Cat's Quill

by Anne Barwell

  Will quietly removed the knife from Christian's hand and gave it to Cathal. "As much as it amuses me when the two of you do this, now is not the time for egos and fighting. We need to work together, allow each other's strengths to be used and mend the results of the consequences later."

  Both cousins stared at him for a moment. Cathal shrugged, turned his back, and started working on the lock. Christian rolled his eyes and folded his arms, and his lips thinned into a narrow smile. "Playing the servant, indeed," he muttered. "We will be discussing what has happened in my absence later."

  "Oh I quite expect we will, Master Christian." Will returned the smile before turning his attention to Tomas. "If Cathal falters when we are free of this place, can I count on you to assist him?" He lowered his voice. "It might involve throwing him over your shoulder and ignoring the swearing and protestations that go with it, but I figure if you're certain you want to be with him, it's only fair that you see that side of him as well."

  "You can count on me," Tomas promised, part of him hoping it wouldn't come to that, the other wondering what it would be like to have Cathal in that position. Did he have the physical energy left to do that? Whatever happened, he'd find it. Leaving Cathal behind was not an option; not when they'd come this far.

  "I heard that!" Cathal muttered, but his concentration on the job at hand did not waver.

  "Good!" Despite the conversation between them, Christian was watching his cousin like a hawk. They all were. Stubbornness was one thing. Collapsing was quite another.

  The knife twisted, first one way and then another. Cathal muttered something else under his breath, perspiration dripping from his forehead onto the handle of the knife. Tomas edged closer, not trusting Cathal to keep gripping the knife from the safe end if he needed more maneuverability.

  "One more," Cathal whispered hoarsely, ignoring everyone around him. His fingers tightened. Blood oozed through the dressings on his hand. He didn't wince, didn't react, all of his concentration focused on getting the lock open.

  One more flick of the knife, and there was a loud click. Cathal turned the handle and frowned. "Open, you...." He let loose with a string of words Tomas had never heard before. Both Will and Christian cringed.

  Cathal glared at the door. It refused to budge. In frustration he kicked at it with one booted foot. There was a loud whining noise, rusty hinges protesting with their own form of swearing. Cathal kicked it again. Then he swayed on his feet. Tomas caught him before he could hit the floor.

  The door opened, the cold night air beckoning freedom and whatever lay beyond.

  * * * *

  "I'm fine," Cathal hissed, but he still leaned into Tomas heavily, letting himself be supported. Tomas ignored the comment. They did not have time for pretense, and it was obvious as hell that Cathal was anything but fine. If he protested once more, Tomas would insist he walk the next few steps on his own, very prepared to catch him when he stumbled, which he most certainly would. Even his voice sounded weaker than usual, the whispers they all spoke in aside. Cathal needed medical treatment, or at the very least time to rest and regain his strength after the blood he'd lost and the suspected lack of food and water since he'd been captured.

  So far the path alongside the castle seemed deserted, the surrounding area quiet, maybe a little too much so. The mud beneath their boots squelched; the ground was slippery, more than what Tomas remembered from before. But then his focus had been finding Cathal, and the fact that the men behind him had urged him to move forward at knifepoint.

  The sky above them was dark, light from the moon throwing dim shadows here and there, beckoning to the hazy torches hung at intervals throughout the courtyard. The stars were bright, more so than Tomas remembered from the last time he'd peered upward late at night. There would be no pollution here, he realized. Not like in his world.

  They were also different; there were constellations he didn't recognize. The only constant was the moon, staring down at him, not full but half. Just as he was now, not a part of this world but drawn to it, tied to it on some level because of his relationship with Cathal. They'd only known each other a short time, yet on some level it felt like a lifetime. They fit, like pieces of the puzzle he'd been seeking these last few weeks.

  Was the puzzle he'd been seeking to solve really what had driven him to this point?

  Or was it his stubbornness to believe in a sequel to a book?

  Or Cathal's conviction that it did not exist?

  No, it was about reality and what was missing from both their lives, he realized with a start. But did Cathal feel the same way? Happily ever after did exist, or at least a chance of having a damn good go at it. Tomas had to believe that. Surely after everything, the hope of it happening wasn't too much to ask?

  Hell, he didn't even know if Cathal wanted the same life he did. Cathal loved him, he'd said as much, but did they have enough together to build something that would last? However much they both wanted it didn't mean it would become either of their realities.

  Cathal stumbled. Tomas tightened his grip around his waist. "Just a little further, Cat." Cathal smiled; it was wan and forced, but Tomas made himself return it. The shadows seemed to move closer, surrounding them. He glanced behind them nervously, but there was nothing there. But he still couldn't shake the feeling that they were being observed.

  "You feel it too," Cathal whispered softly. Ahead of them, Will had stopped walking, his knife still drawn, checking this way and that before moving forward again. Christian had moved behind them once they'd been free of the catacombs, but neither he nor Will seemed to be acting as though there was anything out of the ordinary in sneaking through the night across castle grounds to find a way of escape. After all, this was probably something both of them had done many times, although Tomas did not want to know the details. Especially if the stories were to be told from Christian's point of view, which, knowing his luck, they probably would be.

  "Feel what?" Tomas didn't want to alarm Cathal unduly.

  "We're being watched," Cathal confirmed, his voice still low. He glanced around the courtyard, frowning. "I felt it earlier too, in the catacombs, but I can't see anyone. Can you?"

  Tomas shook his head. Once or twice, he'd thought he'd seen something out of the corner of his eye, a flash of indefinable color, but there'd been nothing there. "It could be your imagination," he suggested, not wanting to think there was a chance of not getting free of this place.

  "It's not," Cathal replied very matter-of-factly. "My magic is not as strong as Christian's, but that does not mean I am without any ability. If I can sense a presence, it means that someone is there."

  Sense a presence? Tomas stared at him, wanting to know but wondering how long an explanation he'd be in for.

  "We need to keep moving. There is no way of knowing whether it is malevolent. I am not risking you if it is." Cathal closed his eyes for a moment. "I cannot even tell of its direction. Whoever it is shields well." He shook his head, his eyes opening quickly; they were wide with realization. "We need to be off her lands and away from her rules." He edged forward, his teeth gritted. A murmur of pain escaped his lips, but he ignored it.

  "Cat! Wait!" Tomas hurried to catch up. "You're not up to this. You need to wait." He slipped his arm around Cathal's waist, lending his support.

  "There is someone watching us. I suspect it's a powerful magic user or a mage. Otherwise they would not be able to shield like this." He urged Tomas forward, his own breathing sounding shallow with the exertion. Will and Christian were slightly ahead, having dashed from the cover of the main tower to behind what appeared to be some kind of outhouse. "I doubt they wish us well considering our previous... convictions."

  "Probably not," Tomas agreed, eyeing Cathal warily. However correct he may be in those assumptions, he most certainly was not up to running to join their companions.

  "Don't even think it!" Cathal hissed, pulling free of Tomas and breaking into a run before Tomas had a c
hance to put his less-than-brilliant plan of slinging Cathal over his shoulder into action.

  "Fuck!" Tomas had no choice but to keep pace and hope like hell that Cathal made the short trip before collapsing.

  Christian turned sharply as they approached, laying one hand on Will's arm to still him. "Something's wrong," he stated, meeting Cathal's eyes with his own. His mouth narrowed in disapproval, but he didn't comment. "Are we being observed?"

  "Yes." Cathal rested one hand on the outside wall of the small outbuilding Will and Christian were crouching behind, trying to catch his breath. Tomas moved closer, but Cathal waved him away. He wiped his free hand on his trousers. He was shaking, his speech broken between each whistle of breath. "I can't tell how close or from what direction." He gestured his head toward another building; shadows were moving in front of it, the horses inside protesting the presence of someone or something unfamiliar.

  "A mage?" Will frowned. "There is a meeting with the king; they are all meant to attend. I doubt any would risk the penalty of not doing so." His eyes darted to the flag flying on the top of the keep, toward the stables, and back to Cathal. "Something is spooking the horses, but we're on Deryn's lands. It should be safe here. No one would dare...."

  "Someone has," Cathal said grimly. "Or something." He closed his eyes again, swaying on his feet, his brows furrowing in concentration. "That is odd. There is something familiar about it, yet...."

  "That's enough!" Tomas snapped, pulling Cathal back toward him, wrapping arms around his waist so he could not break free. "I don't give a flying fuck if something's out there or not. It's not going to do us any good figuring out what it is if you're flat on your back or worse."

  "And here was I thinking you'd like him flat on his back?" Christian sniggered. Will rolled his eyes.

  Cathal glared at both of them before turning his attention to Tomas, his eyes blazing. He was shaking, his voice low. "Let go of me! You have no idea what you're dealing with."

  "No, I don't, and I don't care." Tomas was tired of not knowing enough to keep himself or anyone else safe. "What I do know is that we need horses and to get out of here. We'll worry about the details later."

  "Those details make the difference between staying alive or not." Cathal's tone was icy. "Let go of me, Tomas." Tomas could feel him trembling; the adrenaline Cathal had been running on was not going to last much longer, especially if he continued to expel what was left of his energy on this stupid argument. Cathal's breathing was also growing more labored; he'd pushed himself too far.

  "Sure." Tomas shrugged. "Show me you're capable of getting to that stable on your own, as well as saddling and mounting one of the horses, and I will."

  "I can't do that if you don't let me go."

  So his plan was lacking a few minor details. At least the idea was there. "Fine." Tomas let go, turned Cathal to face him, and stood back. "Go on, then. I'm waiting."

  "Fine," Cathal replied stubbornly. "Will, do you have the horses ready, or do we need to saddle them as Tomas suggests?"

  "They are already saddled, Lord Emerys." The side of Will's mouth twitched. His tone was not exactly respectful, more amused, if anything.

  Cathal nodded. "Good." He shot Tomas a smug look. "I shall merely need to mount, then. That shouldn't be a problem."

  "Of course it shouldn't." Tomas matched the look with a smirk of his own. "But that's presuming you're capable of getting to the stable on your own in the condition you're in." When the hell had Cathal got this stubborn? They didn't have time to stand here and argue. Why couldn't he just see sense and admit he was wrong?

  "For goodness sake, Cathal, get your head out of that arse of yours." Christian stepped between them. "And you, Tomas, can do the same. You can sort out who's going to be the submissive in your relationship later." Cathal opened his mouth to protest, and Christian shook his head. "No, not this time. Will has horses ready. Two horses. He and I will share one, you and Tomas the other. We will make our way to the stable quickly and quietly, and one of us will carry you if you protest further."

  "I am not some bloody submissive," Cathal scowled. Tomas felt his own temper flare. Who did Christian think he was, talking to Cathal like this?

  "You have no right," he snarled. "This has nothing to do with you. Get out of the fucking way."

  "I don't care what you think, and I have every right." Christian snapped back. "I am not staying here and letting that bitch get what she wants. I followed Cat back to our world to keep him from doing anything stupid, and that's what I intend to do. Unfortunately I didn't count on both of you being as pigheaded as each other. Now are you both with Will and me, or not?"

  Cathal sighed. His shoulders sagged, all energy seeming to leave him. "I'm with you." He looked over at Tomas, suddenly seeming unsure, and his voice softened. "Tomas?"

  "We're both with you," Tomas confirmed. As much as it grated to admit it, this time Christian was right. It scared him just how easy it had been to argue with Cathal, how neither of them had backed down when they should have each known better.

  "Good." Christian nodded approvingly. He and Cathal had swapped roles in regard to who was leading their group. That much was obvious. It would be interesting to see how long it lasted. Tomas's guess was until Cathal regained his strength. Hopefully that would be soon. While this was Christian's world, the idea of taking orders from him was not something that sat well.

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  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The view from Buttercup was no more reassuring with Cathal mounted behind him. In fact it was less so. Tomas tried to appear confident as he urged the horse to follow behind the one being ridden by Christian and Will.

  Cathal's arms tightened around Tomas's waist. "We could trade places if that would be easier," he whispered. "You need to relax. She will know if you are nervous."

  And have Cathal holding the reins given the state of his hands? Not likely. Although Cathal was the more experienced rider of the two, he would have to settle for vocal instructions rather than taking over himself. Although it had to be said, Tomas was impressed that Cathal had made it this far without passing out. He was as stubborn as hell, although it appeared to be a trait that was often to his own detriment.

  "I'm fine," Tomas whispered back, edging forward to give Cathal a bit more room. "Just hold on tightly."

  "I'm not intending to let you go." Cathal's voice softened. Tomas could hear the smile, although he couldn't risk turning around to see it.

  Ahead of them Christian paused, his horse pawing the ground impatiently. They were free of the keep, but it had not been without a price. Will's head rested on Christian's shoulder; he was conscious, but barely, holding on behind Christian with grim determination.

  Getting to the horses had been the easy part, although it was obvious that Cathal had been in pain; that he still was. He was exhausted, but at least his wounds were no longer seeping. They'd need to check the makeshift dressing when it was safe to stop for the night.

  The shadows they'd seen near the stables had vanished once they'd got near, or more accurately seemed to melt back into the darkness.

  Tomas had asked the boy tending the horses whether he'd seen anything, but he'd shaken his head, appearing puzzled by the question. The four of them were the only people out on this night. Her ladyship's orders and no one crossed her.

  "Except you?" Christian asked, looking around and frowning. Could he feel what Tomas and Cathal could, or was he just being cautious? While he and Will had both taken Cathal's warning seriously, neither had seen or heard anything.

  The boy grinned, running one grubby hand through Buttercup's mane. "But I believe in dragons. Don't you, sir?" He murmured something in the horse's ear and then bent to pick something up off the mud and straw floor. It was small, glinting bright in the moonlight coming through the gap in the wall that passed for a window. His fingers closed over it quickly, his eyes narrowed, and he ran for the stable door and was gon
e, dropping the object where he'd originally found it.

  Christian and Will exchanged a glance. "Falcon's button," Will confirmed grimly, picking it up and turning it over in his hand. "We'll just have to keep going and hope for the best." Had the button been left deliberately as a warning or dropped by accident? If it was the former, the Falcons were toying with them. Or rather Deryn was. Tomas had heard her and Gwalch talking. The connection was definitely there. What chance did they have if she had the Falcons working with her or even for her?

  "If I stay, she'll let you go." Cathal was watching the door still, although the boy was nowhere in sight. All that lay outside was darkness broken by pinpoints of light beckoning toward what might only be an illusion of safety.

  "No!" Tomas hissed. "We're all leaving now and taking our chances together. That bitch is not getting her hands on any part of you. Not now and not ever." He glared at Cathal. "Either you mount or I'll ride out of here with you tied up and slung over the saddle."

  Christian raised an eyebrow. He was already mounting the other horse, Will swinging up into the saddle behind him. "That's an interesting threat. Please tell me you're going to do it so I can watch."

  "Not even in your dreams," Cathal muttered, mounting quickly with Tomas's help but not quite hiding the sharp intake of breath when settling on the horse behind him.

  A muffled snort was the only reply Cathal got before Christian ducked his head and urged his horse out into the night. It was not the same horse that Will had ridden earlier, but Christian had smiled when he'd seen it and referred to it by name, the horse responding to his voice. Tomas had not asked why Deryn would have it in her possession; he had enough questions without adding to them. Instead he had followed, hoping like hell that Buttercup knew what she was doing, as he didn't. He was relieved when Cathal leaned forward, whispering to the horse and squeezing his legs against her flank. "Hold the reins, I'll do the rest," he murmured, wrapping his arms around Tomas's waist firmly.