He pulled his scarf up over his ears and hunched into the jacket, wishing once again for something larger as he worked his jaw against the pressure of the magic — and suddenly realized he was hearing — or feeling — something else as well, something that ran under the magic like a sweet harmony.
Rethia. But no — this had a deeper feel, an alto version of Rethia’s personal magic; it carried an unfamiliar edge.
Still it felt like a call from home — an invitation that would lead him to some safe place, where the magic would leave him in peace. A surge of unexpected longing took him by surprise; he closed his eyes against it. Foolishness. It could be anything, anything at all, and if he wasn’t so desperately weakened by his reaction to magic, he probably wouldn’t have given its presence a second thought.
And still he wondered how far away it was.
He glanced down at their wounded in the cart beside him — they certainly couldn’t afford any delay. Kalena rode on the other side, fuming — Reandn gave thanks she was doing it silently — while Vaklar rode point and Elstan now trailed sullenly behind them. The cart mule followed Vaklar without much fuss. Twice now, Reandn had turned them off the main road to shortcut trails the wagon never could have navigated, skipping from one loop of the road to another; if he remembered right, they were approaching another opportunity to do it again.
But the strangely familiar magical voice distracted him, luring him... and he realized, with a sudden little shock, that he might just die without help.
Only two years earlier, he’d have embraced death in his quest for revenge against Kavan and Adela’s murderer; it meant only that he could start searching Tenaebra’s Hells for them, and be with them that much sooner. But now...
Think about finding the right place to camp. Think about the next moments, not the next days.
Dizziness washed over him; he put a hand on Sky’s withers to wait it out. Except it didn’t ease at all, and his body must have finally had enough —
Magic. Not the ongoing reaction, but new magic trickling in.
“Wrangler, are you... are you all right?” Kalena asked as though she wasn’t certain just how to show concern for someone of his standing; under less trying circumstance he might have found it amusing.
Instead he ignored her, looking back over his shoulder and putting a sharp note in his voice. “Elstan!”
“It’s not me!” Elstan shouted from the back, and though Reandn no longer believed such denials out of hand, the thread of fear in those words meant something.
Vaklar stopped his horse and circled it tightly. “Don’t be tellin’ me —”
“Magic,” Reandn said, blinking hard against it so that he, too, could search the woods, an area of shallower slope that might well hold an enemy. But dusk had crept upon them, and the woods were nothing but a blur of dark limbs against dark hillside, veiled by wind-driven wet snow.
“Take point,” Vaklar said abruptly, reining his horse back around to flank Kalena’s palomino. “Get us out of here now.”
Reandn didn’t hesitate. He sent Sky ahead at a fast rack, fast enough that the others broke into a canter behind him, running awkwardly downhill in the sloppy, uneven footing as the darkening woods turned into a blur on either side. He almost missed the shortcut and had to pull Sky up cruelly short; the cart mule ran dangerously close to the bay’s heels.
And then suddenly the horses all stopped — not willingly, and not without fighting it. Sky pranced in place, his ears flicking madly around, his posture that of frustration and fear. The magic rolled around them, and Reandn broke out into a sweat despite the cold.
Magic held them here, and he couldn’t fight it this time, couldn’t hold himself together long enough to protect Kalena from the brigands it would bring with it; it was all he could do just to keep breathing, to stay ahorse. And still he had that nagging sense that as much as he lacked fear of death, he just wasn’t ready for it.
Nor was Kalena, who cried out in panic, or Vaklar, who cursed his horse, biting the words off hard. But as much as Reandn tried to summon the anger that often drove him through magic’s insidious touch, he had nothing left of himself.
So he did what he’d never thought he would. “Go ahead,” he shouted hoarsely to Elstan. “Use it!”
Elstan didn’t take the time to gloat; his magic, feeling more focused than usual, flooded around them all.
“Ten’tits, they’re right behind us!” Vaklar said grimly, filtering into Reandn’s awareness only in the most distorted way. Sky jolted forward, on the move again and hitting top speed on his own; Reandn lurched in the saddle, grabbing mane. They swept into the foreboding darkness of the side trail, and Reandn had no idea if the enemy saw them; in the dim train of thought left to him, he knew only that they couldn’t taking any chances.
And he knew they were closing on that sweet harmony, the Rethia-like voice that called to him so strongly. He knew, too, when Sky took a sudden swerve left onto a branch trail he hadn’t even seen.
The cart jounced along behind him, eliciting cries of pain from within; Vaklar’s questioning shout came to him more dimly. Behind them the magic faded; when Sky dodged right and stopped short, Reandn stayed in the saddle purely from coincidence.
The cart rattled to a stop on his heels; Vaklar pounded past him, finally getting his horse wheeled about. Elstan, swearing at his mount, charged up behind him and ran smack into Sky. The bay squealed and kicked out with both hind legs, flipping Reandn forward to tumble from the saddle.
He thought he saw a small farm around them, that they’d clattered to a stop between the snow- and darkness-obscured barn and a tiny house — that someone was coming at them with lantern in hand, followed by what was either a huge dog or a small donkey. That when that someone spoke, her words spilling over with fury and fear and unwelcome, it was in a sweet, strangely familiar alto.
And then he felt himself stiffen, his body’s last cry of protest before giving up. Sometimes, it seemed, not being ready didn’t mean not being done.
~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 10
“We need to stop for the night!” Lamar, the young Local assigned to Kacey and Rethia upon their arrival in Pasdon, raised his voice against the wind. Kacey blinked so rapidly against the fall of snow on her cheeks and lashes that she could barely discern where they were going; darkness closed fast upon them.
But riding next to her, Rethia mutely shook her head, and Kacey prodded her horse to a little more speed.
Kacey missed her little black mare. This Pasdon livery rental plodded along no matter what she asked of it. Rethia rode a horse of similar attitude and seemed oblivious to the creature’s disregard; she didn’t bother with the reins, but kept her hands tight on her over-cape, her startling eyes unfocused and unheeding of the snow that whipped against her face.
Neither of them had been prepared for the weather of this higher altitude; Lamar had quickly provided them with cold weather gear, chattering something about the changeable spring days. He didn’t seem the least put off by his assignment to accompany them while Rethia chose their way, and spoke freely of the unusual incidents around Pasdon in recent days.
Kacey immediately recognized Reandn’s hand, but kept the news to herself. Rethia stayed deeply inside herself, giving no clue that any of Lamar’s chatter meant anything to her at all.
Lamar pulled his horse out in front of them and turned it sideways across the road. “We can’t even see where we’re going!”
Rethia came out of her distraction with surprising alacrity. “I don’t need to see,” she said firmly. “I just need to get there.”
Lamar shook his head. “We’ll gain more time than we lose if we get a night’s rest behind us and daylight around us. This road has shortcuts, and I’m sure we’ve missed at least one.”
Rethia looked at Kacey, her expression troubled. “But I can’t get them separate! I need to go far enough to figure it out.”
“Get them separate?” Kacey asked, frowning.
Rethia nodded, and her gaze went inward — searching, as her knuckles went white and tense around the cape. Although such moments happened very rarely these days, Kacey found she’d lost the habit of patience with them. “Rethia. Come back and explain it to us!”
Rethia started, refocusing on them as though she’d only just realized she’d wandered off in the first place. Kacey, pinned to the here and now by the cold wind and the snow on her face, couldn’t imagine how she managed it.
Rethia finally said, “The amulet is too loud. I can’t get any sense of where Reandn is.”
“With the amulet, I would think,” Kacey said. “Rethia, maybe Lamar’s right. We’ll never find him in this.”
Rethia’s aghast expression hit her like a blow. “Kacey... he needs us. Can’t you feel all the magic? He’s right in the middle of it!”
“I know,” Kacey snapped, wincing under the onslaught of guilt and worry. “But at this rate, we’ll miss the right turnoff.”
“Kacey —” Rethia’s plea went to her eyes, wordless and more effective than anything else she could have done.
She was right, of course. Reandn was in the middle of enough magic to kill him. Kacey shivered, and nodded. “All right, then. Let’s try a little longer —”
“No.” Lamar kept his horse right where it was, blocking their path. “I’m sorry, meiras, I really am, but we go no further tonight.”
Kacey had an instant’s rebellion, an urge to snarl and push right past him — but before she could even think of acting on it, Lamar’s horse crowded hers, and his gloved hands closed over her reins.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated, and looked miserable enough to mean it. “It’s not safe, and we’ll get nowhere for it.”
Kacey glared at him, and then looked away — blinking tears in frustrated acknowledgement of his truth. She knew she’d spend the night fighting her vivid imagination... whether they’d get there in time, or just one moment too late, while she wondered for the rest of her life if this was the moment that made the difference, that she should have protested harder, kicked her horse past Lamar’s, made him see —
“It won’t come to that,” Rethia said, all but inaudible. “It won’t come to that.”
But Kacey heard the fear in her voice.
~~~~~
“We need your help,” Vaklar said, in premptory tones that were surely meant to be a request. Ought to have been. Reandn heard him perfectly well, and saw him, too. Saw them all, including himself, and only then realized he was out of himself... beyond himself.
Not yet, dammit.
Vaklar pulled his slumping body out of the saddle, at the same time shouting over Sky’s rump to Elstan. “Take Kalena in the house! And get that cart hidden when you’re done.”
Does magic do this to death? Two years earlier, in a clearing filled with charging unicorns and tumultuous magic, Reandn had been thrown into this same in-between place — not dead, not alive. Only this time, Adela hadn’t met him here. Reandn looked for her, felt for her, yearned for her... and found nothing of her.
“You’re not taking anyone into my house,” said the alto voice, just as filled with anger as before — only now he saw her as well in the uneven light of her wind-rocked lantern as he might in full daylight. Young, furious, and frightened, with absurdly short chestnut hair puffing this way and that in the gusts that drove snow into her face, she stood in front of Sky and jabbed her finger at the road. “You’re not welcome here!”
“You’re a healer,” Vaklar said shortly, jerking his chin at the post from which a small painted sign flapped in the wind. “We need healing.” He held Reandn easily in his arms — a strange sight to see his own body dangling so limply, his head lolling as Vaklar shifted his hold. It was a body that still breathed, albeit in only the most strangled, shallow way. Behind Vaklar, Elstan escorted Kalena past the confrontation and into the small, wattle-fenced yard of the house.
“I don’t do people,” the young woman spat. She turned on Elstan and said, “Not one step further!”
In the open doorway, the shadows shifted, and resolved in the form of the huge dog. He stalked along the house and stood before the open doorway; his rumble of a growl vibrated in the air.
“Vaklar...” Elstan said, pulling Kalena behind him despite the meira’s gasp of outrage at being handled so.
“Just don’t move,” Vaklar said, assessing the dog with a flick of his gaze. He turned back to the young woman. “I don’t care if you’re a healer for pigs and snakes. What you know might still save his life, and no true healer can stand by and watch him — or the others — die!” He sent the road a pensive look, and Reandn knew he listened for sounds of their pursuit.
“You don’t understand — I don’t work on people — I can’t!” Her eyes narrowed, and she followed Vaklar’s glance. “Someone’s after you, aren’t they? Probably right on your heels, and you brought them to my home!”
“We came here by chance,” Vaklar snarled back at her — looking at the dog, the road, and Reandn in quick succession, while his expression hardened in decision. “Call off the dog and let me get these horses out of sight, now.”
She glared at him. “Kendall!” she snapped, and the dog came to stand by her side, his shoulders nearly as high as her hip. In a gesture still full of indignant fury, she pointed at the dark bulk of the barn.
Elstan immediately shoved Kalena toward the open house door, though of course she took only a few resistant, stumbling steps before coming to a complete halt. Elstan ran back to the cart mule and maneuvered the beast around in a tight turn. “The personal is bleeding again,” he told Vaklar, and Vaklar, in clear dilemma, finally lay Reandn — his body — beside the wattle fence. “I’ll see to this,” he told Elstan, who instantly grabbed the leads and reins of as many horses as he could.
And Reandn, watching himself die, growled, Breathe, dammit! Breathe!
“What’s wrong with him?” the young woman asked, hesitating between Elstan and Reandn. From the yard Kalena moved in closer, uncertain.
“Magic,” Elstan said shortly, wrestling with Sky and giving up on him. “He shouldn’t have been on this trip. He’s reactive to it.”
Don’t quit, not yet.
“To magic?” She looked at him askance, one hand resting on her dog’s back.
“Yes.” Elstan gave up on Sky and turned for the barn. “Are you sure you can’t —”
“I told you,” she said, and there was as much fear in her voice as anger.
Elstan gave her nothing but a surprisingly grim look, and led the horses away; Sky trailed behind them.
Something closed down over Reandn then, a dimness, a sense of the struggle he’d been watching without feeling. Damned Wolf, you’ve lived through this before!
Kalena glared up at the young woman. “You could, if you tried.” She pulled her fancy jacket closed against the wind. “Go on, get closer. Look at him. Can you do that and not even try? He’s got some kind of medicine with him — at least give him some of that.” Her voice shifted back to its haughty Highborn tones.
Miserably, the young woman said, “I can’t touch him. You do it.”
A choking sensation closed in over his throat; Reandn felt his fingers scrabbling over the wet ground at the same time he saw himself do it — spastic clutching movements, as though if he could just find something to hang on to he’d survive after all. As though in the actual dying, his body drew him close again.
Kelara said, “Me? Handle a man —!” But she stuttered off, caught in her own argument. With some distaste, she knelt by him, gingerly patting over his jacket pockets. She found Kacey’s elixir and pulled it out, struggling with the cork. And then she froze, staring at him. “He’s not breathing!”
The young woman came closer as though despite herself, but stopped short, a clear decision. She whispered, “There’s nothing I can do.”
But she was close enough. Never one willing to take no for an answer, no, not Kalena. Her hand shot up to the woman�
�s thin jacket, grabbed hold, and yanked. Caught off balance, the young woman stumbled and fell, thrusting her hands out to save herself — and landing on Reandn.
An astonishing jolt ran through both of them — Reandn felt it, he saw his body jerk in response, saw the woman snatch her hands away with a cry of surprise. His vision cleared; his body struggled anew, gaining a single successful breath. The woman looked at him, her eyes wide, her face filled with both fear and disbelief. She looked at her trembling hands, and slowly, ever so slowly, reached for him again.
The instant she touched him, he lost that strange dual awareness. Crammed back into a body that suddenly felt too small, he drowned in sensation — his burning lungs, his fingers digging into the ground, the shout of magic in his head, the fear caught in his throat.
And then suddenly he was breathing again, overwhelmed by an assault of sensations, bereft of rational thought. The fear in his throat turned into a cry of alarm, and he did what a Wolf was ever wont to do — face his threats.
Faster than thought, he rolled away from the two women and onto his knees and then right up to a crouch — but his legs failed him and down he went to his knees again, heaving great ragged breaths with the catch of a sob buried within. Wild-eyed, he found Kalena scrambling back from him — and he found the young woman kneeling frozen, her hands still hovering where they’d touched him. Just as distressed, her face full of shock, she stared back at him.
And met his gaze with startling blue and brown piebald eyes.
~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 11
Reandn struggled for composure, knowing better than to try to get to his feet, his mind’s eye full of the young woman’s haunted marbled eyes and his body slowly realizing it somehow still lived.
The young woman slowly backed away from him; the wind caught her short chestnut hair and flattened it into a fringe around one side of her face. Back she went, clutching her jacket with white-knuckled hands, back to the doorway of her house. There, she seemed to lose strength; the giant dog pressed itself against her legs.
Wolf Justice Page 17
