by Tamara Gill
Nay, he was certain he could not, though Toren nodded in the affirmative.
Col jostled him around to his side, drawing his stiff arm across his shoulders while he felt Col's other arm slide behind his back and grab onto the ragged tartan at his hip. Toren's opposite arm lifted and a smaller softer shoulder nudged up into his armpit as the healer pressed her body to his side, cool hands against his heated chest and back as though she was ready to balance him whether he swayed forward or back.
“Oh goddess, his back,” she cried and Toren could almost believe she cared.
And then they were moving and he realized how large of a lie he had told since his legs yielded no cooperation at all and his back was on fire, the bones of his ribcage rubbing painfully at every minute movement. A red-black haze lapped at the edges of the world, ready to take him back under.
The tops of his bare feet dragged across the uneven stone floor.
“Right, then.” Col bent, dragging Toren down with him until his stomach hit the lad's shoulders and his feet lifted completely off the ground.
Toren cried out in anguish, his arms and legs dangling. Nausea rushed up to meet him but he couldn’t hurl anything out past the crunching of his bones, splintering the ends of his ribs. He couldn’t breathe around the gripping pain.
“You’re hurting him worse,” Edeen cried.
“Put him down. Let me heal him.” The little healer, though all he could see of either lass were the bottom of their skirts swishing around Col's boots.
“Remember ye cannot. Not in here. The witch will sense it.” And Col started moving.
It was one of those jostling try-to-remain-conscious-under-a-horrific-amount-of-pain ordeals that Toren wasn't quite certain he could remain awake for. Or that he even was awake for. The dark floor blurred by with the slapping of boots on stone that echoed in and out of his awareness, growing blacker and redder with each shallow breath he tried to pull unsuccessfully into his lungs until the red flooded every surface and dragged him under.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Shaw felt the knowing gaze of the ethereal Fae bore into him like a carpenter’s auger. Averting his own gaze, Shaw stared determinedly at the enormous stone carving, which resembled Gilfillon so strikingly, sharp nose, long sloping eyes, he may as well just turn to the lithe Fae's scrutiny.
Heartsick, he looked instead to the last remaining cluster of his people who awaited their turn to slip through the shimmery veil that led into the Shadowrood.
They hemmed around the luminous gateway, young and old alike, with their spines straight and stiff. Many clutched meager belongings or herded goats and sheep through the passage. Pride in his people streamed through his veins.
They had been prepared for this, knew it was a possibility once it became known the Witch of Alduein had taken their High Sorcerer.
A proud people, Clan Limont understood their duties to earth and magic and what would happen if dark magic overcame the clan with each of their unique gifts and traits, as a whole.
A small boy tugged on his mother's arm, cheeks wet with tears. “Nay, mam. I dinna want to go. I want to stay here.”
Another ache bruised Shaw's heart. Aye, he was the leader who forced children from their homes and all that was familiar to them. He was supposed to be their protector, not this. Never this.
Gilfillan's long slim fingers curled over his shoulder. “You are choosing the right pathway. 'Tis a law of nature. All things eventually run their course. Even magics. Men's hearts are once again turning to greed and war. The time of greater magic within your world is at an end. ‘Tis time to return it to its rightful realm. Come little brother, relinquish your burden and be at peace.” The Fae smiled gently, a boy’s face with the depths of a wizened aged man’s eyes. He nudged Shaw toward the glimmering gateway where less than a handful of his people remained. Donnan met his gaze, his features blotchy and resolved. The old warrior had returned without the younglings. He had not been able to reach Edeen and Col in time. They were gone, lost to him.
“Come, brother,” Gilfillon’s voice whispered like leaves floating on the wind.
But Gilfillon was not his brother. Shaw's heart shredded beneath a grief so profound his chest felt like a beast had clawed it open.
“Come.” The Fae gestured.
“In a moment,” Shaw snarled, his chest heaving, then more quietly: “In a moment. Give me time.” This was right. Sending the clan to safety was right. He was never more sure of anything. But to leave his entire family...? And to the devices of a destructive, ruthless witch. He had saved his people, but mo nighean, at what price? Col’s and Edeen’s faces swam before his vision.
The Fae nodded, let his hand drop and looked out into the surrounding forest. “Ye have your moment. Treasure it well for we cannot risk leaving the gateway vulnerable to the dark evil that will arise at the High Sorcerer’s final turning. The threat is too great. Once ye pass through the stones, Shaw Limont, we Elders will seal the Shadowrood forever closed.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Charity ran through the dark corridors alongside Col and Edeen. Across Col's shoulder, Toren's limbs swayed with each of the young warrior's running steps. She worried the harsh movement could force a broken rib to stab up into a lung. She'd healed his two broken ribs the first time, but hadn't healed him again when she'd traveled back a day and changed the timeline. So she knew the exact extent of his injuries. But there was also more. Sometime between then and now the witch had put him to the lash. His back was an enflamed mess of broken and sliced skin. He had to be in immense pain.
She nearly collided into them when Col suddenly stopped. They were at the postern door. The mercenary Col had knocked out still slumped unclothed in the shadowed corner, but something else, possibly the guard from the dungeon, had revived and raised an alarm. Shouts and footfalls echoed across the stone.
It was a sure bet that Aldreth would be testing tendrils of any spells she had running in the castle. The spell for the magical barrier would be first as the witch searched for the slightest hitch in the invisible wall. Charity wondered how long it would take for Aldreth to test every strand of her spell-casting and discover what had been breached.
Crouching, Col pulled Toren from his shoulders and lowered him gently onto the floor where Edeen and Charity both held the unconscious man's head and shoulders off the stone.
“You'll have to drag him out.” Col shoved the door open and immediately started to shift. His beautiful dazzling light form glowed even brighter within the corridor’s humid gloom. Expanding, the light floated into the doorway, sparking and sizzling where Col, as pure energy, must be touching and pushing against the weave of Aldreth's spell they couldn't see.
Col's light form stilled, flickering wildly. The effort expended to just hold the spell off a bit had to be enormous.
“Quickly.” Getting her arms beneath Toren's shoulder, Edeen started dragging him.
Grateful he was unconscious so was spared the agony dragging had to put on his injuries, Charity grabbed him from the other side and together they hauled him backwards across the floor.
Magic vibrated across Charity's back where she touched the barrier, thick and cold—almost painful, different from when they'd first entered this way. The presence and personality of Col was gone or far buried within Aldreth’s spell, yet they pulled Toren in with them anyway. They didn’t have much choice.
Sight and sound dispersed, buried beneath blinding pulsating humming light.
Charity stepped backward or tried to. She could still feel the weight of Toren dragging against her hands, could still sense Edeen beside her, yet they weren't moving.
Stuck. Trapped.
She screamed to keep going, but her voice was snatched away within the humming vibration.
If Aldreth didn't know where in the castle they were before, there was no way the witch wasn’t aware of them now. It had to be her attempting to trap them within her spell.
She heaved back again, straining to b
ring Toren and Edeen with her. She would not give up. No way.
Suddenly Col was there, his presence like a candle flame warming her hand, somehow straining with her.
The white atmosphere groaned, shuddered and tilted like a box knocked to its side and all at once they were sliding, falling...
Charity, Toren, and Edeen slopped out of the door like sludge dripping from a sewer pipe.
They sprawled across the kitchen garbage and grassy weeds. Rats scurried away, squealing. Men shouted in the distance. Toren's head rolled to the side. His eyes opened and then squinted against the brightness of outdoors, though it was growing toward dusk.
Edeen rose up on her arms her legs hampered by her skirts, and screamed, “Col!”
His light form still stretched across the doorway was diminished and weak. The charged air crackled, spitting out wisps of sparks as Aldreth's spell closed in on Col and his light shimmered once and then collapsed.
Col materialized, naked, light spitting and sizzling around him. Slumping forward, he dropped out of the doorway to the ground.
“Col.” Edeen lunged toward him. The shouting grew closer. Charity's head snapped up. They had to get out of here. She tapped Toren's face.
“Get up, get up.”
His disoriented gaze tracked across the castle wall.
Slipping her hand behind his neck, she pulled his head up and shouted in his face. “Get up! Your family needs you.”
His gaze finally landed on her, glassy and confused, though he nodded. The heat coming off his skin was tremendous. Charity pushed him upward, wincing at the tremor that rolled through him from simply getting in an upright seated position. She wished she had the time to heal him, even a little bit, but the guards were coming.
Toren pressed his arms around his stomach, practically holding his ribs together. She couldn’t expect him to run, let alone remain on his feet.
Edeen wasn't making much more progress with Col. The young man was awake, pressing his hand to his head while Edeen coaxed him up.
A couple of guards came around the corner of the castle. Crap. Crap. Crap.
“On your feet. Now,” Charity ground out. They hadn't gotten this far to let the mercenaries recapture them.
Toren's lips twitched and head still hanging, he nodded, but at least one arm moved from his stomach to steady himself on the ground and push upward. His skin flushed a deep red.
“Now!” Charity helped as best she could, hauling him upward until he gained his feet and immediately listed sideways. Shoving herself against his side, she managed to keep him upright. Barely. “Move it Limont!”
She pulled him toward the tree line. It worried her a little that he went so complacently, a testament to how much pain he was likely in, but at least he was on his feet and moving.
She spared a glance to see how Edeen fared with Col, relieved that they too were heading for the cover of the forest. Edeen bent low, bringing Col with her to scoop up the pile of clothing they'd left beneath the bushes. Not taking the time to clothe him, she held the bundle to her chest, her other arm wrapped around her brother’s waist as they hurried into the cover of the trees.
The mercenaries were coming, at least four of them she could see. More would soon join them as they shouted that they’d spotted them.
Their progress was difficult, made worse as Edeen guided them into the thicker areas of woods where sometimes the trees were so large and close, Charity lost sight of Col and Edeen altogether.
She also couldn’t see any of the guards that had surely followed them into the forest. This was stupid. They’d never be able to lug the guys faster than the guards could chase after them. They had to stop, hide somewhere, so she could heal them.
Which meant she’d be sick and dizzy after a healing, but even so, one of the guys could cart her around a lot easier than she could either of them. Of course there was the very real possibility Toren just might leave her there. He thought she was working for Aldreth. Which...well, hurt. More than she’d thought it would when she considered the possibility that he wouldn’t remember her or what they’d shared together. Of course he wouldn’t. For him it had never happened.
Toren leaned heavily against her, his feet barely shuffling through the fallen leaves and pine needles. His head hung low, resting on hers, flopping slightly with each step, long hair hanging over his face. His breathing was heavy and wet sounding. Each little moan pierced her soul. How could anyone go on like this?
It was hard to tell if going into the darker part of the forest gave them an advantage or not. Sometimes it seemed the shouts of pursuit moved farther away, yet other times it sounded as though the guardsmen were suddenly right upon them and Charity's heart sped up.
Col seemed to rouse a bit, walking steadier. Sometime along the way, he'd managed to wrap his kilt around his waist, or maybe Edeen had done it for him.
“We need to stop. Toren can’t keep going like this,” she called to Edeen when they came near enough.
“In here.” Edeen took them into a dried-up stream bed and beneath a jumble of slender fallen trees and long branches that looked like a fast moving stream had carried the debris all to a point where they caught against rocks jammed together. There was just enough room to hunker down inside.
They got the men situated. Once Col hit the ground, it appeared all the reserves he'd utilized to get this far left him and he promptly passed out.
Just perfect.
Toren moaned, curling over to his side to ease the pressure on his ribs. His sweaty hair was plastered to his scalp and face. There was a bit of blood at his bluing lips. Dammit. One or both of his ribs must have pierced something internally. His breathing was harsh and ragged, but at least he was still breathing. Whatever the damage, it couldn’t be left any longer. She had to heal him now.
Charity pushed the damp hair from his cheek and Toren flinched. “Nay.” His plea was a breathy rasp.
Her heart clenching, Charity let her hand drop in exhaustion.
Edeen's hand feathered over her arm. “'Tis the fever.”
“I guess I should be happy he let me help him as much as he did. He thinks I'm in cahoots with Aldreth. Like I’d have anything to do with that bitch.” They didn’t have time for his delusions about her.
“I...” Edeen's shoulders hunched with exhaustion. “He’s out of his head but ‘twill be all right. We have him now.” Her arms swung around Charity and she pressed her head into her shoulder. “Thank you for coming. Thank you for helping us get my brother out.” The ends of her hair swayed as she shook her head. “I felt the depth of your connection—yours and Toren's. I know what you did. I know you gave up his memories of you to travel beyond your past. Charity, 'twas a brave thing to do. I wish...” Edeen didn't finish. Her hands went to one of the bands still upon Toren's wrists. “We need to get these off. As long as he wears them, Aldreth can find him and any magic he possesses is useless against her.”
Healing first. She didn’t like the ashy tone to his skin or the sound of his breathing. “I don't suppose we can just cut them off?”
Edeen shook her head. “'Tis a powerful spell. I tried, but could not unravel it fully.”
Charity pushed a lock of Edeen's hair behind her ear, a gesture she often made with Lenore. “You did enough to get him out.”
“But will it be enough?” Unshed tears glistened in the girl's eyes. She pulled on the bands. “Aldreth has the means to find him and take him back at will.”
Charity stopped her before she did more damage to the torn flesh beneath the leather. The symbols carved into them glowed at her touch.
Both girls stilled, watching to see if they would light up again. That couldn't be good. What if he disappeared into thin air like he had before?
“It will be all right,” Charity assured. “We didn't come this far to fail. Aldreth will have to go through me to get at Toren.”
“Aye.” Edeen's lip fell into a thin line. “Through me as well.”
They shared a grim
smile.
Charity shuffled closer to Toren. “I'm going to do what I can to heal him.”
“You're exhausted,” Edeen protested.
“I'll be more exhausted if I have to keep lugging half of his weight. Besides, I don’t think it can be put off.” He was so pale, his features scrunched tight in pain. Though it was dark inside their little hovel, she could see the bruising beneath his skin. Blood pulling from internal bleeding. “I have to do this now.” She glanced at Col, softly snoring on the other side of Toren. “Toren’s hurt pretty bad. I' don’t think I’ll have enough energy for Col as well.”
Edeen nodded. “Do what you must for Toren. Col is merely weakened from remaining in his magical form overlong. He should recover on his own.” Edeen stroked the young man's cheek. “I'm sure of it.” Her tone didn't exactly convey the same certainty. “Remain here with them and do what you can. I'm going to go cover our tracks.”
Charity nodded, already placing her palm upon Toren’s blood-caked chest and gathered her magic from far within her core. “Please be careful.”
Edeen nodded and slipped away.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Aldreth will have to go through me to get at Toren.
Her voice fluttered around his consciousness like gauzy ribbons of silk. He'd sensed that conviction earlier. I will save you.
Toren panted around the sharpness in his side, his breaths too shallow to fully expand his burdened lungs. He was at once excruciatingly hot then brutally cold. Long shivers seized muscles that brought more pain, more torture. His back was an inferno. A copper warmth coated the back of his throat.
He swam against the current in a sea of delirium, uncomprehending of what was truly real.
Aldreth had won. Madness had taken him and now she would be able to take his magic as easily as plucking an egg from a nest.
He couldn't think, could do naught but tense his body, clench uncooperative muscles to stave off the burning agony that was his flesh. To make it stop, to climb out of this pit, he would promise her anything. Nay, he could not give in. He must endure, let it consume him.
