Authors: Jane Fletcher
“But it’s gone now, hasn’t it?”
“I don’t think so. It’s just too faint to see unless there’s total darkness.”
“But—”
“Do you remember the story about the Witch-Lord? I know you didn’t stay for all of it on the Night of the Lost, but you said you’d heard it before.”
“Which part?”
“His mistake when he fell from the tower. The story said he should have held on to his shield, because that would have saved him from being hurt, but his bow was his favorite, so he held on to that instead and broke his neck when he hit the ground.”
“I remember, although I’ve heard variations on it.”
“But they all mention the bow as his favorite?”
“Yes.”
“Yet the bow wasn’t here. I’m right about that, aren’t I? I know I wasn’t in a state to pay much attention, but I don’t remember anyone mentioning it.”
“No. There wasn’t a bow. I assumed it was one point where the story got things wrong.” Alana frowned. “You think the bow’s in the sarcophagus?”
“Maybe, if the bow really was his pride and joy, he wanted to be entombed with it.”
Deryn hobbled over and placed her hands on the stone coffin. The lid was going to be heavy. Would they be able to move it? She looked back. “Could you lend me a hand here?”
Alana got to her feet. “Okay. Supposing the bow is in there, how will it help us?”
“In the story, it shot magical bolts that could go through stone.”
“And?”
“The door is stone.”
Judging by her expression, Alana was not convinced, but she added her strength to the effort. The pain of her injuries made Deryn grit her teeth, and at first, all for nothing. The lid did not budge.
Deryn changed the angle of pressure. “Maybe there’s a lip on it. If we both push up under here…”
Alana placed her hands beside Deryn’s. This time, the sound of hollow grinding came as the lid slid a half a finger’s width—not much, but a start.
“It’s moving.”
“I saw.”
Inch by inch, they slid the stone slab back. The blue light shone out from within, getting stronger as the gap between lid and base widened. At last, the opening was wide enough for them to peer in.
A tall skeleton lay in state. Its clothing had rotted long ago, but the items that remained showed its wealth. The gem-encrusted scabbard alone was worth more than Deryn would earn in her lifetime. A gold circlet still adorned the skull. Precious stones glinted on the rings around its finger bones. The leather belt was shriveled and decayed, but the engraved ivory buckle was unspoiled by time.
Despite these riches, the only thing that caught Deryn’s interest was the shining blue bow. “You’re sure the dead stay dead?”
“Yes.”
The demon-spawn healer ought to know better than anyone. Deryn still felt a twinge of anxiety, but they were out of options. She squeezed her hand through the gap and was just able to snare the top with her fingertip. The shaft slid free from the skeletal grasp.
The bow was a little bigger than her own, but not the size of a full longbow. It had been left in a strung state. In fact, as far as Deryn could tell, the string was an integral part of the weapon. It also glowed with the blue light and could not be removed. She could only hope that the magical material did not stretch or weaken with age.
“No quiver.” Alana peered into the coffin. “And no arrows.”
“According to Regan’s version of the story, it didn’t need them.”
“Oh well.” Alana reached in and pulled out a thick gold chain. “If nothing else, we’ll die rich.”
“And can amuse ourselves thinking how sick Martez would be if he knew what he’d left behind.”
Deryn placed her fingers on the string and tugged gently, testing the tension. It seemed good. She pulled a little farther and saw a new shimmering start to appear. At first it was hazy, but then it solidified into the shape of an arrow, on the string and ready to shoot.
“Let’s see what it does to the door.”
Deryn was hoping for an explosion and for the stone to crack. Instead, the arrow hit silently and vanished.
“Shit.” Deryn let her hands drop to her side, and stared forlornly at the still intact door.
“That wasn’t very impressive.”
“I know. Maybe the magic has worn out over the years.”
“The helmet still worked.”
“Yes.” Deryn shuddered at the memory and turned away. “I’m sor—”
“Hang on.” Alana had gone to inspect the door up close.
“What?”
“The arrow did exactly what was claimed.”
“It did?”
“Come here. You need to see it from the right angle.”
Deryn peered at the spot where the arrow had hit. A small circle of daylight shone through. “Oh yes.”
The hole was no more than a quarter inch across, looking as if it had been drilled through the stone by a master mason.
Alana grinned. “It’s a bit small to climb through. But I guess, with enough of them, the whole door will cave in. Or maybe we can cut a line, and knock out a corner.”
“It’ll take a long time.”
“Then it’s just as well that we haven’t got anything else we need to do. If you get tired, I’ll take over.”
*
Several hundred arrows later, the top section of one door finally gave way and crashed to the ground, creating a gap big enough for them to squeeze though. By then, it was late afternoon, and Deryn’s thirst was becoming a major source of discomfort, but just standing in the open air was good. Deryn’s smile was so broad it made her face ache.
Alana looked equally happy. She wrapped her arms around Deryn’s waist and rested her forehead in the hollow of Deryn’s neck. “I never thought we’d get out.”
“Uh.” Deryn’s stomach melted and sank down to flop around on other, lower, parts of her body.
Alana seemed unaware of the effect she had caused. “It looks like the rest of your life might be a little bit longer than you’d expected last night. Are you having second thoughts?”
Alana’s tone was light, teasing, but her words set off a wave of doubt in Deryn.
I did say that, didn’t I? Does it still sound so good?
Maybe, but the doubt was trying to turn itself into panic. Alana’s body pressed against hers made Deryn feel as if the other half of her soul was coming home, and she did not want that. She was complete in herself. She always had been in the past. Could she go back to that state? Did she want to?
Which thought is more frightening, losing Alana or losing myself?
Mainly what Deryn wanted was the time to answer that question, and be sure her answer was the right one. She needed space, to think things through. She peeled Alana off her, and immediately felt the emptiness flow back into her life, but she tried to ignore it. “We’ve got to be careful. We don’t know where Martez is.”
Alana sighed. “You’re probably right. Especially since you’re in a worse state to outrun the outlaws than before. What do you think he’ll be doing now?”
“Making plans to go on the rampage and steal as much as he can. We need to get back to Neupor and raise the alarm, but we don’t want to bump into him on the way.” Deryn raised the bow. “This will give us the advantage in a ranged fight. We need to pick our battleground.”
Alana scooped up Deryn’s free hand, kissed each knuckle in turn, and then let it drop. “You’d better lead the way. I haven’t got a clue how to find our way home.”
“Right.”
Deryn took a moment to steady herself and then crept back to the main valley where they had found Alejo’s body. She forced herself to concentrate on her surroundings, alert for the first hint of danger, but it was not easy. Her head and heart were in turmoil. She wanted to hold Alana’s hand again so much it frightened her. She was lost and unable to fight. So why risk making a fool of herself by trying?
Because it’s a whole new world for you, and on occasion you can be a bit of a coward. Alana deserves better than that.
Sometimes, the voice of Deryn’s conscience sounded exactly like Brise.
*
When the hovels of Neupor came into sight, Deryn felt some of the knots leave her shoulders. Her relief was not only due to the prospect of getting reinforcements. Her bruises were sending jolts of pain through her limbs with each step. Deryn was aware that Alana kept giving her sideways looks, but was thankfully silent. She desperately wanted to lie down, rest, and work out what she was going to do. Before she took any irrevocable steps, Deryn wanted to reassure herself that it was a good idea, and that she could live in a serious relationship with Alana. Although if she was honest with herself, the real issue was whether she could live without it.
The farmlands looked as peaceful as ever in the soft twilight. Deryn tried to draw strength from the view, while gritting her teeth against the raw aches in her legs and sides. How could any great danger or drama play out here? The run-down farmsteads were not the right backdrop, the smell of wood smoke and cow dung too prosaic. The miserable backwater was so tediously boring it could not be anything other than safe.
Two miles outside the village, a side track led away from the main road, climbing the hillside. Alana stopped and pointed. “My cottage is up there.”
“Yes. I know.”
“So why are you going straight past the turning?”
“It’s not the…” Deryn drew a breath.
Please, just a bit more time.
Alana caught hold of her hand. “You’re coming home with me.”
“Don’t I get a say in it?”
“No.”
The certainty in Alana’s voice only emphasized the doubts overwhelming Deryn. She pulled her hand free and stepped back. “I’m sorry. I have to go to Neupor.”
“Why?”
“In case you’ve forgotten, there’s a gang of dangerous outlaws on the loose. Sergeant Nevin needs to be told.” The absurdity of what she was saying only added to Deryn’s discomfort.
Alana sighed. “Okay. I’ll come with you.”
“No. You should go home.”
Deryn’s clipped tone must have registered. Alana looked first surprised and then annoyed. “You mean you want to run away again.”
“No. I’ve just got to…”
Run. Now. Because otherwise I’ll never be able to run again
.
Alana rubbed her forehead as if she had a headache. “Look, I know you have issues because of your past.”
“I know that you know. And the bits I haven’t told you, you’ve found out by trawling through my head.” Deryn told herself she meant it as a joke, but even she had to admit the delivery was off, and it would not have been very funny regardless of how she had said it.
“If I could have stopped doing it I would. I’ve got quite enough problems of my own, without taking on yours.” Alana was starting to sound angry. Deryn could not really blame her.
“I didn’t mean it as an attack.”
“It sounded like it. I don’t understand why you’re suddenly so…so…” Alana waved her hand, clearly hunting for the word she wanted.
“So what?”
“You really do want to make an argument of this, don’t you?”
“You’re the one who’s arguing.”
“Me! Don’t be stupid. It’s you.”
“That sounds to me like you’re arguing.”
“Right. Fine. I’ll see you around sometime.”
Deryn watched Alana storm away. She opened her mouth, about to call out. But what? That she was sorry? That she knew she was being stupid?
“I’m sorry, Alana. I’m stupid.” Deryn spoke the words too softly for the departing woman to have any hope of hearing. “But I’m scared. I’ve got used to being me, and how I act, and what I do and don’t do. It’s all going to change. I don’t know who I’m going to become, and it will take a bit of getting used to. Give me time, please.”
Alana was now fifty yards away, fading into the dull light of an overcast dusk. Deryn was seized by the urge to run after her, but her legs would not move.
Tomorrow. I’ll go visit her tomorrow. Give her a bit of time to calm down, and I can have a night to sleep on it. I’ll feel better when I don’t ache so much. I’m going to be spending a lot of time with her. One more night to get my head in order won’t matter. She’s angry, but maybe if I take her some flowers…
Deryn felt her face freeze in an expression of utter amazement. Her shoulders sagged. She had never given anyone flowers before in her life. Never even thought about doing it. What had gotten into her, and more importantly, would the flowers work the way she had been told, and make Alana happy? What flowers were available in winter? Would an artistic posy of cones and berries work instead?
This is bad. Why even try to fight it?
For a moment, Deryn teetered on the point of giving in to her heart and hobbling after Alana, but then she turned away and started her slow, lonely walk for the last few miles to Neupor.
*
When Alana got over being angry she was going to be very upset. She felt she owed it to herself. What was going on with Deryn? Never had Alana felt such a strong urge to throttle anyone—well, anyone apart from her parents. She marched up the hill, trying to vent the anger in long firm strides. This had the added advantage that she would reach the security of her cottage quicker, so she could shut out the world and give way to the upset.
Damn her.