Page 35 of Brighter Than Gold

Despite it being the middle of the night, the blanketed snow reflected the glowing crescent moon above, and drenched the world in an icy blue hue.

I knew the glen was coming up to the right and Callan had told me not to go that way, but heading left meant I’d be exposed over a snow-covered field. The fork in the road raced towards me, I looked between each path.

“Gods save me…” I said pulling the mare to the right, and into the cover of the steep hills.

After several long minutes at a frenzied pace, I could feel the horse beginning to slow. I tugged back on the reigns, allowing her to catch her breath in an easy canter.

“Thank you,” I whispered, giving the mare a pat on the neck.

I strained my ears, desperately listening for anyone that could be closing in behind me. I was certain a few of the men would have turned left at the fork, but it would not take them long to discover I hadn’t gone that way. Did this road lead straight back to Cloven Bay? Right to the place that Lazio himself governed?

I gripped the leather reigns tightly. It didn’t matter where this road led, not yet anyway. What mattered was what it ledawayfrom.

I coaxed the horse into a gallop once more, feeling better the faster we went. Then suddenly, I had the strangest sensation of flying, just before everything went black.

* * *

Reyah

There was pain before there was consciousness. A searing ache in my head as my eyes fluttered open. I was moving, or rather, being moved. My head lolled from side to side as I tried to make sense of where I was. Soon I recognized the plodding footsteps of the animal beneath me, I was on a horse but not riding alone. There was a heavy arm cinched around my chest holding me upright. A roll of dizzying nausea came over me, and I fought the urge to vomit.

“Awake, darling?” said the cruel, icy voice behind me. It belonged to Lazio.

I pulled my head up higher, desperately straining to focus my eyes.

“You took a little spill back there. When your horse happened to find my hatchet.”

The memory began to seep in. The mare went down, I was thrown from the saddle, but that was all I could remember.

Dread set in when I could make out the small cabin along the tree line. Lazio had taken me right back to where I’d fled.

He dragged me down from the horse, cursing under his breath as he tossed me roughly into the back bedroom and slammed the door closed. I caught myself on my hands, my vision crackling bright, tiny sparks as I righted myself. But when the strobing phantoms dissipated, my heart fell through my stomach.

“Callan? Callan, can you hear me?”

The general lay motionless on the floor, looking like nothing more than a husk of a man. I crawled over to him and put my hands on his chest and waited. Mercifully, after a long moment, his chest rose with a breath. My relief was short lived as I surveyed his broken body; there was blood and bruising everywhere, his face nearly unrecognizable from what the Rats had done to him.

I pulled his heavy head into my lap and sat against the wall, gently stroking back his blood soaked curls.

“My mother used to stroke my hair like this when I was sick as a child. She used to make us this horrendous spinach and barley soup,” I whispered. “She would load it up with cracked black pepper and chili oil to clear our sinuses. You’ve never tasted anything worse in your life, Callan.” I chuckled remembering the faces I would make eating it. “Once we’d finished the awful meal, she would put my head in her lap just like this and sing to us. It’s funny isn’t it, that we crave our mothers so much when we’re sick. How a hug or a kiss or a gentle word could make you physically better. I’m sad Kaspian never had that with his mother. Do you suppose he found that comfort with someone else? His father, perhaps? I wonder if that’s why he is so enamoured with the idea of having children.”

I lay a hand over my belly protectively, and imagined the look on the cook’s faces when I would force my way into the kitchen and start making the most terrible smelling soup for my sick child upstairs. What a privilege it was going to be, to have that ability to magically erase my child’s pain, to be their relief.

I leaned my head back against the wall, and I must have fallen asleep. Murky dreams played in my mind, a blend of memories and fallacies to where I couldn’t tell the difference.

My attention was brought back to the haunting gloom of the cabin when I felt a stir, Callan was beginning to wake. It took nearly ten minutes for him to wake fully, and when he did, the pained grimace lacing into his face gutted me.

“Slowly…” I urged as he tried to sit up. He was clearly disoriented. “Not too quickly, Callan.”

He took a deep breath before turning to face me, and despite the bruising and swelling, the utter disappointment on his face was clear.

“You—you’re here…”

I forced an apologetic smile. “I tried.”

Callan fumbled around until he found my hand and gripped it tightly. He lay his head sorely back into my lap.

“I’m sorry,” he uttered.

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