Leaves of Flame (22 page)

“No,” Colin rasped, allowing Aeren to lay him onto his back again. “Let them go.”

“But the knife—­” Eraeth began.

“I can get it back!” Colin choked on blood at the force behind the words, at the anger that seethed in his chest. In a quieter voice, he added, “Lotaern won’t hold the knife for long. He knows this. I can take it whenever I wish.”

“Not if you don’t recover,” Aeren said harshly. He motioned toward the guardsman, who resheathed his blade and grabbed the pack again. He drew out clothing, Aeren picking through it, stuffing a shirt to Colin’s side and pressing hard.

Colin moaned, as Eraeth finally lowered his cattan. The
caitan glanced toward Siobhaen. “How long can you hold the fire?”

She grimaced. “Not long enough. Not if the sukrael don’t leave.”

“Tighten the circle,” Colin said through clenched teeth. Aeren had begun tying the shirt to his chest with strips of torn cloth. “Bring it closer to the Well. It will be easier to manage.”

Siobhaen nodded, closed her eyes in concentration. Colin felt a surge of power through the earth, but the sensation was distant. The adrenaline over the loss of the knife was already fading. He could feel his arms beginning to tingle, the weakness pressing in on him from all sides. The light-­headedness had returned.

“And then what?” Eraeth asked, frustration tainting his voice.

“And then,” Colin said, darkness closing in fast now, weighing him down, drawing him into its vastness so fast he couldn’t finish.

But he heard Aeren say from far away, “Then we wait.”

“W
ILL HE SURVIVE?”

Aeren looked up at Siobhaen from where he sat feeding wood into the fire. Eraeth and Hiroun, his only remaining House guard, had gone in search of game outside, through the cavern’s tunnel. They’d left that morning, after waking to discover that the Wraith’s body had vanished. They’d left it where it had fallen so that Shaeveran could look at it when he woke, burning the two Rhyssal House Phalanx who had died the day before instead.

Now, Aeren wished they had tried to take care of the Wraith as well.

Because of that, and because of the betrayal of Vaeren and the other Flame members, Eraeth had not wanted to leave Aeren alone with Siobhaen. But Aeren had insisted. They needed food. Boreaus had taken nearly all of it with his pack, along with most of the torches and a few other supplies. They didn’t need torches now, not with the pulsing blue light of the Well illuminating the entire cavern of ice, but they would once they attempted to return through Gaurraenan’s halls.

He stared at Siobhaen as she stood over Shaeveran, a frown touching her face. A thin layer of anger seeped through his voice as he answered her.

“I’ve seen him survive much more serious wounds.”

She turned toward him. “Then why hasn’t he woken?”

“I never said he would recover quickly. It took days for him to recover at the Escarpment. Most would have died, even with immediate attention from the healers. This one is not as serious, but it should still have been fatal.”

“But there must be something more we can do. Have him drink from the sarenavriell. Something.”

“The sarenavriell is what keeps him alive, but it also taints him. It’s what is causing the darkness beneath his skin. Having him drink might help, but it would also hurt him. He has tried to break free of it.” Aeren paused, brow furrowing. “I have seen him grow younger before, and that has helped heal his wounds, but only because the young heal faster, their bodies more resilient. His wounds do not vanish as he grows younger. And changing his age would require effort and energy I don’t think he can spare at the moment.”

Siobhaen didn’t answer, the lines etched into her forehead—­lines that had been a permanent fixture since the attack by the Wraith and the Shadows—­deepening. Her arms were crossed over her chest, her shoulders stiff. The stance of a member of the Phalanx: mostly relaxed, although still mildly defensive.

Aeren waited, placing another branch onto the flames before him.

Finally, she asked, “Why does he do it? Why did he risk himself to save us? He must have known we intended to take the knife at some point.”

“He’s known since you left the Sanctuary in Caercaern.”

“Then why?”

Aeren considered the pale form before him, thought of the darkness that he’d seen swirling beneath his skin when he’d redressed the wound. A shocking amount of darkness. “Because he is a good person.”

When Siobhaen merely scowled in disbelief, he asked, “Why did you stay?”

“To hold Aielan’s Light steady.”

“To protect us. You didn’t need to do that. You could have let the Light go, joined Vaeren and the others as they fled.”

“And left you to the sukrael?”

Aeren raised an eyebrow. “Vaeren left us.”

Siobhaen stiffened, her eyes blazing. “I am not Vaeren.” Under her breath, she said, “He should have left the staff at least.”

“He only cared about the knife, about returning it to the Chosen.”

“It was what we were sent to do.”

“And yet you stayed.”

“Because we weren’t told to sacrifice Shaeveran… or you… in the process!”

Aeren nodded. In a casual voice, he asked, “What does Lotaern intend to do with it?”

Siobhaen spun toward him. “I stayed, but that does not mean I intend to betray the Order. The Chosen is trying to protect the Alvritshai. He’s trying to save us.”

“From what?”

“From the Wraiths! From the sukrael!”

“But we are already protected from them. We have the Winter Tree. Lotaern doesn’t need the knife for protection. He wants it for some other purpose.”

Siobhaen’s eyes grew troubled. She bit her lower lip, gaze drifting to one side, thinking.

Aeren would have pressed her further, but Shaeveran moaned.

Both of them turned instantly, Aeren rising from his place at the fire and stepping to Colin’s side. Colin opened his eyes, blinked at the strange light, then caught Aeren’s gaze.

“What happened?” Colin’s attention flicked to Siobhaen as she knelt on his other side, then back. “I don’t sense Aielan’s Light. Where are the Shadows? Where’s the Wraith? Where are the others?”

“Vaeren, Petraen, and Boreaus left with the knife, your staff, and most of the packs two days ago. The sukrael stayed a little longer, but fled when Aielan’s Light did not fail. We think they went after Vaeren. Siobhaen released the Light a short time after that and collapsed.”

Colin rose onto his elbows. “Where is Eraeth and the other guardsman?”

“Hiroun and Eraeth burned the others yesterday and are now hunting on the tundra.”

Colin reached for Aeren, gripped his shoulder, his eyes wide. “You burned the Wraith?”

“No. We left the Wraith alone. No one wanted to touch him.” He hesitated, then added reluctantly. “Apparently he wasn’t dead. The body vanished while we rested. None of those on watch saw anything, it was simply gone.”

Colin slumped, his hand falling from Aeren’s shoulder. Conflicting emotions raced across his face—­hatred, shock, grief—­finally settling on resigned anger. “He should have died. The wound was fatal. The knife doesn’t work.”

Siobhaen jerked in surprise. “What do you mean it doesn’t work?”

Colin laughed bitterly. “It didn’t kill the Wraith. It should have, but it didn’t. Vaeren betrayed us for nothing.”

“But it did work against the sukrael,” Aeren said. “The pieces of the one you sliced apart are still there, although none of us could touch them. We could feel a coldness tingling in our fingers when we drew close.”

Colin sighed. “I’ll take care of them.” He reached for Aeren again, motioning with his hand. “Help me up.”

“Your wound—­” Siobhaen began, but Aeren grabbed Colin’s hand and pulled him into a seated position. Colin
gasped, hunching forward, his hand going to the bandages at his side matted with dried blood.

With his other hand, he gestured again to Aeren. “All the way.”

Aeren frowned in disapproval. “Do you want something to eat?” he asked as he pulled Colin into a standing position, then supported him as he gained his balance. “We saved you some of the rabbit.”

Colin’s breathing came in rasping heaves, but the human swallowed and shook his head. “No,” he gasped, then coughed. “No, the Shadow first.”

He staggered toward where the Shadow had fallen, arm still pulled tight to his side. His footsteps faltered, but gained strength as he moved, his back straightening. Aeren watched with trepidation, waiting for him to collapse, but when he reached the place where the Shadow had fallen, the lord drew in a deep sigh and released it slowly.

“Is he always this stubborn?” Siobhaen asked curtly.

“Yes,” Aeren said with a thin smile, thinking back to the battle at the Escarpment. “Especially when he’s hurt.”

They watched in silence as Colin knelt and inspected the remains of the Shadow closely. He frowned, then searched the surrounding area until he found a small stick. He tried to lift the strange folds with the end of the stick, but it merely passed through the clothlike material as if it weren’t there, as the sukrael passed through blades when they attacked. Colin cursed, the meaning clear even though Aeren was too distant to catch the words, then dropped the stick and carefully picked up the skin of the Shadow with his bare hands, his face twisted in distaste.

He rose and headed straight for the Well, tossing the pieces of the Shadow into the clear waters where they floated for a moment, then began to sink and dissolve. Aeren and Siobhaen joined him as the last vestiges of the Shadow drifted into nothing in the depths.

“I thought it would pass right through you, as it did with the stick,” Siobhaen said softly.

Colin grimaced. “One of the advantages of being shaeveran.”

Siobhaen swallowed, her shoulders tense. “Did it hurt?”

Colin turned to meet her gaze, stepping back from the Well. “It burned,” he said, then glanced toward Aeren. “Now, where’s that rabbit?”

Colin ate, and then returned to rest, his face pale and drawn. At one point, Aeren thought he had a fever, his forehead shiny with sweat, although it was hard to tell with the perpetual drip of water from the cavern’s ceiling. When Siobhaen brought a cloth chilled with a chunk of ice, Colin frowned in his sleep, muttered something about a Well before slipping away again. Siobhaen shot Aeren a questioning look, but he merely shrugged.

Eraeth and Hiroun returned a day later, carrying a brace of snowy white hare, Hiroun holding his arm awkwardly at his side.

“What happened?” Aeren said as he took the meat, passing half to Siobhaen, whose nose wrinkled in distaste even though she complied.

Eraeth answered as they began preparing them for the fire. “Wolf. Larger than any wolf I’ve ever seen, and colored gray to fade into the snow. We think it could smell the blood of the hare and tracked us as we made our way back to the tunnel. It attacked last night, managed to get a hold on Hiroun before we wounded it enough so it retreated.”

At Aeren’s concerned look, Hiroun said, “It will heal.”

Eraeth nodded toward Colin. “Has he woken?”

“Briefly. Long enough to take care of the remains of the Shadow and eat. But he’s still recovering.”

“We can’t wait much longer,” Eraeth said. “Not if we
want to have any hope of catching up to Vaeren and the others and retrieving the knife.”