An Immortal Descent

by Kari Edgren

  I laughed as well, sure that Calhoun wouldn’t be going anywhere for a long while. “If you had known the trouble we’d cause, you may not have stopped the cart yesterday.”

  “No trouble at all, me lass.”

  “Well, you’ve been very kind to help us. Not every man would leave his family so soon after returning home to give two strangers a ride.”

  Seamus drew on his pipe and a moment later smoke billowed into the air. “Fianna’s right, you two shouldn’t be wandering the roads alone. I can’t even think if it were me own daughters...” His voice hitched. “It’s the least I can do to see you safe.”

  Ailish didn’t say anything, just stared at the passing trees.

  Kicking a boot free of the blanket, I nudged her with my toe. We both shuddered from the contact, but at least I’d gotten her attention. Being so close to Seamus, our conversation was limited. Still, there was something I had to say.

  “Thank you for protecting me,” I said softly.

  She held my gaze, and a shadow of sadness crossed her face. “He’ll come back, you know, and I’m afraid o’ what he’ll ask me to do.”

  The weight of her words pressed against my chest. “We’ll figure it out together.”

  She nodded, and her eyes turned unnaturally bright. “It’s not very easy, is it, this life we’ve been given. Sometimes...sometimes I wish things was different...that maybe I was different.”

  It sounded as though my own heart was speaking. “Me, too. More times than I can remember.”

  “We be friends though, right? No matter what happens in Wexford?”

  I answered without hesitation. “Yes, Ailish, we’ll always be friends.”

  Our gaze held for a moment longer, and a small, sad smile touched her lips. “No matter what happens,” she murmured again before curling beneath the blanket and resting her head on the lumpy burlap sack.

  I leaned back against the rail, rather stunned at how much my life had changed since leaving London. To think on it all made my head spin, so I contented myself with watching the landscape as the miles slipped away one by one. After a couple of hours, I even managed to fall into a light sleep, coming to at the sound of Seamus’s booming voice.

  “There it be! The mighty walls o’ Wexford.”

  Scrambling to my knees, I saw an impressive stone wall near the height of two grown men, which appeared to run the length of the town. Ailish emerged from under the blanket, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as we stared at the large tower looming straight ahead. Nerves jigged in my stomach at what awaited beyond the gate. A few drops of rain wetted my cheeks. I brushed them away and drew up the hood of my cape.

  Seamus exchanged friendly words with one of the guards, who waved us through without so much as a second glance. The cart’s wheels changed from a muted rumble to a loud clatter over the cobbled road. Though nowhere near the size of Bristol, the town was more crowded than I anticipated, and my eyes flew from person to person in search of familiar faces amongst the bustling crowds. No doubt, Henry, Nora and Deri were here somewhere, considering their head start from London. Cate and Tom could also have arrived by now, as could my three companions from the Sea Witch.

  Oh, where are you?

  “Anywhere special you want to go?” Seamus asked.

  “Just to an inn,” I said, distracted by a glimpse of deep auburn hair. I opened my mouth to call out when the woman turned, and I caught sight of a heavily freckled face. Clamping my mouth shut, I moved on to the next person.

  “There be a respectable place not far from the town center,” Seamus said. “I know the proprietor from when I come to trade me cloth.”

  “That should do,” I said, my eyes still combing the many faces. Fisting my hands in frustration, I wanted to scream for everyone to please stop moving and to kindly remove any hats and hoods.

  “Don’t worry,” Ailish whispered. “We’ll find your friends.”

  A knot of boys ran past us. We followed the same route at a much slower pace as Seamus guided the horse past the various obstacles that crowded the narrow road. Since entering the town, stone and wood structures ran uninterrupted along either side, standing two and three stories high. Combined with the constant press of shoppers, laborers and animals, I began to feel somewhat claustrophobic.

  Up ahead, the boys skirted around a corner onto another road. Two women came just as quickly in the opposite direction, colliding with the last boy. Righting himself, he slipped from sight as a slight breeze flapped the sides of my hood, carrying the scent of the sea. It also carried the first hint of angry shouts and the clash of steel.

  Reining the horse, Seamus slowly edged forward to where the boys had turned. The sound of fighting grew louder, and I saw that a crowd had assembled partway down the road. Standing for a better view, I squinted at what appeared to be at least a half dozen men engaged in swordplay. Ailish stood next to me, lifting to her tiptoes.

  “Here’s a piece o’ poor luck,” Seamus said. “The inn be on the far side o’ that commotion there. We best continue on past the sea and circle around the other way.” He flicked the reins, and the cart lurched forward.

  “Wait!” Ailish cried, pointing excitedly.

  Seamus pulled on the horse. “What’s got to you?”

  “Do you see that man? The tall one there with the brown hair? He be fighting all the others.” She gave a squeal of delight. “Look at him, will you. I’ve never seen anything so grand.”

  “Is it a beau you’re looking for?” Seamus chided her. “Don’t be wasting your time on that one. Six to one ain’t a fair fight, and he’ll be stuck through if’n the soldiers don’t break it up soon.”

  A creeping dread filled me as I focused on the man. He was a good head taller than the others, and moved with a deadly grace that sent my stomach spiraling to the floorboards.

  I gasped, my hand flying to my mouth.

  “What’s wrong?” Ailish and Seamus asked at once.

  “That man... It’s Henry.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Returned From the Dead

  Steel flashed through the air as one of the men took a wild lunge at Henry. I flinched, but Henry parried the blow with ease, throwing the man off balance and sending him tumbling into the thick knot of spectators.

  A relieved breath tore from me, only to finish in a terrified cry when another attacker moved forward. Then the first man regained his balance and rejoined the fray, encouraged by cheers from the swelling crowd.

  “And who be Henry?” Seamus asked, the casual words belying the tension in his voice.

  Preoccupied with counting swords, I let Ailish fill in the necessary details. “Selah’s true love. He’s come to Wexford to help save her best friend.”

  Seamus whistled under his breath just as two men attacked Henry at once. Again, he parried the blows. “Well, he’s a skilled fighter, that’s for certain, but no man can stand those odds for long. Can you see how many he’s up against?”

  “Seven,” I moaned, with one hand pressed to my chest to help counter the painful pounding.

  Seamus twisted in his seat to look back at the route we’d traveled through town. “Best we find some soldiers to break it up. Your lad may be fined for making a public disturbance, but that’s far better than dead.”

  “Oh, he’s not going to die.” I gathered my skirts close to scamper over the side of the cart.

  “Don’t you be thinking o’ joining them.” Seamus made a grab for my arm. I scooted out of reach, dropping over the rail with Ailish alongside me. The moment our feet hit the cobbles, we were off running toward the altercation.

  “Come back here, the both o’ you!” he hollered. “It’s too dangerous!”

  I didn’t even glance back, though there was little chance he would remain in the cart while we ran headfirst into trou
ble. We weaved through a loose wall of coats, cloaks and tricorn hats. A few feet in, the wall of spectators grew tighter and more difficult to maneuver from those jostling for a better view.

  “Pardon me,” I bit out, while attempting to shove between two men. So enraptured with the fight, they didn’t notice my pointed nudges.

  Steel clanged loudly. Jerking my eyes forward, I bobbed on my toes in an attempt to catch a glimpse of what was happening. The spectators loomed too high, and I could see nothing but sky and rooftops over their shoulders.

  A swordsman shouted an angry curse. Henry retorted, though I failed to capture his words through the din.

  Damnation! Frustrated and scared beyond reason, I dug an elbow into one man’s ribs. “Get out of my way!”

  He grunted in surprise and stumbled aside. “Watch yourself—” he started, but I was already moving forward, throwing elbows wherever needed to get past. I finally pushed through to the front of the crowd. One look at Henry, and I stopped short from the way his green eyes blazed and the smile that sat upon his mouth. Blast it all, he’s enjoying this!

  A sword came crashing down at him. I yelped in fear, but Henry didn’t even look before thrusting his own blade out to block the blow. With the other hand, he fisted the attacker’s waistcoat and yanked him forward until they were nearly nose to nose.

  While I had a decent view of Henry’s face, the other man stood with his back to the crowd, leaving me to stare daggers at his black woolen coat and mass of dark hair tied at his nape. The other six fighters fanned out in a semicircle along the perimeter, one stopping directly in front of me to await an opportunity to strike. I edged around him, coming to within yards of the main fight. Brigid’s fire flowed to my fingertips as I gauged the seconds it would take to cover the remaining distance.

  Sweat glistened on Henry’s forehead from the physical exertion, but his amused expression didn’t waver a bit as he spoke to his opponent. I strained my ears, and managed to catch a few words for the effort. “...differences aside...make peace...”

  The dark-haired man spat on the ground. “That’s for your peace. I’ll kill you first, and then I’ll kill her for meddling with a damned Englishman.”

  Several people openly cheered the harsh words. In a heartbeat, Henry’s smile tightened to an angry line and his eyes thinned to narrow slits. Blistering anger rolled off of him. “Lay a hand on her, and it’ll be the last thing you ever do.” With a hard shove, he sent the man stumbling backward into two of his companions.

  I stared at Henry, willing him to notice me in the midst of so many other faces. But his furious gaze never strayed from the dark-haired man, who struggled to push away from the tangle of limbs and swords. Righting himself, he gave a savage cry and charged forward in another attack, sword swinging like a madman.

  Pure terror tore through me, and I lurched toward Henry when the swordsman behind me grabbed hold of my waist.

  “Get back here,” he snarled.

  I didn’t even look around before thrusting a hand back to release a small river of fire into the first thing I touched. My captor’s grip slackened and he slumped to the ground.

  Ready to move again, I froze mid-step, my eyes widening at the sight of a sword slicing a deadly arc straight for Henry’s neck. I gasped just as he twisted to the side, his own blade swinging in a blur of silver. Nothing stopped the graceful movement, not even the other man’s sword when the blades met between them. Or should have met. Expecting the clash of steel, I blinked in confusion from what appeared to be an impossible miss.

  Silence reigned for a single pulse. Then a horrible scream collided with the clang of metal against the cobbles. Henry stood unscathed, and I exhaled in relief as the dark-haired man sank to his knees. His sword was gone, and understanding came to me from the sight of the blood dripping from the stump that now hung limply at his side. He swayed on the verge of collapse when several men rushed to drag him to safety.

  “Filthy English,” another man spat, edging into the center to take the place of his fallen companion.

  Henry didn’t acknowledge the newest contender except to tighten his grip on the sword.

  My nerves couldn’t tolerate any more of this. Stepping from the crowd, I moved silently behind the man, who was so intent on making the first strike that he missed the slight pressure from my hand on his back. A burst of fire passed through him. He tensed, but there wasn’t time for anything else before I stunned the various muscles that controlled his arms. His sword dropped at once, clattering on the stones below. With a cry of surprise, he spun around, his eyes near popping with shock from the hands that now hung useless at his side.

  “What did you do?” he choked out.

  I ignored him, intent on a greater quarry. Stepping over the sword, I found the same measure of shock on Henry’s face.

  “Selah,” he breathed.

  The stress from the past few minutes came rushing to the surface. “Unbelievable,” I huffed. “You can’t have been here more than two days, and you’ve already managed to get into a fight.” For emphasis I gestured to where the remaining swordsmen had gathered to help their wounded companion. “And not just any old fight would do, would it? Oh no, it had to be seven to one.”

  The shock faded from Henry’s face, replaced by a smile that flowed through my entire being in an unexpected rush of warmth. “Where have you been?” he asked, reaching for me. “I’ve been worried sick since I watched you sail from Bristol.”

  At his first touch, the fear and frustration fell away, and I went freely, his name a relieved sigh on my lips as he pulled me into the hard wall of his chest.

  Resting his cheek on top my head, he inhaled a deep breath through his nose. “Why do you smell like cinnamon?”

  Events from the past two days tumbled through my mind, near unfathomable though I’d lived every one. “I’ll explain everything later.”

  “Where’s James? Didn’t he accompany you?” I heard the frown in his voice.

  “We got separated during the crossing.” Impatient to be away, I tugged at his coat sleeve. “No more questions until you’re out of danger.”

  “I was never in any danger,” he scoffed.

  I bent my head back to gape at him. “Good heavens, Henry! You were fighting seven men.” I tugged once more on his sleeve. “Please, let’s go. I’ve a friend who can take us out of Wexford until the tension has cooled.”

  Henry sighed. “In a moment, Selah. There’s something you must know first.”

  His ominous tone struck me, and I released his sleeve, the other men temporarily forgotten. “What is it? Have you found Nora and Deri?”

  Henry shook his head. “They’re not in Wexford.”

  I paused just long enough to ingest this new information. “Deri must have brought Nora straight to the oak grove then.” And to Carmen, if such a being existed. “We’ve still ample daylight to find them.”

  “From what I’ve seen, the outlying areas are covered in woods, and without help, we could spend weeks searching in the wrong place.” He squeezed his eyes shut in clear frustration. “But there’s something else I have to tell you first.”

  A Gaelic curse cut through the commotion from where the men remained huddled together.

  “Whatever it is can wait till we’re gone.” I attempted to pull away, but his arm held fast. “What is wrong with you? Those men are certain to make another attack if for no other reason than to repay what you did to their friend.”

  Henry shifted his gaze past me. “About that—”

  “The wound isn’t life threatening, and with so many witnesses there’s little I can do other than stanch the bleeding.”

  “I wasn’t going to ask you to heal him.”

  “Then what is it—”

  A pained groan stopped me cold. “Sabie...” a man croaked from somewhere close be
hind me.

  The name struck a visceral cord that turned my whole body rigid with shock. I didn’t attempt to look around, but rather stared even harder at Henry. “Did you...was that...?” Words fumbled around in my mouth, random and incoherent. Only one person had ever combined my first and middle name, Selah Elizabeth, in such an odd way. And that person was dead.

  “Sabie...” The man spoke a second time, like a desperate plea.

  “It can’t be,” I whispered into Henry’s waistcoat. Unless the dead had found a way to visit Wexford.

  Henry gave me a sad look. “I’m sorry, Selah.” Loosening his grip, he slowly turned me toward the crowd, while still managing to keep me pressed close. At first I didn’t know where to look until my gaze dipped to the wounded man, and my heart nearly stopped as I stared straight into the eyes of my brother Sean.

  My knees buckled and I would have sunk to a heap if Henry hadn’t kept ahold of me. “But you’re dead,” I murmured through shaky lips.

  “Not by a long shot,” Henry said with obvious disdain. “Though he sorely deserves to be after the threats he made.”

  Thoughts flew through my head like a flock of startled birds. My brother is alive in Ireland, fighting with a band of men.

  “I spared his life for your sake, Selah.”

  The muscles convulsed in my throat. Henry cut my brother’s hand off.

  Sean sat on the ground, propped against a man for support. Others hunched at his sides, their faces etched with concern. Someone had tied a strip of cloth around his forearm to stop the blood flow. He tried to lift his remaining hand toward me, but it fell back to his side. “Selah,” he said in a hoarse whisper. His light blue eyes locked onto mine before the lids fluttered closed.

  I made to go to him, but Henry’s arm turned to iron around me. “Let go,” I said, pulling harder with each passing second. “It’s Sean...he’s alive.” My voice broke unnaturally.

  Henry refused to yield. “He threatened to kill you.”