Page 122 of A Land So Wide
“Shut him up,” Elowen hissed, and the tall Bright-Eyed swung athim, striking Ellis across the face with the long length of his winged forearm.
Ellis staggered back, losing his hat.
Greer had knitted it for him just last winter. She’d used the finest wool, carding and cleaning out every bristle and burr before spinning the fibers and dyeing the skeins. Seeing that reminder of home, that proof of their lives before all this, strengthened Greer’s resolve. She wanted to go back to that—to a version of that—and never again have to worry about dark shapes falling from the sky.
Ellis clutched at his face, muffling a groan. Greer could smell the tang of fresh blood and knew his nose had been broken, even before drops of red dotted the surrounding snow.
The Gathered snapped their collective attention toward the blood, their sudden longing fierce and palpable. From high above, the smallest Bright-Eyed began to skitter down the rocky face of the cliff, drawing closer. Its eyes were large and rapturous.
Greer started forward, wanting to warn Ellis, wanting to stop the bloodshed before it could begin, but Finn’s fingers dug in deep, holding her in place.
“Wait,” he mouthed silently.
Then the Bright-Eyed was gone, hidden somewhere among the boulders clustering against the mountain’s face. But Greer could still hear him, hear the rasp of his dissent. “The mortal is right. We’ve watched for days, and the girl hasn’t come. I’m sick of such stagnancy. I want to hunt.”
Elowen sighed. “And you will, when this is over. We’ll return to the cove and destroy those damned Stones. We’ll drink the town dry, but first we need—”
“No, now!” he yowled, racing out of the shadows.
Finn was on her in an instant, one hand cupped over Greer’s mouth to stifle back her cry as a lynx sped toward Ellis, haunches long and paws massive, a feral bloodlust winking in its eyes. As much as she wanted to thrash free, Greer slackened against Finn, understanding that the element of surprise was their greatest asset.
Before Greer was even aware she’d moved, Elowen was across the yard, intercepting the cat. It began to shift back into a Bright-Eyed,growing larger, its spine lengthening and flexing like a snake. But before the transformation could complete, Elowen snapped its neck and tossed it over her shoulder, discarding it as though it were nothing more than a game bird.
The Bright-Eyed landed with an ungainly thud, a monstrous tangle of limbs and wings, now wholly motionless. The remaining Gathered swayed uneasily, their eyes darting from Elowen to their fallen kin.
The tusked guard made a motion toward the dead Bright-Eyed, but Elowen’s snarl stopped him short. “Farrow?” he called out instead. In the following silence, his eyes narrowed. “You killed him!”
Elowen whirled around, meeting the eyes of her court, her face contorted with fury. “And I’ll do the same to any of you who goes after the boy.”
With disgust, the tusked Bright-Eyed stalked into the tunnel, throwing muttered curses under his breath.
“Laithe! I did not dismiss you! Get back here or I’ll—” Elowen started after him, but stopped short, a look of uncertainty playing across her vulpine face.
“Already set to kill another?” Ellis asked, sneering up at her. He turned to the others. “How quick she is to throw you all away. She exiled the first only hours ago…”
Salix,Greer thought, remembering the Bright-Eyed she’d killed. She wondered what he’d done to make Elowen cast him out. Perhaps her court wasn’t as loyal to her as Finn had feared.
“…then this poor sod,” Ellis went on. “And now she threatens Laithe. Are you going to stand for this? Are you going to let her kill the lot of you?”
Elowen’s nostrils flared, and even from across the yard, Greer could hear her teeth grind together. She growled at the tallest Bright-Eyed, snapping her orders in a language Greer did not know.
He offered a short bow before reluctantly turning in to the dark.
Greer could hardly believe her luck. Just three Bright-Eyeds remained outside the mine. Success was still uncertain, but she felt a wash of relief as the numbers began to tip toward their favor.
Then Ellis began to laugh.
It sounded like broken glass, its edges sharp and dangerous, darkwith loathing and teetering into madness. He paced about the yard like a feral animal, caged and raring for a fight. As he approached the stables, his eyes fell on Greer.
Time seemed to freeze, catching the breath in her chest.
Ellis had always been an open book, and Greer watched the wide range of emotions tumble across his face. Disbelief and wonder, love and worry, fear, and—finally—horrible realization.
Greer saw the exact moment when Ellis understood what her presence here meant. What her presence here made her. His eyebrows furrowed, and his eyes grew wet with welling tears. He pressed his lips together, and she wasn’t sure if he was fighting the urge to cry or to scream.
For a long moment, they simply stared at each other. Greer drank in every detail of him, the exhausted circles under his eyes, his ruined nose, the mouth she hungered to kiss. Ellis stared back, saying so many things with his eyes that he could not speak aloud. But then he disappeared into thoughts Greer was not privy to. His expression darkened, and a stab of fear staked through her middle.
“I love you,” he mouthed, offering one small smile. Then Ellis whirled back to the court, slipping out the iron knife secreted in the sleeve of his sweater. He hurled it toward the Bright-Eyeds, his throw powerful and precise. It sailed through the air, flipping round like a silver spinner, until it struck Elowen, stabbing her directly in the hollow of her throat.
