High Druid's Blade

EIGHTEEN

EMERGING FROM MISCHA’S BUILDING INTO THE ALLEYWAY with Chrysallin clinging to him, Grehling was surprised to find that dusk was setting in. He’d paid no attention to the time of day while tracking Arcannen and then freeing the girl, and he was vaguely disturbed to find he no longer had much daylight left. He supposed this was an automatic reaction to a change he hadn’t anticipated, but he also knew it was a response to not wanting to be caught out in his present circumstances after dark.

He slowed at the alley entrance and peered both ways down the street beyond. A solitary cart was ambling along from his right, pulled by a donkey and driven by an old man. No one was in view to his left, in the direction of Dark House. It was as much as he could have hoped for; one old man did not suggest problems. But he was still dizzy from punching Mischa in the face and having to half carry Chrysallin out of the house, and feeling less than able to deal with much of anything more.

Especially Mischa.

If she caught up to him now …

He wondered suddenly if she knew who he was. He didn’t think so, but he couldn’t afford to take the chance. That meant he couldn’t haul Chrysallin back to the airfield and try to hide her there. If the witch had recognized him, she would bring Arcannen right to his front door. He had to get Chrysallin out of the city altogether if he wanted to be sure she was safe. He had to return her to her brother.

But first he had to get them both off the streets of the city and out of sight.

The cart with the old man and the donkey rolled past, and he turned to Chrysallin. “Can you walk yet?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

At least, she seemed a bit more lucid. She was no longer muttering to herself and sounding as if she were drunk, even if she still looked it. He eased her out of the alley and turned her down the street. She was doing better with supporting herself, not entirely able to let go of him and still staggering slightly, but making an effort at walking alone. Fortunately, this was a part of the city where a boy walking with an intoxicated girl wouldn’t attract much attention.

But it was a long way to the airfield, if he intended to go there, and now he was thinking maybe he should, in spite of the danger. If Mischa had recognized him, she would come after him. But whether she did or not, Chrysallin Leah was not safe in Wayford and had to be taken somewhere else. To do that, he would need an airship to fly her there.

Which meant going to the airfield.

But afoot it would take forever.

He was sweating heavily now, and the fear that had been temporarily submerged by his earlier excitement was resurfacing. What had he done? He still couldn’t believe it. He was risking his life for a girl he didn’t even know for reasons he couldn’t quite define. He knew it was the right thing to do, but it was so foolish it bordered on insanity. He had heard the stories of what Arcannen did to his enemies. He knew what was likely to happen to him if he were caught out at this point. And Mischa’s reputation was no less terrifying, and her response unlikely to be much different than Arcannen’s.

“We have to walk faster,” he muttered.

But Chrysallin was moving as fast as she could, and even after long minutes they had only gotten a few blocks away and were still on the main road. He was beginning to panic now, in danger of losing what little confidence he had left. He had to find a new plan, change what he was doing to something that made sense, and get off the street!

Then he remembered Leofur Rai.

She lived not two blocks away, just off this roadway, tucked back down a narrow pass–through. He didn’t see much of her anymore, but she might be willing to help him. Of the alternatives he could manage to conjure, this was the best one.

Chrysallin had begun muttering to herself again, slipping in and out of lucidity, head drooping, body starting to sag. She wasn’t strong enough for this yet, and it further convinced him that getting her to a place where she could rest was essential. He moved her forward, speaking to her softly as he did, urging her to keep going, to be strong, to remember she was free and would soon reach her brother.

They were just words and maybe even wishful thinking, but they kept her going. He could tell she heard him and was responding, but her focus was limited and her strength barely equal to what was required of her.

Nevertheless, he got her to the side street and into the pass–through, and in moments they were standing at Leofur’s door. He tried to imagine for a moment what his reception would be like, but failed to manage an image that could do it justice. So in the end, he simply knocked, stepped back from the entry, and waited, doing his best to keep Chrysallin steady as she swayed drunkenly, trying to put together in his head the words he would need to persuade Leofur to help.

When the door finally opened, there she was, exactly as he remembered her. Brilliant green eyes, honey–colored hair artificially streaked with silver, perfect features, not very big, sort of on the short side, but immediately unforgettable. He’d fallen in love with her the moment his father hired her to care for him–she only fifteen, he still a child and not yet even aware of what real love was, but spellbound even so. His mother was dead by then, and his father didn’t want him to grow up without a woman’s hand. So Leofur had been brought in to care for him in those years before his father remarried, and even at eight years of age he was smitten from day one.

A hopeless infatuation, of course, but it was one he still remembered as if it had happened yesterday. When she left, he had thought he might follow her. But by then he was realizing how hopeless it all was, and so he had chosen not only to quit thinking about her but also to not see her again.

That had been three years ago, and this was the first time he had been able to make himself come looking for her. She gave him a flat, expressionless look, her smooth face hiding the surprise that flashed momentarily in her eyes.

“Can we come in?” he asked, trying his best not to give away his own feelings on seeing her again. “Please?”

She stood where she was, her gaze shifting between the girl and him. “How bad is this?” she asked finally.

“About as bad as it could be,” he admitted. “We need to get off the streets right away.”

Without another word, she stepped aside, holding the door open to allow them to enter and then quickly closing it behind them.

“Sit her down at the kitchen table,” she told him, hurrying ahead to move several stacks of clothes she had been sorting. She glanced back at him as she did so. “I wondered if I would ever see you again.”

He nodded, his face gone flaming red. “I just couldn’t,” he said.

At the end of things, he had told her he loved her. Just before she left them to go back to her own life. He thought maybe she might take him with her. But instead she sat him down and told him she couldn’t do that. He would have to stay with his father until he was old enough to be out on his own. What she was telling him, of course, was that she didn’t love him in the way he loved her. It was a terrible moment; he had felt destroyed.

“Who is this you have with you?” she asked.

“This is Chrysallin. She’s from the Highlands. Arcannen took her prisoner and locked her away in Dark House. He’s working with that old crone, Mischa.”

He went on to tell her everything–all about the first kidnapping that was meant to lure Paxon Leah to Wayford, the rescue and escape that followed, the second kidnapping and how he had learned about it by chance, and his own rescue of Chrysallin that had brought him here.

“I couldn’t leave her. I couldn’t let what was happening to her continue.”

“Which was some sort of magic?” Leofur turned to the girl. “What were they doing to you?”

Chrysallin looked startled. “I asked! I begged them to tell me! But they wouldn’t answer. Not the Elven woman. Not any of them. They just kept hurting me! They cut me and broke my bones and pulled the skin from my body. They used metal tools to make the pain worse, and all I could think about was how they were taking me apart, destroying me. The way they were making me look …”

Leofur shifted her eyes to Grehling questioningly. What? She mouthed the word soundlessly.

He shook his head. I don’t know.

“Where are you hurt?” Leofur asked the girl.

“Everywhere! Can’t you see?” She was instantly hysterical, wildeyed. “Look at me! No one can see me like this.”

Leofur moved over to sit next to her, taking her hands in her own. “But there’s nothing wrong with you, Chrysallin. Everything is fine.”

The Highland girl gasped in disbelief. “How can you say that? Look at my hands, my fingers. Look at my body!”

And she ripped open her nightshirt to reveal a perfectly flawless breast and shoulders.

Leofur gently pulled her garments back together and took Chrysallin in her arms and held her as she sobbed uncontrollably. “I think it would help if you would lie down. But first let’s give you something to help you sleep.”

She prepared some tea–or something that looked like tea–made of leaves she poured from a small pouch. Chrysallin drank the pungent liquid obediently, now and then glancing to make certain Grehling was still there. When she was finished, she allowed herself to be led over to the couch and placed on it. Leofur brought out a blanket and wrapped her in it, and in moments she was asleep.

Leofur motioned Grehling to join her at the kitchen table. “Well, something’s certainly been done to her. She thinks she’s been tortured, but there’s not a mark on her. How did this happen?”

“Mischa used magic.” Grehling fidgeted, nervous still in her presence. “Bands of greenish light. They were all over the room when I found her, hundreds of them, wrapped around her like ropes. She was twisting and thrashing, and she was clearly in pain.”

“She has to be made to understand there’s nothing wrong, that it’s all in her mind. But it can wait until after she sleeps.” Grehling started to reach for the bag that contained the leaves used to make the tea given Chrysallin, and quickly Leofur held up her hands. “Not that, Grehling,” she said sharply. “There’s more in that tea than what you need just now. Here.”

She rose, went to the cupboard, and brought out a different mix, then set about reheating the kettle. “I’m sorry I waited until this happened to come see you,” he said. “I shouldn’t have stayed away.”

She grinned, her cheeks dimpling. “No, you shouldn’t have. But that’s all right. I’ve been waiting for you. I thought you were just still trying to grow up and hadn’t quite gotten there yet.”

“Still haven’t gotten there,” he said with a shrug. “But I couldn’t wait any longer. I didn’t know where else to go.”

“That’s all right. You’re welcome here.” She paused, her smile fading a bit. “I thought you stayed away from me for other reasons.”

He shrugged. “I’ve heard some rumors.”

“Some of those rumors might be true.”

“I didn’t pay attention.” He had, of course. But he would never admit it because he didn’t want what he heard to be true. Not of Leofur. “Anyway,” he added, “it doesn’t matter. I’ve done plenty of things that aren’t so good, too.”

She stared at him a moment, a vaguely amused expression on her face, and then she nodded. “What do you want me to do for this girl? Hide her? This is Arcannen we’re talking about. I’m in as much trouble as you. I’m looking at real danger here.”

“I know. I shouldn’t have come.”

“I’m not saying that. I’m saying you have to decide what you want from me so I can tell you if I am prepared to offer it. I need to know what’s at risk if I agree to help you further. Do you want her kept here? Or do you want me to see about helping you get her out of the city? He’s going to be searching for her when he finds her gone, isn’t he?”

Grehling nodded. “He and Mischa might already be searching.”

“Do they know about your connection with her?”

“I don’t know. Mischa saw me leaving with her, but we’ve never met face–to–face, so she might not know who I am.”

“But you can’t take chances.”

He shook his head. “I thought I might try to get Chrysallin to the airfield and into my flit and fly her back to Leah. But the walk to the airfield is too long; she’s too weak to make it.”

“And too much under the influence of the magic, whatever it’s doing.” Leofur poured tea into cups for both of them. “Anyway, even if you somehow manage it, by the time you get there Arcannen or his men will already be watching. You know his reputation as well as I do.”

Something in the way she said it stopped him. “You don’t have anything to do with him, do you?”

She cocked her head, the vaguely amused expression returning. “No, I don’t have anything to do with him.”

“I didn’t think so.” But now he wished he hadn’t asked. “What do you think I should do?”

“You shouldn’t go back to the airfield or your house. You shouldn’t go anywhere near either one.” She thought about it a moment. “I could slip you out of the city in a wagon or cart, even though it might take a day or two to arrange things. But you might have to do it anyway, just because it would be the safest choice.”

He shook his head. “No. We’re miles from another city of any size. Or an airfield where I could find a ship. Anyway, I don’t have any money.”

She laughed. “You are sad, aren’t you? A rescuer with no means to effect a rescue.” She reached out and took his hands in hers. “I’m glad you came to me, Grehling. It’s good to see you again. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too,” he admitted. “It’s never been the same without you. Father remarried, and she’s nice enough, but we’re not close. I work at the airfield, but I’m pretty much on my own most of the time. I miss talking to you. Father tries, but …”

“Your father was never much of a talker,” she said. “But he was kind to me.”

She looked like she might say something more, but then she stood up abruptly and looked out the window into the darkening twilight. Nightfall was settling in, the shadows enveloping the surrounding buildings, the light gone out of the sky.

“Let’s think about this,” she said. “Why don’t we sleep on it? Night’s almost here, and you must be very tired after what you’ve been through. Your friend’s already asleep. Why don’t you join her? You can have a place beside her on the floor. I have some blankets and a sleeping pad you can use.”

Though anxious to be off, to be moving away from the danger, Grehling saw the wisdom in her advice and gave a nod. He would be able to think more clearly and act more quickly after he slept. He watched her as she walked over to a closet, brought out the promised pad and blankets, and laid them out neatly on the floor next to the couch where Chrysallin was sleeping.

“We’ll talk about this in the morning,” she said. She came over, took his hands once more, pulled him to his feet, and kissed him on the forehead. “There, just like when you were a little boy.”

She smiled and turned him toward the sleeping pad. “Lie down, now. Go to sleep.”

He did as he was told, slipping off his boots and shirt and crawling beneath the blanket as she extinguished the lights. He lay there in the dark, listening to her move away–down the hall and into her bedroom. He listened to her movements afterward, picturing her.

He understood in that moment why he had never really managed to forget how he felt about her.

He wasn’t sure how long he was asleep before he heard Chrysallin thrashing, but he was awake instantly as he jerked upright from beneath the blankets and hurriedly knelt beside the couch, trying to calm her.

“It’s okay,” he said, his voice a rough, sleep–fogged whisper. “You’re safe! Nothing can hurt you here.”

But she was having none of it, her eyes open and staring, her limbs gesturing wildly, her words jumbled and lacking any recognizable meaning. She kept saying something about the Elven woman, about her brother, and about a black knife. She raved about her pain and suffering, begging and begging her tormentors to stop, to let her go. He held her and whispered reassurances, soothed her with hushing and with the touch of his hand as he stroked her long hair. He did everything he knew how to do to calm her, but it was only after a long time that she went still again.

When he lay her back on the couch and adjusted her blanket, it seemed as if she had gone back to sleep.

But when he lay down again himself, he heard her call softly, “Grehling?”

“I’m here.”

“I had a dream. Another dream. A nightmare. It was bad.” She paused. “I don’t know what’s real anymore.”

He waited, and then said, “I’m real. Your being here with me is real. Being safe is real.”

“Maybe. But everything I thought was real before wasn’t. Now I can’t be sure of anything.”

He heard her shift positions so she was lying on her side, looking down at him. “I still hurt everywhere. I can still feel the pain from what they did to me. I can still remember them doing it.” She took a long shuddering breath. “But there doesn’t seem to be any physical damage. I touch my fingers and hands and arms–which I thought were all torn apart and broken–but they’re just the same as always.”

“Everything about you is fine. You don’t have any damage anyone can see. You look just the same. When it gets light you can see for yourself. All those things you said happened to you–they didn’t. Something was done to make you believe they happened, but they didn’t.”

She was silent for a long time. “I imagined it all?”

“You were made to imagine it, I think.”

“Maybe not all of it.”

He hesitated. “No, I think maybe everything.”

“Not the Elven woman. Not her. She was real. She was there every time I opened my eyes. Mischa was real. You said so yourself. They were both real, but maybe Mischa is dead now. I saw her head on a table.”

Grehling squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them. “I don’t think she’s dead. And neither do you. Think carefully. You saw her when we escaped. I struck her with my fist. You saw that happen.”

“Did I? I’m not sure. I don’t know if I remember that. I think it was the Elven woman. She was the one you struck.”

The boy sighed and yawned, reluctant to have this discussion now. “I have to sleep. So do you. We can talk about it in the morning. But I’ll be right here if you need me.”

“Promise?” she asked softly.

“Promise.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Silence. His breathing deepened and his eyes closed. He was almost asleep again when he heard her say, “When I see her again, I’m going to kill her.”

He didn’t have to ask who she meant.