by Amy Miles
I placed a hand over his heart. “You are a good man, Eivin. You care when you should not, forgive when I would not, and risk your life every day for this city. I know you’re hurtin’ and that they wronged your da, but we both know there are good people here. They deserve a fightin’ chance.”
“So you will risk banishment for ’em?”
I smiled as I clenched my hand into a fist against his heart. “To see you safe. To make sure those monsters are locked back in their cage? Aye. I would. I’d risk it all for my family.”
By the look in Eivin’s eyes, he knew I meant it.
CHAPTER SIX
DEVLIN
B LOODSHOT EYES GREETED ME in the mirror as I splashed cold water on my unshaven face. Judging from the constant shifting of mattresses that echoed in our bedrooms during the night, none of us got much sleep thanks to the late night call from the doctor. He had called around ten to report that he had some news for us. News he wanted to deliver in person. Ma and Da were hopeful. I was skeptical. I wanted to believe they had discovered a way to make her better, but the realist in me knew there was only one way this story ended; in her death.
I waited for Ma to get ready, pacing downstairs in the parlor. As I walked, I looked at all the portraits of our quaint little family; the pictures of Alana and me dressed in matching jumpers, our First Communion where we both gagged on the body of Christ, and in the middle, the quintessential family portrait. I walked over and picked up that frame. I remember that one vividly. It was taken shortly after Seamus’ ma died. The photo held all of our perfect plastic smiles in place. It was as though our own folks were trying to capture as many memories as they could before they were gone. None of us had ever dreamt that Alana might be the first to vacate our family photos.
Pressing the frame to my chest, I said a silent prayer before I put it back in place, taking extra care to make sure the frame was straight.
None of us spoke during the drive to the cancer unit, except for the occasional comment on the weather. It was as though we were all too afraid to speak. Eventually, it was just the gentle hum of the windscreen wipers as they pushed the heavy mist aside.
Once we’d parked at the hospital, we all sat there for a bit. No one seemed to want to move because once we did, we’d know if the doctor’s news was good or bad.
Dr. Kendall was waiting for us when we got to Alana’s room. He’d been here every day, even on his days off. Her case fascinated him. No doubt he was gathering up notes about her progress to write in some medical journal.
Ma wasted no time asking the question that had been burning in her mind. “Have you found something to help my baby girl?” Ma gripped the hospital sheets with her hand. We both looked up at his steel blue eyes, daring to hope.
Dr. Kendall sighed. “I’m not sure, but there might be an option to consider.”
He pulled a chair over and sank into it. He rested thin arms along his thighs. His hands pressed to his mouth as though contemplating how to deliver the news.
“I’ve been talking with some colleagues of mine about your daughter’s case. We’ve discussed with you, of course, the risks of doing chemotherapy with her heart already being as weak as it is. And the radiation alone doesn’t seem to be helping her.”
I glanced over my shoulder and looked at my sister, who was wearing a purple and green knit cap. It was the only thing keeping her bald scalp warm.
“As you are well aware, the information we have on your daughter’s type of cancer is limited at best. There just aren’t enough people with it to know what might work. The best we can offer is an educated guess.” He glanced at my parents as though to make sure they were paying attention. “After much debate, we think there is an option. It would be risky, but we’re hoping we can treat her cancer the same way we would treat cancer in another organ. Like a cancer of the stomach or liver, for instance,” he explained.
“Okay,” Da said. The single word dragged out across our stunned silence.
Dr. Kendall seemed to sense our lack of understanding, so he shifted gears a bit to catch us up to speed.
“In extreme cases of cancers that affect organs, chemo is given directly to the organ itself. This bypasses the conventional ways of using the blood stream to do the heavy lifting. It’s my medical opinion that this is a method we should try with your daughter, Mr. and Mrs. Gallagher. Alana is far too weak to have any of her healthy cells attacked again.”
“So what are you saying?” I asked.
“We would give her a dose of chemo directly into the affected organ.”
The doctor’s words sounded calm, normal, despite the insanity of what he proposed.
“And how would you do that?” Ma asked. Her eyes were wide with fear.
Dr. Kendall gave her a gentle smile. “We’d inject it with a syringe.”
My head began to spin with the realisation of his plan. “You want to stab her heart with a needle?”
The physician flinched at my crudeness. “It’s a bit more complex than that, but yes. Essentially.”
Ma gasped beside me while Da was at a loss for words.
“Would it work?” I asked. As horrible as it sounded, if it would help...
“That’s what we don’t know.” Dr. Kendall sighed. “We’ve had good results with this sort of procedure when cancer invades other major organs. We’re hopeful that this treatment will respond as it has with other patients with other cancers.”
Ma grasped Da’s hands and tears began to well as I saw the flash of hope spread across their faces. Could this be the miracle we had all been waiting for?
“I need to stress to you that there is no guarantee,” Dr. Kendall said, bringing us all back to reality. “I can’t even give you the odds because we just don’t know. It’s only been done a handful of times on stomachs and livers with mixed results and never on a heart.” His eyes were tired and bloodshot, like the rest of us.
“It sounds so dangerous,” Da whispered after a moment.
The physician nodded. “It will be. I won’t sugarcoat it. If it doesn’t work, she’ll go into cardiac arrest within a few hours.”
The hope on Ma’s face turned to worry.
Dr. Kendall leaned forward. “I need you all to understand this is a long shot at best. It’s the only option I see right now for your daughter. Other than keeping her comfortable until her heart gives out, which it will. It could be a month, a week...it could be tomorrow. We just don’t know.”
“But if it worked? Would she be okay?” I asked.
He gave us a sympathetic look. “We don’t know that either. There is no telling how her recovery might play out. We can’t know how the strain on her heart during these last three years has affected her. There are too many unknowns. The procedure may stop the cancer growth, but she may never fully recover. She might be as unchanged as she is now…We just don’t know.”
He stood up, his lean figure casting an ominous shadow over Alana. “I’ll give you time to think about it as a family. If we want to try this, we need to do it sooner, versus later. Before the cancer has a chance to grow any further. I can get her into the operating room this afternoon.”
“Today?” I heard Ma gasp.
The physician nodded. “I’ll give you a minute.”
The sound of the door closing sent a chill across the room. For several moments, none of us spoke.
“We have to do it,” I said, breaking the silence. “It’s the only choice we have. We have to let them try.”
“But—” Ma started.
“If they don’t, she’s gone anyway.” My voice cracked and tears stung my eyes. How could they not see that this was the only option we had? There was a chance that their daughter might recover. Why were they not jumping at the opportunity?
“But if it fails…she could die. We could be sending her to her death before her time!” Ma’s eyes were wild with emotion. “What if she gets better on her own? The research your da and I have been doing says that the radiation she’s on now m
ay work over time—”
“She doesn’t have time, Ma! You heard the doc. She’s out of options.”
Da pulled Ma into his arms as she sobbed into his shoulder. I felt his hand take mine. Our eyes locked as we tried to figure out what the best plan was.
“What do you think Alana would want us to do, son?”
I didn’t answer right away. She would have wanted us to pull the plug on her a long time ago. She never wanted to be a vegetable. She’d seen what Seamus had gone through with his ma’s sudden stroke then medically induced coma. He had to watch for months as she wilted away. She told me then that she would never want to live like that. She’d made me pinky promise that if she was ever that bad off, to let her go.
For three years I could have told Ma and Da about her wishes. But I didn’t. I was selfish. I wanted my sister back.
“She’d want us to try and save her,” I lied.
A heavy weight landed in my gut, but I pushed it away. Alana would thank me one day; when she was healthy and laughing again. I would be her hero. That was all I wanted. To see her smile again. What was the harm in that?
“Okay then. Let’s put it in God’s hands. We’ve been praying for a miracle. Maybe this is it,” Da said, looking down at Ma.
She was still conflicted, but she nodded her consent through her tears.
I let out a breath and texted Seamus. While our texted conversations were always superficial these days, there was a time when the three of us were best mates. Things felt dire. I needed him to know that Alana’s life lay in the balance. I needed someone else to pray for her, too.
CHAPTER SEVEN
AED
B LACK BLOOD TRAILED DOWN the leather gauntlets strapped to my arm. They saved me from burning that flesh, but other parts of my body were not so lucky. With a grunt, I shoved the wounded Lorcan off the end of my dagger. Its cries echoed as it fell end-over-end, taking out two Lorcan still climbing the Wall. They landed with a series of dull thuds far below.
It had been a clean jab straight to the heart, but I knew it would not be enough to kill the beast. Once it regained consciousness, it would be back. They always came back.
“What is our status?” I yelled to be heard over the clash of glass blades against thick scales.
Screams died off around me as I peered through the smoke. It burned my eyes and made it hard to breathe, but the discomfort was worth it. Lorcan hated fire almost as much as they hated the cool mists of Netherworld.
“The breach on the south side is contained,” a voice called through the haze. I recognized it as my second-in-command, Reilly.
“And what of the north?” I wiped the blood from my gauntlets with a filthy rag tucked into the back of my armor. It was already stained with gobs of the foul Lorcan sludge, the poison charring the cloth and curling the edges.
I looked up when an answer didn’t come. “Has anyone heard from Pearse?”
“No one’s ’eard nothin’,” another voice called back.
Reilly appeared off to my left. He was covered in angry red welts, dotted with Lorcan blood. His beard and long hair were matted in filth, making the whites of his eyes seem to glow in the darkness.
He was alive and that was better than I could say for many of my men. A hulking shadowy figure climbed over the top of the wall just then behind Reilly.
“On the ground!” With a skilled throw, I aimed my blade for the Lorcan’s open mouth. When it disintegrated into a pile of dust on top of Reilly’s shoulders, my friend grimaced.
“Why do you always wait till the last second to save my arse?” He brushed the ash off his leather armor. Clumps remained stuck to the blood splatters.
“Most people would be grateful to be saved at all. Yet somehow you still manage to find something to moan about.” I laughed and retrieved my dagger from the disintegrated Lorcan remains. “Send Donal to check on Pearse. By the gods, I hope their side still holds. If not…”
I let that sentiment fall off. I didn’t need to tell Reilly what was at risk if we failed to hold the Wall. Countless innocents would die horrible, agonizing deaths. And with each kill the Lorcan seemed to evolve, growing stronger and more intelligent.
The ones we just vanquished were able to communicate with each other, grunting in varying tones as they hit the wall at its weakest points. They were problem solving...a thing I had believed only to be a rumour among the men before. They were trying to find weaknesses in the Wall. I would have to rethink our battle strategy to ensure this breach did not happen again.
“And what of the reinforcements, my prince?” Reilly asked.
I glanced over my shoulder back towards the lush lands of Netherworld. Several leagues south was my home, my family, and my people. They were the ones I risked my life for each day. I needed more men to protect them, but none had arrived yet. I didn’t know how much longer I could keep pushing my soldiers like this. They were already fighting on twelve-hour shifts until they were too weary to hold a sword any longer.
“They will come. My father is aware of our plight.”
Even as I said the words I felt a hollow sickness nestle into my chest. My father had been silent for far too long, ignoring my letters detailing the dire need for aid. Had I not made it clear how near we were to ruin? Did he not believe me?
He must. After all, it was he who stationed me to this post when I was barely a man. Perhaps stationed wasn’t even the right word. It felt more like a banishment.
In the years since, I had often wondered what I’d done to deserve this post. After a while, I decided it had to be a test and I threw myself into proving I was competent to lead his army. I had done my duty and would continue to do so no matter the odds. But my father’s silence told me he was still not pleased with my efforts.
I watched as Reilly headed towards the Northern Gatehouse where I could just make out the peak of its roof in the distance. It would take Reilly three-quarters of an hour to reach this point. I feared what he might find beyond that.
“Cashel, see that the men are fed and their wounds tended to before you turn in. I will remain on watch.”
“Those bloody beasts could attack again. I’m not too keen on taking a kip with you out ’ere on your own.” Cashel rubbed the filth from his own arms in a bucket of murky water.
“What choice do we have? We sleep when we can so that we can fight on. Take your turn now. I’ll have mine later.”
Both of us were bone weary and eager to slide into our beds, but the wounded were too many. The count of the dead had yet to be tallied.
Gripping the ledge of the stone wall, I peered over into the darkness. Far below, a few fires still burned where oil and tar had set a strong perimeter not four hours earlier. Now it was all but demolished, either from the smothering of dead bodies or scuffling as the Lorcan tried to breach the gap.
Those needed to be relit as soon as possible.
The fires were only a temporary fix. Flames wouldn’t hold the Lorcan at bay forever. They would find a way around. I needed to think of a new tactic to avoid the next wave. My only hope was that the wounded Lorcan would need time to regroup as well.
Staring out across the barren wasteland before me, I found myself torn between hating this desolate place and admiring its beauty. The parched ground and twisted trees were nothing more than lifeless shells. The heat was suffocating in the lands that lay beyond the winding path that separated this side of the Wall from the vibrant life behind. The difference between these lands was as stark as night from the day; a literal hell meant only for damned souls.
I never understood my father’s insistence on keeping the beasts alive. They were a threat to all who lived in the Netherworld. A threat that could have been dealt with when the Lorcan numbers were fewer. My mother once told me there was a time before my father’s rule where Lorcan did not exist. It was a time of peace and balance. Regaining that balance would be worth any sacrifice…no matter the cost.
But I learned long ago never to show a lack of fa
ith in my father. He had a plan, even if I, his son and only remaining heir to the throne, wasn’t privy to it. One thing was clear. King Baylor did not like to be questioned, especially by his own flesh and blood.
Being out on the Wall meant I had to make the hard calls between life and death. Sometimes that meant tossing my father’s decrees right over that damn Wall too. I fought hard. I lost more men than I cared to count. I watched people suffer all around me. The worst part was knowing that when the Wall fell, no one in Eimear would know of the dangers heading their way. All because of my father’s lies.
I couldn’t stomach them any longer.
The danger was growing. With each passing day, fear rotted my bones and made me weak in the knee. The Lorcan boasted a new awareness that unsettled me. They had a leader for the first time. I could sense it in the way they moved, congregated, and swarmed.
When torchlight appeared along the rim of the wall, signaling that the scouts were in place for the evening hours, that should have relaxed me, but it didn’t. I knew all too well how quickly we could be overtaken. I used my own flint and steel to spark a torch, setting it in place between the cracks of stone near my post.
The night was eerily silent as the hours passed. I grew anxious, forcing myself to remain standing instead of slumping in the corner. When my eyes grew heavy and my grip on my sword grew lax, I pressed the toxic Lorcan blood-soaked cloth to my arm. Just long enough for the poisonous burn to rouse me once more.
I no longer cared what my body looked like. What was once a thing that many a fair lass vied to see, had become battle hardened. My arms and legs had more burns than skin with new scars showing up with every Lorcan I took down. The leather armor I wore covered the marred flesh, but it was not for vanity that I wore it. The thick hide allowed me to continue the fight.
What once drove me to distraction had become a luxury I could no longer afford. My womanizing days were behind me. This endless war had forever changed the lust hungry adolescent I once was.
