Crack.
Without missing a beat, Selene threw the other stick aside and brought both hands along the hilt of Damien’s sword. She had very little experience with a single sword. That was Amara’s area of expertise. But she would do whatever she could to keep herself and Damien alive.
She readjusted her grip on the unfamiliar—and heavier—weapon. Sweat soaked into her hair and stung her eyes. Her arms shook slightly. Her vision narrowed until all she could see was the man in front of her and the burning need to stay on her feet long enough to defeat this opponent.
The bandit laughed as he swung at her again.
Selene brought the sword up and caught his blade with her own. Each time he tried to find an opening, she blocked him. But that was all she could do. She breathed hard, her face hot, her arms shaking.
Another hit sent her stepping back.
I can’t do this much longer, a part of her mind screamed.
She gritted her teeth. I have no choice. I won’t die today. And I won’t let Damien die either.
She barely had time to block his next swing.
“Your companions should have given us what we wanted,” the man said, panting. At least he was tiring as well.
Yes, he definitely had an accent. She could hear it now that the cloth was away from his face. “I don’t think . . . you know who . . . we are,” Selene replied, breathless.
“Argh!” The man went for another swing—
And Taegis intercepted it. Within two blows, the man was on the ground with a deep cut along his arm.
“Tie him up with the others,” Taegis barked. Karl was already moving forward with a long piece of rope.
Selene stumbled back, the tip of the sword down on the ground. The forest spun around her.
“Selene!” She heard Damien call out. “Quick! Someone help her!”
She collapsed on her side, and the sword slipped from her fingers.
Cold water touched her lips as someone held her head up. Selene took a sip and slowly blinked her eyes. Her body shivered as a cool wind blew across her sweat-soaked body.
“Are you all right?” Cohen asked, hovering over her.
“Yes.” She sat up and rubbed her face. “I just overexerted myself.”
“I had no idea a lady like you could fight.”
Selene didn’t answer. She did what she had to do. But the others had seen what she was capable of. Would they still trust her?
A couple of feet away, Taegis talked quietly with Damien, who sat on the ground, holding his right leg gingerly. Only a small part of the shaft stuck out, but from the way he was moving, it seemed the arrowhead remained. The older man’s hair had come undone from the leather tie and hung around Taegis’s shoulders in an array of dark blond and grey. A cut ran across his cheek. Over to the right, eight men were tied up, with Karl and Sten standing watch over them.
Taegis straightened and turned around. “There is a village east of here, about a half day’s walk, called Clonah. We can leave these men in the custody of the local authorities until they can be brought to Nor Esen. Sten, Karl, you will be in charge of delivering them.”
“Why are we not taking Lord Maris to Clonah if it’s closer than Nor Esen?” Karl asked with a scowl. Selene wondered the same thing.
“I don’t know if there is a healer there. And even if there is, I don’t trust anyone but our own court healer,” Taegis said.
That made sense. If they arrived in the village and found no healer, Damien would be worse off.
“I know the way to Clonah,” Sten said. Karl nodded.
“I will escort Lord Damien and Lady Selene to Nor Esen. If any of these men give you trouble, slay them.” Taegis let his gaze fall over the small group sitting sullenly on the ground. “It is by the mercy of Grand Lord Maris that you are still alive. If you try to escape, then you forfeit his good favor.”
As Taegis turned around, Selene approached him. “Sir Taegis,” she said quietly.
“Yes, my lady?” he asked, seemingly surprised by her address.
“You may want to question these men. I heard one speak when the cloth fell from his face. He has a foreign accent. I’m not sure from where, but certainly not from our lands.”
“I see.” He looked over his shoulder, concern on his face. “I will question them when they are delivered to Nor Esen.”
“Up, you rascals,” Sten said as he pulled on the end of the rope with one hand, holding his sword in the other. Karl flashed the group a wicked smile, looking even more menacing with that one lock of dark hair hanging over his eye, almost daring any of them to get out of line.
The men grumbled and stood. One kept glancing at the forest, then spotted Karl and seemed to change his mind. Selene had no doubt Sten and Karl would do what they needed to deliver the bandits to Clonah, or whatever that village was called. They were fortunate that Damien was kind enough to let them live. If it had been her mother they had attacked, they would all be dead.
Taegis watched the two guards herd the highwaymen east, then turned. His shoulders sagged, and he wiped his forehead before pulling his hair back and securing it at the nape of his neck.
His eyes focused on Selene. “My lady, I have not had a chance to ask if you are hurt.”
Selene swept her braid back over her shoulder and straightened her back. Already she was feeling much better. “No. Not even a bruise.” No one had come near enough to her to even scrape her skin, although the last bandit had come close. Taegis watched her a moment longer, studying her.
Seemingly satisfied with her answer, he turned to the monk. “Cohen?”
Cohen glanced up. “I’m all right.”
Taegis nodded. “Then I will need you to assist me in helping Lord Damien. We cannot remove the arrow in his leg. The arrowhead missed the bone, but it seems to have a hook at the end. We will need a skilled healer to remove it.”
Selene grimaced. She had seen such arrowheads before; their curved sides hooked the head into flesh, making them hard to remove. She couldn’t imagine what it felt like. Then a sudden thought struck her. “The arrowhead isn’t poisoned, is it?”
Taegis shook his head. “Not that I can tell. But the sooner we arrive in Nor Esen, the better.” With that, he gathered Sten and Karl’s mounts and secured them to his and Cohen’s saddles. “All right, let’s go.”
Selene watched as Taegis and Cohen assisted Damien up into his saddle. Damien let out a grunt of pain and his face paled for a moment, then he gripped the reins and straightened.
Her eyebrows drew together. Could Damien really ride for over a day with an arrow in his leg? She turned and mounted her own horse, a whisper of worry shadowing the back of her mind.
8
The four travelers stopped as dusk settled across the forest and only a few more minutes of daylight remained. Taegis gathered what dry wood he could and set about making a fire right there in the middle of the road, the only place where there was no brush or foliage.
Selene pulled a blanket out of her saddlebag and laid it near the small blaze Taegis was coaxing to life, while Cohen helped Damien from his horse.
“Here,” she said, patting the blanket.
Damien groaned and panted as he hobbled over with Cohen’s assistance. “Thank you,” he said and lay down.
Selene looked around. Surely there was something more she could do. She spotted Karl’s saddlebag and proceeded to retrieve the guard’s blanket as well. She rolled the woolen cloth up, then brought it back over to Damien.
“For your head,” she said as she knelt down.
He opened one eye. “Thank you.” He lifted his head, and she pushed the makeshift pillow beneath.
“How are you feeling?” she asked quietly.
“It hurts.”
Her eyes wandered over to his leg. It appeared swollen beneath his pants. Blood crusted around the wound, but the arrow seemed to be stopping any further blood flow. Keeping the arrow in had been a good idea. “Is there anything else I can do?”
As Selene went for a waterskin, Cohen brought over one of the last rounds of bread and gave half to Damien. He broke off a piece and slowly chewed without sitting up. She brought the water back and knelt beside him.
She popped off the cork and held the skin close to his chest. Then she placed a hand beneath his head. “Here you go.”
He sat up with her assistance. She tipped the skin up, and he took a long drink. “I feel much better,” he said, his lips curving upward in the corners. His blue eyes looked deeper in the weak firelight.
Something fluttered inside her middle as she brought his head back down. “Let me know if you need more.”
Damien nodded and went back to eating his bread. After they all finished the simple meal, Cohen and Taegis took a few minutes for their personal needs.
Selene laid Sten’s blanket out near Damien’s and proceeded to lie down.
“Where did you learn to fight like that?” he asked quietly.
Selene froze, her mind racing for an answer. “My mother,” she said finally. “It’s a style that’s been passed down for generations.”
He turned his head and looked at her. “Why does your family fight? The only houses I know of who teach their ladies to fight are House Merek and House Luceras.”
Selene lay down on her back and looked up at the stars. A sliver of a moon hung low across the horizon and a dozen stars shone overhead. Damien still didn’t know about the missions, or the deaths. So many deaths. All he knew was the Ravenwood gift still existed.
“We fight to defend ourselves. Men are not the only ones who can die by the sword.” How would he react when he finally found out what she had been trained to do? That her gift was one born of blood and fear?
“I see.”
There was a rustling sound. Selene glanced over to find Damien extending his hand toward her. “Good night, Selene,” he said, his hand resting on the ground between them. Then he closed his eyes.
Selene’s throat tightened. After all he’d been through, she hadn’t expected this gesture. And yet here he was, holding his hand out toward her, waiting.
She swallowed and slowly moved her own hand until her palm lay on top of his and their fingers were intertwined. His hand was warm, warding off the autumn chill in the air.
Minutes later, Taegis and Cohen returned to the camp, talking in low tones.
Selene watched them from the corner of her eye. For a moment, she considered letting go of Damien’s hand. This small touch felt too private for the eyes of others. But the thought of facing her nightmares alone made her leave her hand where it was, and she closed her eyes instead.
Soon the camp grew quiet, with only the soft snap and crackle of the fire and the occasional hoot from a nearby owl. Selene snuggled down deep within her blanket and let out a long contented sigh, ready to find her way inside Damien’s dreams.
Hot.
So hot.
Damien’s dreamscape was a whirlwind of memories, feelings, and shadows. Selene could barely maintain control of her raven form along the currents of his mind. Every time she brought him back to the coastline of white sand and calming waves, his dreams would take a sharp turn, thrusting her into a new place.
People from his past flashed across his mind: a loving couple who looked vaguely like Damien; a boy with unkempt hair and a mischievous smile; a trio of children with light blond hair gathered under an ancient oak tree; Damien standing on the beach on a stormy day, watching tiny boats put out to sea.
Over and over they flashed by at dizzying speeds. And the heat inside the dreamscape was almost unbearable. Even when she was flying above the stormy sea, it felt like she was inside a fire.
A low moan echoed inside her head, then Selene found herself flung from the dreamscape.
She woke with a start and sat up. Darkness still lingered across the forest and road, but the first rays of dawn were spreading across the sky. A brisk cold wind swept across her body, sending shivers over her skin.
As she wrapped the blanket around her shoulders, there was another moan to her right. She looked over. Damien’s face glistened in the dim light. His brows were pressed together, and his lips moved as if he were speaking. Then he jerked to the side and moaned again.
Suddenly Taegis was there, kneeling beside Damien, his hand along his forehead. “Hot,” he muttered. He looked at Selene. “Can you be ready to go in five minutes?”
Selene didn’t even need to think. “Yes,” she said, standing. She shook out the blanket and went into the forest while Taegis woke Cohen. By the time she was back, both men were packing the horses. Damien lay on the ground, oblivious to the movement around him.
Once they were packed, Taegis turned around. He stared at Damien and frowned. “I’m not sure Lord Damien can ride by himself. We will need to take turns holding him up and switching horses. That way we can make our way back to Nor Esen as fast as possible. I’ll go first. Cohen, I’ll need your help getting Damien up onto my horse.”
Selene headed toward her horse while the men placed Damien up on Taegis’s steed. Minutes later, they were on the road again, traveling north toward Nor Esen. The sky had brightened, and birds sang in the trees overhead. Sten and Karl’s horses were attached to Cohen’s saddle.
Selene rode ahead and caught up to Taegis. “Is it poison?” she asked.
“I don’t think so. I think his wound is infected. Hence the fever.”
Damien’s head lulled to the side, then his eyes blinked. “Wh-where am I?”
“On the road to Nor Esen,” Taegis said.
Damien turned his head. “Why am I riding with you?”
“Do you feel like you can ride by yourself?”
Damien paused, his face still glistening and now pale. “No. I feel weak all over.”
“I thought so. Let us help you, my lord. We should be to Northwind Castle by midday.”
Damien nodded, then closed his eyes.
An hour later, Cohen took his turn riding with Damien on a fresh mount, the other horses attached to Selene’s saddle. The sky was clear overhead and the trees thick, with conifers set between the naked oaks and maples.
Midmorning, Taegis took Damien again. Selene almost offered but wasn’t sure how well she could hold Damien and guide her horse at the same time.
Just as the sun reached its zenith, there was a break between the trees and a city came into view. Selene’s eyes went wide, and she sucked in a breath. A collection of multistoried houses, slate-colored tile roofs, turrets, ivory towers, and round domes rose in tiers along high cliffs, above a thick grey wall. Light blue banners emblazoned with the symbol of House Maris snapped against the salty wind on the topmost poles. Trees of every color and type were scattered throughout the city. And the entrance to it all was an enormous double gate made of pale wood, with waves carved along its surface.
Nor Esen. The famed city of the Northern Shores.
It was magnificent, incredible . . .
And foreign.
A heaviness settled over her as she followed the men toward the large gate. To the right of the city, the trees grew sparse and beyond them, she could see endless blue.
The sea.
The thought lightened her mind for a moment before she sunk back into the hollowness inside her chest. Suddenly, she wanted to go back home, longing for what was familiar, what she knew and loved—the open sky above the Magyr Mountains and the pine-scented air. The open walkways that let the crisp, cold mountain winds flow through Rook Castle. Deep snows and the howl of the timber wolves.
But there was no going back. There was only forward.
Selene straightened in her saddle and held the reins tightly between her hands. She was Lady Maris now, wife to the grand lord of this land. As such, she would enter her new home with pride and dignity.
She buried deep the feelings of homesickness until she felt nothing. Then, with her chin raised, she watched the gates open up to Nor Esen.
&nb
sp; People gathered in the streets as the small party entered the city. Taegis kept one hand near his sword, the other wrapped around Damien’s waist and holding the reins. Selene rode beside him, her eyes forward. Most of the glances sent their way were focused on Damien, usually followed by gasps and whispers. A few curious stares landed on her as she rode along the cobblestone street, but she did not turn. Inside, her heart beat like a trapped bird.
The street wove along the tiers of the city, first left, then right, as it made its way to the other end of Nor Esen, where a castle of grey stone stood at the edge of the wall. She recalled Damien saying his room overlooked the sea.
A smaller wall surrounded the castle, and the street led up to gates made of similar grey wood. They were open, with a guard on either side. The guard on the left waved them inside, a frown on his face as Damien rode by, assisted by Taegis.
The courtyard to Northwind Castle was small compared with Rook Castle. A wide stairway led up to ornate double doors, while a narrower staircase followed the right side up along the wall. Walkways with arched windows lined the second and third stories. Two guards marched across the courtyard, dressed in leather with a blue tabard.
Taegis pulled up on the reins and stopped his mount in the middle of the courtyard. “Jenkin! Bryce! I need your help.”
The two men rushed over. “Jenkin, help me get Lord Maris to the court healer. Bryce, run ahead and make sure Healer Sildaern is there. If not, find him immediately.”
“Yes, sir,” the men responded, the shorter one running toward the double doors, taking the steps two at a time, while the taller one stood beside Taegis’s horse and lifted his hands.
Damien blinked his eyes and looked around. “Northwind?”
“Yes,” Taegis said as he placed one of Damien’s arms over his shoulder. “We’re home.” The other guard did the same, and between the men, they assisted Damien up the stairs and through the front doors.
Selene started after them, leaving the horses and Cohen in the courtyard. She had no desire to be left behind, and deep down she was worried about Damien. What would happen to him? What would happen to her if he . . .
Flight of the Raven Page 7
