash of heat, snapped them in the air as if she were shaking dust out of them. They were dry before they hit the ground.
The effort took its toll. Catrin crumpled to her knees. She crawled forward, smoothing the toasted wool over the leaf mound. She rolled Meuric over his good shoulder onto the pallet and covered him with the remaining blanket.
He moaned, partially alert from her prodding. “Cat—”
“Shh, don’t say anything. I’m taking care of it all. Just rest.”
“This is dumb. We should… go home.”
“Where is home, you goof? How would we get there?” She grabbed a waterskin and dribbled water into his mouth.
He choked. “I could take us back.”
Catrin’s heart skipped. “Back through time?”
Meuric whispered, “No, to the Eilian. I told you…”
“I know. You can’t move through time. I thought maybe…”
“You thought I was keeping you here against your will.”
Catrin untied his arm sling and opened his injured sleeve. Meuric grimaced and seized her wrist.
She placed her hand over his. “You don’t have enough strength to transport us.” She smiled at his face, which had several days’ worth of stubble. His rain-flecked hair had grown longer, spiking over his head. His pale blue eyes gleamed like shaded snow. Their mystical quality was heightened by the contrast of his dark skin. “Meuric, I have to do more healing. It’s necessary. You’re burning with fever.”
“Why’re you trembling?”
She barely heard Meuric’s mumbling.
“I don’t have enough strength to heal you and prevent the pain while doing it. The fight has drained me.”
Meuric closed his eyes and turned his head away. “Do what you must. I can handle it.”
“I was afraid you’d say that. Don’t hate me when I’m done.”
“Never.”
Catrin placed her hands into the sleeve, over the misshapen lump that should be his shoulder, and closed her eyes.
Using the light to examine Meuric’s injury utterly terrified her. Sharp pieces of bone pierced muscle fibers. Every single fragment that cut into the muscle caused swelling—and blood loss. The body’s healing cells had rushed to the area, adding more fluid and puffiness to the disfigured flesh.
Catrin wasn’t sure where to begin. She removed one of her hands and touched his good shoulder for comparison. She willed her light to form the broken shoulder to resemble the good one. Healing would take stages.
And time—
Which Catrin was running out of.
Bone fragments shifted. Catrin pulled them from the muscles first, stopping the trauma to the tissue.
Meuric twitched under her fingers. His pain would be the agony of a thousand shards of stabbing glass. Catrin saw this torment inside him as she worked. She felt him embrace it, knowing crying out would be pointless. Soundless, and despite his involuntary quivering, he re
mained motionless, clenching his body, willing composure.
Awed by Meuric’s strength, Catrin couldn’t believe he’d been through worse. How could he not cry out? How could he not howl at the world and curse the very Creator who made him?
She would call out to Deian. She was calling out to Deian. Help Meuric. Help me to heal him. Give me your grace.
Catrin didn’t know to what master Meuric called. His master was Cysgod. A devil. The bringer of destruction. A master who forsook those who followed him and left them to suffer.
The healing stretched on until every fiber of Catrin’s being was spent.
A whimper escaped.
The effort crumbled her.
Meuric’s pain had become her pain.
His anguish hers.
Healing him was seeing too much—becoming too much of him.
Catrin had moved all the fragments to a centralized location, away from the muscle. She could start the tissues’ healing and lessen the fever.
Moisture cooled her cheeks even though the overhang protected her.
She was crying.
Meuric’s body relaxed. He had passed out.
Catrin wailed and pulled her hands off his body. She had done what she could for now. Lowering herself, she curled against Meuric, hoping no one or no creature found them while they slept—hoping Deian watched over their slumber, because they’d be dependent on his mercy, both too exhausted to move.
CHAPTER TWENTY
TRIUMPH AND DEFEAT
Meuric opened his eyes, feeling less muddled. He couldn’t see much because of the dark enveloping sky. Taking a satiating breath of the cool night air, Meuric melted between his blankets, relieved—he wasn’t burning with fever. Although, his side where Catrin lay against him was comfortably warm.
Ah, his heat source, his healer—his savior.
Meuric closed his eyes and examined Catrin’s light. When they were first dropped in the ocean days ago, Catrin had burned with a raging fire. Now, Meuric estimated that she smoldered like an ash-covered coal. Her light was decreasing rapidly, by much more than what healing temporarily drained. She should be recovered. What was happening to her? Meuric had watched his mother heal. Her light didn’t diminish with use, but rather, harnessing the power grew her light. Something must bother Catrin more than he realized.
