by Terry Spear
***
Brett heard the whistle of the bolt shooting through the air and feared they were under attack. Until he realized the arrows were aimed at Ena flying high above. He pulled his horses to an abrupt stop, and set the brake, then leapt off the wagon.
"Wait!" Ryker yelled at him. "You can't leave."
With the notion of rescuing Ena, Brett wasn't waiting. He drew his sword and raced in the direction the bolts had been fired, intent on eliminating the fae who was trying to kill Ena. He just had to reach the archer in time.
Someone's boots crashed behind him, and he turned with his sword raised ready to fight the man, until he saw it was Jacob. He nodded to him, noting he had a sword as well, but a plain and serviceable one. As long as the blade was long and sharp, and the sword bearer knew how to use it, that's all that mattered. Not going for stealth, they both sprinted through the twisted woods, leaping over tree roots and downed limbs and heard the sound of footfalls crashing through the underbrush ahead of them.
He had the thought that if the archer was afraid of them, the fae would transport to safety somewhere far from here. Apparently the treasure was too tempting.
Brett had just seen a glimpse of the tall, blond-haired shooter through the snarl of woods when a dark figure flew through the forest. Green wings partly folded, the dragon twisted and turned through the trees—Ena. A blast of fire shot from her mouth and the white hot flames instantly incinerated the archer.
Brett and Jacob stopped, felt the heat, and stared at the pile of ashes ahead of them. They looked at each other, then noted Ena had quickly turned and flown off in the vicinity of the wagons. Men and women began shouting and the clanking of swords warned Brett that Ena's staff was engaged in combat.
His heart drumming and fearing for the safety of the others, Brett ran back to the wagons with Jacob. When they finally reached them, they saw Ryker standing atop one of the wagons, swinging a sword against a black-haired brigand. Cook struck her heavy cast iron pan against another man's sword with a mighty clang. The other three ladies waved daggers, and were grouped together, protecting one of the wagons.
Why had they not transported away like Ena had commanded they should if the wagons came under attack? Three ruffians were attempting to commandeer the lead wagon when Ryker laid the man low who was attacking him. Then he went after the three on the lead wagon.
If the brigands could get even one of them, they would have a pirates' years' worth of treasure. Ryker knocked one of the thieves off the wagon, but another thrust a sword at him, and he was sure to suffer a deadly cut.
Unable to reach Ryker in time, Brett yelled, "The dragon is coming back to kill all of you." He'd hoped that would put the fear of the dragon in them and they'd all run off in fright.
Using her wickedly-sharp talons, Ena swooped in and grabbed the man fighting Ryker, saving him from the bite of the brigand's sword. Swinging helplessly from a dizzying height, the man cried out as she carried him off. Brett thought the thieves would quickly depart once they realized the dragon was coming for them, but when she flew away with the man screaming his head off, the brigands fought even more violently to secure the first wagon before she returned. It reminded him of a policeman who pulled over a hapless speeder while everyone else sped on by, knowing he was too busy to come after them.
Brett jumped onto the wagon to join Ryker while Jacob went to Cook's aid.
"Human," a redheaded fae said in a disdainful way as he sliced at Brett with a basket handle sword. Brett barely managed to jump out of the blade's path as Ryker fought another man behind him. Noticing the jewels on Brett's sword, the fae stared hard at it, his green eyes rounded a bit with greed, and he added, "Your weapon will be mine."
"Not in this lifetime, thief!" Brett said.
Ena swooped again toward the wagons, not that Brett was looking anywhere but at his current target, but the shadow she cast as she passed over them caught everyone's eye. Any of the bad guys could be her next victim. She dove for another brigand who was trying to cut Lila, the cook, grabbed him, and flew off.
Brett struck at the redheaded man's sword and came in for a killing blow when the fae leapt backward off the wagon like a well-trained acrobat and made a hasty retreat. Another came at him from the side and managed to cut him across his tunic and sliced into his skin—pissing him off. The wound burned and ached, but it didn't slow him down. Now he had a bloodied, torn shirt and he still had to pay Ena back for it. Before the man could slice at him again, Brett twisted around and thrust his sword into the fae's chest before the villain could block his blow.
He sank against the treasure and Brett turned to fight another.
Without warning, the remaining dozen or so thieves suddenly bolted into the woods like mice scurrying for cover in the thick foliage.
Brett saw then Ryker had killed another of the brigands. Brett glanced at the men and women who served Ena. "Is anyone wounded?"
A flurry of nays resounded. None of them had any serious wounds that he could see, but all appeared to be sporting cuts and scrapes and bruises.
A great shadow swept over them and they all looked heavenward right before the dragon landed on top of the canvas-covered treasure in the third wagon from the front. Ena looked over each one of her people, then she shifted, placed her hands on her hips, and scowled at all of them. "What did I say about transporting somewhere safe? You're not to protect my treasure!"
"Brett and Jacob ran off to fight your attacker," Cook said, not looking cowed in the least. "We had to help."
"I gave you strict orders."
Her lady's maid said, "You worked too hard for all this treasure, mistress."
"It's worth nothing if any of you are killed over it! I'll earn it back."
Everyone, but Brett, finally looked downcast at the scolding.
Ena took in a deep breath and let it out. "We have another hour until we reach the falls. We need to move now." She shifted and flew off.
No one moved for a minute. Then Cook grumbled, "They're not stealing anything she worked so hard to earn, oftentimes at great risk to her own life—not if I have any say in it."
Brett watched to see everyone's reaction to that. They had not been so vocal, all but Ryker, when it came to speaking out against their mistress's wishes before. But there it was—a consensus in a nod of heads. They all agreed and remounted the wagons. He didn't want to see any of her staff injured either. But he doubted any of them would listen to him.
Next time though, Brett thought he would stay with the wagons where he'd be more useful. Let Ena take care of the archers shooting at her from the woods.
And then he wondered—what had she done with the thieves she'd carried off?
Chapter 3
Ena wasn't normally rattled, but when Brett and Jacob had attempted to run down the fae, she feared the archer was leading them farther away from the wagon train and into a trap. She'd seen something like it before and it hadn’t ended well for the pursuers. When Ena and the others finally made camp, and Cook had prepared them a meal of chicken, oven-roasted potatoes, and greens made in the small oven roaster she'd brought with her that they could heat over a fire, Ena explained the danger of leaving their wagons in pursuit of thieves that would lead them away from their party.
"You see," she said, remembering that none of her staff, nor the human Brett, or the wheelsmith Jacob, would know the first thing about fae warfare when thieves were in the act of committing a robbery, "they would lead you farther into the woods and could have a bear trap set for you, wherein you would fall into the pit and if unable to stop the fall in time, you could be skewered on sharp wooden stakes. Or, others in their group would shoot you from a hidden vantage point with the same kind of deadly bolts that the archer was firing at me."
Brett noticed then that Ena's sleeve was cut and her arm was bleeding. "You were hit." Before he could get up from the log he was sitting on and take a look, she scowled at him, discouraging him from making the move.
She
did not need or want the human’s attempt at coddling her. Besides, he looked to have been injured himself.
He raised a brow. "I was in Boy Scouts and learned first aid."
"You were a scout?"
"Boy Scouts. We learned a great many things about wilderness survival, how to shoot a rifle, archery, how to start fires…" He paused.
She smiled.
"But with you, we don't have any need to make our own fire. So about your wound…"
"I'm fine. It is just a scratch."
Despite Ena saying so, her lady's maid, Muriel, hurried to get something to clean it with and a handful of bandages. When was Ena's word not good enough? Ena didn't want the attention. She was a dragon shifter fae—warrior. And it was only a scrape. Besides, their kind healed quickly. Muriel fussed at her anyway, and Ena finally gave in. She was beginning to think she was doing a lot of that lately.
"See to the human," she told Muriel. "He will not heal quickly like us and if he becomes infected and that results in a fever, he could die on us. Then we will have no one to drive his wagon."
Brett smiled a little at Ena and she got the distinct impression he didn't think that was all that she was concerned about. Of course, she didn't want to lose her prisoner so soon after obtaining her first one ever. Especially as useful as he was proving to be. But the problem was that he was also undermining her authority. Never had her staff disobeyed her like they had done once he had arrived at the keep and now on this journey, and she owed it all to Brett's taking risks when he shouldn't have.
Cook asked Addie and Kerry to clean the dishes. Though the ladies were the cleaning maids, they normally didn't touch anything in the kitchen. Out in the woods, Lila appeared to be changing the rules.
Muriel asked Brett to remove his tunic, which he promptly did. Ena should have looked away. Not in embarrassment or because she hadn't seen a man's naked chest before, because she had, but because she didn't want him thinking she was interested in seeing what it looked like. The only reason she even looked was to see how badly he really was injured. She suspected he wouldn't tell her the truth otherwise.
"Oh my," Muriel said.
"Is it really bad?" Ena asked, now worried that she'd have to fly him back to the village to see the healer. She couldn't though. She'd end up risking the treasure and if her people wouldn't obey her, she could see them fighting the thieves on their own all over again and hazard being injured or killed.
Muriel turned toward Ena, her face crimson. "I beg pardon, Mistress. He's just very…"
Brett was smiling.
"Very what?" Ena snapped. All she wanted to know was if he was badly injured or not, for heaven's sakes.
"Nice," Muriel said.
"Nice?" Ena parroted. "What does that mean? When is a wound ever nice?"
Brett chuckled.
Ena shook her head. "I take it that if that's all you can say, he is not badly wounded."
"It doesn't need stitches," Muriel said, "but it is much more than a scratch."
"Do not become feverish on me," Ena warned Brett.
He bowed his head a little. "I will do everything in my power to stay well."
"Do so." Then she glanced again at his chest and wondered just what he had done to keep in such great shape. Killed fae, she imagined.
When Muriel was done, Jacob unsheathed his sword. "I'll go with the lasses." Jacob walked with Kerry and Addie to the nearby river.
"Muriel, Lila, can you cast the warding spells around the camp? Three feet beyond each wagon?" Ena asked. She frowned at herself for having asked the question instead of just giving them an order.
When did she become such a softy? Frowning, they bobbed their heads and went together, though she'd had it in mind they'd be quicker if they went in opposite directions.
She wondered if none of her staff had ever been out in the woods much on their own. And they were afraid. Then she recalled how Muriel didn't like creepy crawly things and snakes were on her list of screamables. Ena sighed.
The river full of rapids, rocks, and whitewater should be enough of a deterrent for anyone who had the foolhardy notion of trying to reach them that way. The cliffs on one side created a great barrier also. That left two sides bounded by the dark woods. Transporting close to any edge of the camp could be accomplished, but thieves wouldn't be able to break through their warding barrier. Some fae could create a barrier over themselves and their properties in a moving wagon train environment, but Ena didn't know any personally who could do such a feat, or she would have hired him or her to join their party.
She looked at Brett who had made up his bedding and was now sitting on it and was quietly watching her across the fire. She'd never been around humans much, really didn't care to bother with their world, so she wasn't used to one that would pay that much attention to her. And she didn't like it.
He winced a little as he pulled his tunic over his head.
"All right, I want to impress upon you that you are not to run off and champion some cause that will get you killed. All my people can heal remarkably fast. You, human, can't."
He smiled at her. "Your concern for me is noted."
She scowled at him.
His smile broadened.
"If I were to lose you, I would have a driverless wagon," she repeated, as if he'd forgotten that was her only consideration where he was concerned. She didn't like how he always twisted her words to make it sound as though she really cared for him. When, she didn't. Well, not as in a more familiar way. She cared for him as much as he could be useful to her.
"Ahh," he said, sounding as if he didn't believe her for a moment.
Aggravating human.
"I do agree that I should stay with the wagon to help protect the women and the treasure," he said, sounding remarkably heroic.
"I didn't say that. I said that you all should vanish. That one of my staff should transport you safely away from the treasure. I'll deal with it and if I can't…" She shrugged, not liking the alternative, but she didn't want to lose any of her people.
"What about you?"
"I can handle myself."
"If you get injured, who's going to take care of you?" he asked, his blue eyes steady on her.
She narrowed her eyes at him. "I am a dragon shifter fae."
He shook his head. "I know you can be injured." He motioned to her bandage, which she didn't even need as far as she was concerned. "And you can be killed."
Which reminded her once again that he was a fae killer.
"So tell me," she said, wanting to switch the subject from her and onto something that she'd wanted to know ever since she'd taken him into her household, "what did the fae ever do to you that warranted your killing them? Princess Alicia certainly hadn't meant you any harm." Ena wondered how many other innocent fae he'd incarcerated and how many of those he'd killed.
"I was nine when I saw my first fae,” Brett said, crossing his legs on his bedding, his look contemplative. “He was maybe eighteen or so in my human years, but who knows how old for real. I had seen him when he was invisible, and I thought I was gifted with the ability to see ghosts—though he didn't look ghostly to me. He wore the most unusual pale blue light all around him. I thought I could help him to see the light."
"You told a fae that you were smarter than him? To his face? When he was invisible to most humans, unless they were fae seers?" she asked, incredulously. Before he could respond, she added, "When you were nine?"
"I thought he was a ghost," Brett said, leaning back on the bedding, his sword lying on the blanket at his right side, the bow and quiver of arrows next to that.
She noted he'd taken very good care of the sword and other weapons and his boots, having removed them, then already wiped off the dew and dirt from them.
"A ghost?" She was confused. "You can talk to ghosts?"
He chuckled. "I thought I could. I didn't know he was of the fae. I didn't think I was smarter than him."
"You said you'd show him the light," she remin
ded him.
"That's ghost talk for directing a spirit stuck in our world to the beyond." He shrugged. "At least that's what all the movies say. ‘Go into the light and you’ll be taken away—find peace, quit haunting Earth.’ I don't know."
Light dawned. "Okay, so how could a nine-year-old human kill a fae who was twice your age in human years?"
"I didn't kill that one. He just got this evilly-amused look as if he finally realized what I meant. Then I thought maybe he was a demon or something and I was in a really bad fix. He said, 'I'm a ghost,' as if amused with the notion. But of course ghosts don't say that."
"They don't?"
"No. I mean, they don't realize they're ghosts, so they wouldn't say they were one."
"What do they think they are?"
"Human still."
She frowned, thinking that was the weirdest thing she'd ever heard.
"Figuring that if he thought I thought he was a ghost, I might be safe if I just played like that's what I believed him to be. 'Right, so since you are a ghost,' I said, 'you need to move to the light and you'll find peace.' I smiled my most genuine 'I'm doing my good deed for the day' smile and he offered me another one of his wickedly deadly smiles back. 'If you want to leave, that is,' I added, trying to be nice and agreeable, like it didn't bother me if he wanted to be a ghost in our world. He nodded, thanked me, and vanished. Totally shaken, I ran all the way home, told my foster mother that I had seen something alien, and she sent me to my room for making up stories. After that, I began researching what I might have seen. Some other boys saw what I was looking at on the computer at the school library, took me aside, and said they'd seen the same thing as me."
"And you began killing the fae who visited your world," Ena said.
"No. We didn't see any more. But we began training, working out. About that time I had a new foster family, and their son was always bullying me, so I began to take martial arts, and his bullying stopped the first time I kneed him in the groin."
