Winter still held dominion in the higher elevations, and while Malachus shivered under the occasional blast of cold air swooping over him and Yain, the sun radiated a blistering heat upon them, as if his mother had flown so high, he could stretch out an arm and trace the streams of sunlight gilding her scales.
“It’s so hot,” he said as sweat dripped off his brow into his eyes. He dared not let go his hold to wipe it away for fear of falling off his perch, despite his sister’s protective hold. His mother trumpeted a roar, its vibrations undulating down her entire length. She banked again in a broad swoop, her wings making a dull thump against the air with every flap as she leveled off to skim the roof of the clouds.
Even then, the sun still poured its heat onto his head, washing his body in waves until it felt as if his blood might boil and his skin blister. Yain’s grip, at first reassuring, held him in a smothering vise, tightening so it soon became a struggle to breathe, and Malachus squirmed in her hold. Still she hung on, ignoring his struggles.
Draga roars filled his ears, resonating in his skull over and over until his eyes bulged. His stomach slammed into his throat when she suddenly dove, wings tucked tight, long neck stretched, as she plummeted toward the earth.
Terrified cries hung trapped in Malachus’s throat along with his stomach as the ground rushed up to meet them. A flash teased his vision in one corner, and he glanced to the side in time to see another follow it, a bolt of lightning that arced off one of his mother’s wing tips. This time her roar was triumphant, and every hair on Malachus’s small body stood straight up.
“The lightning, little brother. It rides with us!” Yain whooped her joy, and the lightning answered, splitting the ether with silvery forks that buzzed the air around them as the draga sped even faster toward the earth.
Struck mute with terror, Malachus dug his hands into his mother’s fur, begging her silently to please, please slow down, fly up. I don’t want to die.
The draga roared, Yain laughed, and the lightning arced all around them. Malachus closed his eyes, certain they were about to smash headfirst into the mountainside from the exhilarating ride turned death spiral. A bright flash whitened the darkness behind his closed eyelids, and pain unlike anything he’d ever felt before tore through him. His eyes snapped open, and this time he didn’t hold back his cry.
CHAPTER SEVEN
They’d prepared for a violent awakening, but not his strength. Malachus batted Seydom away as if he were a pesky gnat, smacking him so hard against the wagon’s back wall, the vehicle tipped on its struts. Asil threw herself to one side, narrowly avoiding a kick to the belly.
Halani’s own proximity and positioning kept her trapped against Malachus’s flailing body. Before she could scramble away, he wrapped an arm around her middle in a vise grip and squeezed.
Air hurtled out of her nose and mouth on a wheeze, and she stared into a pair of deep brown eyes half mad with pain. If he squeezed any harder, he’d break her back. Asil launched herself at her daughter’s captor, only to be sent tumbling down the wagon’s length as easily as Seydom, who still slumped in a daze.
Halani cupped a bloody hand around her patient’s chin and held up the dripping broadhead swinging on the length of silk so he could see. More blood poured from the gaping wound just under his collarbone, painting his entire side crimson.
“Help you,” she managed to squeak. “No harm.”
At least no harm intended. That turbulent gaze darted between her face and the broadhead. Confusion softened the ferocious scowl patterning his forehead “Halani?” he said in a hoarse voice. At her nod, he loosened his hold on her just enough that she could call out to her mother, who, undaunted by her earlier tumble, was prepared for a second attack on her daughter’s captor.
“Peace, Mama. I’m fine. Stay where you are. I don’t want you hurt.”
“Are you sure, Hali?” Asil’s voice warbled.
If Halani closed her eyes, she might think the question came from a frightened child. The ache in her chest had nothing to do with Malachus’s crushing embrace. “I’m sure, Mama,” she said, never breaking the stare she held with him.
“Halani of the Lightning,” he croaked, his eyelids beginning to shutter over his eyes even as his arm relaxed to slide down her back. Still, he didn’t release her.
Halani didn’t dwell on his odd words. “You’re here with me and Asil, Malachus, in our camp. Two men attacked you, put three arrows in you along with a dose of poison. Do you remember?” He blinked at her, uncomprehending. “They need to come out before they get infected. I got one.” She gestured to the extracted broadhead. “I need to get the other two.”
Twitch by twitch, he eased his grip on her. She let go of his face, leaving a red smear on his cheek and jawline. Halani tossed the broadhead to one side so she could ease him back onto the bedding. Behind him, Seydom shook off his daze and crawled back to his previous spot.
“He caught me by surprise. I’m sorry, Halani. I should have been better prepared.”
She waved away his apology. “Don’t worry yourself. He surprised us all. Now we know what to expect.”
He was fast and strong, not only for a man badly wounded and reacting to severe pain, but for any man. Inhumanly quick reflexes and the grip of a vise.
She glanced at her mother, who’d crept closer, pale, wary. “I need your help again, Mama.” Asil gave a solemn nod. “Go outside and tell anyone lurking nearby that all is well. That Malachus woke up while I was removing one of the arrows. They’ll know what caused all the fuss.”
Asil wore the look of a child whose best friend had stolen her favorite toy, then told her they weren’t friends any longer. “I thought he was nice, Hali.”
“He is, Mama. He’s just out of his head from the pain and confused. He thought himself among enemies instead of friends. It’s fine now. He knows he’s safe with us.”
Asil’s expression brightened. “Do you want me to come back inside once I’ve told them?”
Halani adored her mother, and her stomach clenched at the memory of seeing the casual way Malachus had knocked Asil aside, almost sending her through the wagon door, as if she weighed no more than a thistle bloom.
“No,” she said. “You can be my messenger in case I need to relay news.”
“Whatever you wish, Hali.” And this time Asil was all smiles as she scampered out of the wagon, struts bouncing as she skipped the steps to leap to the ground from the threshold edge.
Halani grabbed a wad of bandages and pressed it to her patient’s bleeding wound. “You don’t have to stay,” she told Seydom. “But I’ll need you to send someone else in your place to help me.”
Seydom bristled, indignant at her suggestion though she hadn’t meant to offend him. “I’ll stay,” he snapped, splitting his glare between her and their charge. “And this time he won’t catch me by surprise.”
The object of their discussion startled them both when he spoke in a tired, hoarse voice. “I promise to be still.” He studied Halani through a slitted gaze. “And I thank you.”
Halani paused in soaking up blood to study him in return. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, and I haven’t saved you yet.”
A ghost of a smile flitted across his grim mouth. “But you’re trying. That deserves my gratitude.”
She replaced the saturated bandage with a towel, careful not to press too hard. There was still much more to do. Before the day was done, he’d be cursing instead of thanking her for visiting so much suffering on him.
“I’ll remind you of that when you’re shouting and threatening to hang me from the nearest tree branch the moment you’re well enough to stand.”
“But you’ll know I won’t mean it,” he assured her.
She appreciated his outlook, though she didn’t believe he’d maintain such acceptance once she started on the other arrows, and most especially when she cauterized the wounds.
His pale features pinched even tighter. “My horse.” His hand skittered across the blankets. “My horse at the stables.”
She remembered the sleepy-eyed mare who’d followed behind him when Halani had first crossed his path in the market. “Did you board her at Grecajin’s stable yard?”
Malachus nodded, hands still moving restlessly as if searching for something. “I only paid for a day and night’s board.”
Half dead, poisoned, and in pain, he still worried for his mount. That stable yard was known for auctioning off a horse if its owner was so much as an hour late with boarding payment. “I’ll send someone to retrieve her.”
“I can pay.”
“Oh, you will,” she assured him with her sweetest smile. “We have your money purse.” As his raspy laugh turned to a groan, she shushed him. “Don’t laugh. You may be causing more bleeding inside, especially here.” Her hand glided to the arrow shaft sticking out of his side. That one she’d face last, as it would be the most dangerous to remove and the one most likely to kill him.
“Mama!” she called toward the door. “Send Talen to me and then bring me a prayer stick.”
At Talen’s arrival, Halani handed her the money purse along with a description of the horse he called Batraza. “She’s stabled at Grecajin’s.”
Talen tucked the purse into her bodice. “Pray he hasn’t already sold her to the knackers,” she said before leaving.
While she waited for her mother to return with the prayer stick, Halani checked the towel pressed against Malachus’s shoulder, pleased to see the bleeding had slowed. The broadhead hadn’t splintered when it penetrated. Even the sinew hafting the tang to the shaft hadn’t disintegrated, saving her from excavating the wound even more, searching for bits of arrow shrapnel that would cause infection.
“What is this prayer stick?” he said, voice weary and slurred.
Before Halani could reply, Asil entered the wagon to hand her a short length of wood the thickness of her thumb and scraped smooth of its bark. “Will this do?”