Page 52 of Between Wrath and Mercy

Too slow.

The impact of the beast wasn’t as bad as the burn I got down my back from sliding backwards over the rocks and dirt. My dagger flew out of my hands the minute it hit me. I had one arm around my own neck, trying to protect it from the snapping teeth, drool flinging all over me. I screamed as its teeth latched into my arm, the pressure almost unbearable. I swore I could feel teeth on bone. It pulled my arm away from my neck as the mouth clamped down, and I sobbed as I kicked at its stomach, trying to find any leverage to push it off me. My mind went to strange places as I began to picture my imminent death. I wondered if Rainier would still rescue Elora for me but instantly knew he would do anything to save her, especially if I was dead. I hoped he would tell her how hard I’d tried. To get his help, to get to her, to save her. Would he kill Faxon and make her an orphan? Would he take care of her? Drool from the gaping maw of the tírrúil flicked into my eye, bringing me back to the pain.

Fire would have been preferable.

I didn’t know if it was instinct or something else that had me reaching for the animal with my other hand. Bringing it up, I started pushing through the matted fur on its neck.

Slow. Calm. Slow. Slow down. Relax.

I shoved my free hand through the mats, trying to reach some sort of bare skin. If compulsion worked on animals, maybe my abilities would work too. I started picturing calm and cool waters like I’d done with Gertie.

Slow. Slow. Slow. Sleep. Rest. Heavy.

It was working. The tírrúil started to sway on its feet, and I felt its jaw loosen around my arm. A blow from its side knocked it over onto me, and the force of the fall had my arm twisted in its mouth, but I was able to wrench it free. A guttural scream got past my lips as I pulled. The blow hadn’t been a killing blow, the creature still alive but sleeping. I tried to get up, but the weight of its limbs kept me on the ground, so I tried to scoot backwards under its legs, but I wasn’t strong enough. Someone, the female warrior, reached over me and pulled a leg up so I could push out a bit farther. She let go of the leg and put a hand under one of my arms and hoisted me up.

“You are rather stupid.” Her accent was thick as she grinned at me. I wondered if she was one of the soldiers from Skos. “And brave.”

“It’s not dead, just asleep.” She stared at me confusion and then focused her attention on the beast on the ground.

I scanned the vicinity for Rainier and saw him running toward me, panting and eyes wide. Relief flooded through his features as his eyes met mine. I pulled my bad arm up into my chest, wincing as I did it. I didn’t think it was broken, but the punctures from the bite were definitely bleeding. I’d never tried to use my abilities in any particular direction, but I stilled, closing my eyes, and imagined the low golden light of my divinity encircling my wounds, not sure if it would do anything. I only did it for a matter of seconds before I stopped, knowing I couldn’t waste any more time.

“Dickey! Where’s Dickey?”

I started running to where I’d last seen the boys. They were nowhere in sight, but I saw blood on the ground where a body had been dragged. Following the trail around the fire, I came to Lavenia hunched over Sam while Dickey sat next to him, his friend’s hand in his own and his face ashen. The honeyed locks of Sam’s hair were darker, tainted by too much blood.

“Move!” I ripped the boy’s shirt open and put my hands on his chest, ignoring the pain in my injured arm. I reached out and listened for a heartbeat, but I found nothing.

“He’s gone, Emma.” Lavenia put her hand on my back, and I shrugged it off.

I didn’t dare look at his face, not yet. I needed to get some of this skin sewn together to slow the bleeding, to get his heart going again. I slid my hands through the blood to find the source of his injury and focused my healing there, where his neck and shoulder met. I envisioned the wound knitting from the inside out. The blood circulating and his heart beating.

“Pump his chest.” My voice was hoarse as I barked out the order.

Someone did as I asked while I continued running my hands over him, searching for any other wounds. The worst of them was healed, but he hadn’t woken up, his heart still refusing to beat on its own. I hadn’t realized how different a living heart sounded from the one being forced to beat below my hands. There was no spark, and I could tell. I stayed there for a long time, waiting, hoping for a tiny glimmer of life in him. He couldn’t have been more than seventeen or eighteen years old. A child.

Finally, the hands pumping his chest slowed and stopped.

“Em, he’s gone.” I looked up, startled. I didn’t realize it was Rainier who had come to help. I collapsed backwards to the ground, my arms on my knees as I brushed sweat out of my eyes. “Bring me the rest of the wounded.” My throat hurt, and I felt like I was choking.

“We can take care of them; we’ve had to do this before.”

“Bring me the rest of the wounded.” My eyes met his as I enunciated each word, trying to wrestle the emotion out of my voice. Out of all the patients I’d lost with Mairin, none of them were this young, this full of life. I’d heard his playful banter with Dewalt, his shy embarrassment when he fetched me the training swords, the way he and Dickey acted like brothers, reminding me of Dewalt and Rainier. And his young life was snuffed in an instant. Maybe if I’d gone straight to him and let Rainier and his soldiers deal with the beast that ultimately attacked me, maybe Sam would still be alive.

Rainier’s eyes cooled as he stared into mine. He was frustrated, but I didn’t care. After a moment where I met his gaze, he finally put his fingers into his mouth and let out a coded whistle. I searched our surroundings for Dickey, wanting to say something to the boy, some words of comfort, but I didn’t see him anywhere.

“Do you need this?” Dewalt came walking up and dumped my pack next to me. Lavenia’s pack was there as well from when she tried to heal Sam.

“Yes. Alcohol?” Dewalt nodded and headed off. I turned to Rainier who was still seated at my side, watching me hesitantly.

“Help me rip my sleeve.” I offered my arm to him, and he followed the tears in the fabric from those long, vicious teeth and carefully ripped, trying not to jostle me. I heard his sharp intake of breath, and I glanced down at my arm. It looked like shredded meat.

“Divine hell.” Dewalt let out a low whistle as he came back with a few bottles of alcohol in his hands. There were four deep gouges that went across the top of my forearm, and I could see the muscle underneath, knowing if I looked hard enough, I would see bone. One of the gouges was bleeding significantly worse than the others, and I wondered if the teeth nicked an artery. If it had, the divinity I’d pushed toward my arm was saving me from bleeding out. Dewalt set the bottles down, and I handed one of them back up to him with my good arm. I turned to Rainier, grabbing his hand with my bad one and braced myself against his shoulder.

“Pour it on my arm.” I directed Dewalt, who gaped at me. “Oh, don’t be a baby, just do it. Hurry up, so I can make it stop bleeding.”

Rainier held out the bad arm with one hand and used his other to bring me toward him. He held the back of my head against his shoulder as Dewalt poured, and the liquid fire raced across the open wound. He held my hand in his, no matter how desperately I tried to pull back, no matter how loudly I screamed. I was groaning and panting, feeling sweat break out across my brow. After Dewalt was done, I sat there for a few moments while catching my breath. Rainier didn’t speak, holding me close as his fingers tangled in my hair.

“Fuck.” I panted, pulling away from him. “Let’s see if this works.” I attempted to smile at Rainer, but I was sure it came out as a grimace. In the light of the fire, his eyes were bright, and they held worry and what I thought might be admiration in them. The way my heart began to soar at his silent praise was quickly tempered by the pain in my arm and the disappointment in myself, in my inability to save Sam.

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