Blood of the Falcon, Volume 2 (The Falcons Saga)

by Ellyn, Court

  When the ache continued through half the day, he remembered the pain he’d suffered atop Windgate Pass. He’d sent Saffron immediately to see to his brother. Fairies could travel from Windhaven to Avidanyth in a day, perhaps skip space altogether, so Kieryn could find no reason for the delay. Or her deafness. She had never ignored him before. Something was terribly wrong. Could danger befall a fairy? Hawks or ogres, perhaps?

  Zellel provided no explanation either. He sat at the library table looking glum and distant. Studies of Elaran and the elements had all but ceased; Kieryn couldn’t concentrate.

  Sitting beside Zellel, Rhoslyn asked, “Has the pain stopped?”

  “No.”

  Rhoslyn rose and joined him at the window, put a hand to his brow. “Are you sure you’re not the one who’s sick?”

  He brushed her hand aside, more fiercely than he meant to. How could she ask him that? “If it’s me, why hasn’t Saffron come back to tell me Kelyn’s fine?”

  She didn’t have an answer and Kieryn didn’t expect one.

  That evening at supper, he couldn’t eat. The pain had dulled to a consistent, low throb, and his fears resolved into nothing enlightening. Rhoslyn and her aunt tried to carry a casual conversation, but in the end dined in stiff silence. Just as the under-butlers were delivering the dessert course, Saffron appeared with the suddenness of a wick catching flame. The servants rattled the trays in their fear, but otherwise pretended not to see, as if Saffron’s existence were a scandal to be overlooked.

  “You must come!” Saffron cried and whisked for the door.

  Kieryn pursued. “Wait, where the hell have you been? How is he?”

  Barely pausing in her headlong flight, she said, “He’s here! We had to go slowly. I gave him water when he was lucid and took what infection from him I could.”

  Lucid? Infection? Kieryn ran the length of the Grand Corridor and followed Saffron’s bright streamers into the dark courtyard. “Open the gates!” he cried to the sentries.

  The bronze doors lurched open, and against the dark gulf beyond the cliffs, he saw a horse and rider slowly approaching. Kelyn was hunched over Chaya’s neck, and the warhorse plodded along, exhausted. Kieryn ran to them, seized the reins, and called his brother’s name. Kelyn didn’t respond. His left arm hung limply against Chaya’s shoulder, and dark rivulets of blood had dried on his fingers.

  “Oh, by Ana, Kelyn, can you hear me? Saffron, why didn’t you take him to Ilswythe? Wasn’t it closer?”

  “Aye, but not safer.”

  He turned to look at her, a dull, sad glow in the night.

  At the sound of their voices, Kelyn raised his head. In the light of the moons, he looked deathly pale; a shimmer of sweat gleamed on his brow. He uttered nonsense, “Dragons, Da … and cold.” He went limp and slipped from the saddle. Kieryn caught him and shouted for help. The sentries were already on their way, racing along the road.

  “Stay with me, brother,” Kieryn pled, tugging Kelyn toward the gate. “I can’t lose you.”

  ~~~~

  44

  He heard voices. Far away. Drawing nearer. Muffled. Now clear, as if the cotton of unconsciousness had been pulled from his ears.

  “We need to do it now.”

  “Not till he wakes up.”

  “But, my lord, the infection—”

  “Not till he wakes! The infection hasn’t killed him yet. He’ll live another day. I’ll make certain of it.”

  “We don’t want the wound to putrefy.”

  “I understand that, but we’ll wait, to make sure he’s strong enough.”

  Kelyn wanted to shout back that he was strong enough. But all that came out was a groan. The voices stopped. Warmth enveloped his right hand. So good to feel warmth. Soft bed, clean sheets, heavy comforters. Minty silverthorn mixed with scents of soap and firewood. He had fallen asleep on the floor of Lanwyck Manor, that’s right. And Lady Briéllyn had detained him. She must’ve come to fetch him, put him on the chopping block to saw off his arm. He shook his head. Not yet. “Have to go,” he muttered and tried to rise. Arms pushed him back down. He wanted to fight, but he had no more strength than a kitten. “Have to tell them!”

  “Kelyn,” soothed a familiar voice. “You can talk later. It’s over. You’re safe.”

  Had his eyelids been sewn shut? So hard to open them. Light from somewhere assaulted them like the sun. Maybe it was the sun, and backlit against it, a figure, tall, dark hair. “Da?”

  “No, Kelyn, it’s me.”

  The voice was gentler than Da’s, and only Kieryn wore rumpled linen shirts and called them good enough. A grin tugged at Kelyn’s mouth. Satisfied that he was where he needed to be, he let his eyes close again.

  ~~~~

  He felt as if he’d slept for days, but when he woke, the light beaming through a pair of windows seemed unchanged. Kieryn sat nearby. He was serenely copying notes from one piece of parchment to another. When he saw Kelyn was awake, he leaned forward in his chair and pressed a hand to Kelyn’s brow and frowned. “Dumb as an ox. I thought you were smart enough not to walk into an arrow’s path.”

  Laughter rose into Kelyn’s throat, escaped as a cough. “Shoulda been,” he said. “Did you cut it out?”

  Kieryn sat back, smug. “Nah, I won that fight. You get to be fully awake to experience all that fun. In other words, you should recover your strength first. You still have a nice, boiling fever. But I managed to pull some more of the infection out of you.”

  Kelyn’s quizzical expression won him a grin.

  “A little avedra trick. Zellel’s been teaching me. I experimented on you. Hope you don’t mind.”

  Kelyn groaned in reply.

  His brother indicated a chest-of-drawers where Kelyn’s garments lay cleaned and folded, the chainmail and plate armor on a dummy rack. “Why didn’t you write and tell me Rhorek accepted you into the Guard?”

  “No time. Just happened. Then we were off to Leania.”

  Kieryn nodded gravely. “We received a runner from Mithlan this morning. She said Fierans had crossed the border and engaged our people at Slaenhyll, of all forsaken places. I assume you were there.”

  “Hell, yes.”

  “I felt it, you know,” Kieryn went on. “The pain from that arrow. Quite pleasant. And I’ll bet you have one hell of a scar on your right thigh.”

  “You … felt it?” Kelyn asked, incredulous.

  “The perquisite of being a twin.” Kieryn’s smirk was short-lived. “The runner also said Tírandon was razed. Is that true?”

  Kelyn stared a moment. “What? No …” That’s where the Fieran host was headed, but razed? Impossible. Yet it must be true. “Poor bastard.”

  “Who?”

  “Leshan.”

  “He’s strong. He’ll be all right.”

  Kelyn shook his head. “You haven’t seen him, what fighting has done to him.”

  “It’s Mum and Da we ought to be concerned about. I’ll send a shulla with a message to Mother, tell her where you are and that you’re going to be fine. Though I can’t imagine how angry Da was when he found you missing.”

  Kelyn cast him dark, questioning glare. “You know about Tírandon, but you don’t know about Da?”

  Kieryn’s smirk withered. When Kelyn couldn’t find the words, he demanded, “What about him?”

  “Fieran pike, Kieryn. He’s dead.”

  “You’re delirious. You dreamt it. You spoke to him. You thought I was him. He’s still alive.”

  “I was there, damn it! I carried him from the field. He gave me his helmet and told me to keep fighting. When I came back, he was dead. We burned him on Slaenhyll. I gathered his ashes myself.”

  Kieryn pushed himself away from the bed. Papers scattered. He stared out the sun-bright window in silence.

  “He wanted me to tell you … ,” Kelyn began. What had Da said? “The last words he spoke to me were a request. He wanted you to know he was proud of you.”

  “Don’t lie to me to make me feel be
tter.”

  “I’m not! Goddess, I wish you’d heard him yourself.”

  “A vain wish.”

  Kelyn could see Kieryn’s face reflected in the glass. Frowning, he peered inward, seeing things that had been, things that could never be. An expression of bitter regret.

  He turned abruptly. “Does Mother know?”

  “Surely by now.” Kelyn tried to sit up. His arms shook. “We have to go to her.”

  Kieryn returned to the bedside and pushed Kelyn back to the pillows. “You’re not going anywhere for several more days. I’ll go.”

  “Go now. Tomorrow.”

  “Not till I see that arrow out of you. And it won’t come out till you have strength again, and that won’t happen unless you eat something. You hungry?”

  Though Kelyn nodded, he puzzled over Kieryn’s brusque, unemotional manner.

  “Good,” he said, “I’ll get you something. While I’m gone, get some rest. Don’t move, I mean it, and I’ll be right back.”

  Quietly closing the door to the Blue Room, Kieryn felt himself trembling. He wasn’t two steps toward the stairs before his knees gave out. He buried his head in his arms to muffle the sound of his grief.

  His father, proud of him? What had changed his mind? The Lady herself had predicted it, though Kieryn hadn’t believed it. But now Da was dead, and it was too late for Kieryn to tell him, to show him … anything at all.

  ~~~~

  To hasten Kieryn’s departure, Kelyn insisted the next day that he was strong enough for the arrow to be taken out. Kieryn protested, but Harac’s chief physician—one of many on staff since the duke had taken ill—would not surrender so easily a second time. He laid out his instruments and applied a strong anesthetic to Kelyn’s shoulder, but he still felt the need to apologize. “This won’t be comfortable, I’m afraid.” The old man bound Kelyn’s left arm tightly at his side, while Kieryn would hold onto his right and the physician’s assistants his legs.

  Lying on a table brought in for the procedure, Kelyn looked calm enough. “Are your things packed yet?”

  “Sure,” Kieryn lied. “But Mother is not my concern right now.”

  “What, you worried about me? It’s just one little arrow.” For all his brave talk, his fear revealed itself in the desperation with which he gripped Kieryn’s hand. “I suppose it’s too late for me to get drunk?”

  The surgeon nodded at his assistants and pinched the protruding end of the arrow shaft with a clamp. “If we’re ready then, I need you to try to relax, m’ lord.”

  Kelyn cast him a scathing scowl.

  “Right,” the physician muttered, and Kieryn placed his free hand upon the opposing side of Kelyn’s face to turn his glance away from the wound. “Look at me and tell me how it happened.”

  Kelyn winced as the physician went to work, probing and tugging. The ache manifested in Kieryn’s shoulder again. After a while, Kelyn forced an answer through his teeth. “I lowered my shield to talk to Lissah—”

  “Lissah, the grouchy lieutenant? You took an arrow for her?”

  “She’s not … she’s worth it.”

  Kelyn’s grip tightened, his eyes clenched, and the sympathy pain in Kieryn’s shoulder intensified, taking his breath. He glared at the old man, but the physician took no notice. “You couldn’t have been luckier, m’ lord,” he said, digging a bit deeper. “The arrow appears to have nicked the collar bone, but it missed the lung and arteries. You’d be dead by now, otherwise.”

  “I’m positively joyful,” Kelyn bit.

  “Exactly how worth it is she?” Kieryn asked, and Kelyn relaxed a measure, but the pain didn’t ebb. He answered with a half grin, but said nothing.

  Kieryn snickered. “Finally learned what ‘discretion’ means?”

  Kelyn nodded, then winced. The surgeon jerked suddenly with his clamp and pulled the shaft free.

  The tension melted from Kelyn’s body. “That it?”

  The surgeon frowned at the six inches of shaft. “Well, that’s bad news. Body fluids loosened the head from the shaft. Gotta go back in.”

  “Shit,” Kelyn sighed and turned his face away. Through the contact in their hands, Kieryn received the image of a bottle of Doreli red. “I’m gonna need a drink after this myself.” The surgeon selected new instruments from the tray. The assistants pressed down Kelyn’s knees, and the surgeon weaseled his way to the core of the wound. Kelyn let out a cry despite his effort to bar it behind his teeth. His grip nearly crushed Kieryn’s hand, and he kicked so violently that he flung one of the assistants into the wall. With all haste, the man dived back to his post.

  “Ah!” the surgeon cried triumphantly, lifted his clamp again and frowned. A broken ring of chainmail. He tossed it aside and kept digging. He fished out a fragment of undershirt and something that might should’ve been left in there, but no arrowhead.

  When Kelyn’s eyes opened again, his pupils had dilated, nearly swallowing the blue irises. His heart hammered dangerously. “Goddess, he’s going into shock! Stop! Wait a minute, you son of a bitch,” Kieryn ordered, but the surgeon didn’t relent.

  “Almost,” he said. “Hold on. Talk to him.”

  Kieryn obeyed. With a calm he didn’t feel, he said, “Brother, you have to listen to me. Keep your eyes focused on mine. It’s just one little arrow. It won’t last forever. I have a war story, too, you know. Want to hear it? Damn it, nod your head at me, Kelyn!”

  Though his entire body began shaking, he managed a shallow nod.

  “See there?” Kieryn provided a glimpse of the green stripes on his wrists.

  “Avedra … badges?” grunted Kelyn.

  “Elven, actually.”

  “Liar.” Kelyn’s head snapped back and he howled in anguish.

  “Aw, come on,” Kieryn pled. “Hurry, will you?”

  The surgeon swiped a bloody hand across his forehead. “Arrow’s penetrated the scapula, but I’ve found it at any rate. Just a bit more.”

  Kieryn growled a wicked curse, then turned Kelyn’s face back to him. “Do you want to hear my story or not? These marks, they’re elven marks of valor, can you believe it?”

  “What … did you … ?”

  “Ogres,” Kieryn replied. “They are real, and I killed three of them.”

  Through their contact, Kieryn projected the images of his memories into Kelyn’s mind. He hoped the images would distract him. “I was sleeping in Avidan Wood with elves all around me and trees as tall as mountains, when suddenly Zellel—you’ll meet him later—kicks me in the ribs and wakes me up and says ogres are coming to attack us. One of the elves puts a blade in my hand and tells me to kill as many ogres as I can before they kill us and feast on our bones. I’m standing atop this hill—”

  Kelyn’s head rose off the table. “No more bloody hills!”

  “—and three of the ugliest brutes you can imagine come barging through the underbrush.”

  He sent Kelyn an picture of mottled flesh and warts and yellow tusks and red eyes and wicked axes, and Kelyn returned a picture of Zhiani mercenaries. “I run for the bow in my saddle and fell the first ogre with an arrow through his throat.”

  “He has my sympathy,” Kelyn muttered weakly.

  “The second I gutted with the sword. You impressed? The last I blasted with lightning just like I did Johrn the assassin, and—you’ll really like this bit—I saved a lovely elven maiden in the bargain. How’s that for a war story?”

  “You’re full of shit,” Kelyn said.

  “I have the marks to prove it. Like you,” he said grinning.

  The surgeon lowered his hand for Kelyn to see. A bloody arrowhead lay in his palm. “You’ll want to keep it, I suppose.”

  Kelyn took the arrowhead greedily and fell back, sweat-soaked and exhausted. The surgeon applied more anesthetic before cleaning out the rotten flesh and stitching up the hole, then piled on all manner of stinging unguents and disinfectants. But anything must’ve been a relief after the pain of someone burrowing around in his innards,
and so he slept.

  ~~~~

  When next he woke, the soft melon-colored sunlight was fading in a violet sky. Someone in the half-dark bathed his face with a damp, scented cloth. “Thought you might sleep the night away,” said a female voice. His caretaker leaned in close, and Kelyn recognized Rhoslyn’s haughty, mischievous grin. “How do you feel?” she asked.

  Kelyn groaned. He could tell his fever had broken because he was sweltering under the heavy blankets. “Kieryn?”

  “Oh, he’s long gone,” she said, sounding unhappy about it. “He rode out about noon, though he left the warning that you weren’t to get worse and die while he was gone.”

  “Hnh, I think the worst is over.” He was miserably hot and needed to kick off the covers but couldn’t as long as the Duchess was in the room.

  “He left you in my care, though he was sure you’d fuss about it.”

  “Not to your face, Your Ladyship.”

  Rhoslyn laughed and soaked the cloth in the basin. “Doc says your left arm is to remain immobile for as long as possible, which means a sling for several weeks.”

  “I don’t have several weeks. I’d like to rejoin the Guard before Jareg marks me as a deserter.”

  “No need. I’ll send him a letter personally. It’s the least I can do for my … for Kieryn.”

  “Aw, thanks.”

  She laughed and ducked her eyes as though she were embarrassed. About what, Kelyn couldn’t guess.

  “He also said I should be the one to tell you,” she added, “knowing how well you approve of me. But only under the condition that you feel strong enough to take it.”

  “Take what?” The lengthy preamble made him suspicious.

  Her smile told all.

  Kelyn crowed at the ceiling. “That dragon spawn is to have his heart’s desire? A dukedom? I can’t believe it.”