by Anne Barwell
"They do not give up a potential food source that easily." Christian gripped the knife in his hand. If these creatures could take down a fully grown, rather large horse easily, two knives would be no match for them. Still, Tomas took some comfort in the weapon in his own hand, even if he had no skill in using it.
"It is not the idea of being a source of food that worries me." Cathal kept walking ahead. He spoke absently, his concentration elsewhere.
"They are animals, Cathal. The other part of the story is mere legend, designed to make their prey lower their guard." Will slumped forward on the horse, resting his head, his words slurring.
"You okay?" Tomas whispered, slowing down to give Will a little privacy in his response. It was easier to make out the shapes in the trees as the sun gave more light, although this trail was not very well lit, with barely enough room for them to walk through, let alone the horse. Around them, it was quiet, their own breathing hanging like mist in the still air. It was damp, the cold settling into his bones, the rough ground he'd slept on aggravating his already aching joints. It had been barely two days, and already he was yearning for a hot shower and a warm soft bed. How did people live like this?
"Yes." Will spoke in a low voice. "Just a little tired, and I have a headache, but I do not want to sleep again. I prefer to fight something I can see rather than the dreams the diawl bring. However, once we leave the forest, our chances of survival will drop considerably."
"How considerably?" Tomas had suspected that Cathal had been painting too positive a picture. Just because Tomas was not from this world and totally out of his depth with just about every facet of it did not mean that there was a need to protect him from the truth.
"Very much so." Cathal stopped walking and turned to face both of them. "The area between the forest and the border is akin to an open field similar to the one between the river and her keep. We barely made it through there on horseback." He crossed his arms, his lips pursed, his expression daring them to come closer while his body language was already placing distance between them. "There is only one route open to us once we pass through the forest, and it would have been the one you traveled with her when you got here." His eyes glazed over, distant, regretful. "I have been searching for an alternative plan of action, and there is only one."
"Which is?" Tomas eyed him suspiciously, not really needing to ask the question. "If it involves giving yourself up to her, forget it. That's not going to happen."
Cathal shrugged. "That would be it. I have something she needs. I give it to her in exchange for your lives. We have one horse, Will is injured, and I am in no condition to put up much of a fight. That leaves you and Christian. You are inexperienced, and two knives are no match for trained soldiers who will be heavily armed." He spoke calmly, as though the situation they faced was taking place elsewhere and didn't involve any of them. Tomas fought the urge to shake some sense into him.
"She would take what she needs from you and then kill you, after making you watch Tomas die just because she could." Christian rolled his eyes. "Do you really think she would spare either Will or me for even a fraction of a second? We are of no use to her, not when she has Tomas. We would be killed to remind you of what she will do to him in order to keep you in line." He shook his head, grabbed Cathal's shoulder, and shook him hard, saving Tomas the trouble. "We keep moving, and we fight back. I am not giving her this victory, and neither are you. I would rather die in battle with my dignity intact. I thought you would too, cousin, or has the lust you feel for this stranger totally addled your brain?"
"No!" Cathal attempted to pull away, but Christian held him tightly, practically breathing into his face.
"Yes, and I will keep telling you for as long as it takes to get common sense into that head of yours." Christian's voice was rough; he turned them so that his back was to Tomas and Will, with only Cathal able to see his face. "I love you like a brother, Cat, but when it comes to situations such as these, I despair of you. You let your heart rule your head; you always have. There is no way out of this, however much I wish there was. She has us in her web and is toying with us. We both know that, and have done so before we left the keep." He pulled Cathal close, holding him.
Cathal's response was quiet, whispered. Tomas strained to hear but couldn't make out the words. He dropped the reins, taking a step forward, but Will shook his head. This was not their discussion but something Cathal and Christian needed to sort out between them, although the decision would affect them all.
Their options were limited, as were the possibilities of them surviving very far into the future. The only difference in how this played out would be how they met their deaths. Now in the forest, a little later just outside of it and by their own hand, or to give the satisfaction of it to Deryn in a matter which suited her.
After a few moments, Christian relaxed his hold on Cathal. He turned. His eyes were red, his face grim. Without speaking a word, he walked over to Tomas, took the reins from him, and led the horse farther up the path. Tomas opened his mouth to protest and decided against it. This would be the last time he and Cathal spoke in private. He would not turn down the opportunity, nor would he deny Will and Christian theirs.
Cathal looked up at Tomas, his face pale, biting his lower lip. "Hold me," he choked, all pretense of control gone. Tears pooled in his eyes. Tomas was by his side in an instant, pulling him into his arms, into an embrace that was never going to be long enough. "I'm sorry," Cathal whispered. "It wasn't supposed to end this way."
"I know," Tomas murmured, wishing he had something to say. Once again words failed him. He was a writer without his craft, useless, unable to protect the one person he'd finally allowed himself to care about. He brushed his lips against Cathal's and then kissed his cheeks, catching his tears. "It's not over yet, and until it is, there's still hope, right?"
Cathal shook his head. "Miracles don't exist, Tomas." He stroked Tomas's cheek, his touch light. "I wanted this to be different. For your sequel to have its happy ending, and all I've done is destroyed your dreams."
"You haven't," Tomas reassured him. "I love you, and we've lived a little of our lives together." It wasn't exactly a storybook romance, but then he'd never believed in the crap that his sister read anyway, despite wanting a happy ending for Alice and Christian. A few stolen kisses and a night in each other's arms in a forest. It was more than he'd thought he would ever have.
God, life was so bloody unfair. He'd die here, and no one would ever know. Kathleen would never know. She'd always worried about him, and she was family, the only one he'd had for so long.
"Far too little." Cathal held him tightly, kissing him again. "I wanted to show you so much, to share my life with you." He smiled sadly. "My betrothed, if you'd have me."
"I'd have you, Cat," Tomas promised. "For as long as we both shall live." It wasn't exactly the words of comfort he was looking for, but there wasn't anything else to say.
"For as long as we both shall live." Cathal pulled away, sliding one hand into Tomas's. The other he used to wipe Tomas's face.
Ahead of them Buttercup whinnied, impatient to move on. She didn't like the forest. There was no way back; the sun was already highlighting glimpses of blue sky through the thinning trees above.
Tomas nodded and began walking toward the others, Cathal beside him. He glanced up once more, wondering what this world was truly like, what it would be like to build a life here with Cathal, but knowing they no longer had that option. He managed a shaky smile and whispered the words that finally came to him. "Stay with me, and I'll take us both home."
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Chapter Twenty-Nine
The rest of the journey through the forest continued in silence. They each had their own vision of what was to come, none of which were pleasant or something to be dwelt upon. One of Buttercup's hooves snapped a twig at one point, the dry staccato echoing through the surrounding bush, but none of the four reacted to it, each lost in his ow
n thoughts.
Cathal and Tomas walked hand in hand, keeping close. Christian continued to lead the horse, the reins wrapped loosely around his fingers. Will glanced upward on occasion, frowning, his eyes sad, expression wistful. Tomas wondered what Will was thinking about, suspecting that memories of his wife were not far from his mind, but did not ask.
The sun grew still higher in the sky. Normally Tomas would have presumed, following its progress, that it was at least midmorning, but he was no longer sure of anything. Of Deryn and her soldiers there was no sign. It seemed odd that the path they trod had managed to avoid her so completely, but then it did not appear to be one used often, with Christian stopping frequently to hold back an overgrown branch so that Buttercup could pass with Will only having to bend rather than dismount.
Once or twice a shrill chattering broke through the trees, and there was a glimpse of something moving above them, but it came no closer. It was almost as though everything was keeping its distance, watching, and waiting.
It was disturbing as hell. All that was needed now was for the weather to change completely and for it to begin to rain. Tomas shivered, tightening his grip on Cathal's hand. A small voice, so faint a whisper that it was ghostlike, reminded him that doing so must be aggravating Cathal's injuries, but all Cathal did was stroke Tomas's thumb with his own and smile a little, so he ignored it.
In the distance a horse neighed, and voices could be heard. The forest had become gradually thinner; their time together was nearly over. Deryn was waiting for them on the other side of the next thicket.
"We can't just go out there and die!" Now they were this close, Tomas was having second thoughts.
"We can't stay here." Cathal let go of Tomas's hand. "But I have no intention of going out there and just dying for no good reason." He exchanged a look with Christian, who nodded in agreement. "We do have a plan, but it is not a particularly good one, which is why we have not mentioned it before now."
"Any plan is better than none at all," Will remarked calmly, sitting up straighter in the saddle. Just because he was not himself did not mean that he had to broadcast that fact to their enemy.
"So what is this plan, exactly?" Tomas was not impressed with the idea that they'd had one and not told him or Will. Even if it wasn't a good plan, that did not mean it shouldn't have been shared, especially as this would have an impact on all of them and their possible life expectancy.
Cathal shrugged. "It is a long shot as plans go." He frowned, tilting his head to the side, eyes glazing over as he focused. "She has at least twenty men ahead of us, and I suspect a dozen following us through the forest. Another ten minutes and they will be upon us. Their pace has been steady. I suspect the timing of this was prearranged to ensure that the path behind us has been sealed off, giving us no choice but to meet with her directly."
"I thought there was only one path through here," Tomas queried suspiciously.
"There are two," Christian said, his eyes narrowing. "We have taken the lesser known one, and she would have used the more common of the two, which is safer. She could have also traveled upriver and cut through the forest farther in by doing so. It is a faster option if traveled on horseback."
"Right." Tomas didn't quite manage to keep the annoyance out of his voice. Being aware of these facts would have been helpful, despite the fact that there wasn't much he could do to change what was happening.
"Knowledge does not change anything," Cathal reminded him gently. He cleared his throat, moving the conversation on. Spending their last moments arguing was not something any of them wished. "It is a good hour's ride to the border once we are free of the forest. Hopefully, someone has come seeking our whereabouts; Will can meet them midway and bring help before it is too late."
"What are the chances of that?" Tomas didn't really want the answer, but he had to ask the question anyway. Will was the logical choice to make the journey, if he could stay on the horse. He would not last long in battle in his present state. This way he could make the difference and bring the cavalry. The horse would be more likely to make the trip with one rider, and Christian would not leave Cathal any more than Tomas would.
If Will was allowed to get that far.
"Of someone seeking our whereabouts?" Cathal shook his head. "Practically nil. Deryn was right on that count. You are not of this world, Christian is no longer, and it is doubtful I will be missed. After all, I have been disappearing for hours at a time of late, including overnight, so this is not unusual behavior."
"I will stay and take my chances with the rest of you." Will took the reins from Christian, winding them around his fingers. "You are the only family I have left, and I am not leaving you to certain death. You are outnumbered, and it is doubtful that you would hold out for the time it would take me to reach help, let alone return with it." He smiled a little; it was strained but showed some of his earlier humor, which they had not seen since he'd been injured. "As you said yourself, my lord, as plans go, this is not a particularly good one."
A familiar voice interrupted, calling to them. Tomas automatically slipped his arm around Cathal's waist, wanting him closer. "Come now, this grows tiresome." Deryn sounded bored, too bloody confident of her victory. "I wish to be home in time for supper, and yet you take your time in meeting with me."
"Fucking bitch," Tomas muttered. "Meeting, my arse." She intended to kill them; it was just a matter of when and how.
"Patience has never been one of her strong points," Cathal told him, "except when she is planning something to someone else's detriment, and then she waits for however long it takes. In this instance, however, time is not on her side." Christian gave him a quizzical look, but Cathal just shrugged. Tilting his head up, he kissed Tomas hard, pulled free, and began walking toward the sound of her voice. "Let's get this over and done with," he said grimly.
Tomas wanted to ask if they had to, but there was only one answer to that. They'd escaped her once; it was doubtful she'd go for a repeat performance. No, it was better to go down fighting. He would not allow her to touch Cathal again and would get between more than him and her riding crop if it came down to it. "Whatever it takes," he replied, following.
They were greeted by Deryn and a group of heavily armed men. She smiled at both of them. "I believe the correct course of action is to raise your arms in surrender," she reminded them. Her smile changed to a frown when she looked beyond them toward Christian and Will. "And you really should remind Will that a servant's place is not in the saddle when his master walks."
"He is not a servant," Cathal said calmly, "and we do not intend to surrender."
She laughed. "Still the romantic, dear. Such a shame really." Her eyes narrowed, her tone developing more of an edge to it. "You are surrounded and outnumbered. You have already lost, Cathal. You know what I want from you and what is at stake. Do you really think I would give up so easily?"
Cathal moved forward, placing himself in front of Tomas. "Of course not. Did you really think I would?" He put one hand behind his back, his fingers counting down from five.
What the hell did he think he was doing? Tomas risked a quick glance behind them. Christian and Will were tense, as though poised for action. Fuck, this was obviously a pre-arranged signal used in their bloody resistance.
The countdown complete, Cathal lunged, diving for one of the men standing in front of Deryn. She urged her horse back, speaking to it sharply when it neighed, obviously spooked by the unexpected movement. Both men hit the ground with a dull thump, rolling over, one trying to gain the upper hand over the other.
"I need him alive!" she called out, retreating, watching, her warning giving Cathal some of the advantage he'd lacked. His opponent may have been under orders not to kill, but he was not.
He hit the man in the stomach several times, grunting himself in pain when his already-tender hands curled in to make a fist, tearing his wounds open.
Buttercup reared up on her hind legs, Will urging her forw
ard through the semicircle of men and horses. Two of the horses parted, skittish, their riders reining them in sharply but not before a small gap was left between them. Will dived through, keeping his head low. They raised their bows, readying their arrows. He would be allowed to die, even if Cathal was not.
Christian dived for the man on Deryn's right, Cathal having aimed left, echoing the moves his cousin made with the added advantage of a knife. He slashed at the man under him, crying out when the soldier brought his knee up, delivering a blow to a very sensitive spot. They rolled over on the ground, then pulled apart, each struggling to his feet, cautiously circling the other.
Deryn laughed, enjoying the show. "His survival does not matter! Kill him! Let Cathal see him die!" She urged on her troops. "Get rid of these mice. Stamp them out!"
"Bitch!" This bloodbath was for Cathal, to feed his guilt before she got her claws into him. Tomas swore again, this time more colorfully and louder. He'd been frozen, unsure of what to do. He had no battle experience. He kept his knife raised, his hand tightly curled around its hilt in an effort to hide that he was shaking. Two of her men grinned at him and began advancing. He took a step back, and then another. They followed, drawing daggers which were twice the size of his knife. The sun glinted on the blades of their weapons, reminding him of their sharpness. It was not something he wanted to dwell on.
