Then he saw motion behind the Dwarf, and a thick tree branch came soundly down on the back of his head. The Dwarf grunted and collapsed to the side, and Gennadi grabbed the knife.
Emeline stood there, still clutching the tree branch.
Spinning at the sound of footsteps behind her, Emeline swung at the next opponent, but this Dwarf was ready for it, and blocked her blow with his forearm, knocking the branch out of her grip. Then he dodged in, knife low, and gave her a sound cut on the lower leg. Emeline cursed and dropped to the ground, clutching at the wound with one hand but reaching for the fallen branch with her other, even as the Dwarf readied his knife.
Gennadi's newly-recovered sword split the Dwarf's skull in two.
Emeline scrambled away from the grisly sight, gagging, and closed her eyes as Gennadi made short, bloody work of his last two opponents. She opened her eyes, thinking the battle was over, only to see Gennadi behead the one who was only knocked unconscious.
"On second thought," she murmured, "maybe I should've just run."
"Come on," Gennadi said, wiping his sword off on the grass and sheathing it again before helping Emeline to her feet.
"Your arm, is it―"
"It's fine," he said, though the pain in his voice and the fact that blood was soaking his entire shirtsleeve contradicted him. Emeline kept her weight on one leg, leaning against Gennadi's good side and making her way to the Dwarves' home in small hops. Once they'd reached the doorway, Gennadi moved away. Emeline watched curiously as Gennadi stalked over to the edge of the trees, where the body of one of the Dwarves lay. Then he withdrew his knife and plunged it deep into the Dwarf's chest.
Emeline quickly looked away. "What are you...?"
"Ilari wants your heart," Gennadi said. "I'll bring this to her instead. And may she find it bitter enough to kill her."
"But the Mirror. Won't she know if―?"
"I'll deal with that when it happens."
"Gennadi," Emeline said quietly, and Gennadi had to turn away, couldn't bear meeting her eyes just yet.
"Trackers will find us if I stay out here with you."
"Maybe not," Emeline said hopefully. "There are certainly more than enough things out here that could eat them first."
He laughed and then moved to the door. Emeline was peering inside the cabin, giving the interior a cursory look-around. As soon as she turned back, Gennadi pulled her into his arms.
"What's this for?" she asked, hugging him back tightly.
"I told you to run," Gennadi said. "You didn't have to come back for me."
And though Emeline knew she needed to move away, knew that she needed to bandage her leg, rest, and try to figure out what her next course of action should be, right now she couldn't make herself move away, couldn't make herself say anything but, "Stay."
Gennadi's expression grew somber. "We have several days yet before Ilari will realize anything's wrong. We don't have to discuss it now."
*~*~*
"I wouldn't," Gennadi said when Emeline started to take a bright red apple out of the bowl on the counter. "I'm not sure any food in this place would be safe, but those are especially dangerous."
"What do you mean?"
"They'll find―they found―travelers," he said. "Sometimes the Dwarves didn't kill them with blades or arrows. They would just come upon someone who was lost and starving and offer them an apple. Then they'd watch as the traveler died from the poison."
"Wonderful," Emeline said, quickly dropping the fruit.
"I'll go find something for us." Gennadi quietly left the cabin, and Emeline sat down on the end of one of the beds and drew a shuddering breath. Her leg hurt like blazes but she didn't want to start whining about it; Gennadi had been hovering too much already and it wasn't as if she was the only one who'd been hurt in that fight and―
sword cleaving through bone as if it was nothing at all
―since Gennadi was getting around and was generally fine, then she would be, too, really the―
blood and brains leaking out of a split-open skull
―only reason she wasn't helping him get food or wood for the fireplace was because of exactly where she was hurt.
coughing blood, a fine mist of red covering the lower half of his face before the eyes had gone blank
Emeline squeezed her eyes shut, her shoulders shaking as she cried silently.
She shouldn't even be sitting here right now; she should be on her way back to the castle. Though the passage into the Silence had surely been blocked off, there were other ways to get in. With herself and King Nazar gone, Ilari had the crown. She needed to try and get Lisette, Vasya, and Jyotsana out.
Like you got Roz out? Emeline thought bitterly.
She rubbed at her eyes and gingerly got to her feet. She'd been useless, yes, but she could put an end to that. Starting now. Even if she couldn't hunt, she could at least pick up some firewood.
Emeline hobbled outside, using the first stray branch she found as a makeshift crutch. She knew better than to get out of sight of the cabin, but she moved further to the west so she wouldn't have to catch glimpses of the Dwarves' dead bodies as she gathered small twigs and sticks.
"There you are."
She looked up and dropped every stick she'd gathered.
No, she thought. She couldn't be seeing her. She was back at the castle.
"Ilari?" she whispered. She felt someone grab her hand and glanced to the side. Gennadi was there, clutching her hand, looking worried and saying something she couldn't quite make out. His entire form was fading, transparent. Then it was gone entirely, and she turned back to her daughter.
"Where were you?" her daughter snapped. "You can brave Vedrana's Forest to save your own hide but you never defended me?"
"I... I was just―"
"You were a coward back then and you're a coward now," Ilari said. "You just let the king take me away, let him raise me, let grandmother raise me. Where were you when you could've still made a difference?"
"You're not real," Emeline whispered, a faint protest that sounded weak even to her own ears.
"I'm not?" her daughter asked, sidling closer. "I called for you. Night after night, when I was a little girl. I sobbed until my throat felt raw but you never came."
"You're not real!"
"Did you hear me crying? You did, didn't you? And still you didn't come for me. Your own daughter, and you did nothing to help. Is it any wonder I hate you?" she snarled. "Is it any wonder I wish―"
And then something cracked across Emeline's face, and Ilari was gone.
"I'm so sorry," Gennadi said. "I didn't know what else to do. The lights got hold of you. Don't look back at them," he said quickly, when Emeline started to peer over her shoulder.
She remembered now. She'd leaned over to pick up another twig and had seen floating blue lights. She'd peered into the shadows at them and watched as they'd taken form, and after that...
If she'd been alone, Emeline wondered if she wouldn't have just stood rooted to this spot until dehydration or a more direct predator took her life.
She rubbed at her sore cheek, and Gennadi pulled her into a hug. "I'm sorry," he said again. "The only other thing I could think of was a kiss, since those are supposed to break spells, but you told me you didn't like―well, not that you would like being slapped. I wasn't―"
"It's all right," she said. "I promise."
"What are you doing out here, anyway?" Gennadi asked. "I thought I told you to stay in the cabin."
"Just gathering some firewood," Emeline muttered, picking up the sticks she'd dropped. "I'm not useless."
"Never said you were," Gennadi said. "Once you're healed up and not half-delirious, I'll work you like an armorhart. Until then, rest. All right?"
Emeline opened her mouth to argue but finally just nodded. "All right."
Chapter Fourteen
Gennadi was making sure all the windows were shut against the oncoming storm when he thought he saw a shadow move.
&nbs
p; Narrowing his eyes, he stared out into the night. He saw no other motion, but when Emeline started to say something to him, he raised his hand to signal for quiet.
Nothing could be heard over the thunder.
"What is it?" Emeline asked.
"Don't know," he answered quietly. "Wait here."
Emeline nodded, picking up both the Dwarves' bracelet and one of the knives they'd found in this cabin: a black blade with red jewels in the hilt. Gennadi wasn't entirely sure she'd be able to use the knife if the time came, given how awful and personal the act of stabbing someone was, but he knew that now wasn't the time for a discussion.
Gennadi stepped outside and closed the door quietly behind him, sword in hand. He was soaked instantly, cold rain striking him like a multitude of needles, and he shook the water out of his eyes. He hoped he was just paranoid, imagining things.
The rain struck against the leaves, rattling and covering most noise. Lightning flashed, and in it he saw movement again. With a curse, Gennadi crept closer, ready to strike.
The motion wasn't an animal chewing at the Dwarf's body, as he'd first assumed. It was the Dwarf himself. As Gennadi stared, the skin started to knit back together, the wound disappearing. Nearby, the Dwarf's head rolled back toward its body, tendons and veins snaking out to reattach it.
Temporarily paralyzed at the sight, Gennadi's body flooded with energy when he heard high-pitched laughter off to the side. He drew his sword. "Come on, then!" he shouted. "I beat you once; I can do it again!"
Their footsteps sounded, charging through the underbrush right at him, and Gennadi remained relaxed, waiting.
Then a slight motion, just barely visible from the corner of his eye, shifted the focus of his attention. There was a person standing there, her form transparent, her hands covering her face as she sobbed. She was tiny, barely coming up to his waist, though the curves of breast and hip marked her as an adult.
The Dwarves themselves had fallen silent. He glanced back over at them―all seven were visible now, having emerged from the underbrush or standing beside trees, but they held very still, their gazes on the woman.
He took a step toward the apparition, expecting the Dwarves to charge at him. When they remained still, he crouched down. "Miss?"
She looked up, her tear-filled eyes meeting his, and everything around him changed.
Rather than readying himself for battle in Vedrana's Forest, he was standing in an unfamiliar village. He whirled around, sword ready, but none of the villagers, who were going about their business untroubled, seemed to even notice he was there, much less mean him harm. He lowered his sword and then turned his attention to the sound of hoofbeats.
A tall, imposing man wearing rich purple robes rode into the center of the village, nodding his head and smiling at the villagers who cheered when they saw him. As he dismounted, Gennadi saw that he wasn't the only one on the horse. A boy of around eleven or twelve―with the same angular face and prominent ears as the robed man―sat behind him, dismounting after his father.
The man dismissed the boy, waving for him to run off and play. Then he raised his hands high as a crowd gathered around him. Lightning arced from one hand to the other, and the villagers gasped.
A sorcerer, then. Or at least someone very talented with cheap tricks and misdirection.
Then Gennadi saw the small woman moving away from the sorcerer, following the boy. He did so as well.
The boy ran to a large, worn-down house near the edge of the village. He knocked on the door, a smile on his face that made Gennadi's hackles rise. Another boy, about the age of the first but looking far more tired, opened the door.
A moment later Gennadi understood why, as seven other children crowded into the doorway, peering out curiously. There was no adult in sight.
"Can Zaira come out to play?"
"No," the oldest boy said flatly, starting to shut the door. The sorcerer's son blocked it with his arm.
"I don't think my father would like that answer much."
"Then let me hear it from him."
"It's all right," the smallest girl said, and as she moved forward, Gennadi recognized in her features the woman she would become. The transparent woman stared at her younger self, her expression grief-stricken.
"Then we'll come with you."
The sorcerer's son looked irritated but not surprised, and they headed out in a group. He waited until they were all out in the open in front of the house and then raised his hands and tried to conjure lightning. A tiny spark flew from one index finger to the other.
One of the other children laughed, and he glared around at all of them. Zaira just beamed at him. "It's okay!" she said. "Try it again!"
Smirking now, he raised his hands. This time when the spark flew, it was about three times as large, and instead of arcing from one of his hands to another, it flew off-course and struck Zaira in the arm. She yelped in pain, and while half of her siblings immediately crowded around her, the other half lunged toward the sorcerer's son. He was already running back to the safety of the crowd in the center of the village; when he reached his father's side, he smiled brightly, looking so sweet.
They faded from sight then―or he himself faded even further, Gennadi couldn't rightly tell―but when he could see anything other than a bright-colored blur again, he found himself in another part of the village. The sorcerer's son was sitting next to Zaira in the dusty space between two houses, both of them a few years older now.
"Just a kiss," the boy was saying. "Can't hurt, can it?"
"I don't know," Zaira said.
He sighed, the sound petulant, as he moved his hand in midair slightly and intricate patterns appeared in the dust beside them. "Come on," he said. "Why not? You're not going to ever do better, you know. My father's one of the most powerful men in the Kingdom. And, well... look at you."
She scrunched up her nose at that last comment and got to her feet. "Goodbye, Ettore."
He moved suddenly, grabbing her shoulders as he stood, lifting her and pinning her to the wall, her feet dangling in midair.
"Hey!" Gennadi shouted, moving forward. When neither of them reacted he cursed loudly, remembering then that no one could see or hear him.
"I gave you a chance," Ettore snapped. "All you had to do was say yes. Was that so hard?"
"Put me down!"
Instead, he slammed his mouth down onto hers, pushing her back against the wall even harder when she began struggling.
"Somebody!" Gennadi shouted, turning away from the wretched scene and running closer to the crowd in the village center because there had to be someone in this crowd of hundreds who could see him, who could hear him, who would stop this.
Then he heard a yelp of pain and ran back to where he'd left the two of them, only now there were far more than two. One of Zaira's older sisters gave Ettore a hard punch to the nose and he spun, clutching at his face, only to get the fist of one of her brothers driven into his stomach. He collapsed on the ground, crying, and Zaira's eldest brother picked her up, hugging her, asking her if she was all right.
"I'm okay," she said. "Thank you. Thank you so much. I'm okay."
"Good," he said. "You want to come back to the market with us, or do you want to go home?"
"Home sounds good."
"All right."
They faded again, and once again Gennadi saw the sorcerer and his son ride into the village. Only now the father―white-haired, fingers gnarled and body stick-thin―rode behind the son, and the son was the one in the rich purple robes.
Ettore dismounted and helped his father down, and then left him in the village square. Fewer people gathered around him now, and those who did mostly had gray hair. They sat down close to him, speaking quietly. The time for impressive acts of magic was clearly over.
The son, meanwhile, headed off into the village and Gennadi stalked after him.
Ettore approached an unfamiliar house, but a familiar face opened the door. As soon as she saw him, Zaira took a quick st
ep back and started to shut the door. He shoved it open and moved inside, slamming the door behind him.
Gennadi looked back at Zaira. She had turned away, her shoulders shaking, and he slowly moved toward the house. He didn't want to witness this, not any of it, but it felt as though he owed it to her.
"What are you doing here?" Zaira asked, looking up at Ettore warily.
"Wanted to talk to you," Ettore said, his words slurring together. Zaira looked frightened still, but also concerned, and she took a small step closer.
"Are you all right? What's wrong?"
"Everything!" he snapped. "Everything's wrong! I would've been good, you know. For you. I would've!"
"Of... of course."
"And I was nice. Right? I was nice. Better than anyone else has been," he said, looking derisively around the house. "Never married, did you? 'Course not. But I would've married you! And what did you do? You turned me down!"
"I didn't mean it as an insult," Zaira said, the fear overtaking the concern now. "Let's take a walk. All right?"
"No!" he shouted, slamming his fist into the wall. "Stop trying to distract me! I came here for a reason. To tell you something. To tell you..." He shook his head and then rubbed at his temples.
"Ettore. To tell me what?"
"You made a mistake. Turning me down like that."
"I see." She dodged around him then, making a frantic dash for the door, but he caught hold of her before she could reach it and pulled her back to him.
A moment later, Zaira's ghost moved through the wall as well, her eyes fixed on her past self's struggle.
"You don't have to watch this," Gennadi said.
"Yes, I do," she whispered. "I always do. Whether I am awake or resting. I'm always here."
"I'm so sorry."
"As am I. I think... I think I could have dealt with it. But Marzio, Alvise, and Ada had just returned from a hunting trip, and Fausto was working in the market with the others. Cinzia had forgotten her notebook to write down the day's sales. When she ran back to get it, and she passed through the square and saw the old sorcerer and she knew." She cleared her throat and managed to continue after a moment. "And she gathered the others and they―they never should have. I would have been fine. I would have been."
Winterbourne's Daughter Page 20
