World of de Wolfe Pack: The Lone Wolf's Lass (Kindle Worlds Novella)

by Mia Pride

  As they reached flat ground, the grass beneath his boots was slick from the recent rains and he knew the elements would make this battle a hard one with only a crescent moon hanging in the sky to light the world. Fighting in the dark was never ideal, but they could not choose the time of day an enemy would strike.

  Their men had come face-to-face with the enemy and the sound of metal clashing with metal rang through the night, as did the sounds of men grunting with exertion. One man yelped and Robert heard the gurgle of death just behind him. It had been one of his own but he did not have the time to turn and investigate. A man was coming straight for him with his sword at the ready. One wrong step and he would join his fellow warrior in death.

  With a roar, Robert raised his own sword in defense and charged at the man running wildly toward him. Their swords connected and he felt the reverberation running through his arm. It was painful, but nothing he was not used to after training for so many years. The man bared his teeth and Robert grunted with the effort to push him away with his boot to gain more ground. The man flew back a few feet, but came at Robert again. This time, Robert kept his sword low and forced it into the enemy’s belly with all his might. The man grunted, and his eyes grew wide as he crumpled. Pulling his sword from the warrior’s body, Robert groaned and stepped away, circling to look for more enemies. Taking lives always left scars on a man’s soul, but he would ponder that later. Every enemy on this field had willingly brought this battle and the price for that error was death.

  Men began to fall around him and, though the numbers had been almost evenly matched when the battle began, he was not surprised to see many more of his men left than the enemy. As King Garreth predicted, their opponents had increased their numbers, but their skill and might could not outshine the warriors of Coraindt, who spent most of their days training in all the elements and for all occasions. Fighting in the dark on wet grass was hardly an obstacle for his men, though it appeared to be the undoing of the others.

  “Behind you, Wolf!” he heard a man shout. Spinning quickly, he raised his sword just in time to block what would have been a killing blow to his skull had he not been warned. His foot lost traction when he stepped on a small boulder, twisting his ankle. He groaned at the pain as he heard his foot snap, and stumbled back. His sword hand faltered as he righted himself and tried to block the man’s onslaught.

  It all felt like slow motion. He could tell by the angle of the man’s blade that he would not be able to block it before it cut him through. After years of training, a cursed stone beneath his boot had been his undoing. Large man that he was, he was strong and quick, but he had always been clumsier than he preferred. And now, the sword was descending on him inch by torturous inch.

  He lifted his own sword, but even in his effort, he knew he might strike the man, but not before he was run through. Something strange happened in those last seconds. His mind calmed and he felt himself welcoming death. He had naught to live for anyway. He would miss his brother, Ginny, and his parents, but they would go on. Then mossy hazel eyes and shining dark hair swam before his vision, and he felt a warmth come over him. Love. He had loved a good woman, even if she had not loved him. Nay, she had loved him and he pushed her away intentionally so his brother could be happy. In the end, he was already a miserable lout. Ferghus, on the other hand, had a brilliant soul and always felt the light side of life. He could never allow himself to be the cause of his brother’s turn from the light.

  He would breathe his last breath and die knowing that his sacrifice was not in vain. Ferghus would go on, have many children with Brianna and they would, if he was fortunate, remember him as the loyal man he was. He knew he had not given Brianna many good memories in the past few years, but they had had quite a childhood together, pretending to be married as they hid away for hours in their abandoned hut and pretending he was her rescuer. It had all been play-acting, but mayhap it would make her smile when she thought of those days. It was all he could wish for as the blade neared his heart.

  At least he would die in battle like a true warrior. Peace came over him and he surrendered to the inevitable as he closed his eyes. “Robert!” He heard his name being called and instantly recognized his name on his brother’s lips. He did not want Ferghus to witness his death. He would never recover or forgive himself, Robert knew that much.

  Opening his eyes to track his brother down, he felt himself being pushed violently to the side by another body, just as the sound of a blade piercing flesh filled his ears. Knocking his head on the ground, he felt his brain rattle painfully and heard another crack, this time in his wrist. A body landed beside him and he realized it was the man who had meant to kill him. He was dead. Someone had run him through.

  Just then, another body fell beside him, half landing on his ribcage and knocking the wind from his lungs. Another crack. He was alive, he could tell by the pain radiating through his entire body. Looking to his left, he saw Ferghus beside him, breathing hard and wincing in pain as he clutched his stomach. Nay!

  “Ferghus? Ferghus!” Robert scrambled to his knees, pain forgotten, and leaned over his brother, scanning his body. If the battle still raged around him, he did not know. Nothing else mattered except his brother. “Are you hurt?”

  Ferghus’s face was covered in sweat and grime as he slightly nodded his head in confirmation. “Where are you hurt, brother?” Ferghus lifted his right palm and blood oozed from the pit of his stomach. Oh, gods, nay. Tearing off his own tunic, Robert pressed the garment to the wound, trying to stop the blood flow. “We will get you help.” Robert lifted his head to shout for help when he felt Ferghus tug on his arm.

  “Nay,” he said weakly. “I… am done.”

  “Nay! You are not! Why did you not let me die? Why did you go and take the blow for me?” He was yelling and tears slid down his face. “You should have let me die,” he whispered.

  “N-never, brother,” Ferghus groaned. “Take care… of Bri.”

  “I will not need to. You will survive this.” Looking up again, Robert roared and three warriors, including Keegan, came over to help.

  “What can we do?” Keegan asked, looking desperate to help.

  “Nothing,” Ferghus forced. “Rob…” he turned his light blue gaze on Robert and spoke to only him. “Marry her. Keep… her… safe.”

  “I cannot. She hates me. You know that. Do not leave us, Ferghus. You have a child on the way.”

  “’Tis your… child now.”

  “Nay,” Robert groaned, and he knew his tears were soaking Ferghus’s face. “Stop it, now.”

  “She does… not hate... you. You know… that. I know it, too. You love… her.”

  “Stop it, Ferghus. I do not. Stop it. Save your strength.”

  “Do not… lie to me... brother. Not now. I would have… the truth… before I die.”

  “You shall not die!” Robert roared. He wanted to curse the gods, shake his brother… anything to stop the pain. Why had Ferghus done such a foolish thing? He had so much to live for. Robert had nothing, was nothing.

  “You… love her.”

  “Fine! Is that what you want to hear? That I am in love with your wife? That I have loved her for longer than I even know? That I envy every touch, kiss, and word of love you share with her? That she carries your child? Aye! I love her desperately, Ferghus, and I am so very sorry!” he roared. “I never meant to betray you!”

  Ferghus’s head shook back and forth. “I waited… for you… to marry her. You did not. So I did. She loved… you. I know.”

  “She loves you now, Ferghus. You must live to remain with her.”

  “Promise me,” Ferghus forced out and winced. Robert wanted to scream at the pain he was feeling. He was not ready to lose his brother. And he could not wed Brianna. It felt like a betrayal. “Say it,” Ferghus whispered.

  With a resigned sigh, Robert nodded and swallowed hard. “I swear it, brother. If she will have me. I will care for her and your child either way.”

  Ferg
hus nodded slowly and turned his head away, closing his eyes. “Nay brother!” Robert wailed and he gripped Ferghus by the shoulders, shaking him to force his eyes open, but they stayed closed.

  “He is gone, Robert.” Looking up, he saw the sad face of their king standing above them. Looking at Keegan, King Garreth pointed back toward the gates. “The battle is won, but be lost a few good men. You and a few other men—take Ferghus to the hall. We shall say his final rites and prepare his ceremonial burial.”

  “Nay!” Robert threw himself over Ferghus and wept. “He is not gone! Get the healer!” Putting his fingers up to Ferghus’s throat, he searched wildly for a pulse and moved on to his wrists when none was found. “Nay! Nay!” He roared so loudly that an owl flew out of a nearby tree, disturbed by the outcry. The owl reminded Robert of Brianna, at home all alone, frightened and awaiting her husband’s return. But he would not be returning.

  How could he tell her this news? How could he tell his mother and father? The reality had not yet sunk in, and still, he knew he must tell Brianna immediately. He did not wish to leave Ferghus’s side, but his king made that decision for him when he bent over and gripped Robert’s arm, urging him up. “Go, Rob. You heard his wishes. Go to Brianna.”

  He shook his head. “I cannot. I cannot.”

  “Only you can tell her. She needs to know.”

  Keegan and three other warriors silently lifted Ferghus from the ground, his lifeless body limp in their arms. Robert turned away to vomit. Watching his brother being carried away was too much to bear. “It should have been me,” he spat, wiping his mouth. “The fool!”

  “He loved you, Robert. You would have done the same for him.”

  “In a second,” Robert barked, feeling anger and despair take hold as he yanked at his hair and spun in circles before hobbling to a stop. His ankle injury caused him to stumble. His wrist ached and his ribs made breathing painful. He suddenly realized he had many injuries of his own, but he still felt the pain of loss more keenly.

  “He died a warrior’s death,” King Garreth whispered. “Be proud, lad. Do you need assistance with your own injuries?”

  Robert grunted. “Nay.”

  “As I suspected,” his king said shrewdly. “Allow us to at least get you home.”

  His stubborn pride had a refusal on his lips, but he was not a fool. He could hardly walk through his pain, nor could he concentrate on anything other than the loss of his brother and best mate. He clenched his jaw and nodded. “Thank you,” he forced through his teeth.

  One fellow warrior slipped an arm under Robert’s left arm and King Garreth took the right side. Robert winced at the pain in his ribs as he hobbled on one foot all the way back to Brianna and Ferghus’s home. Once in front of the door, they left him with a solemn nod, but he could not bring himself to knock on the door. How did one tell his sister by marriage that her husband was gone? That her worst fear had come true? And how had he, of all people, come to be the one to tell her? She would only hate him more. If Ferghus expected her to simply follow through and marry him, he had been delirious in his final moments.

  Leaning his uninjured wrist against the side of the house, he took a deep breath and tried not to vomit again. He was grieving terribly, but he had to keep himself together so he could be there for Brianna. No matter what she did or said, he needed to stay strong and insist on caring for her. It was Ferghus’s only wish. He would leave his promise to marry her out of it for now. The lass had just lost the father of her unborn child. She did not need to worry about marriage right now.

  Taking one more deep breath, he pounded on the door with his fist, trying not to wince when he put pressure on his injured right ankle. It opened immediately, as if Brianna had been just on the other side, awaiting her husband. Her eyes widened as she took in his sorry appearance. “Are you all right, Rob?” she whispered as she clutched her belly and stepped aside for him. He shook his head in silence and hobbled inside the house.

  Before shutting the door, she looked outside and frowned. “Where is Ferghus?” She looked at him with her beautiful wide hazel eyes and words left him. He opened his mouth to speak, but instead only licked his lips, realizing they were cracked and bleeding. The sting of it was nothing compared with what was to come. “Rob. Where is my husband?” she demanded slowly.

  Closing his eyes, he turned away. He could not watch her face when he uttered the most painful words he would ever have to speak. “He fell.”

  A loud gasp and sob came from behind him, followed by a loud wail. “Nay!” she screamed, and he heard her fall to the floor.

  Turning quickly despite his injury, he hobbled over to her and dropped down to her level. “I am so sorry,” he murmured and reached out to touch her face, but she shrank away and swatted his hand. “Nay. Do not touch me.”

  He retracted his hand, but he refused to back away. He had no idea what to do or say. He was hurting just as badly as she was, but it was his place to stay calm for her sake. Crumpled on the floor, she rolled onto her side and sobbed into her hands, murmuring Ferghus’s name and clutching at her stomach. “I am going to be sick,” she whimpered after several moments.

  Without thinking, Robert retrieved the chamber pot near her bed and handed it to her as she sat up and began to heave. He held her hair away and rubbed her back silently, having no other idea what he could do. She had to get it out and he would be there for her every step of the way.

  “H-how?” she finally asked, looking over her shoulder at him? “I need to know. I do not know why, but I need to know.”

  Robert frowned and dared to reach out to her again. This time when he placed his hand on hers, she did not pull away. “He died to save me,” he groaned, allowing more of his own pain to seep through his feigned strength than he intended. “I was about to be run through and Ferghus took the blow. He died to save me. I am so sorry. I would do anything in this world to take his place. Anything.”

  She was silent for a long moment. He could feel her eyes on him and yet he was too ashamed to look her in the eye. “I am so sorry,” she whispered. He dared to look up at her and he saw genuine concern for his own plight in her gaze. “You have lost your brother and best friend,” she whimpered, scooting closer to better sooth him.

  “Aye, I have.” It was all he could say. Any more and he would surely break down and he needed to stay strong for her.

  “He died to save you.”

  “I know. ’Twas a waste,” he growled.

  “Nay. He did not sacrifice himself for you only to have you say such things,” she said with a sob, and gripped his hands. “Were you with him? When he passed?” Lowering his head, he nodded and looked away from her. “What were his final words? Did he… speak of me?”

  With a loud huff, he got to his feet. “Aye. He said he loved you.”

  “’Tis all?” she asked, and sobbed some more.

  “’Tis all we need to discuss tonight, Bri.” He looked at her imploringly, begging her to let it go.

  “I must see him!” she wailed and stood up, running toward the door. “I must go to him!” She was starting to panic and he hobbled over on one foot to block her way. “Move, you large brute! Allow me to pass!”

  “Nay. On the morrow. Not tonight. ’Tis not something you need to see.”

  Shoving him hard, she actually caused him to stumble back, but only slightly. “Do not dare to tell me what I can and cannot do, Robert O’Faolain! He is my husband and I wish to be by his side! Take me to him!” she screamed so loudly that he feared she would pass out.

  “Bri,” he said in a low voice. “’Tis pure darkness outside. You are with child. I am too injured to escort you. And there has been a bloody battle. ’Tis chaos and death out there. I wish you to heed my warning. I swear to take you to see him on the morrow, lass.”

  Sliding down the wall, she gave up her fight, somehow agreeing that he was right even through her pain. Hands over her face, she sobbed until her body shook. He let her be. This was her time to grieve
the passing of the man she loved and he felt like a bastard for having to be there to witness it.

  He sat on a bench to rest his ankle, yet winced at the pain in his head and ribs. He would be all right, he knew. Nothing was broken, mayhap a rib, but he had dealt with such an injury before and knew only a tight binding around his chest would help. Brianna continued to sob into her knees, her green dress becoming soaked with her tears. After what felt like an eternity, she went quiet. His mind had been on his brother, their childhood together, and how much he would miss him. He had also been pondering how he could honor his brother’s last wishes without further upsetting Brianna. He did not know when her crying had actually ceased.

  Looking down at her, he saw that she had fallen asleep in a huddled mass on the cold floor near the drafty door. He would have to pick her up and carry her despite his own injuries. Bending over, he felt a sharp jab in his chest and knew for certain he had indeed broken a rib. He knew better than to neglect it. He needed to bind his injuries before he could move her.

  Walking over to the chest he knew belonged to his brother, he opened it carefully and pulled out one of Ferghus’s old tunics. He hated to do it, but he removed his dagger from his boot and shredded the tunic into long strips of linen. If Ferghus wanted Robert to care for his wife, he would have to forgive him for destroying his garments to wrap his injuries. First, he wrapped a long strip around his chest, cinching it tightly with a grunt, then moved on to his ankle, and last, his wrist. He looked like an invalid but he had to admit that he was very close to being one.