My hair moved. Warm breath bathed my neck. A hot shiver ran down my spine. I whirled around, but no one was there.
I had to keep moving. Don’t stop, I chanted to myself. Don’t stop whatever you do.
Again the laughter.
“Leave me be!” I yelled. “Get out of my head!”
My words echoed down the corridor. As they dissipated, the moans took over, growing louder, more demanding and deafening. Intense and needful. I kept moving in the blackness, taking each step carefully, never knowing where my feet might land.
“Deira!” A voice called.
“Go away!”
“Deira!”
I bolted up. Pain shot into my skull as colorful stars burst behind my eyelids. “Ow!” Immediately my hand went to my forehead. I heard a curse and saw Balen facing me, sprawled on his rump, holding his forehead.
My heart raced. My face was warm. I checked my body. No gown. My hair was still braided. Oh, thank Dagda; it had only been a dream. Just a dream.
Heat still clouded me and worse, my pulse was pounding between my legs and my breasts felt heavier than normal. I put both palms to my cheeks to cool them and took long even breaths, glancing at Balen only to feel a flush of shame, sure that he could see into my mind and body.
Our eyes locked.
Balen’s lips were drawn into a pained line. But his eyes blazed intensely and curiously as they swept over me.
I couldn’t look away.
One of the horses snorted loudly, making me jump.
I got up and marched quickly to the cold stream on shaky legs. Balen followed. He paced back and forth along the bank as I cupped my hands in the water and drank deeply, the cold water sliding down my grateful, parched throat. I splashed the water on my cheeks, relieved when a chill replaced the heat.
Finally, I straightened and faced him. He’d stopped pacing, hands on his hips, his expression ferocious and bewildered. He dragged his fingers through his hair and frowned, seeming as confused as me. “Are you all right?”
No, I was not, but I nodded anyway.
How could I even began to explain what had happened? The Dream. The voice in my mind. The overwhelming feelings that flooded my body, both physically and mentally...
He took a step toward me and then halted mid-stride as though second-guessing his intention. “Deira.”
I swallowed. “Aye?”
His look became frank, committed, and then it changed to frustration. He threw up his hands in a gesture of defeat. “We may as well ride now since we’re both wide awake.”
He stalked back to the glowing embers that had once been our fire.
“Good idea,” I said to no one, following him back to camp at a much slower pace.
As I made my way to the fire to shake out my blanket, I wondered if Balen was also going through something similar. He did seem annoyed. Exasperated. And many times, I sensed he wanted to talk about it, but then had grown too irritated to do so. Would that someone had given me instructions on how to interpret a male’s behavior.
But then my behavior was just as confounding. I felt lost, as though I’d become a stranger to myself. My emotions were at war, emotions I’d never dealt with before to this degree.
Balen saddled the horses and then donned his chainmail, tying the rest of the light plated armor onto the saddled while I packed the bags and then doused the embers with dirt, stamping the coals out with the soles of my shoes until none remained, leaving only the moonlight to guide our way.
The thump and rustle of the horses’ gaits as Balen led them forward made the quiet between us seem exaggerated. I took the reins as a guttural, high pitched scream echoed over the forest.
CHAPTER 10
“Stay close to me,” Balen commanded as the scream died, leaving an eerie silence in its wake.
We waited.
The treetops rustled and bent, groaning in protest. Branches broke. I looked up, crouching down as I did. Balen shoved his horse’s reins into my hand. “Move them toward the water.”
Quickly, I led the horses away.
More screams.
The whoosh of giant wings. The thump of something on the ground, and a loud, angry grunt of pain.
Then silence.
I remained by the edge of the river for what seemed like an eternity. Balen finally called me back in a tone suggesting all was well.
I brought the horses back to camp to a surprising sight. Ferryn, the one who had carried the buckets of water for my bath, was sprawled on the ground, Balen kneeling beside him.
Moonlight revealed the blood soaking Ferryn’s chest, the paleness of his face, and the panic enlarging his pupils. He shivered all over and he was gaping, trying to catch his breath. When he spoke, his voice caught in a high pitch. “Drem caught me in its talons.” He glanced at the wounds on his chest. “I came on horseback, but it . . . it grabbed me off.” He covered one of the puncture wounds and tested the movement of his shoulder, but froze, gasping in pain.
“Drem was protecting us. We were attacked not too long ago,” Balen said as I joined them.
Why was I not surprised? I might be in awe of the creature, but so far it had toyed with me, invaded my privacy, and while it might have been obeying Balen’s order to leave the fight, I had yet to become a loyal supporter of the creature. And now it had nearly killed Ferryn.
Carefully, I peeled back the ripped tunic at Ferryn’s shoulder to examine the wounds. “I won’t touch. I just want to see,” I assured him when he flinched. “Are you injured anywhere else?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
The puncture wounds were deep. I was glad they hadn’t gone through his lungs or shoulder blades. I wished I had spent more time learning healing in Murias. I turned to Balen. “What should we do?”
“We’ll dress the wounds and then ride for Falias. The healers there will help us.”
“Right.” I smiled at Ferryn. “Falias is famous for its healers. You’ll be all right. For now let’s get you warmed up.” I looked to Balen. “Will you start the fire?”
As Balen went to light the fire and add more wood, I helped Ferryn to our small ring of campfire stones. Soon the fire created enough warmth and Ferryn stopped shivering. “We’ll have to remove your tunic,” I told him. “I promise to go slowly.”
His eyes were still as wide as supper plates, but he said, “There’s a dagger in my boot. Cut it off.”
I found the dagger and began cutting the tunic away from his body. He was wide shouldered and lithe like Balen, but didn’t have quite the muscle mass. Yet. The puncture wounds bled profusely leaving bloody trails down the taut pale skin.
“It really plucked you right from the saddle?”
“Aye. Scary feeling, that.”
Balen crouched next to us and inspected the wounds. “We can pack it with Noden moss to stop the bleeding and then we’ll need bandages.”
“We can use the gown,” I suggested.
I set to work using Ferryn’s dagger to cut the beautiful gown into strips while Balen collected the Noden moss from the rocks near the river. The moss was known far and wide for its antiseptic properties. We worked together, using the cool water to cleanse the wounds and wipe away the dirt and other debris with the extra strips I’d cut.
Ferryn winced and gasped, but he never cried out. I admired his courage. His skin had paled, and a greenish tint filled the shadows of his face. Several times Balen and I exchanged looks of concern.
“What of the battle?” Balen asked Ferryn as we worked, and I suspected it was to distract the younger one from the pain.
“Easily routed. From their numbers I don’t think it was meant to be won.” He winced again as I placed moss against one of the wounds. I held it while Balen wrapped it. “Ixia is gone.”
Startled, I glanced at Balen. His expression didn’t change save for the slight intake of breath that suggested more anger than shock. “Orin sent me as soon as we realized. It wasn’t long after you and Deira rode out. We think they were after you—” he gave me a sorry glance— “Orin thinks Nox knows. How could they have known so quickly that we found our Light Bearer?”
A dark frown overtook Balen’s face as he tied off the bandage. “We’ve been betrayed by one of our own,” he said quietly.
Ferryn dipped his head in agreement, but I wasn’t so sure. “How can you be certain?”
“Under my command, all Sydhrs are forbidden to speak of the foretelling,” Balen answered. “One of our own spoke of it. Either directly to Nox’s forces or indirectly.” He motioned for me to continue with the moss. “Either way it’s treason.”
The crackle of the fire filled the silence. Sparks shot up into the sky.
“He won’t stop, will he? Now that he knows.” Ferryn’s eyes were wide with worry.
“No,” Balen answered. “He won’t. His focus will be on us now.”
On me, I thought darkly.
The memory of Nox’s voice lingered in my mind along with the disturbing certainty that the King of the Underworld had only just begun his assault. Part of me wanted to tell Balen everything, but I couldn’t seem to get it out. It had been such an intimate thing, and I didn’t want Balen to think I was weak-willed, easily swayed, or . . . tainted in some way by Nox.
I’d have to tell him, and soon. Once we made it to Falias. Once Ferryn was taken care of. Once we were alone. Then I’d tell him.
After we finished dressing the wounds, Balen began repacking the bags as I helped Ferryn to his feet. A lock of his hair fell, covering his eye. He went to shove it back, but the movement caused pain and stopped him cold. I held onto him tightly as he swayed. Then, I reached up with a small smile and tucked the hair behind his ear for him. “There you go.”
His cheeks flushed red. “Thank you,” he said, clearly embarrassed.
“You’re welcome. I can help you to the horses, but I think Balen will have to lift you up.”
Balen finished with the bag, picked it up, then bent down for his short sword, strapping to his waist, and then his broad sword, which he slung over his back.