Sorrow's Peak (Serpent of Time Book 2) (71 page)

He would go back in and look for the mage, but for the moment he just wanted to get out of the mountain, to carry her into the open air and demand the gods give her back.

It occurred to him as he stumbled through the caverns that he was just as he’d been the day he found her. Naked as his naming day, he’d carried her several miles back to Drekne, into the hall where the Council of the Nine threatened to exile him on the spot. He’d been so terrified, not of the council or of being exiled, but of losing her before she’d ever truly been his.

He knew even then she belonged to him… No, that wasn’t quite right. He belonged to her. Yes. The first moment he laid eyes on her, lying broken and bleeding in the field, he knew he belonged to her.

She was a part of him, the other half of his soul and he’d let her die.

He felt… empty.

Finding the passage leading to the sea was easy enough, and it took less time than he expected to follow it. One-handed, he awkwardly carved through the blanket of cobwebs with his sword, still holding onto her as he did, then he pressed on until the sound of the roaring sea was all he could hear and the smell of it overwhelmed him. Every step, the passage grew brighter and brighter until he could see the end of the tunnel, make out the craggy shore and white-crested waves crashing in near the mouth of the cavern.

He moved more quickly, driven by a sudden overwhelming need to feel the sun’s light on his face. He’d likely curse the blasted ball of fire in the sky when he got out there. The senseless All-Creator, who’d given her a task and a purpose, who’d allegedly woven a strand of his own light through her soul. What he wouldn’t give to spit at the sun. How could Heidr let her fall? He didn’t understand.

The tide filled the mouth of the cave, crawling in, sweeping back out. He waded through it in his bare feet, the saltwater itching at his ankles and calves as he splashed forward. Into daylight, he hefted her small body higher and squinted as the sun’s light glittered across the sea. Trekking onward, he did not stop walking until he reached dry land, where he laid her down in the sand and stone and leaned back to look at her again.

She didn’t look dead. His personal definition of death generally involved more blood. She had a few bruises, fingertip marks pressed into her arms. A small scrape beaded blood on her chin, but otherwise she only looked like she was sleeping. All those times he’d spent memorizing her face while she did it, he was an expert on what she looked like when sleeping.

Maybe she was just unconscious, he reasoned. Maybe she’d hit her head and knocked herself out, but why wasn’t she breathing. She was still clutching the Horns of Llorveth in her hand, and when he tried to unclench her fingers they wouldn’t move.

Lowering himself over her, he brushed the hair from her face, leaned inward and kissed her cheek. “Please don’t do this to me, Lore. We had plans. We have to get these horns back to Dunvarak, and we’ve got to look for your little sister. She’s out there all alone and she needs you. I need you. And the serpent. We need to slay that stupid serpent and stop the cycle from repeating itself.” He lowered his cheek to hers. She still felt warm and soft, as if at any given moment she was going to gasp awake and tell him about the strange dream she had. “We’ve got so many things to do. You have things to do. With me…”

He was crying again. Without shame. Tears spilled down his cheeks and dripped into the sand as he drew back to look her over. Turning his face toward the sky, the air was cold but the sun’s light warmed through him. It made him angry. How dare the sun go on shining?

Dropping his head again, he stared down at her and shook with denial edging on the border of rage.

“Listen to me, Princess,” he started, “I don’t care what it takes. I am not accepting this.” Lifting his face to the heavens again, he called out as if someone might actually hear him. “Do you hear me? I do not accept this! Give her back.” The anger faded from his voice, replaced with a pathetic whine as he added, “Please give her back to me. Please.”

He’d spent so much time dwelling on the inevitability of his dying, moping about how unfair it was going to be to have to die instead of living the life he wanted to with her. He hadn’t thought about her dying, not once. That realization shamed him, flooding his face with so many tears it made his skin feel stiff as the sun shone indifferently on the world below it.

At his back a ray of pure white light danced and glinted off the sea, flickering and skipping unnaturally atop the foaming crests until they carried it to the land. It leaped off when the waves crashed in, skittering across the sand and gathering the light around it as it grew and swelled into a whirling ball.

Rolling to a halt beside her body, it lingered just beneath her feet. Finn couldn’t see through his own tears, but when it rose to hover over her boots, he leaped backward, stunned as it tickled along the tips of her toes. It stretched and expanded, dancing across her ankles, rising over her calves and her knees. Crawling slow along the length of her body, it writhed against her, her pale skin glowing beneath it as it reached toward the top of her head. It contracted so suddenly, sucked inside her as if she’d inhaled through her nose. And then she was choking, her body spasming and flailing as if she’d forgotten how to breathe.

Stunned, Finn could only stare, his eyes not believing what they were seeing until her grasping hand clenched his forearm and she tried to pull herself upright.

“Princess!”

He gripped her shoulders and held her out to look at her before clutching her tight to his chest, completely ignoring the fact that she was still panting and gulping for air, pushing against him as if fighting for freedom, but then she started to relax, drawing breath more easily, calming herself and allowing her pummeling hand to open and slide down his chest.

“Oh, thank all the gods! Every single one of those bastards.”

“Finn,” she muttered, anchoring herself to push away and look at him. “Why are you…? Where are your clothes.”

Glancing down at himself, a momentary flash of heat flushed his cheeks, but then he shook his head. “Does it really matter? You’re alive!”

“Was I… dead?” she wondered, her brow furrowing as she studied him.

“I don’t know, you weren’t breathing, and then there was this light and it… I can’t explain it. Oh my gods. I don’t even want to try to explain it because I don’t care. You’re alive. That’s all that matters to me.”

He was hugging her again, holding her so tight she probably couldn’t breathe, but it was going to be a long time before he let her go again. She seemed to realize that, her body relaxing, her forearm resting against his shoulder as she tilted her cheek to his chest.

“I’m all right, Finn,” she whispered, a hint of insecurity in her reassurance. “I’m okay.”

“You better be,” he growled. “I was so scared, Princess. So afraid. I thought I lost you.”

“What happened?”

“Everything went wrong, that’s what happened,” he muttered, kissing her hair. “You were… There was this light and you were rising above it all… and the mage… I don’t know where he is. He’s just gone. I was alone and it’s all wrong.”

“Bren’s gone?” she drew back again, staring up at him with wide eyes. “What do you mean he’s gone?”

“I don’t know. I can’t explain it. He’s just gone. I looked everywhere. It was dark, but I couldn’t pick up his scent and then there was you, and you were all that mattered. I… I thought you were dead,” he muttered again.

“Finn, where is Bren?”

Shaking his head, she started to withdraw, her hand pushing against his chest as she put space between them and implored him. “We can go back and look for him again, now that you’re all right.” Hesitating, he waited a moment before asking, “You are all right, right?”

Shaking her head as she lowered her head, she swallowed hard. “I’m not sure, Finn. I feel… strange. Very strange. Restless and sort of… I don’t know. I can’t put it into words. My insides feel itchy and hot, like there’s a fever burning me up from the inside out.”

“Your wolf is waking,” he told her.

He could feel it, stronger than he’d ever felt it before. It hadn’t quite risen to the surface, but it became a dominating part of her. His admission sent a jolt of fear through her, but she didn’t acknowledge what he’d said. She only stared over his shoulder at the mountain looming behind him.

“We have to find him,” she insisted. “He could be hurt, or…”

“Do you think you can stand?”

Her nod was tentative. He rose first and held his hand out to her, neither of them paying much attention to his lack of modesty. His clothing was shredded inside the drakoren’s lair, the armor wrenched from his body as he embraced his beast in a fit of battle rage and blood lust. Even if he found it, he doubted it was salvageable. For the moment he didn’t care about clothes or treasure or anything. Only her, and her priority was finding the mage.

Heading back into the mountain, it didn’t seem nearly as daunting as the place they’d journeyed into only the gods knew how many days earlier. The air itself was lighter, less oppressive and the streams of daylight eking through cracks and holes in the stone provided ample light for them to find their way back to the monster’s lair. Finn didn’t even have to rely on his sense of smell to guide him. They just navigated the tunnels until they found themselves standing in the place where she died.

One of their torches still lay at the entryway, burned down to nearly nothing until Finn lifted it and let the air stir the flame back to life again. Lorelei took it from him and told him to find his clothes. He hesitated, not wanting to leave her side ever again, even in the same drafty cave.

Her focus unwavering, she scanned the cavern, waving the torch in wide arcs as her eyes narrowed across the glittering sea of treasure before them. The drakoren’s charred body laid near the rear of the cave, still smoldering and filling the air with the most horrendous stench Finn ever had the displeasure of breathing in. Lorelei stood in the spot where Finn found her, and for a moment it looked as though she was trying to mentally reposition them all during the fray.

He gave her space, moving reluctantly away to find the shreds of his own clothing. For a long time neither of them said anything and the only sound was the shifting and sifting of metal as they shuffled through the hoard. Finn kept his head down, eyes trained on his feet as he searched for something to cover himself with. At his back, Lorelei shifted uncertainly and clicked her tongue against her teeth as if dismayed.

“This is where I was,” she called out, her voice echoing all around them. “Right?”

Finn held a shield he’d picked up modestly over his body and lifted his head toward the direction of her voice. “That’s right about where I found you, yes.”

“And Bren was there,” she noted. “He was right in front of me, right here. I saw him before… before…” Shuffling forward, she dropped onto her knees. “He was right here.”

She began digging, bits and pieces of treasure flying with her frantic movement, torchlight rippling across that golden sea. Finn only watched her for a time, then he ducked down and grabbed what was left of his breeches. Wrenching the shredded remains up his legs and wiggling into them even though it looked more absurd than his nakedness, he grabbed one of his boots, which he located sticking out of a pile of what appeared to be diamonds, and wondered if it was salvageable.

“People don’t just disappear.” There was a frantic hitch in her voice that set his teeth on edge. “Where did he go?”

“He’s not here, Lorelei,” he started toward her again. “I don’t know where he is, or what happened to him, but he is not here. I… I’m sorry.”

“He has to be here,” she insisted. “He has to.”

She swam through that place, sifting piles of it aside to search for their friend, but she found nothing. No sign of him, no remains. Not even his pack. Finn finally had to grab her by the shoulders and shake some sense into her.

“This is pointless, Princess. Unless he sunk all the way to the bottom, he is not here.”

“Maybe he did,” she threw him off. “We have to find him, Finn. Start digging! We made a promise to each other.”

“My life before yours,” he remembered, nodding his head. “He gave his life for us.”

“But where is his body?” she wailed. “How could he give his life if there is no body?”

“I don’t…” Lowering his gaze to their feet, he just stared for a long time before confessing, “I don’t know, Lorelei, but he’s not here. I can’t smell more than a hint of him, like the after scent someone leaves behind when they walk away.”

“So… what?” she wondered. “Are you saying he just got up and walked way?”

“I don’t know where he is, but he is not here.”

She refused to give in, continuing her search for hours. Finn helped, as best he could, but mostly he just stood back and let her go. He found armor, gold plated, forged for a king, and it actually fit him. It felt absurd when he put it on, but he had nothing else to wear. His clothes were beyond repair, and until they made it back to Nua Duaan, he’d have little choice in the matter.

Kneeling in the mountain of treasure, arms deep within it, Finn finally approached from behind and dropped down beside her. He rested a hand on her shoulder and she turned to look at him. It was dim in the cavern, the torchlight flickering warning that it was about to sputter out.

“I’m sorry, Princess,” he said again.

She started to cry.

Her emotions were a half-strung storm he could barely make sense of, but he knew enough to understand she was devastated. She felt like they’d failed him, like they’d broken their pact.

Finn didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing. Only reached for her when she started to collapse and held her while she cried. He didn’t think about how hungry he was, or how stifling it felt to be in that place after having already escaped it with their lives. He thought about how grateful he was she was alive, and that he could feel the wolf inside her stronger than ever.

He wondered if she could feel it too, why she hadn’t acknowledged its waking.