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“Gunther, damn it,” I heard Stuart yelling.

I rolled my head to the side, and watched the bear of a man hobbling across the grass to where I lay. He had a crutch under one arm, and held his leg at an odd angle. I could see the splint.

“Let ’em take one of the others,” Gunther snarled. “I’m fine.”

“Stubborn ass,” Stuart said, throwing his hands up into the air.

Gunther sort of hopped the last few feet and leaned against my table, gasping for breath. Fresh sweat broke out on his face, and I could see he was in considerable pain.

“Hey, Gunther,” I whispered. It felt like anything else would break something inside me.

He reached for my right hand and paused, his eyes wide and his mouth agape. Stuart nudged him, and he reached over me. Katie moved my left hand onto my stomach and he placed his hand over mine and bowed his head for a moment. When he looked up, tears streamed down his face. “They better take good care of you,” he said, his voice thick.

“She’ll be fine,” Katie said. I could just see the smile on her face, as she used her best kindergarten voice.

“Yeah, well...” Gunther trailed off.

Stuart came up and put an arm around his shoulder.

Gunther glanced over his shoulder, saw who it was, and didn’t shrug him off. “Just... well...” He paused, taking a deep breath. “Thank you for saving me back there,” he said finally. “I’d be a battlefield burrito if you hadn’t jumped in.”

Stuart winced, but didn’t say anything.

I turned my left hand, grasping his fingers, and squeezed. “World wouldn’t be right without you in it,” I said.

He turned his head to the side and Stuart smiled. “Can we please get you to the hospital now?” he asked. “They really need to get that leg set, and make sure you won’t lose that hip.”

“Yes, mother,” Gunther said. He leaned over, pulling my hand up, and kissed it. He looked at Katie and smiled. “Take care of her, huh?”

“Of course,” Katie said.

Stuart helped Gunther up and over to an ambulance. I heard him cussing up until they shut the door and drove off.

“Remind me of The Odd Couple,” Katie said. “When I was little, I thought they were gay.”

“Aye,” I agreed. “But they’re not.”

“Makes you wonder,” she said.

Stuart returned when there was only one ambulance left. “Can she go now?” he said.

“I don’t think so,” I said. “I still need to speak with Qindra first.”

Katie sighed heavily behind me and stood. “Watch her,” she said. “I’ll go get the witch.”

He waited until she was out of earshot before he sat down, placing his hand on mine. “Kyle recovered one of your hammers,” he said. “Pulled it out of one of the choppers.”

“Morbid,” I said.

“He was looking for survivors,” he said, turning his face. “Even among the enemy.”

I didn’t bring up his own journey through the carnage of the battlefield. It was a moment we had shared and did not need to be discussed.

“Tell him thanks.”

“Sure,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’m proud of you.”

I turned my head, studied his face. He had me by about fifteen years. Not quite old enough to be my father, but old enough. I’d never figured why neither he nor Gunther had married, but they were content with their lives. I’d grown to love them over the few years here at Black Briar, learned to trust their instincts and their wisdom.

“Thank you,” I said. “That means a lot.”

We sat in silence for a while, just letting the day settle over us, waiting.

Soon enough, Qindra appeared at my side, obviously not completely happy.

“Smith,” she said, nodding at me.

Smith again. Warrior, smith... “How about Sarah?” I asked.

She looked at me, her face passive.

“Yeah, okay. Whatever,” I said. “I’m too damn tired for games.”

“You asked for me,” she said. “What is it you wish of my mistress?”

Of her mistress. Did she have no life of her own?

“She knows, then. About Jean-Paul?”

“My mistress knows many things,” she said. “There was a grave mistake made this evening. Certain things got out of control.”

“Out of control?” Katie said, her voice cold and thin. “People died here.”

Qindra waved a single manicured hand. “Don’t be a child. People die every day.”

“Not like this, they don’t,” Katie said. “This was a slaughter.”

Stuart barked out a laugh. “Slaughter indeed.” His voice was angry, but his face was too calm. “For every one of us that fell, we took two of theirs. Not just lowly humans, either.” I could feel his pulse racing through his hand.

“Yours fought valiantly,” Qindra acknowledged. “But this should not have happened.”

“This is not our fault,” I said. “We didn’t ask for this.”

Qindra looked from Katie, to me, to Stuart. “Your seneschal is not unknown to my mistress. Neither are his activities here and elsewhere.”

I tilted my head, looking over at Stuart. “What?”

He shook his head, as equally confused. “She’s a nutter,” he said finally.

“How droll,” Qindra said, a smile touching the edges of her lips. “Is it possible you have no knowledge of what exactly is going on around you?”

There was something. Jimmy had mentioned a secret late yesterday, before I drove out to confront Frederick. “You serve them,” I said, letting some anger slip into my voice. “You live your life in their service.” She did not flinch, did not even raise an eyebrow. “And Jimmy, somehow, opposes you.”

“We have suspected him,” she said. “Though he has not proven to be a threat. Until now.”

“We didn’t ask for this,” Katie said. “That bastard attacked us.”

Qindra nodded. “This is also known to my mistress. And it is why we will fix this.”

Stuart coughed. “Fix?” He stood up, laying my hand gently on my stomach, and turned toward her. “Will it fix Susan or Maggie?”

“Let it go,” Katie said.

“No,” he barked, stepping away, waving his arms. “We lost good people here, friends and family.” He stalked up to Qindra and looked up into her face. She had a full head on him, but he was not beneath her in any way. “Will that make Deidre wake up? Or fix Sarah’s arm?”

I looked down. My arm was wrapped in a blanket, strapped to my abdomen. “What’s wrong with my arm?”

“My mistress is not unjust,” Qindra said, drawing a thin willow wand from inside her cloak. The tip glowed with a pearlescent blue light. “I am not without power of my own.”

She stepped forward and Stuart stepped in front of her.

“Your kind have caused enough pain and suffering,” he said, his voice barely above a growl. “I watched you put Yvonne to sleep.”

Qindra sighed. “She was beyond restoring. I stopped her pain.”

“You killed her,” he barked, his voice suddenly loud.

She paused, staring into his face. “And you showed a similar mercy to those fallen on the field.”

His back stiffened but he did not budge.

“I have a bit of leeway here,” she said, her voice softening with each word. “She does not begrudge me a few acts of independence.”

“Let her pass,” Katie said. “You promise to help her, right?”

There had been several moments when she had helped us. She dispelled the illusion of the enemy, showed us their true forms. And she stilled the berserker in me. Gave me some control of that killing fury.

“Stuart,” Katie said, placing her hand on his shoulder, “if she can help save her arm.”

“If you hurt her any more than she has already suffered,” he said, “I’ll kill you myself.”

Qindra did not smile, nor mock him in any way. She just nodded. “You have my word.”

He relented, finally, stepping aside like a door opening, allowing her to pass.

Katie pulled the blanket back, and I looked down at my arm. I’d held the shield with this arm, kept the dragon fire from turning me into toast.

The hand was a twisted claw, the skin a mottle of black and red. Bone showed through at the wrist. It was not until the elbow did I see anything remotely like healthy flesh.

I lifted my arm, the pain in my shoulder a small price to pay. My arm looked like something from a zombie movie. “Oh...” I gulped as the urge to vomit swept through me. “... oh, God.”

“Dragon fire,” Qindra said, touching the tip of the wand to my forehead.

The nausea vanished, and a peace radiated outward from that touch. I laid my head back, taking in long, even breaths.

The wand traced down my neck, over my shoulder, down to my elbow, and stopped.

Qindra staggered, nearly falling if not for Katie.

“This is worse than I thought,” she whispered. “I need whiskey.”

“Right,” Stuart said. He sprinted into the house and returned with a bottle of Jimmy’s favorite Kentucky bourbon.

She took the bottle and tilted it to my lips, just barely letting the brown liquid wet them. The taste was strong and burned its way down my throat.

“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea, with all the painkillers she’s on,” Katie said.

Qindra shrugged. “Whiskey is life.” She took a swig, bent over, and puffed out her cheeks. A thin stream of whiskey sprayed from her mouth, down the blackened parts of my arm. Deadened nerves erupted to life, overloading my brain with conflicting signals. The whiskey rolled down my arm like fire.

The wand followed behind, touching each spot where the whiskey touched, changing the burning to a spot of cold that spread out in concentric circles. Three times she drank, and three times she used the whiskey and the wand to change my arm.

In the end, she handed the bottle back to Stuart and turned away, vomiting into the yard. “Bring water here,” she said, pointing to the smoking, putrid mess that lay on the ground at her feet. “Wash this into the earth, before it begins to burn.” She turned back, wiping a cloth across her lips and dropping it as it burst into flame. “That is all I can do.”

Katie cried, and Stuart just stared at my arm. Pink flesh shone from elbow to wrist. I couldn’t see the bone. The last two fingers were fused together, but I knew I wouldn’t lose the hand.

“Thank you,” I said as Qindra walked away. Whether she heard me or not, I couldn’t know.

When Melanie returned, she nearly fainted. Katie pulled her aside and talked to her in hushed tones as the ambulance crew began to load me in their truck.

“Where are we going?” I asked the EMT.

He didn’t answer right away, but checked my vitals and changed out my IV. When he was done, he pulled an oxygen mask over my face.

“Burn unit over at Harborview,” he said. “They got the best docs there.”

I let my head fall back, breathing in the clean, antiseptic smell of the oxygen mask. “I think Melanie Danvers is pretty damn good.”

He shrugged. “ER docs are aces in my book,” he said. “Doesn’t hurt she’s a hottie.”

Yes, I thought as I drifted. Hottie.

“Helluva accident,” he said. “Dena said a gas line blew. That how you got the burns?”

I blinked at him, feeling the onrush of exhaustion.

“Crying shame,” he said. “I didn’t even know they were doing a movie shoot out here. Bet this jacks the insurance rates.”

Movie shoot? Is that what they were told? What about Jean-Paul? His body is nowhere near some pretend gas main explosion.

Qindra concocted that story, no doubt. Another in a list of calm, calculated cover-ups. I bet the fire at the smithy will be classified the same. Earthquake just last week. Bad lines all over the place.

I slipped off, letting the beeping of the heart monitor lull me to sleep.

Sixty-five

THE MOSAIC OF LIGHTS HUNG BELOW FREDERICK AS HE SOARED over Portland. It had been a long time since he’d shifted so completely. Decades since he’d felt the wind flowing along his body, pushed along by the beat of his mighty wings.

Moments like these brought back the rush of his younger days in the motherland—times when man lived in scattered villages and there was no need to watch for airliners and news copters.

He missed the olden days before man had risen so high. Maybe his kind were to blame, allowing them to progress so far and so fast. But he loved it as well. He had more money, more power than any of his kind in the old country. While they squabbled over scraps, he had his own kingdom here in this new country.

There were those who clung to the old ways, but not he. He’d embraced the burgeoning civilization, rode it like a lover until he reigned supreme.

Nidhogg might object, but he saw her frailty as weakness that would not long survive. Once he solidified his base with Seattle and Vancouver, he would have the largest holdings in the world.

Jean-Paul’s death was a fluke, brought on by his inability to control the beast. Frederick did not lose his senses in their true form. He even retained the ability to speak. Jean-Paul fell to the fury and rage, and good riddance to him.

He rode the thermals for a bit, breathing in the dreams of his people. They had such hope here in this city of green. Nothing was impossible to the children of the west.

That smith intrigued him, titillated him in ways he’d not been thrilled in years. Here was an adversary worthy of his time. If Jean-Paul had not been so arrogant, so foolhardy, he’d be alive today, crushing Vancouver under his tainted claws. Now his world was ripe for Frederick to take.

The girl, this smith... he would watch her and wait. Let her be a thorn in the side of Nidhogg a while longer. It made no never mind to him. The wheel turned, the fires burned. Let the dead lie and the living bring him the tribute worthy of his greatness.

Frederick climbed higher to where the wind buffeted his body—cold and strong. He turned toward Mount Hood, craving the frigid stillness that reminded him of his early years.

Sixty-six

KATIE DIDN’T NORMALLY SNORE, BUT THAT’S WHAT WOKE ME. I cracked my eyes open, like opening a vault, and the dim light of the hospital room pierced my brain. I had no idea how long I’d been unconscious, but I know I was not tired. Sore, yes. God, I hurt everywhere.

The soft beep of the heart monitor and the ambient smell of disinfectant were beginning to be familiar. Not sure I liked that.

I watched her for a long time. She sat in one of those square padded chairs with the little kick-out foot rest that the hospitals provided for loved ones. You could sleep in it, if you loved visiting your chiropractor on a regular basis.

Her lap was full of pictures, finger paintings mostly, and some line drawings. They were from her class. The splash of primary colors contrasted well with the earth tones of her skirt.

I didn’t mean to wake her. She looked wiped out. My body said it was time to be awake, regardless. Of course, I couldn’t see a clock. But I wanted to sit up and I wanted to get some of the tubes and such removed. I couldn’t see the catheter but I could feel it. Not the most pleasant experience, let me tell you.

On the table beside my bed was a tray with a water pitcher and small plastic cups. Just looking at it made me so thirsty I coughed.

Katie sat bolt upright, scattering pictures across the floor. “Sarah?” she said, not really awake.

“Sor...” I tried to clear my throat. “Sorry,” I managed.

She stood up, leaning against the chair, and rubbed her face. “You’re awake?”

Not like her, that’s for sure. I grinned and the skin on my face felt too tight.

I brought my left hand up, exploring my face with light touches. “What time is it?”

“Tuesday.”

“Oh. Wait... What happened to Sunday?”

“Let me get the nurse,” she said, scampering out of the room.

The nurse gave me the once-over, and okayed me for a glass of water. Katie chattered about the three days I’d been in and out of consciousness while she picked up the papers. Her voice was strained from more than sleep deprivation.

“How is everyone?” I asked when the nurse left.

She shrugged, dropping her hands in front of her waist. “Gunther is in a cast from hip to knee. He’s grumpy as hell.” She smiled at this. “Stuart had some stitches and is already back to work.”

“And the others?”

“Bad.” She sat down on the side of the bed, putting the pictures on the tray table. “They’ve got Deidre in a medically induced coma.”

“Jimmy doing okay?”

“Ha.” She croaked. “Spends his time blaming himself, you, and damn near everyone else.”

I sighed, lifted my left arm carefully so as not to tangle the IV. I couldn’t reach her, but I tried. She leaned forward and took my hand. “He loves her.”

“Melanie says there’s a good chance she’ll never walk again.”

Crap. I let go of her hand. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

She looked at me sternly. “You are not to blame here,” she said.

“I’m sorry this got out of hand,” I said, holding my hand out to stop her protest. “How could any rational person believe in dragons and dwarves?”

She half smiled. “Thanks.”

Oy, stepped into that one.

“Okay, besides you.”

“My father told me stories,” she said with a shrug. “It always bugged Jimmy that I believed all of it. Up until the time they were killed. Jimmy found some things, did some snooping.”

They knew? “Dragons and witches?”

“Is it any harder to believe than neuroscience or quantum physics?”

Ha... I was an English major. It wasn’t exactly gibberish, but I had nowhere near enough math. “Apples and oranges,” I said.

The thing was, they’d always been open about things. Jimmy had offered me a place in his group on the condition I’d be willing to fight when the need arose. I’d always assumed he meant the SCA skirmishes and wars they playacted in every year. How was I to know he meant it for real. And there was something funny about the way he took the weapons, after all that.

“Where’s Gram?” I asked. Suddenly the sword’s whereabouts was the most important thing in my life. Maybe more important than breathing.

“Stuart put them in the vault,” she said. “Where Jimmy keeps the relics and talismans.”

What relics? Talismans? How old was Black Briar? Where did they get these items? Nothing made sense in any way I’d thought of the world before. It was like a fairy tale, only instead of a knight in shining armor you got a blacksmith who needed therapy.

Why had Gram come to me? I was nobody. Hell, I couldn’t keep a job, or a relationship. How was I supposed to fight dragons? Okay, the one seemed to have worked out, but the cost was too damn high.

“How many did we lose?”

She winced. “Twenty-seven.”

Holy crap. We only had sixty in Black Briar. “How many mustered?”

“Everyone.”

Everyone? Sixty-plus people in the battle, and we lost twenty-seven. Mother of God. “Did they cover it up?”

She showed me a two-day-old copy of the paper. The headline read TRAGEDY AT MOVIE SHOOT.

She cleared her throat and began to read.

Director Carl Tuttle could not be reached for questioning, but Frederick Sawyer, a partner in Flight Test, Ltd., released a statement regretting the deaths among the cast and crew. “It’s tragedies on this scale that make us appreciate those closest to us,” the philanthropist from Portland, Oregon, said. Puget Gas and Electric are investigating the gas leak that caused the explosion.

The movie Odin’s Ghost is about a fictional battle between humans and the giants and trolls of mythic lore. Many of those killed were extras. “It’s a crying shame,” said Bjorn Mitchell, a spokesman for the Nordic Cultural Committee of Ballard, Washington. “They had the mythology totally buggered,” he said. “No way giants and trolls would be landing in choppers. This is a movie of fantastical imagination.”

Among the dead were Susan and Maggie Hirsch. This married couple from Seattle were heralded as trailblazers both within the Seattle police force and in the community at large. “We’re the first same-sex married couple on the force and we’ve been given the highest levels of support,” Susan Hirsch was quoted in a 2008 interview.

The names of other deceased have been withheld pending notification of next of kin.

Deidre Cornett, wife of Jimmy Cornett, the seneschal (leader) of the local SCA house, was severely wounded in the accident. She is best known for the computer games Sisters of Steel and Barbarian Bunnies. She sold Protoplasm Studios in 2004 for 78 million dollars.

“Enough,” I said, closing my eyes. “That’s enough.”

She folded the paper and dropped it on the bed. I didn’t have the strength to hear more.

“What about Julie?”

“More fiction,” Katie said. “Recovering from an explosion at the smithy, likely a result of another gas leak.”

Of course. “Puget Gas and Electric are going to take a real beating for this.”

Katie just shrugged.

On the other hand, it’s not like people would stop buying gas and electricity. They would weather the storm. Earthquake gave them ample coverage.

“How did they justify the giants and trolls?”

“People will believe what they are told,” Katie said. “That’s one of the things my father taught us. If you give them a reasonable explanation for an event, they will accept it over the truth.”

Truth? What a concept. “So, Nidhogg performed the big cover-up and everyone buys it?”

“Up until this,” she waved her hands, “would you have believed it otherwise?”

Good point.

“Funny that insurance for the mythical movie shoot appeared, along with some permits that had been filed but misplaced,” she said, standing up. “Qindra thought of everything.”

“I guess.”

“Well, everything but this.” She walked over and grabbed her teacher satchel from the back of the seat she’d been sleeping in. From inside she pulled out a copy of The Vancouver Sun and showed me an article on page six of section B.

LOCAL CLUB OWNER FOUND DEAD AT CAMPGROUND.

Vancouver entrepreneur and club owner Jean-Paul Duchamp was found mauled to death at a campground in western Washington. Mr. Duchamp has been suspected of drug trafficking in a 2003 court case where he was acquitted when the only witness was found burned to death. The details surrounding Mr. Duchamp’s untimely death are still being investigated, but local authorities think nature got the best of the often violent man.

“This guy was running a meth lab out of some of the cabins here on the lake,” Sherriff Jeremy Stubbs said. “Seems he wandered into the woods, to take a leak or something, and got surprised by a black bear. They are normally gentle creatures, but we have evidence he ran into a mother and her cubs.”

“Killed by a bear?” I asked.

“The burned cabins were empty,” Katie said. “He didn’t hurt anyone else after he left the farm.” She paused, her face hard with emotion. “Besides you.”

“I’m alive,” I said. My right arm was covered in bandages from elbow to fingertip. I gingerly lifted the arm. “And I didn’t lose this.” I could remember the way my arm had been cooked down to the bone. Dragons were nasty beasts. “I owe Qindra for saving this.”

“Careful who you owe,” she said. “They just might decide to collect.”

She had a point. “Can I get something to eat?”

“Let me get the nurse.” She walked from the room, trailing her hand over my feet as she passed the end of the bed.

I still loved watching her walk in that skirt. Hell, any skirt. But I was so tired.

Maybe I should tell her about the dream. I had never thought about children of my own before, but I’d be damned if I was going to let a dragon force me to mate with Gunther or Stuart. Not that they weren’t great guys, but come on. It could’ve been a stress dream, but in light of everything else that had gone on recently, I had a hard time ignoring it.

Qindra served Nidhogg, but she had moments where she seemed approachable. Not that I could trust her as far as I could spit.

And Katie... did I want to raise a child with her? Yikes. I can’t figure out how to have a grown-up relationship with her. I sure as hell ain’t ready to be a mommy. And even if I was, I wouldn’t be handing my children off to an ancient dragon for her amusement.

The nurse declared I’d survive and ordered me apple juice and lime gelatin. Soon I’d be on a bulk-up diet, she assured me. So much for my figure.

Since I was going to live, Katie took time to go home and shower, get a change of clothes and a few books for me. The doctors and nurses treated me like a hero. Seems the word had been spread that I had pulled some folks from the burning barn, saving lives and getting burned in the process.

Losing my hair was not too significant; it was growing back. But that, combined with the burn treatments, really made me cranky. I wasn’t feeling up to dealing with anyone. I turned away all visitors, except for Katie. I just couldn’t face them. To see the pain in their faces, the horror at what I’d done. It was too much to even think about. I isolated myself to avoid the emotion. Cut myself off from what could cause me more pain.

Katie disapproved, but didn’t argue with me. The pain of it was clear in her eyes, but I can be pretty darn stubborn.

Sixty-seven

OVER THE NEXT THREE WEEKS I HAD TWO SKIN GRAFTS USING this new artificial skin Harborview had in trials. The delicate work around my hands was painful and required three surgeries, the first just to separate the ring and pinkie fingers. In the end, while I wouldn’t have fingerprints on that hand, with physical therapy I’d use it again. You took what blessings you could.

One night I woke to find Qindra bending over me, the blue glow of her wand and feather necklace lighting the room. She stroked my forehead; I could feel her fingertips tracing the runes in my hairline.

When I turned over, she slipped away. I guess I could’ve dreamed it. The pain in my shoulder was better the next morning, though, and the doctors were pleased with the way my face was healing.

Дата добавления: 2015-11-16