Kestral gripped my right wrist, turning it over, his fingers scrambling beneath the cuff. I tried to help him without revealing my own plan. My light-fingered left hand untied the small crossbow from his belt. It was still loaded from our fight with Laki. All I had to do was aim.
“Tell me, did Cera cry at the end?” Eagan asked, eyes hot with fury.
“She never saw it coming,” Velyn hissed. “And neither will you.”
In the midst of thunder booming and trees lashing, Kestral whipped one of my throwing knives free, hurling it at Velyn’s neck. I fired the crossbow over his shoulder, aiming for Eagan’s chest. A lightning bolt redirected itself, blasting the knife out of the air and a roar of flame leapt from the ground, consuming the crossbow bolt, but before either brother could react, Kestral vaulted into Shan’s saddle, hauling me along with him. Shan took off like a hunter’s arrow, racing through the woods at a reckless canter. I nearly tumbled free at the sudden start, but Kestral tightened his grip around my chest. Every step the horse took was pure agony. Pain lanced through my ribs, making it difficult to draw a breath. It all became too much, and my vision slowly faded to black.
Chapter 5
Consciousness came back to me slowly, like water seeping through wood. The smell of old manure and hay guided me back from the realms of sleep. I was flat on my back, something soft cushioning my head. I forced my eyes to open and found myself looking up at wooden planks high above me. Rays of light filtered through the tiny gaps between the planks. Motes of dust and hay danced in the light, dizzyingly fast, and I shut my eyes again with a groan.
“Don’t sit up,” an emotionless voice ordered.
I ignored him and tried to sit up. My right side burned as if on fire and I lay back down.
“I told you not to sit up.”
I twisted to my left this time, getting one arm beneath me to push myself up into a sitting position. “Where are we?”
“Abandoned barn.” Kestral sat somewhere to my right.
I struggled to turn without hurting myself. Near the back wall of the barn, Shan sifted through windblown piles of leaves, picking out pieces of hay.
“You should lie still.”
I was naked to the waist, except for the bandage wrapped tightly around my broken ribs. I had been lying on my cloak with my shirt balled up beneath my head. A familiar fear crept up on me and I checked to ensure my pants hadn’t slid down my waist. Reassured, I looked around. “How did we get . . . are you—” My stomach rolled, and I begged myself not to vomit; that would surely only cause more pain to my ribs. “Are you stitching your own leg?”
Kestral glanced up from his seat on an old crate. Soot was stuck to his face where blood had dried, though a fresh trickle seeped through his messy hair. He had slipped out of one of his pant legs and was, most definitely, sewing up a long wound on his outer thigh. “Lie back down before you hurt yourself.”
This time I listened, lowering myself carefully and lying on my left side, right arm hugging my aching ribs. I took a few moments to catch my breath and swallow down the urge to be sick. Of course Kestral was sewing himself back up. That was probably battlefield injury treatment lesson one. I simply couldn’t bear to watch. Once my stomach settled and I heard the rustle of clothing, I lifted myself carefully again. After lacing up his pants and pulling his boot back on, Kestral walked steadily over to me, betraying neither pain nor limp. He stood over me, looking down at me as I rested on my left elbow.
“Was it true when you told your brother you can’t shift while injured?”
Shrugging was difficult and a little painful. “Did it set off your liar’s brand?”
“You lived with a fairy. You know there are variable degrees of truth.”
I sighed. “I can’t shift with broken bones. Superficial injuries don’t bother me, but broken bones tear me up if I try to shift.”
“So, you’re stuck like this?”
“Don’t sound so disappointed.” I grinned up at him. “This is my prettiest form, after all.”
“Hm.” Kestral walked back to the box he had been sitting on, where he’d set up an array of ointments, bandages and jars of powder. “Are you injured anywhere else?”
I did a quick inventory. I had accumulated several cuts and bruises that I couldn’t recall receiving, but nothing that required attention. I was grateful that Kestral hadn’t tried to fully undress me to check for injuries. After relaying this information, Kestral began packing away his supplies.
“What about your head?” I asked. Fresh blood oozed down his face, but Kestral merely swiped at it in annoyance.
“What about my—” Kestral stopped, noticing blood on his hand for the first time. “That’s not mine.”
“Dust it’s not yours, it keeps coming out of your hair.” I grunted, forcing myself to my feet. “One of the flying critters must have fallen on you at some point in the fight.”
Kestral wet a hand cloth and scrubbed the side of his face. He grimaced as it came away covered in ash and blood.
“Let me get it,” I offered, placing a hand on his chest to press him down onto the box. I didn’t press hard—I couldn’t—but Kestral sat. I used the wet cloth to clean his face. As I wiped away some of the congealed blood around his hairline, more dripped down. “How does this not hurt?”
Kestral shrugged. “None of it hurts much any more.”
“Some day you’ll have to tell me what types of battles you’ve been through so that head injuries don’t hurt any more.”
“Some day you’ll have to tell me about growing up in Giltner.”
I shook my head, holding his head still so I could peer through his thick hair. “Goldwater Whiskey, remember? Lots of it. Sorry if this stings.” I found the cut and pressed the cloth to it. Kestral didn’t flinch, merely grunted and withstood the paltry amount of pressure I could apply. “What do you have to clean it with?”
“Here.” He held up a bottle of brown liquid. “Does it need stitching?”
“If it does, we’re going to have to find a priest. Can’t help you with stitches.” I poured the brown, acrid liquid over the cut. “It’s not that big, really. It is bleeding a lot, though.”
“Head wounds usually do. Use this.” Kestral held up a bottle of clear liquid and a small brush, the kind women used to paint their lips.
“What is that?”
“It’s like a glue. For skin.” Kestral pushed the bottle at me. “Just smear it over the cut while holding the skin together.”
“Ugh, I did not sign up for this.” With a grimace, I wet the brush and painted it over the cut, trying to ignore the blood still oozing from the wound.
“You didn’t expect injuries on your path to vengeance?” Kestral asked. It seemed like I was more bothered by his head wound than he was.
“I expected that once I found vengeance, I’d be too dead to worry about injuries.” I held the cut closed, giving the liquid time to dry. “So where are we on the whole vengeance thing if Eagan kills Velyn?”
“It looked far more likely that Velyn would kill Eagan. In either case, the one who walks away will be all that much more powerful.”
“Yeah, they both have double powers now, so one of them could have four times the power.” I ruffled Kestral’s hair and stepped away. The glue appeared to be working, which was good. I really would have been sick if he tried stitching his own head wound closed. “If Laurana’s kids keep killing each other, there aren’t going to be any bounties for you hunters to collect.”
Kestral tossed his head back and laughed. Just like on the first day I met him it was long and loud and hard. I would have found it more amusing if I wasn’t half-worried it was caused by his head injury. I found Kestral’s waterskin on the floor, took a long draught and waited for him to stop. When he finally caught his breath, Kestral’s eyes were bright and clear, still smiling as he met my eyes. Slowly, the smile faded.
“Can your family find you?”
I shrugged. “Velyn has Cera’s far-sight
, so maybe. If he can use it like she did.”
Kestral nodded, thoughtful. “Eagan had some trouble using Laki’s power. Velyn could be struggling with Cera’s.”
“Maybe.” I touched my hair with my left hand, dismayed at the mess it was in after our battle and subsequent escape. I pulled the tie out and tried to smooth it back one-handedly. “Why do you ask?”
“We probably need to keep moving.” Kestral watched me for a moment. “Hopefully their battle continues awhile so we can get farther away. Stop. You’re going to hurt yourself.”
“Breathing hurts me, but I’m not going to stop doing that,” I countered, painfully raising my right arm to fix my hair.
Kestral stood, striding right to me and taking my elbow. “Sit down.”
“Don’t tell me what to—Ugh!” Kestral barely turned my arm before the radiating pain through my ribs cut me off. With light touches, Kestral turned me and pushed me back to sit on the box he had been using. I curled my arm defensively around my chest while Kestral stepped behind me, smoothing my hair back. “I don’t want it to look like yours.”
“It already does,” Kestral replied. “I couldn’t make it worse if I tried.”
A clever response came to me, but I swallowed it. He hurt me even when he was trying to be gentle; goading him while in a vulnerable position just seemed like a poor idea. After a minute or two, he held out his hand for the tie. I passed it over and he tied off my tail. It sat a little higher than I usually liked, but overall it was better than I could have done with only my left hand.
“Thanks,” I said, patting at my hair.
Kestral shrugged, looking away. He gave a soft whistle and Shan trotted up, looking fresher after his rest. As he prepared Shan for a ride, I went to my pile of clothes and pulled them back on, awkwardly tying on my cloak using only one hand. When I looked back, Kestral was holding Shan by the reins. “Mount up.”
“Me?” I chuckled, gently rubbing my side. “I can’t ride like this. And you said he can’t carry us both.”
“He can’t. I’m going to lead. You’re going to rest your ribs.” Kestral had his usual expressionless face back. “It’s going to take months for you to heal completely. Walking will only stress your injury.”
“No, I can probably get over this in about a week.” I eyed Shan warily; his ears were half-pinned even though he stood perfectly still. “Less, if you let me draw deeply.”
Kestral backed Shan up a step to glare at me. “What?”
I shrugged. “I heal quickly. In my sleep. Life force is restorative. It restores me.”
Kestral blinked, then stared off for a moment, thinking deeply. “All right. There’s a chance then. Mount up.”
“Um . . .” I stared up at the saddle, wondering just how I was to get up without hurting myself. With a sigh, Kestral led Shan to the box, which was much easier to climb. A quick hop had me in the saddle, one hand down to steady myself, the other holding my side. “So where are we going?”
“For now, just away.” Kestral led Shan to the entrance of the barn, looking around carefully before stepping out. “I want as much distance between you and them as possible.”
“Aw.” I grinned down at Kestral. “It’s almost like you care about me.”
Kestral glanced back quickly, then looked ahead again. “Keep quiet. Laki could talk to trees, remember?”
“Yeah, but Eagan—” A dark look from Kestral shut me up. With a grumble, I agreed to the silence. Talking hurt anyway. So did riding. And everything, really. How could normal people allow injuries to heal naturally? It seemed so inconvenient. To keep myself from talking, I rooted around in Kestral’s saddle bags until I found an apple. Shan rolled an eye back at me as I crunched into it. I grinned and taunted him with the fruit wickedly. The horse responded by intentionally tripping over a root, jarring my ribs. Well played, beast. Well played.
Two of my siblings were dead and two others were murderers. Cera’s death still weighed on me, an ache in my chest different from the broken ribs but just as sharp. She had been the only one I had known before this whole adventure began, even if I had only known her as a voice in my dreams. All she had wanted was for Laurana’s children to stand united. And now two of us were dead.
Maybe three, after Eagan and Velyn’s fight ended. Or four, if they killed each other, but I probably wasn’t that lucky. Who was left, then? Just my sisters, Kila and Reina. I didn’t know anything at all about Reina. I could probably pass her in a tavern and never recognize her. But Kila was easily found, a hardened warrior who slew all who came against her. Should I try to find her next? If what Laki said was true, she would be willing to fight whichever brother emerged victorious from this latest battle. But what if she turned on me? There was no way I could stand against someone who killed without even using her magic.
But I’ve got Kestral, I thought, watching him walk along beside Shan. She couldn’t be stronger than him, right? So far no one has been stronger than Kestral. Not without magic, at least.
I considered the idea of asking Kila for help as Kestral eventually led us back to a path wide enough to be called a road. The sky was still darkly overcast, but it wasn’t raining on the road. Towers of smoke rose up between the clouds. I supposed the battle was still raging. A powerful feeling hit me hard enough to make my ribs hurt. It was like a cross between relief and gratitude at Kestral for getting me away from my brothers. If not for him, I would have been dead at Velyn’s feet over a week ago.
Kestral led Shan along the road well after sunset. I nodded off in the saddle, nearly slipping off at one point until Kestral prodded me awake. I started as I realized we had left the woods and were on a fairly open road between farms. My chest tightened as I frantically searched for a hiding place. As a shapeshifter, I could usually hide in plain sight, but while stuck in my human form, I needed something more substantial than a bedroll under an open sky.
“Kestral, where—”
He pointed. “Empty grain silo. Farmers are in for the night, they’ll never know.”
It was a little creepy the way he had just read my mind like that. “How do you know it’s empty?”
Kestral glanced back at me. “Anything from last year would have gone bad by now. It’s not the right season to fill it again yet.”
“Ah.” I had lived in a village of farmers and never learned so much about grain and silos. Kestral led Shan off the trail, cutting across a field towards the tall wooden structure. The door wasn’t locked, but if it was empty, why bother locking it? With a hand from Kestral, I dismounted and helped set up our camp for the night. Kestral unsaddled Shan and turned him loose for the evening while I laid out the bedroll. I wasn’t even hungry. Just eating the apple earlier had hurt and I was more tired than anything else. With a yawn, I curled up inside the bedroll.
“What are you doing?” Kestral asked, glancing over at me.
“Sleeping.” I tried to only stretch the half of my body that didn’t hurt. “I told you, I heal in my sleep.”
Kestral stared for a minute before asking: “Where am I supposed to sleep?”
“There’s room.” I scooted over and patted the blankets.
His blue eyes narrowed. “No.”
“What?” I looked up, surprised. “Kestral, I have slept with you just about every night I’ve known you.”
“As a cat.”
“Yeah.” I blinked. “What the dust is the difference?”
Kestral loomed over me, icy eyes glittering. “Unless you are a cat, we are not sharing a bedroll.”
I sighed, rubbing my side. “Look, I can’t turn into a cat until I heal. I can’t heal until I draw enough to fill my well. I can’t draw at all unless you sleep next to me. But you don’t want to sleep next to me until I’m a cat again. You see where I’m going with this?”
A muscle in Kestral’s jaw ticked. “You want to share a bedroll for the next week in order to heal yourself?”
“Less if you let me draw more deeply.” I shrugged. “It’s u
p to you.”
“If you draw all you need, how long until you’re healed?”
“Maybe three days? Four? I’ve never broken ribs before, but if I can draw a lot I can heal fairly quickly.”
Kestral rubbed his leg where he had stitched it earlier that day, as if preparing himself for something just as distasteful. “Fine. Take what you need, just heal as quickly as you can.” He shrugged out of his leather armor and removed his belt, setting his sword within arm’s reach of the bedroll. “Roll over.” He settled into the bedroll carefully, setting his back against mine.
I grinned, pressing back against him. Honestly, it was the weirdest argument ever. He knew who I was even as a cat and he knew I’d been drawing from him. The only difference was a little less space in the bedroll. His back against mine was a warm, familiar presence and I found myself dropping towards sleep. I had to remind myself to stay awake until Kestral nodded off, so I could draw from him.
After three failed attempts to draw from his life force, I tipped my head back towards his. “You know you have to be asleep for this to work, right?”
“Shut up,” he growled. “I’m trying.”
“Are you hungry? I didn’t see you eat.”
“Not hungry, stop talking.”
I shifted, trying to get comfortable again. I waited, then tried to draw again but failed. “Is your leg hurting you? You still have that numbing ointment, right?”
“If you keep moving and talking, you aren’t going to get the chance to heal.”
“Why not? You going to sleep somewhere else?”
“No. I’m going to kill you.”
I sighed, moving once more to get comfortable. Forget him; I was mostly full of magic anyway, so I simply let myself drop off to sleep.
When my well of magical energy drained completely, I awoke. My ribs still throbbed painfully, but the ache was less than it had been. Somehow Kestral had rolled onto his back, throwing one arm wide and pillowing my head with it. This wasn’t too strange, as he normally slept with one arm over me as a cat. I shifted a bit closer, resting my head on his shoulder then drawing deeply of his life force. Instead of feeling the magic gather in my chest, it trickled directly into my side, healing the broken ribs and torn muscles. I drew as deeply as I dared, staying awake until I couldn’t any more. I drifted off with a smile, wondering how upset Kestral would be in the morning to find me cuddled against him.
Sorcerous Rivalry (The Mage-Born Chronicles Book 1) Page 17
