by Shae Ford
“Kyleigh!”
Someone grabbed her arm, and she ripped it away. It wasn’t until she was grabbed a second time that she recognized Aerilyn. Her nose was red and swollen, her eyes burned and her face was wet with tears. When she breathed, there was a different scent on her breath — one that was slightly muddled by another. This scent meant something … but Kyleigh didn’t have time to remember what it was.
She had to find Kael.
Aerilyn pulled desperately on her arm. “He’s in here — oh Kyleigh, he’s hurt so badly. We don’t know what to do!”
As Aerilyn led her away, Kyleigh felt as if she walked through a nightmare. There was noise all around her, but she couldn’t hear it. Light shined, but it brightened nothing. There was solid earth beneath her feet — there must have been …
But for some reason, she couldn’t feel it.
Familiar faces blurred out of the corner of her eye. More hands reached to grasp her, thumping hollowly against her flesh. She passed through wood, through steel, and then the thread suddenly ended, jolting her.
When she saw him, the world snapped back.
Kael lay in the corner of a horse stall, curled up on a pile of filthy clothing. He was exactly how she’d remembered him: his straight nose, his lips … but there was something wrong with his brows. There was usually a little line between them, one that went deeper as he furrowed them. And they were usually always furrowed, even when he slept. He was always thinking about something.
But now his brows were smoothed — relaxed, even. And it startled her.
She dragged her eyes from his face and saw his tunic was shredded and soaked in blood. His blood. He lay on his stomach, and she saw that his back was covered in gashes — as if some monster had raked him with its claws. She stared, frozen, at the dried, black shores along his gaping wounds and the bright red pools in their middles.
“We haven’t got a healer,” Aerilyn gasped, wringing her hands. “Oh, I don’t know what to —”
“Take his shirt off, little Declan,” Kyleigh said. She looked to the giant who squatted next to Kael, the only one in the room whose eyes weren’t filled with panic.
He held a bowl of water and moved a bloodstained cloth gingerly across Kael’s back. There was a steadiness in his hands as he moved them, a desperation in the pressure he put on Kael’s gaping wounds. But the line of his mouth was firm and strong. The calmness in his breaths soothed the panicked air.
She thought Declan looked more like his father now than ever. The deep cleft beneath his brows grew shallow as he raised them. “You remember me?”
Kyleigh thought that was an odd thing to say. “I try to never forget the men I’ve fought beside. Don’t you remember me?”
“Yeh, but a man would have to be worse than blind to forget Kyleigh Swordmaiden,” Declan grunted. He tore Kael’s shirt open with a single, quick tug. As he eased the shirt over his limbs, Kyleigh got a clear look at Kael’s back. It was worse than she’d thought. So much worse.
She spun to Aerilyn and began ripping the laces off her gauntlets. “Help me.”
Aerilyn undid the buckles along her jerkin while Kyleigh removed her gauntlets and belt. Every second they spent, the air in the room grew colder. She started to shiver. Time was running out.
“That’ll have to do,” she said, when she wore nothing but her leggings and breast band.
The cold had started to settle in her bones as she lay down next to Kael. Carefully, she pulled him into her. Wet warmth spread across her skin as she pressed her chest and stomach against his wounded back. She twined her limbs with his, molding them together, connecting them down to their fingertips and toes.
As she pressed her cheek against his neck, she caught his scent. He smelled like the earth after a steady rain. It was a good scent, a calming scent.
But it was faint — and fading quickly.
Kyleigh bit her lip hard and tried to keep her tears at bay. “No matter how I scream,” she said around her teeth, “don’t touch me. Don’t try to pull me off of him. I won’t be responsible for your deaths, if you try to separate us.”
Aerilyn nodded. “We’ll leave you alone.” Then she turned and began shooing the others out the door. There were some protests, but the stall eventually emptied — giving Kyleigh the chance to concentrate.
The skin between them was the only thing that kept their souls apart. Kyleigh held Kael tightly and thought she could feel his spirit bubbling up to the surface. It pressed against her wherever they touched and slid between the tiny holes in her skin.
Her limbs went numb. She could no longer tell their bodies apart. They were one flesh: breathing together, hearts beating together.
And then came the pain.
*******
Cold … Kael was first aware of the cold. The hard earth beneath him ached with it, as if it had never known warmth. A gust of wind swept across his back. The cold was there, too — glancing his flesh with a thousand tiny knives.
And it was the shivering in his limbs that woke him.
Somehow, he’d wound up back in the Unforgivable Mountains. He’d fallen, though — through one of the great cracks the weather had rent into the mountainside. It was an easy trap to fall into, if a man wasn’t paying attention. The cracks were often hidden beneath thick tangles of brush, lying in wait to gobble up unwary travelers.
But Kael should’ve known better. He knew he was lucky to be alive … though when he saw the height of the sheer rock wall behind him, he didn’t see how he could have possibly survived the fall.
He needed to find a way out, and preferably before the sun went down. How was he going to explain this to Roland? He’d be disappointed that Kael had let his attention wander. Amos would gripe about the fresh holes in his breeches.
Well, there was no point in putting it off.
Kael dragged himself to his feet, and was surprised to find that he wasn’t in pain. He expected to be bruised and bloodied. He must’ve been very lucky, indeed.
There was no way through the wall behind him — his only hope lay ahead. A small river flowed through the bottom of the crack, its waters bubbled gently over the rocks settled within it. Beyond that river was another wall, and Kael groaned when he saw that it was every bit as tall and sheer as the one behind him.
He thought he might never make it out. Even if Roland sent the hunters to look for him, they would never find him here. How could he have been so foolish? Why hadn’t he watched his steps?
But before he could get too furious with himself, his eyes caught something they hadn’t noticed before: there was a crack in the wall across the river. It was so small that he’d likely have to crawl to fit between it. As he studied it, a gust of warm air breathed out of the hole. Even from a distance, he smelled the promise of summer riding along the gales.
Somewhere beyond that crack was a green land — an earth that the cold couldn’t touch. All Kael had to do was cross the river, and he’d be free.
It didn’t look too deep. He thought he might be able to reach the other side without getting his breeches wet. He’d taken one step into the water and was preparing to take a second when a strong hand grasped his shoulder.
“You shouldn’t go that way, boy.”
Kael spun around and cried in relief when Roland smiled back. He grinned through his grizzled beard and pulled Kael in for a tight embrace. His arms were stronger than Kael had remembered. His chest wasn’t quite so boney.
“I thought I’d been a fool,” he said, when Roland released him. “But if this crack managed to trick both of us, I don’t feel so bad.”
Roland laughed. “And you’d be right not to. Far more cunning men than you or I have fallen here,” he said, waving his arm at the high walls. His smile changed, softening. “All men fall here, eventually.”
Before Kael could ask what he meant, Roland clasped his arm.
“I’ve got some traps to run. Want to give me a hand?”
Kael hesitated for a moment. His eyes
wandered to the crack across the river, his thoughts trailed to the green lands beyond it. “Shouldn’t we press on?”
Roland saw where he was looking and shook his head. “I can’t let you go that way, boy. I already promised your father that I’d keep you on this side of things.”
He started to walk away, and Kael went after him at a trot. “My father? He was here?”
“Oh, I’m sure he was. But I’d already promised him long ago — back when you were just a little thing. Though,” and here he smiled again, “I didn’t quite realize what he was asking of me.”
“What do you —?”
“Hush, boy,” Roland whispered. His arm sprang protectively across Kael’s chest, like he’d just seen a lion or a bear.
Kael froze. He knew if Roland could sense something, he ought to be still. He scanned the scrub bushes in front of them, searching for any signs of danger. And it wasn’t long before a number of large figures crossed their path.
They were giants — dressed in rough spun clothes and marching barefoot across the rocky bank. What in Kingdom’s name were giants doing in the Unforgivable Mountains?
“Watch carefully,” Roland said, as the giants approached the river.
They stepped in one at a time. The river must’ve been deceptively deep: by the time the giants reached the middle, the water was up to their waists. Most of them sank even deeper. Kael could only watch as the river flowed over their heads, dragging them downwards.
The giants made no attempt to save themselves. Their arms didn’t flail above the water, they never cried out. One moment they were crossing the river and the next — they were gone. Their large heads sank beneath the waves, and they never came back out.
Only one of them made it across. He stepped out onto the opposite bank and moved surely towards the wall, towards a refuge that Kael couldn’t see. And then he disappeared.
“Ah, see there?” Roland whispered. “His deeds must’ve carried him on.”
Kael thought that was a strange thing to say. Strange … and yet, familiar. Roland had said something like that before, but it hadn’t been while they were on a hunt — it had been in the Hall, when Kael was a child. Roland had been telling him a story about Death:
“Few things test a man like the savage back of a river,” Roland had said. “That’s why Death keeps a river at his threshold — it helps him sort everything out. You see, there’s only one thing a man can take with him when he dies: and that’s his deeds. He’ll stand on them all his life, and in death he’ll have them strapped to his feet. Good deeds rise up like walking stones across Death’s river … while the bad ones will cause a man to sink.”
Kael’s memory came back in a rush. He hadn’t been in the mountains at all — he’d been in the plains. There’d been fighting and bursts of light … Noah had been wounded.
Where was he? He needed to get back. His friends were in trouble — his task wasn’t finished yet.
“Roland, I …”
He stopped. Roland had wandered further up the path. When he turned, he crossed his arms over his tunic — a tunic that was as white as the clouds above the sea. It matched the white of his breeches, his boots … and Kael realized that the man in his dreams hadn’t been Death at all.
It was Roland.
“There now, boy. Don’t you cry over me.” Roland’s rough hand clasped his shoulder, but Kael’s tears continued to fall. They streamed down his face in miserable torrents, wetting the ground at his knees.
“You’re dead,” Kael managed to gasp out.
“That I am.”
Roland told him everything that had befallen Tinnark — of what Titus did to the village, how many of the Tinnarkians he’d seen cross the river. He even told about how he’d been slain. And as Kael listened, his tears began to dry.
“But you wanted … a woodsman’s death …”
Roland’s hand tightened on his shoulder. “I died a warrior’s death, Kael. That was a gift that I’d never dared to wish for.”
This comforted him a bit, but Kael’s thoughts quickly turned dark. “I promise you, I’ll make sure Marc and Laemoth pay for what they did.”
Roland glanced at the river. “Laemoth’s already been paid back,” he murmured. “And I’m sure you’ll send Marc on his way — but when the time comes, all right? It’ll do you no good to dwell on it. Don’t let him gnaw at you.”
Kael nodded. There was one other question he needed to ask, but it took a great deal of courage to force it out. “What about Amos?”
Roland shook his head, grinning. “He hasn’t come through here. That clever old coot must’ve charmed Titus into keeping him.”
Kael sighed in relief. For some reason, it made him feel a little lightheaded. He got off his knees and sat on his rump. Roland sat down beside him. “Am I dead?” he wondered aloud.
“Not quite,” Roland said with a wink. “Otherwise, you’d be dressed like me.”
Kael hadn’t realized that he was still wearing the same tattered, filthy tunic and breeches that he’d been wearing in the plains. His eyes suddenly felt heavy. He tried to prop them open.
“How did you find me?” he muttered. The crack they sat in was rather large — he couldn’t see the end of it. “How did you know I’d be here?”
Roland’s smile was sad. “I didn’t know. I just happened to be wandering by when this little brown-headed seas boy waved me down …” He had to stop when Kael broke into a fresh wave of tears.
Anguish gripped him on either side of his head. It squeezed him, forcing all the wet from his eyes, but he felt no shame. There was no shame in these tears, not when he thought of the young life that had been cut so horribly short.
“Noah,” he managed to gasp. He saw the boy’s face clearly: how it had brightened at adventure, hardened as he fought. Even now, he remembered how Noah used to follow Jonathan around the ship, laughing at his mischief.
“You were asleep,” Roland went on, once Kael had quieted. “That happens when a man is near to death, but not quite there. I told young Noah that I’d look after you, and I sent him on his way.”
Kael glared at the river. “Did he …?”
Roland nodded firmly. “He crossed over without a fuss — his boots hardly even got wet. He was a good one.”
Relief covered Kael like a blanket, warming him against the cold. It was suddenly very difficult to keep his eyes open. He decided to lie down, just for a moment, and close them. “I don’t want you stuck here any longer,” he muttered to Roland. “I don’t care what you promised my father — I want you to cross the river. I think there’s a much gentler land on the other side … the trapping will be better.”
Roland chuckled. “I don’t doubt it. And I promise that I’ll cross — just as soon as you’ve gone back to sleep.”
This was a comforting thought. With his last conscious breath, Kael whispered: “Do you think I would’ve made it?”
Roland sighed heavily. “The only man who knows the answer to that question is the man who’s already standing on the other side.”
*******
He fought her. He always fought her. That was just like Kael: he never wanted any help, he never wanted anybody else to know his pain. But Kyleigh was stronger. When he tried to hide from her, she drew him out.
Her soul twined with his — holding him, comforting him. Slowly, his hard shell began to crumble away, and he spoke:
It hurt so badly, his soul whispered.
I know. Let me take it, Kyleigh whispered back.
An ache filled her head, throbbing in the beginning and stabbing by the end. Her eyes trembled in their sockets as the storm raged behind them. Then came the blows — blows she was familiar with. She felt the slap of the leather and the sharp, metal teeth woven into the lashes. They tore across her back, splitting her skin. She screamed as the blows fell, but not because it hurt: because she was furious.
Kael should’ve never had to suffer like this. These blows should’ve never touched him. She und
erstood his pain. His soul spoke for him, sharing all of the torment and humiliation, all of the agony that she knew he would’ve never said aloud.
Hot tears of rage burned down her cheeks when she thought of how much he’d had to endure … simply because she hadn’t been there to protect him.
When his soul was finished speaking, he woke. He squirmed in her hold and she released him. He flopped over and grabbed her by the shoulders. His warm brown eyes were still glazed in sleep; she knew he was only half awake.
“Roland’s dead,” he moaned. “He’s … he’s dead.”
The tears that streamed down his face hurt her more than his wounds. She wrapped her arms around him and held his head to her chest. She ran her hand down his back, sighing in relief when she didn’t feel any gashes. His body was healed, he was out of danger. And after a few moments, he quieted.
As she settled him back onto his pallet, she couldn’t help herself: she kissed him on the cheek.
For a long moment, Kyleigh didn’t move. Her skin was raw and bleeding. She could hear the sizzling of her blood as it trickled from the fresh gashes on her back. One drop crossed her shoulder and raced down her arm. She watched dully as it fell from the tip of her finger and onto Kael’s chest.
Anybody else would’ve woken with a scream. Her blood was every bit as hot as molten steel: it could burn a man’s flesh to blisters — she’d seen it happen before. But the fire in her blood could never harm Kael.
Though she’d felt this in her heart, it wasn’t until that moment that she knew for certain. She wiped the red drop away, and Kael’s skin was smooth and perfect beneath it.
If the dragons had a word for love, it would’ve been valtas. In human words, she thought it meant the very deep. Valtas was a blood oath — a connection that would never break. Two dragons who shared the valtas could feel the same pain, suffer the same wounds. But most importantly, the fires in their blood could never burn each other’s flesh.
Her dragon soul remembered the valtas, but Kyleigh never thought she would feel it for herself. She was only half-dragon, after all. She’d chosen to live as a human, and she thought if she ever fell in love, that it would be the human sort of love — the sort that wasn’t binding. The sort she could escape from.
