Page 24 of Brought to Light
Voices behind me made me turn and listen. Linden and Kaspar, and beneath their voices, Oskar’s rumble. They’d caught up with him, then.
A moment later, Kaspar came jogging after me, the light on his staff bobbing.
“Oskar says there may be some survivors,” he said as he approached. “I’ll take care of that. I’ll try to use magic to question them, but I may simply have to kill them.”
His tone didn’t give me much confidence. Kaspar sounded like a man trying to convince himself more than me. False bravado didn’t help anyone.
“We’lltake care of that,” I corrected him, making a mental note to do any killing myself. He nodded, biting his lip and looking relieved. “Linden’s staying with Oskar?” He nodded again, and I turned to head into the clearing with some relief of my own. Dealing with the temporary survivors wouldn’t be pretty, and it wasn’t something Linden needed to see.
It didn’t take long. Only two of Lord Evalt’s men had lived long enough for us to question, and one of those died within a minute. The other cursed, and spat, and refused to answer, and Kaspar muttered spells and waved his hands without any effect.
At last he stood, shaking his head. We weren’t getting any information out of him.
I didn’t want to waste another bullet, so I picked up a discarded sword and put it through the soldier’s neck. Quick and clean. Kaspar flinched at the sound of it.
“Thank you,” he said quietly. “I’ve never killed anyone. I know I could if I had to, but…”
I didn’t make him finish the thought. “Not wanting to kill anyone isn’t a character flaw.” I dropped the bloodstained sword to the grass next to the body and surveyed the clearing. It looked like a slaughterhouse. “I have enough blood on my hands already. It doesn’t matter at this point.”
“It always matters,” Kaspar said. Then he added, “But I’m glad you’re on our side.”
There didn’t seem to be much to add to that; we turned and headed back to find Linden and Oskar. I spent the short walk mulling over whether Kaspar had meant that as a compliment or not. I was pretty sure he hadn’t, and I couldn’t explain why it made me feel so shitty. I’d never cared before.
Fuck it. There were wounds to treat and horses to steal and a sorcerer to fucking kill with extreme prejudice, and I had better things to do than navel-gaze.
Chapter Twelve
Linden
When the sound of the fight finally faded into a chilling silence, I gave in to impulse at last and ran after Oskar and Callum as if all of Lord Evalt’s minions were on my heels—instead of right in front of me, waiting for me to fall into their clutches.
I’d wanted to follow them at once, but Kaspar’s restraining hands on my arms had held me in place long enough for some common sense to take over my panic. Callum and Oskar were fighting because of me, maybe dying because of me. But I’d be useless to them, with my nonexistent skills with a weapon.
When I reached Oskar, the fight was clearly over. I found him leaned up against a tree, supporting his other side with his sword point-down in the forest mould. Blood trickled down his face and ran in rivulets over one of his legs. Kaspar skidded to a halt beside me, cursing in his turn.
I spun on him. “This is why you should’ve let me go!” I cried, a little unfairly. I turned back, glancing around wildly. “Where’s Callum? Oskar,where is he?”
“He’s fine, not a scratch I don’t think. Those human weapons are wonderful. And put a cork in it, Linden,” Oskar growled. “You’d have died in the first five seconds. You’re not even armed, and it wouldn’t do you much good if you were. I tried to teach you and Kaspar to fight, remember? It didn’t take.”
That was a massive understatement, and exactly what I’d told myself a few minutes before—but I was too angry and too weak with relief to admit it or to argue coherently. “That doesn’t matter! You—fuckyou, Oskar! Sit down and let me look at your wounds. I need you whole again so I won’t feel guilty when I strangle you.”
Callum was alive. Oskar was alive. The words repeated and repeated in my mind, though I wouldn’t quite believe it until I saw Callum for myself. I’d heard the screams, and gunshot after gunshot, each one shredding my nerves all over again no matter how quickly they came in succession. When the gun went silent it was worse.
But they were alive, and I’d cowered behind them like a useless idiot, and now I could at least tend to Oskar’s leg.
He slid to the ground and stretched out his wounded leg, and I started in on tearing the fabric of his trousers back from the sword-cut so I could get a better look at it. I vaguely heard Oskar telling Kaspar to go and try to question anyone left alive, and then Kaspar was off, leaving me alone with Oskar.
He grunted in discomfort as I prodded the cut in his thigh. It was moderately deep, but just in the muscle of his leg, far enough from any arteries for comfort. I poked at it again, not bothering to be gentle.
“Don’t take it out on me,” he grumbled. “You knew it’d be like this. You’re not a soldier. There’s no shame in it. Neither is Kaspar. There wouldn’t be any shame in it even if hewasa soldier too.”
I realized my cheeks were hot and wet, and that tears had been streaming down unchecked. I hadn’t even noticed. “Kaspar’s magic is strong enough to be useful. I’m not good for anything. I’m worthless.”
“We wouldn’t be risking our lives for you if you were worthless,” Oskar snapped. “You’re worth a lot to me. And Kaspar.”
I couldn’t help noticing he’d left Callum off the list, and my chest clenched.
No, I had to squelch that feeling. Callum had his own reasons for being here, for fighting Lord Evalt. They didn’t have much to do with me, even if he’d landed in this mess indirectly because of me. Wishing otherwise was neither fair nor helpful.
