Page 39 of A Brat's Tale
“No. I’ll be all right.” Once the fog clears, my limbs are strong if a bit tired. Heaving myself onto my horse and steadying my gaze I nod to Uncle Taj.
“You sure Tristan? You won’t survive another blood loss like that.”
“Will it slow you down to have me on the back?”
“It will.”
“Then I can do it. I’m sure.”
We ride again at a medium pace in comparison to what we’d been riding at, and it reminds me that no, I’m not one hundred percent; the forest spins and my stomach lurches. I’d hoped to tell him we could go faster, but that’s not going to happen.Focus Tristan. Get to the end. You’re fine.
And I do all right, but when I hear the twin growls, I’m overcome with a lot of “oh fucks.” Uncle Taj fills with concern, I know he doesn’t think I’ll make it, but I’m not dying today. “C’mon,” I shout to him, forcing myself to speed up my horse. I narrow my focus to his horse, and he nods enough for me to see him. He speeds up too.
Horse hooves pound as weighty as my heart, the sound filling the fetid air almost drowning out the sound of the growls enough so that I can center myself to where I can see the clearing. We’re almost there.Almost.I dare to speed up my horse, faster than I can manage for long.The blood loss catches up to me, I see black spots, I want to retch, I start to slide sideways, the breeze of a claw whips at my flank followed by fire overhead—another blast of Elf fire that just singes my new hair. Thankfully, it will grow back by nightfall. “Almost there, Tristan!”
There’s one wolf remaining, and it’s too close; I have to go faster,fasterthan is manageable. Squeezing my calves puts speed into the large Elven horse, and I hang on for dear life, no longer relying on my riding skills, praying the horse will make its own wise decisions to traverse the gnarled landscape in a way it can without breaking an ankle. Uncle Taj looks back to check on me, knowing I need help and he can either do that or attempt another fireball.
Strength begins to seep into my limbs, as if from nowhere and it gives me the boost I need to make the final push to my horse, to get us out, but we don’t have long.
We don’t need it either.
The front legs of Uncle Taj’s horse hit sunlight first, and he’s through. I’m not far behind, not a moment too soon; the snarl is too close, the large paws thump heavily as the wolf pounces and I clear the veil just as I hear it landing behind me, happy to leave it trapped inside.
Chapter 9
My heart is still galloping at the speed my horse was moments ago when we exit the clearing. The vestiges of death still encapsulate me, and I shake as if physically getting rid of the whole experience. I’m about to collapse, having reached the end of my endurance, my face buries itself into the silken mane of my horse. “Good girl,” I tell her. “That was some stellar riding.”
Uncle Taj keeps back, ready to ride into the veil and it only occurs to me now that he’ll have to fight his way back alone. The massive ex-war Elf doesn’t look bothered by the task, his white hair stark against his copper skin, his fierceness burning straight through his blue eyes, which are focused behind me.
Corrik is here.
His hair shines brightly as I remember, but there are streaks of white and a tightness to him that wasn’t there before. He’s tired in his soul and it’s plain in the way he carries himself, but when he sets eyes on me, someone has poured sunshine into his cup once again. “Tristan, is that really you?”
I didn’t know how I was going to feel seeing Corrik again. I’ve fallen in love with someone else, but the Gods help me, I still love Corrik too and it consumes me the moment I’m in his space. I don’tthink, I just do. I hop off my horse and run to him. It’s natural when he takes me in his arms. It’s like I never left, and we sink to the ground and kneel on the grass together.
That’s when I hear the rearing of a horse and we both look to where Uncle Taj is. “Fare thee well, Tristan.” He doesn’t give me the chance to say goodbye, or even to thank him, and he’s gone disappearing into the veil.I’ll never know if he makes it back okay.
Corrik ignores the large Elf, which surprises me, focused only on me. “Tristan you … you’re different.”
I don’t even think about it, the Elvish comes out. “Different, how?”
He wrinkles his nose, his ears turn up and he continues in Markaytian. “You havetheiraccent. We’re going to have to do something about that.”
“But I like my accent fine,” I say in Markaytian, not wanting to start trouble with him,already. Right, Corrik and I fight, a lot.
I’d forgotten.
He shakes his head. “It’s fine. Tristan, I’m just so glad we’ve found you. Your hair though, it’s gone, and it’s got color to it.”
His disappointment guts me as much as it ever did. But I can fix this one. “Wait until tonight. It will be back.”
He doesn’t ask how, only nods. “Right. We’ve got to get moving Tristan. It isn’t safe here. Are you hurt?”
“Not anymore, was just healed.” He winces. “I’m okay though. A bit tired.” The blood loss has me a bit woozy, but I don’t mention it. But right, overprotective is Corrik’s middle name. Bayaden was protective, without beingoverprotective.
“When we get you home, I promise I’ll make it so you’re never hurt again.”
I’m not sure I like the sound of his words, he’s too vague for my liking. Two more riders show up. I recognize one of them. “Young Warlord!” Diekin says hoping off his horse, running to me. I get up from where I am on the ground and stand to embrace him. “We’ve been searching for nearly a year, but we never gave up.”
