Touch of Iron (The Living Blade #1) (15 page)

“So you didn’t go back home,” he said.

Nora nodded, not trusting her chattering teeth to allow her to speak yet.

“Why?”

She shook her head.

“I’m not here to prove something, you know? I’m not walking the Plains wounded in winter because I want to. It’s because…I didn’t want to stay there. I couldn’t. The…the men at the Ridge, the men I killed, they killed my father in the forge. Took his hands and his head. Right there.” She paused, looking for words in the chaos of emotion that followed those last ones.
My father
. She had left home with Owen, run away after her handfasting. She’d left that night after…she’d never told him how much…That was a pretty shitty feeling. She took a deep breath, focusing once more.

“I told Owen hundreds of times. I said, ‘Look! Our actual mother was probably going to set us out in the wild. The double soul. The unnatural. Leave the twins for the wi—’” She shot the wight opposite her a look and corrected herself. “Wild animals.”

“Nicely saved.”

She glared at him, cheeks hot.

“That’s how it is, isn’t it? Stupid tradition. We could be dead.
I
could be dead. But I’m not. We’re not. We belong together, Owen and I. He’s all I’ve got. So that’s where I’m going. Wherever he is, that’s where I have to be.”

She looked across the fire and into the wight’s eyes.

“I won’t go back. And you can’t make me.”

Diaz leaned forward a little.

“You think I want to?”

Nora ran her good hand through her hair. It was getting greasy. When was the last time she had washed her hair? When was the last time something normal like that had been her concern? She had tried braiding it out of her face earlier, but her right shoulder screeched in pain when she tried to lift her hand above her head.

“I don’t know what you want. Or what you think you’re doing.” She paused. “Master Darren and the other pilgrims at the Shrine of Hin—they’re more like…well, like Owen.”

“We pilgrims are rather individualistic.” Diaz cleared his throat; the rasp in his voice stayed. “Some say our order collects those who do not fit elsewhere. And they are right. To be a pilgrim means to travel the world, to know no ties of kin or origin, to never fit in anywhere, to be the distant observer who can settle legal issues objectively, speak justice, give guidance on morals.”

His dark eyes reflected the fire, and it made the iron of his sword’s hilt shine.

And how’s that going for you?
Nora thought. Out loud she asked, “And which do you do?”

“All of it. Although now I’m more of a personal guide to the wayward, exiled Prince Bashan.”

“To find the Living Blade?”

“To help him find the Living Blade, yes.”

Nora shook her head again. It was getting heavy. She pulled up her legs and rested her chin on top of her knees.

“And you really believe it exists?”

She saw him nod once as her eyes closed.

“Who’s stupid now?” she whispered.

Diaz was gone when Nora woke in the morning. She didn’t see him again until a few days later.

S
omeone was pulling her pillow
out from under her head. Nora grunted and shifted her arm underneath the bag to hold it tight. Again someone tugged, and a wave of warm air spilled over her shoulder, reeking of rotten meat. Nora wrinkled her nose and turned to look over with one eye, sure it was just a nightmare impressing itself on her mind. Her head twitched up—then she was flailing all four limbs at once in a mad scramble to get the hell away from the bear tugging at her bag. She shored herself up against the tree she had curled under and stayed there, trying not to scream, a low moan escaping her lips. The pain in her shoulder flared up again and she grabbed it.

The animal had one half of her bag between its teeth, and now the other half was dangling from the bear’s huge jaws, the contents falling onto the ground between its paws. Apples and bags of nuts and dried berries. And, of course, the cured strips of meat she had ransacked from the pantry. She could see the bear’s nostrils flaring; the exhalation hit her like a breeze, drying her wide eyes in a flash.

Larger than a normal bear. She stared into the black eyes in front of her, the scent of animal rising heady in the chilly dawn. Meat eater. It sniffed the air cautiously on all fours, but if it rose it would be twice her height at least. Maybe taking in the strange scent of human for the first time and wondering whether the meat—her meat—was tasty. A young male. A common brown bear’s paw was already as wide as Nora’s forearm. This bear’s paw was larger. A lot larger. Because a mountain bear was larger. Nora guessed that if this mountain bear hit her with one paw, he would probably not only swipe off her head but also the top half of her torso at the same time. It wasn’t very reassuring that she’d be instantly dead at that point and wouldn’t feel the pain of being ripped in half.
Oh, gods.
Her knife was in her left hand, but it felt tiny. And wouldn’t a slash with it just make the bear angry? And would she even be able to hit the bear with her left hand? Eating with the left was difficult enough—there was no way she’d be able to defend herself against the beast.

He let out a low growl and his head came closer, sniffing and slobbering. Dry sobs racked Nora’s chest as she leaned into the tree. She was gasping for breath, and the meat eater’s stench hit her hard. He seemed very interested in her bleeding shoulder. Maybe if she stuck the knife into his eye? Would the blade penetrate deep enough to kill the bear instantly?
Oh, gods,
she repeated to herself.

“Don’t move.”

Relief dripped off her like her rolling sweat. The whisper behind her had a deep rasp to it. She closed her eyes and prayed Diaz was stringing his bow and had an arrow at the ready. The mountain bear’s head swayed from side to side, trying to identify this new scent.

He bellowed in her face and Nora screamed, hands raised above her head instinctively despite her shoulder bleeding and hurting—she didn’t care. Didn’t feel. The fear numbed everything else. Then the arrow impacted straight into the bear’s eye. The shot was lethal. Only the bear hadn’t realized that yet. He rose and bellowed once more, paws swiping in blind rage. Nora stared up at him through the rain of bark chips, then rolled to her feet and ran. Diaz’s arrow, Diaz’s problem.

She ran through the trees, trusting terror and distance to keep her safe. Then she saw an oak with low branches and jumped at one of them. As her hands grabbed the rough bark, her arms tensed, and before she realized what was happening she was lying on her back, winded, looking up at the branches of the trees, the dawn skies oblivious to her beating heart and the world of pain blooming in her right shoulder. She sobbed, voice cracking, curled on her side in the dry leaves. The bear bellowed once more. She tightened her throat and rolled to her feet, clutching her right arm at the elbow. The wound in her shoulder had ripped open and was bleeding profusely. She staggered a few steps toward the fight. This was it. Where her fate would be decided. If Diaz died, then she’d die, too. Eaten by a mountain bear, then shat back out to the ground whence she came. Symbol of the wheel of life right there.

Diaz had ditched his bow and was fighting with his sword and a long knife, dancing around the bear, dodging his mighty blows. He freed his sword from a deep thrust into the bear’s side and slashed across his belly, crouching under a swipe from the towering beast. He was fighting in a way Nora had never seen before: both weapons held steady at a point above his waist, twisting the blades in his hands by movements of the wrists and elbows, swinging the tip of his swords with an economy of strength but at the same time with precision and speed. He stepped to the side and lashed the sword across the bear’s broad back. The beast bellowed and lumbered around to get his attacker back in view, but his going was slow, bleeding from a dozen wounds, weakened by too many cuts, arrow shaft wedged deep into his skull.

Turning on two hind legs, the bear caught sight of Nora and roared in pain as Diaz sank his sword into his flank. The mountain bear fell to all fours and howled the pitiful sound of a wounded animal. He snapped his jaws at Diaz, who was inching around the huge frame, blood dripping from his sword, black eyes intent on the bear. The mountain bear was dying, but he wasn’t beaten yet and growled as Diaz came closer. Then his head turned to Nora, staring at her with small black eyes as though he knew she was the cause of his death. She held her breath. Still dangerous and fast, he ran toward her on all fours, ignoring Diaz’s shout for attention.

Nora stood still, clutching her arm and watching her own death approach. Those large teeth would break her bones in one bite. Those claws could rip her to pieces in one swift move. She’d die right now. She saw Diaz take up pursuit, but he’d never make it. She watched the two of them approach her, the black-eyed bear, muzzle snarling as he came upon her, followed by the black-eyed wight. Diaz hurled himself forward, plunging onto the huge mass of fur. His sword dug down deep into the bear’s nape, and the snap of bone was audible under the trees. The bear’s paws were buried underneath his huge body as he skidded forward, lifeless, carried by his own momentum, finally coming to a halt inches before Nora’s feet.

Nora looked up into Diaz’s face, not even an arm’s length away from her own.

“Are you all right?” He wiped the bear’s blood from his jaw with the back of his sleeve.

She nodded and then threw up.

T
he taste of bile in
her mouth could not be fully washed away with the sweet cold water from a small brook just beyond where the bear lay. Nora gargled one last time. Finally trusting her legs to carry her weight, she stood up and turned to Diaz, who was busying himself removing the bear’s claws and teeth.

“What are you doing?” Her throat was sore. She coughed up phlegm and spat it out.

“I know a few people who pay good coin for mountain bear claws. Maybe they’ll pay for the teeth. I’d skin him, too, if there was time.” He looked up, squinting at her. “Better?”

She nodded. He went back to work. Nora cleared her throat.

“You fight good.”

“And I guess that’s as close to a thank-you as I’ll get.” He put the last tooth into a small pouch and rose, walking past her to the brook to wash.

“So what now? Will you leave me again?” Nora opened and closed her left hand, which was clamped around her right arm. “Shall I catch up with you in a few days’ time at a different campfire? Is this how it’s going to be?”

“No.” Diaz splashed his face with water. “Not anymore. We journey together.”

“What changed? You think I’ll be attacked by another bear?”

He glanced at her over his shoulder.

“Maybe.” He pointed at her. “Your shoulder’s bleeding.”

“Yeah.”

“Let me see.”

She bristled but then did as he said, kneeling down next to him at the water. He had saved her life. She could do what he wanted for once.

Slowly and painfully, she slipped her shoulder free of her woolen tunic sleeve. The baker’s wife had stitched the wound together while Nora had been unconscious. Under the bandages it had sealed into a horrible red crust that was puckered and ragged and reached under her collarbone into the flesh of her shoulder joint. That crust had opened in three places. Diaz pressed a piece of cloth over the bleeding. It hurt. She sucked in air through her clenched teeth and looked away, tears stinging her eyes.

He hmm’d and tapped her shoulder.

“You left the stitches in too long. Then put pressure on them.”

“Yeah, I was kind of running for my life.”

Diaz cut through the threads with his hunting knife and grasped the knot end of the first stitch firmly between his finger and thumb. He looked at her.

“This will sting,” he said.

That was all the forewarning Nora got. He pulled immediately. It did sting and worse. She swore loudly. Then he pulled the second thread, then the third. Nora’s eyes watered. He did it quickly, most merciful man. When all five stitches were out, her forehead was pressed hard against his shoulder and she felt like throwing up again. He pressed a cold, wet rag against the wound. A dribble of water ran down her bosom, and she shuddered. For a moment, they sat close together. Then he shrugged his shoulder and she lifted her head from it.