Breathe (The Destiny Series: Book 1) (13 page)

Dearra shook with anger and her eyes flashed fire. “Absolutely not!” she said. “This is the last straw! I should have killed her when I had the chance. Now she comes in, pretty as you please, and makes off with one of our sheep? In August? I think not!” She lunged toward the blade she had dropped only moments ago, but in her haste did not notice some of the blade had been exposed when the sword slipped in its scabbard, and she sliced her hand on its fine edge, and it fell to the ground.

Sorry about that, but really, girl, you should be more careful.

Darius was at her side in a flash. He scooped up her discarded vest from the ground and wrapped it around her injured hand.

“Are you alright? Let me see.”

She held out her hand and he examined it, almost tenderly.

“That’s quite a cut, Dearra. We should head back to the castle.”

“No! I am going after that wolf. Come with me or don’t, but I’m going.” Dearra pulled away from his gentle grip. She tore a piece of cloth from the bottom edge of her shirt, wrapped the strip almost violently around her injured hand, tied it off, and tossed the soiled vest to the ground.

Dearra had strapped Brin to her waist and was already moving at a steady trot when he shrugged and turned to follow after her. He hadn’t known her for long, but it was long enough to know better than try and stop her.

Darius strode silently behind Dearra for two hours before they reached the trees and entered the gnarn forest. “Dearra, be reasonable. Let the wolf have her kill. It’s just one sheep.”

“No.”

“How are you going to track in the dark? The sun is already dipping low; it must be close to evening meal.”

“You don’t have to come along. I can handle this just fine on my own,” she said with a huff.

“I was ordered to go nowhere without you. I wouldn’t want to break my word.”

Dearra didn’t think he sounded very sincere. She imagined Darius was exactly the kind of man who followed rules as long as they suited him. After all, he hadn’t seemed so concerned with the rules this morning when he left his room and made his way, alone, to the Great Hall. True, she had left him alone much longer than she had planned, but she had been so engrossed in discussions over the building of the ships that she had lost track of time. 

Darius was worried about more than the failing light, and he couldn’t help but voice his concerns to Dearra, no matter what it might do to aggravate her volatile temper. “I don’t like the look of that wound, Dearra. The blood has seeped clean through the bandage, and this running can’t be helping. It must be throbbing.”

Oh, for Tolah’s sake! We get a little adventure and the boy wants to run home. Tell him to mind his own business! We have work to do.

Dearra assumed the low growl she heard erupting from Darius was caused by her stubborn refusal to head back to the castle, but she honestly didn’t care. She was going to put an end to this particular wolf, one way or another. She was, however, pleased he had chosen to accompany her. True, he could just be looking out for his own neck, but she preferred to imagine it was because he enjoyed her company. She also took a small sense of satisfaction from the way Brin had called him ‘the boy’. It was nice to not be the only target of his condescension. “Don’t trouble yourself,” was all she said in response to the increasing volume of the growl. “I know what I’m doing.”

They continued to run in silence. Every once in a while, Dearra would pause, check the trail of sheep’s blood she followed, and resume her run. Darius simply watched as the sun dipped lower on the horizon and shook his head.

***

Back at the Great Hall, the situation was tense. The room grew quieter as Hugh’s mood grew blacker, until the only sounds were the occasional scrape of a cup as it was set down on the table, or the tinny clang of fork and knife against plate. Hugh sat straight in his chair, neither eating nor speaking. He stared, unblinking, at the entrance to the hall, waiting for the return of his errant daughter and the Breken warrior.

“My lord,” Daniel said, his voice breaking through Hugh’s ominous brooding. “I am sure they will be here at any moment. Dearra did say she was taking him for a swim. Perhaps she chose a pond a bit further from the keep. She will be along shortly.”

The scrape of a bench caught their attention, and they turned to one of the side tables where twelve year old Royce had stood and opened his mouth to speak, though no sound made it past his lips.

Hugh’s patience was nearing its limit at that point, and he spoke perhaps a bit more roughly to the child than he normally would have. “If you have something to say, Royce, spit it out!”

He tried, he really did, but all he managed was a small whisper. “The lake,” he said.

It was enough.

“They went to the lake?” Hugh roared.

Royce nodded once before his shaking knees gave out and he plopped back to the wood bench.

“If you knew that’s where they went, why didn’t you speak before now?” Hugh said, though he didn’t expect a response from the terrified boy, and he stormed from the hall followed by a half dozen warriors, and Daniel.

Daniel paused as he passed Royce, long enough to set a comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You did fine, Royce. You’ll understand this moment better someday, when you are a father yourself.”

Royce didn’t understand, but he was glad to have the soothing words of the weapons master, just the same. He sat just a little bit straighter than before, watching Daniel leave the hall behind Hugh.

Hugh was the Lord of Maj now, bellowing orders to the warriors milling around him. “Get torches. We’ll be out for a while. I want dogs brought. Bring two or three of the hounds; their keen noses will help us in this darkness. Daniel, pick six warriors to accompany us, and Daniel…pick men.”

“Lord?”

If that Breken dog has touched one hair on Dearra’s head, I would rather not expose any of the women to what I will do to him. They may be warriors, but they are not likely to be prepared for— just pick men, Daniel.”

“Yes, Lord.” Daniel said, and he set about choosing from the all-too-eager men who surrounded him, leaving the women to shake their heads, disappointed at being left out, but also understanding Hugh was in no mood to entertain arguments on the subject tonight.

Faster than any would have thought possible, eight men and two hounds made their way out of Maj Castle and headed east, on the trail to the lake. There were many ponds on the island, some of them quite substantial, but only one lake anywhere nearby. The men traveled silently and in almost total darkness on this leg of the search. The way was well known, the path smooth and even, and no one wanted to waste the torches that might be needed later.

***

It was black as pitch when Dearra and Darius stumbled upon a wide stream that barred their way. Dearra’s hand was burning and throbbing now, and she dipped it into the cold, spring water as she bent to try to make out any signs of where the wolf had gone. The water felt good on her hand, but she knew the relief it offered would not last long.

Darius came up behind her and set a steady hand on her shoulder. “You can’t see anything, Dearra. It’s too dangerous to go hunting blindly for giant wolves in the dark. If you truly wish to track the she-wolf, then we had best make camp for the night and start again fresh come first light. To continue now may serve to take us further and further away from the trail.”

She hated to admit defeat, even temporarily so, but he was right. “Alright,” she told him, “but let’s cross the stream here. I’m sure that she is making her way back to the hills that are home to the wolves, and they lie on the opposite side of the stream. That way we can find shelter and start a fire, and we will have dry clothes to begin again in the morning.”

Dearra couldn’t see his nod in the darkness, but his silence was enough to tell her he agreed with her plan. The stream was not especially deep, but it was wide and Dearra was wet to the hips when they emerged on to dry land. She slogged a ways onto shore and was pleased to find a small cave dug into the side of a hill. It had probably sheltered some animal at one point, but was currently abandoned and would suit her purposes quite well.

“Take off those wet pants, Dearra,” Darius said, “before you freeze.”

Dearra’s teeth chattered almost uncontrollably. “I w-w-w-will no-o-o-t!” she sputtered.

“Your shirt hangs down to your thighs. I assure you, your modesty will be quite protected. I’ll find some dry wood and get a fire started.”

She couldn’t deny she really was quite miserable. Her once soft, leather pants chapped and chafed against her skin, and she peeled the wet garment away from her legs and spread the clothing flat on the ground to dry. She was startled to catch the flicker of fire light and spun around in surprise. “Ho-o-o-w-w-w-w di-d-d-d you d-d-d-o that?”

“What? Start a fire? Surely you know how to start a fire, Dearra,” he taunted her.

“You kno-w-w-w- what I m-m-m…”

Darius took pity on the chattering Dearra and finished her thought for her. “Yes, I know what you mean. I am a Breken, Dearra. We can all bring fire with ease. How did you think they destroyed your ships so thoroughly and so quickly?”

Dearra decided she was going to have to learn more about this little talent of his. Maybe it was something that could be learned. Starting fire so swiftly and without flint could mean the difference between life and death. Dearra sank down in front of the fire and tucked her exposed legs under herself as best she could. Darius joined her and stretched out his own long legs in front of the blaze, his back resting against what must have been a most uncomfortable boulder. Dearra couldn’t get comfortable at all. She was hungry, tired, cold, and her hand hurt. She twisted and fidgeted to find a good way to sit that wouldn’t require her to brace herself with her injured hand.

“Oh for the love of—” Darius reached out one strong arm, wrapped it around Dearra’s waist, and pulled her over so she was sitting between his outstretched legs. He gently tugged her back to let her know she could lean against his chest.

Dearra froze in shock. It happened so quickly, and she knew she should protest that it was completely inappropriate, but the truth was she was exceedingly comfortable. The heat from his chest on her back helped ease her violent shaking, and his closeness was just what she needed to distract her from the pain in her hand. She waited for the scolding she thought sure to be coming from Brin, but he was blessedly silent. The day’s events had finally taken their toll on her, and she began to drift off to sleep. Just before she completely succumbed to her dreams, she could have sworn she felt a large, calloused hand trace gently along the side of her face, then sleep claimed her, and the sound of Brin’s amused chuckle echoed through her mind.

***

It was near midnight when Hugh and the band of seasoned warriors reached the lake. There had been no sign of his daughter or Darius, and Hugh was beside himself with worry. “Did you bring it, Daniel?” he asked.

Daniel pulled the hairbrush from inside the small leather bag at his side and handed it to Hugh, who hurried it to the dogs so they could take in Dearra’s scent. He knew they had been there, and since Dearra was often out walking nearer the castle, Hugh decided to wait until they had a good starting point before releasing the dogs. He worried that, closer to home, they would pick up the wrong trail. It only took the dogs a couple of minutes before they sounded loud, baying barks, indicating they had found something. Racing ahead of the others, Hugh got to the spot first. The torch in his hand shook and wavered as the mighty Hugh dropped to his knees and gathered up his daughter’s leather vest. His eyes took in the sight. He knew, instantly that the half-dried mess that soaked the leather could only be blood. Throwing his head back, Hugh exploded with a roar of pure rage and grief.

***

Darius was already awake when dawn broke through the thick tangle of trees. The rock at his back was making its presence known, and he winced as he shifted his position, but the rock was the least of his worries. He struggled, valiantly, to keep his gaze from the legs of his tempting companion. The shirt he had assured her would be quite enough for modesty’s sake had edged higher in the night as she’d adjusted her position, and it now exposed just enough to make Darius regret he had taken an oath against being like his less civilized kin. But for all his self-imposed discomfort, he was reluctant to wake the sleeping Dearra who had nestled herself, quite snugly, up against him. Just when he thought he would be forced to gently lift her away, her lashes fluttered against her cheeks, and her glorious eyes opened and looked directly into his own.

Realizing the intimacy of the moment, a pretty blush heated her face, and she made quickly to get to her feet. “We should get going,” Dearra said, her voice shaking a bit as she slid her legs into the still damp pants.

He told himself to look away from Dearra as she hopped up and down, urging the damp pants higher. Though his intentions were good, his eyes did not wish to obey. He shook his head, scolding himself. When he spoke, his voice betrayed his feelings and it came out harsh and clipped. “Get ready, then. I am going to get a drink and wash some of the grime from my face.”

Dearra misinterpreted the cold voice. “Not much of a morning person are you?” She had finally succeeded in pulling on the pants and fastening them securely at the waist. She didn’t even look up as she gathered her boots and sword.

“I like mornings just fine,” he grumbled, and then continued, too quiet for her to hear, “It’s the nights that are going to be the death of me.”

“Hurry, Darius. I want to find the trail again as soon as possible.”

Darius stood and winced. His legs and back screamed their displeasure as he stretched in an effort to get blood flowing to his stiff joints. Sleeping on the ground was nothing new, but his arm made a better pillow than the rock behind him had, and having Dearra nestled between his legs all night didn’t turn out to be as good an idea as he had first thought. He had meant only to keep her warm and give what little relief he could. He never imagine the discomfort that it would cause him to have her so close. If she had been able to hear his less than honorable thoughts, she would never have willingly stayed so close.

Darius crouched low, scooped water into his cupped hands, and drank, soothing the thirst that had been building for the last couple of hours. He reached his hand for more of the cool water and stopped abruptly. His reflection stared back at him, his dark hair framing his face and his Breken braid which had fallen over his shoulder and was nearly touching the water. He reached a hand to the tattoo that marked his face, his fingers tracing their way from temple to cheekbone. He looked savage, even to himself.