Martus jumped between her and one of the men she was fighting just in time to get a sword wound on his side, right below where his armor ended. He swore loudly, reacting on instinct rather than thinking through what he was doing. His fist shot out and right into the man’s nose. His hand ached, and he even thought his knuckles had split open, but they weren’t bleeding nearly as much as the oozing wound on his hip.
The man grabbed Martus by the hair to pull his head to meet his knee. Before he could get his face broken, Martus shot his elbow into the man’s chin and shocked him into releasing him. Before he could react further, Martus decided against standing up and instead just barreled forward into the man’s stomach.
They both fell to the ground, groaning and cursing. But when the man rolled on top of Martus and drew back to punch him again, his fist stopped a few inches in front of Martus’s face, and he screamed as his flesh burned. Martus had to look away from the peeling to keep himself from vomiting. There was nothing more unsettling than seeing a man burn when there was no fire to hide the charring.
Hal was doing a good job of keeping him safe, and when Martus glanced over to Mel, he saw the man she was fighting had his sword stuck in what looked like thin air. Which reminded Martus to roll out from under the man on top of him and grab his own sword from where he’d dropped it when they fell.
He had hoped when the man’s skin started burning off he would give up the fight, but as soon as he could, he was back on his feet. Using the hand that wasn’t disfigured, the man clung to his sword again and swung wildly at Martus.
Mostly, he was missing, but Martus didn’t want to risk anything. He refused to kill anyone else, though, so instead he grabbed a bottle of liquor they must have been drinking from and dumped it over his feet. It certainly threw the man off, and he stared blankly at Martus before swinging his sword again.
“Hal, I could use a little ice over here!” Martus called over his shoulder, deflecting the blows from the man with his sword. A small burst of blue light around the man’s feet. A chill passed through the room, and his feet were frozen to the floor. He was still trying to catch Martus with the tip of his sword, but now it was easy for Martus to step out of his reach.
While he’d been fighting, every fiber of Martus’s being was filled with energy. His mind had rushed with tactical considerations, and he’d felt incredibly connected from his brain to the hand swinging his sword. As soon as the danger was gone, so was the adrenaline.
All of Martus’s injuries rushed back to him, and he stumbled, his sword clattering to the ground. He felt around his body for all the spots of blood seeping through his shirt. A small groan left his lips every time he touched an open wound. With every drop of blood he lost, Martus could feel his head spinning more, his vision getting blurrier. He felt like his energy was flying out of the cuts in his body.
As much pain as he was in, however, he wasn’t the only one. Mel was in worse shape than he was. She was slumped over against her sword. Which was, at that moment, driven right through the stomach of the man she’d been fighting.
Martus turned his face away from her and threw up on the floor of the cabin.
“Come here, away from that. I have enough magick left to heal at least the worst of these.” Hal appeared at Martus’s side a second later, one hand on his back and the other covering the wound on his hip to apply pressure. Martus brushed his hand away and replaced it with his own, easing some of the blood back into his body, hopefully.
“No, go worry about Mel before me. I can be dramatic, but she is definitely more hurt than I am.” Martus eased himself down the wall, spreading his legs out in front of him. There was a door on the other side of the room, closed and locked, that he guessed Fitzy was behind. But if he were still alive, he could handle not being rescued for a few more minutes.
Hal was frowning and casting worried glances over his shoulder every few seconds at Martus, but he did start to heal Mel. While he did, Martus forced himself back to his feet. Now was not the time to lounge around.
“You, what’s your name?” Martus barely got the words out, and they were more pants than words when he did, but he pointed a finger at the man still frozen to the ground. He snatched the sword out of the man’s hand, taking the risk to step close enough to grab it without getting stabbed. He tossed it to the ground in the opposite direction. “Come on, you’re not doing yourself any favors.” Martus snapped his fingers when the man just glared at him.
“They call me The Crusher.” Perhaps for dramatic effect, he spat a tooth out after he spoke. It landed at Martus’s feet.
“Well, Mr. Crusher,” Martus started, rolling his eyes, but not pressing it. “Tell me, is Fitz—The Hero, is he behind that door? Alive?”
“He don’t have a scratch on ’im. You think we took him, maybe beat him to get him to come with us? No, mate, didn’t need to. Came here by ’imself to pay back his gamblin’ money. Then we just offered him some liquor. These bottles’re all from ’im. Just get him drinking and he goes where we tell him to. Drunk bastard.” He grinned, and there was more than one gap between his teeth. Martus grimaced, looking away.
“What did you just say about my brother?” In a few strides, Mel was across the room, holding the man by his shirt. Her eyes were filled with fire, her wounds not seeming to affect her anymore.
“Said he’s a worthless gamblin’ drunk. You know it, Melly. Always hated him yourself.” The man laughed, perhaps thinking he was getting the last word despite his position.
Mel snarled, ripping her hand away from the man’s shirt and grabbing her knife from her belt in a movement so fast her hand was a blur to Martus. It wasn’t a dramatic movement, no steel slicing through the air, no blood flying along its path. Just a small stab, right through his neck, until the tip poked out the other side. Blood spilled from the wound when she took her knife back and wiped it on her pants, but Martus wasn’t focusing on Crusher anymore.
“Disgusting pig.” Mel shook her head, sliding her knife back into its scabbard. When she glanced up to see Martus staring at her with his mouth hanging open, she rolled her eyes. “What? Would you let someone talk about your sister that way? Try to tell you that you hated her? Didn’t think so.”
“That’s not actually my issue.” Martus honestly didn’t care what Mel’s motivations were anymore. She’d helped them, hadn’t led them into a trap during the whole trip, although she’d had plenty of opportunities. But he wasn’t going to pretend he hadn’t heard what the man said to her. “He seemed to have known you, Melly.”
“Don’t call me that.” Her eyes darkened, and she turned away from Martus, striding over to the door behind which she would hopefully find her brother. She unlocked it and pushed it open quickly. He was passed out in the center of at least a few dozen bottles of liquor. All of them were empty. When she took it all in, Mel’s shoulders slumped and she propped her hand on the doorframe. “I used to work with them. Before I had the shop. I had to get away from my family, even Fitzy. They wanted me, and so they had me. How do you think I learned to fight the way I do? How do you think I taught my brother to fight well enough for them to call him a hero? Anyway, I left within a year. Happy?”
She finally spun to look at Martus and Hal. Her jaw was set, but Martus noticed the watery quality of her eyes. It wasn’t the time to question her, and it wasn’t him she’d betrayed.
“Not particularly. Can you wake him up?” Martus looked over her shoulder at Fitzy. He could tell who he was in an instant. Although he had a lot more wear and tear than them, he looked an incredible amount like Mel and Gerdy. His dark curls would have exactly matched Mel’s if they were a little longer, although they seemed soaked in alcohol for the moment.
“All of this does hurt, and the trip down the mountain is not going to be much fun. Anything you can do?” He directed his next statement toward Hal, choosing to look away from the sad sight of Fitzy.
“I can try.” Mel stepped into the room and squatted down beside her brothe
r, slapping him right in the face. Martus winced, but when Fitzy didn’t even flinch, let alone wake up, he felt a little less guilty. He’d been in the same situation once or twice himself. Sometimes it just took what it took.
“Come sit down here. I’ll do what I can for your arm and your hip. I… I’m sorry, I don’t think I have the magick left to do the rest.” If Hal had looked exhausted before, he looked like a corpse now. Martus knew casting spells could take it out of a person, but Hal looked worse than he’d ever seen him. If he’d had the energy, he would have tried to cast a rejuvenation spell on Hal himself.
“You have done more than enough, Hal, truly. You deserve the rest.” Martus raised his hand to pat Hal’s shoulder weakly. If any of them made their way down the mountain in the state they were in, he would count it a miracle.
Hal just offered Martus a small smile and set to focusing on his wounds. A chill passed through Martus’s whole body when Hal healed the wound at his hip. It was refreshing, calming, but also painful. Martus bit down on his lip and dealt with the pain. Once his wounds were healed together to the best of Hal’s abilities, Martus summoned his voice once again.
“Tell me, how do you feel? Still… in control?” Obviously Hal wasn’t the size of a building and breathing fire, but Martus wanted to be sure he had a good grip on himself.
“I’m too exhausted to change again, don’t worry.” Hal stood from Martus’s side, his tone echoing bitterness. When he pushed his hair back from his face in frustration, there were deep creases in his forehead that seemed to have developed there in only the past few hours.
“I’m only worried about you.” Martus stood too, taking Hal’s hands into his own. He tried to meet the other boy’s eyes, but Hal very pointedly looked away from him. “Hey, I trust you. You didn’t hurt me even when you were all big and scary. I want to make sure you’re comfortable.” Martus smiled, hoping that taking a lighter tone would help the mood.
“It’s okay to be afraid. I would be. For now, you’re safe,” Hal said softly, still not looking up at Martus. Just as he was about to speak again, their conversation was interrupted by a voice from the small room Fitzy had been kept in.
“Bloody hell! Mel, what’re you doing here?” When Martus leaned around Hal to peek through the door, Fitzy was rubbing the back of his head, and Mel was standing over him with one of the bottles from the ground.
“I came to rescue you because you’re such an idiot! Do you know they were going to kill you? Or were you too blind drunk to even realize you’d been kidnapped?” Mel helped Fitzy to his feet, but as soon as he was standing she started slapping his arms.
It was clearly a matter between the two siblings, but Martus spotted something that made him step in the middle of it.
“Uh, Mel. I think he probably realized.” Martus cleared his throat, nodding to Fitzy’s left hand. His pinky finger was completely missing. No sign of a bandage or it having been treated whatsoever. Just a little stump where his finger should have been and some dry blood around it.
“I wasn’t actually that drunk, Sis. I mean, I was drinking down in town, like I always do, and then I came up here. I didn’t know they took it back. I thought you might have told me that.” Fitzy rubbed his arm where she’d smacked him. Then he looked over at Martus and Hal. “You never needed any help against these fools, so why’d you bring tagalongs?”
“Actually, she’s technically the tagalong,” Martus piped up, extending his hand to Fitzy. “I’m Martus, this is Hal. Your mother hired us to come and get you. I don’t know why she thought the ‘Hero Jameson’ would need saving, but I’m glad we got here before you lost any more fingers.”
“Ha,” Fitzy scoffed, a look of disgust passing over his face before he grinned. “Are they still calling me that? I always thought if I drank and gambled enough they might realize I just tend to stumble into trouble. Guess it’s back to signing autographs and telling the same story a hundred times, though. Wouldn’t want our dear old mum to worry.”
“Exactly. And she is very worried. And we’re getting paid for this, a lot. So let’s get you home. I promise there’ll be plenty of time for you two to argue on the way down the mountain.”
“Don’t give her any ideas.” Fitzy rubbed the back of his neck as he looked over at Mel, his feet fidgeting. His posture wasn’t much different than Elsaben’s when she did something wrong.
“Let’s get back to the inn,” Mel said. “Some of them are only passed out downstairs, and we don’t need any more fighting on our hands. Especially with you in this disgusting state. We’ll talk more about this when we’re alone.” She bent down and grabbed a bottle that was only half-empty from the floor, dumping the entire contents over her brother’s hand. He cried out in pain, clinging to the stump where his finger had been as it foamed.
Martus looked away and started down the stairs. He didn’t need to get in the middle of Mel’s business any further. As soon as they stepped outside, Martus drew his coat tighter around him. Dashing around and fighting had gotten Martus’s blood pumping, and it was warmer in the cabin, besides. The frozen air of the mountain couldn’t have been a sharper contrast.
“You know, another thing, what do you think you’re doing going away without even telling your mother?”
Mel didn’t seem to be in the mood to wait until they got back to the inn to hash out her problems with Fitzy.
Martus sighed, exchanging a glance with Hal. They both got ready for a very long journey down the mountain.
Chapter Eight
BY THE time they got back to the inn, Martus was incredibly glad they’d gotten a room separate from Mel’s because she took Fitzy with her. They’d fought like cats and dogs all the way down the mountain. Everything either one of them had done wrong since they were children must have been brought up for all the arguments they had. Martus could barely even remember what the two had been fighting about in the beginning. He hoped he and Elsaben weren’t like that when she got older.
Even if Mel and Fitzy were still fighting in their room, Martus and Hal were back in their own, and Elsaben was safe in bed and still fast asleep. He was completely ready to just pass out. It was the first night when he really felt he’d be able to sleep without waking up halfway through it to make sure no one was lingering in the doorway ready to attack them.
Martus didn’t even have to convince Hal to come to bed with him. He was tired enough to crawl in himself and wait for Martus to join him. Even though she hadn’t moved an inch since they’d been gone, Martus had to check Elsaben before he went to sleep himself.
He sat on the bed beside her for a few minutes, just stroking her hair and watching her back rise and fall to reassure himself that she was still breathing. It was too easy for people to die; it was too dangerous in this damn town. But his little sister was okay, Hal was okay, and he was okay. That was enough for now.
Martus left Elsaben with a kiss on the top of her head and picked her stuffed rabbit off the floor by the bed where it must have fallen. He tucked it gently back into her arms, careful not to wake her when he did. She shifted, but only to pull the toy closer to her chest and bury her face back into the pillow.
Once he was sure she wouldn’t stir, Martus crawled into bed beside Hal. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he was out for the night.
THEY SLEPT in the next day, for what felt like the first time in forever. Even Elsaben, who’d gone to bed several hours before them, slept until midday. It was the difference between being on the hard ground and actually sleeping in a bed, probably. When she did wake Hal and Martus, though, it was after they’d gotten their fair share of rest.
“Where’s Mel?” As Elsaben ate some breakfast from what they had in their bags, she looked up at Martus curiously.
“Oh, she has her own room. We’ll see her today, though. She has her brother, Fitzy, with her too. We’re all going to go home,” Martus promised her as he brushed her hair out. She was too smart to have forgotten that Mel’s brother was who she knew as �
�The Hero Jameson,” so he decided he should give her a brief warning to be polite. “He’s been through a lot this trip. A… big, wonderful adventure, but he may not want to talk about it. If he doesn’t, you mustn’t bother him about it. All right, Els?”
“Mar, I’m not going to bother him.” Elsaben sighed, playing with the sandwich she was eating, peeling the crusts off the edges to eat them separately. “Is Hal okay?”
Hal was sitting on the bed still, although it had been at least an hour since they’d all woken up. The dark circles weren’t gone completely from under his eyes, but they’d at least faded somewhat, and overall he looked a lot better. Until he formed the saddest facial expression Martus had ever seen. His eyes were empty, and he wasn’t even frowning. His mouth just rested in a straight line.
It was like his body was still there, but his thoughts and personality had been taken away from him completely. When Martus looked into his eyes, they didn’t focus at all, didn’t flick up to meet his, absolutely nothing.
Martus sighed.
“I think he’s just tired, El. I’m sure he’ll feel better by the time we get back home.” Martus wasn’t going to count on that himself. While Elsaben got dressed, he needed to have a word with Hal. If something was going on, he needed to know about it.
“Hmph. He’s acting weird.” Elsaben finished the last of her sandwich and crossed her arms.
“Be nice. You’re grumpy sometimes too.” Martus smiled, tickling her until she laughed. Then he bent to kiss her cheek. “Go get some clean clothes on, all right? Pants if you have some with you. We’re going to be riding all day to get home.”
“Okay.” Elsaben returned Martus’s kiss and then hopped down from the chair, running over to her bag.
Behind the Tales Page 10
