Breathe (The Destiny Series: Book 1) (14 page)

He glanced over his shoulder. Dearra was leaning against the rock he had braced himself against in the night, lacing her boots over her feet. Her hands struggled with the wet, leather ties as she tried to manage most of the work with only her one good hand. He was going to have to remember to take a look at her cut. They hadn’t really given it the attention it deserved. He stared a moment more, thinking about how different she was from the women he had known. She was so fair, so small, and so beautiful in a pure and innocent way that made it seem she was oblivious to her own beauty. Breken women knew exactly what assets men most desired and felt no shame in exploiting any physical trait to their best advantage. The more beautiful the Breken woman was, the more dangerous she could be.

He looked back at his watery reflection. How could she want to be his friend? She was probably just saying what she thought he wanted to hear. She was probably just feigning friendship until she had what she wanted from him. Her brother was important to her. She would likely say or do anything to get him back.

But she seemed so sincere.

Just the fact she cared so much for her brother proved these people were different. Maybe she really did want to be his friend. Maybe she did care about him just a little.

The brown eyes staring back at him from the water’s surface seemed to doubt it. He was Breken. She couldn’t possibly care for him. He reached his hand out again and angrily swatted the water, banishing his image from its surface.

***

It wasn’t long before they picked up the she-wolf’s trail. The blood of the ewe was no longer visible, but there were prints on this side of the stream and little tufts of hair that could only have come from the dark grey wolf they followed.

After only a couple of hours on the trail, Dearra heard unsuppressed growls coming from behind a grouping of rocks. Dearra froze, and motioned for Darius to stay back.

He glowered at her and shook his head emphatically.

She held Brin up and waved a dismissive hand at Darius, reminding him of his lack of a weapon.

He scowled more deeply, but held his position and watched her approach the source of the growls.

Dearra peered around a giant rock and saw the wolf before her, its nose buried in the side of the sheep carcass. She wondered why the wolf would bother to haul the kill all the way back here to feed when she could have stopped anywhere along the way to enjoy her meal.

The wolf was oblivious to anything around her as she sank her teeth back into the sheep. Dearra darted from behind the rock and caught the unsuspecting creature completely off guard. Brin whistled through the air, and in only a moment it was over.

The wolf lay dead at her feet. Dearra stood over the once proud animal, and though this animal had been a danger to her people, for a moment she felt pity at the loss. Any wolf who would come in so close to people, and not even in the dead of winter when the need was greatest had to be stopped. And this particular wolf had already attacked once before when it had struck at the child, Devon. Still, though Dearra had done the right thing, she felt no sense of pride over the deed.

Dearra! Behind you!
Brin’s voice sounded like an explosion in her mind, and she spun to see the form of an even larger male wolf, flying through the air toward her throat.

There was no time even to lift an arm in defense, but just as the wolf was about to make contact, a second blur appeared out of the corner of her eye. Dearra saw Darius crash into the savage male wolf. The sound of snarls and vicious growls curdled her blood. She watched the warrior battle, bare handed, against the snapping jaws of his foe. She wanted to help, but with Darius and the wolf intertwined in such close combat, there was no way to know where her sword would land.

Then, suddenly as it had started, Darius snapped the wolf’s neck with one mighty twist of his hands, and it lay dead on the ground.

Dearra expected to see fear in his eyes, but when she looked upon him, a smile lit his face. “You’re smiling?” she said in shocked wonder.

The smile slipped a bit when he looked to the wolf at his feet. “Don’t look at me like that. I take no joy in killing the animal, Dearra, but he was enraged by the death of his mate, and there was no reasoning with him and—”

“And what,” she demanded.

“You have no idea how useless I felt. Your father may as well have cut off my arm when he took my sword from me. I am a warrior, Dearra. It’s all I know.”

Those were feelings she could understand. Her whole identity was tied to her training and fighting that she agreed it would be like losing a limb to have that part of herself taken away. As far as taking on a full-grown wolf with nothing but his hands? Well…hadn’t she done a few stupid things without thinking herself? She’d actually done quite a few, if she were to be truthful. And if what he said was true, if the wolf had really seen her kill its mate and had been enraged, well then, what choice did he have? She would be dead right now if it hadn’t been for his reckless attack on the male wolf. She didn’t really think about wolves having feelings much less rage, but…“Wait. What do you mean he was enraged over the death of his mate? How would you know it was his mate, or that he felt rage over her death?”

“That’s my ability,” he told her, as if this fact should have been obvious. “I thought you knew. I thought Br—”

“What! You mean you can talk to animals!” she said.

“Well, no, not exactly. I can sort of hear their thoughts, the more intelligent the animal, the clearer the thoughts. And sometimes, if the animal is quite intelligent, they can read
me
as well.”

Humph
, Brin said, annoyed, but Dearra was in no mood to guess at the source of her sword’s displeasure.

“Wow! Darius, I…I don’t know what to say.”

“I know, it’s not very impressive. You should have seen my father when he found out this was all I could do.” Another grin split his face at the memory.

“No, I mean…what I mean is…that’s really incredible, Darius! I think it’s…I think it’s…wonderful!”

The admiration shining from her gaze was no illusion. Darius felt a tickle of satisfaction at her words. “Really, Dearra? My kin all considered it to be a completely useless skill.”

“Since I am standing here, alive instead of lying dead next to the she-wolf, I can say I find it a very useful gift.”

Darius’s smile grew wider, but his eyes narrowed when he noticed their shadows on the ground. “I really think we should be heading back now, Dearra.”

She noticed the angle of the sun, and realized, for the first time, how long they had been away. “I think you’re right.”

She was about to walk away when Darius stopped and said, “Wait here. I’ll be right back.” and he trotted about fifty yards away and disappeared over a hill.

Dearra couldn’t imagine what he was doing, and when he didn’t immediately return, she started to get anxious. She was about to follow in his direction when he came jogging back over the same hill, and her curiosity was piqued. When he came closer she could see he was carrying what looked like a small pile of white fluff. When he came close enough to touch, Darius held out a tiny, solid white, wolf puppy for her examination. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding!” she said.

“He was frightened, Dearra. I couldn’t just leave him there. He’s only a pup, after all.” Darius wasn’t sure, but he thought he heard her grumble something about soft-hearted Breken with even softer heads as she stormed away from him, heading in the direction of home. Darius tucked the quaking bundle inside his shirt and turned to follow the peevish Dearra.

They hadn’t gone far before Dearra felt the burning in her hand intensify. Until then, the adrenaline had probably masked the pain, but now that the fight was over, she was feeling it tenfold. She made a lame excuse to Darius about needing a moment of privacy, and doubled back the way they had come to use the spring to bathe her wound.

Darius set the tiny pup on the ground and watched as he scampered off into the leaves. He knew the pup wouldn’t go far; he trusted Darius not to hurt him, could sense Darius offered safety. If any trouble threatened the puppy, he would make with all speed back to his new protector.

Darius leaned casually against a solid tree and listened to the stillness of the woods mulling over the events of the last three days. Had his mind not been wandering, he would have noticed the strange stillness sooner. As it was, he had only an instant for the silence to alert him to danger before he felt the sharp knife at his throat.

“You have one chance to tell me where my daughter’s body lies before I slice the flesh from you,” Hugh said, his voice ragged in Darius’s ear. As if to emphasize his point, the blade made a slow, shallow slice down the outside of Darius’s neck.

“I’m not sure what you think Lord,” Darius said, his voice steady, “but there’s been a misunderstanding. Your daughter is quite safe.”

Hugh stepped in front of Darius, without removing the blade from his neck. “Liar.” He spat the word, and with his free hand, grasped Darius by the front of his blood-soaked shirt, lifting it as evidence. “I suppose you cut yourself shaving, then?”

“Breken don’t grow beards.”

A sharp crack to Darius’s skull as the hilt of Daniel’s blade made contact with his head was indication his sense of humor was totally unappreciated. Darius slumped to the ground, surrounded by six burly warriors who stood with swords drawn around the stunned Breken.

Hugh rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, pulled a second knife from his boot, and stepped forward to make good on his promise.

A yipping noise sounded, distracting Hugh for a moment, and he watched with dropped jaw as a snow white wolf pup bounced onto Darius’s chest and began licking at his face.

“What in the name of Cyrus?” was all Hugh could manage. He barely had time enough to let the strange sight sink in before his ears picked up the frantic voice of his daughter growing louder as it neared.

“Father! No!” Dearra ran with all the speed she possessed. “Father, stop!” She wasn’t exactly sure what had been going on, but her absence, along with Darius’s bloody appearance, gave her a pretty good idea of her father’s train of thought. She rushed head long into the startled group of men and threw herself into her father’s arms.

“Oh, Dearra,” Hugh said, clutching his daughter close. When he’d had enough of the hug, he thrust her away from him abruptly, and shouted, “Do you have any idea how worried we were?”

“I’m sorry, Father! It was all my fault. Truly! It was the lynx, from my sixth year all over again. I saw the wolf attacking our sheep, and I had to kill it, I just had to! Darius tried to stop me, but you know how stubborn I can be.” Dearra’s eyes pleaded with her father for understanding. Hugh’s opinion of her meant more than anyone’s, and the thought that she had angered or disappointed him was like a weight on her heart.

Hugh knew she was sorry. She was his daughter; she had inherited his strong will from him. He couldn’t bring himself to stay mad any longer, and he said in a gentler tone, “Well, as long as you’re all right. We can talk about it when we get home.” He lifted Dearra’s hand in his own and for the first time noticed the wicked gash. “What happened to your hand?”

Dearra had forgotten the terrible pain and the frightening red line creeping up her arm until her father mentioned it. She looked into her father’s careworn face and responded, “Oh, that. It’s nothing, really.” That was all she was able to get out before she collapsed, unconscious, into her father’s arms.

Darius carried Dearra the entire way back to the keep, claiming he’d had a full night’s rest and was, therefore, more able to bear the burden. The situation was almost intolerable for Hugh. It
was
his daughter, after all, but as they had treated Darius so unfairly, Hugh swallowed his pride and his fatherly protectiveness, and let Darius have his way.

When they finally arrived at Maj Keep, Darius refused to relinquish Dearra, heading, instead, straight for the stairs that led to her room, where he kicked her door open with his booted foot, and laid her gently on the bed. He watched her toss and thrash, her body trembling with fever, while a flurry of activity filled the room.

Hugh, Daniel and Darius stood with their backs pressed against the wall, trying and failing to stay out of the way. One woman ran to get hot water while another started a fire, and a third tore linen into thin strips with a practiced hand.

Darius felt as if the room was closing in around him and tight bands were constricting around his chest making it harder and harder for him to breathe. A tiny mewing noise escaped from Dearra, and the vice already crushing him tightened three notches at once. He felt completely useless.

Slipping silently from the room he headed back out into the night air, hoping some distance would help him breathe again.

Darius removed the pack Daniel had loaned him from his shoulder and lifted out the tiny pup. He deposited the wriggling puppy on the ground before him and watched as the little wolf squatted where he stood, unable to wait a moment longer.

“Poor little pup. I sensed your need, my friend, but speed was of the essence. I greatly appreciate your self-control. I must say, I expected a wet back more than once.”

The wolf pup cocked its head at the sound of Darius’s voice, then, with all the puppy enthusiasm he could muster, pounced in attack at Darius’s boots. His little teeth clamped down on the leather and mock growls erupted from him. Darius scooped the pup in his arms and walked him to the well in the bailey. The puppy was not put off by the sudden change of position and switched his attack to the cuff of Darius’s shirt. With one arm still holding the rambunctious baby, Darius awkwardly drew water from the well and poured a bit into a small bowl that lay forgotten on the ground. He lowered the little wolf to the bowl and watched as the puppy lapped the water greedily.

“I always feel a bit useless when the healers are about, myself.” Hugh’s voice came in the still quiet of the night.

Darius didn’t speak, but he nodded in agreement. Darius waited to see what Hugh would say about his infraction of the rules, seeing as, strictly speaking, he didn’t belong out here alone. To his surprise, Hugh walked over to where Darius stood and tossed a meat covered bone to the pup. Finding the bone vastly superior to the dirty leather boots Darius wore, the puppy pounced on the new prize, growling and waving his little rump in the air as it gnawed the rich treat.

“Cute little thing. Are you planning on keeping him?” Hugh asked with genuine interest.

“I had intended to, Lord. It seemed the right thing to do after we killed its parents. I believe I got him young enough to raise him properly. My people often capture wild dog pups and train them into service.”

Hugh paused in thought. “You’ve seen these wolves, Darius, they get a lot bigger a lot faster than your average wolf. If there was ever a chance the animal was going to be a danger to anyone…” He let the statement trail off to see how Darius would respond.

“This is a wild animal, sir, and I couldn’t promise that he would
never
pose a threat, but I have a…a way with animals. As long as I keep him close I would know to act before he got himself into too much trouble.”

Darius’s honesty about the possible dangers of the wolf puppy went a long way to comfort Hugh’s immediate worries about the addition of the predator to his household. Had Darius denied any threat to the people of Maj, Hugh would have considered him arrogant and reckless, and he would have immediately demanded the animal be destroyed for everyone’s safety. The fact he had admitted there was risk, but that he would be responsible for the wolf’s actions was enough for now. He could afford to wait and watch a while before making a decision. Hugh nodded and turned back toward the keep. 

Darius knew it would be smarter to keep his mouth shut and enjoy the unexpected freedom he seemed to have been granted, but he couldn’t stop himself. “Shall I return to my room, then, sir?”

Hugh turned and eyed the Breken who stood before him before speaking. “I think now is the time for fresh starts, Darius. You were alone with my daughter for twenty-four hours. You could have harmed her or run away at any time, and yet the only injury she returns to me with is one she caused herself. If not for you, the male wolf would have had her. You are now a guest in this place, free to come and go as you choose. However, I still hold you to your promise to help in the rescue of my son. After that, you can stay or go from the island like any other free man.” It was as close to an apology as Hugh was ever going to come, and even that much strained the man’s pride.

Darius couldn’t believe his change in fortune. Only a few days ago he was sitting prisoner in the lower level of the keep, and now he was a guest of the lord. He would have been ecstatic if not for the thought of Dearra suffering in the tower above him.

“But, Darius,” Hugh began again, “some of the Maj people will not be as comfortable as I with the notion of a Breken warrior left to roam unattended. Like your wolf pup, they are not always predictable. I would exercise a little caution with your new found freedom if I were you. Let them get to know you slowly.”

“I understand, Lord.

“So, I am able to go anywhere I choose, then?” Darius asked, with a trace of expectation in his voice, as if he awaited some stipulation or another from Hugh.

“So long as you don’t leave the island, yes.”

“I have your word, sir?”

That was a strange way of putting it, but Hugh saw no reason to refuse and so said, “You have my word.”

Darius nodded and made his way back into the keep holding the now sleeping puppy gently in his arms.

***

Hugh could do nothing but shake his head at the sight of the giant warrior and the wolf pup. What a mystery this man was.

Hugh hated mysteries.

Hugh made his way around to one of the side entrances of the keep and followed the hall leading to Daniel’s room.

The burly weapons master sat in one of the tall backed chairs waiting patiently as though he had expected Hugh’s arrival, though the two men had made no plans to find one another. Hugh lowered himself to the chair next to Daniel, leaned his head back against the wall, and closed his eyes. He couldn’t remember ever being as tired as he was at that moment.

“You told him, then?” Daniel inquired.

“Yes. I said he was free to go wherever he chose, so long as he didn’t leave the island. He even went as far as to make me give my word, like I was trying to trick him.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow. “Did he?”

“This is a bad business, Daniel. We had him completely under control, and now honor demands I extend him this courtesy. It’s all too much.”

“Well, Lord Hugh, we
did
try to kill him, painfully so, and with very little proof.”

Hugh grumbled, “How was I supposed to know? All the evidence pointed to—”

“The evidence, Lord, could just as easily have pointed to Dearra being Dearra. We saw what we expected to see, nothing more.”

Hugh folded his arms across his chest as he pondered Daniel’s statement. Why did the man have to be right most of the time? It was annoying.

“When will you be returning the lads sword?” Daniel asked.

“What? Have you lost your mind?”

“You said he was a guest here. You gave your word. What guest of Maj is denied the protection of his own sword?”

“Yes, but…Daniel, really? Do you think that is wise?”

“Probably not, Lord, but I wasn’t the one who gave my word.”

If looks could kill, Daniel would have found himself stretched out on his burial pyre in that moment. Hugh’s next statement came out in a growl. “When she’s well-rested and feeling better that girl of mine is going to have a few things to answer for.”

Daniel looked at Hugh with confusion. Was it possible he really didn’t understand the depth of Dearra’s injury? “Lord Hugh, I don’t think Dearra will be in any condition for your wrath any time soon.”

“What are you talking about, Daniel? The girl is exhausted, certainly, and the cut she received has probably sapped what little is left of her strength, but all will be well after she’s had a good night’s sleep.” Hugh’s statement lost more and more of its bluster the longer he watched the concerned look on Daniel’s face. “Daniel?”

“Lord, she has a fever, and…well…didn’t you see the angry red line on her arm? I think she has…well…I think she has—”

The strangled whisper came from Hugh as the severity of the situation sank in. “Blood poisoning.” He jumped to his feet and pounded down the halls to the passageway leading to Dearra’s room. He took the steps two at a time and burst through the chamber door. Dearra had been stripped of the dirt-caked clothing she had been wearing. A soft, clean gown had been put on her after she had been washed. Her wet hair was fanned around her head in an effort to help it dry more quickly. Her face was bright with fever. Her closed lids had a bruised look about them. The cut on her hand had been cleaned and bandaged, but a second cut had been made in her arm above the wrist in an effort to drain some of the poison.

Ann had taken charge of Dearra’s care. She saw Hugh standing in the open doorway looking lost and confused, and felt a moment of sympathy for the father who could do nothing for his little girl. She dried her hands on the apron tied around her waist and rose from her place at Dearra’s side. She saw the frightened look on Hugh’s face and tried to offer some comfort without raising his hopes too high.

She approached Hugh and said, plainly and firmly, “It’s not good, Lord, but I think we have a chance to pull her through this.” She didn’t want him to despair of all hope, but she also didn’t want him to misunderstand the serious nature of Dearra’s injuries. “We’ll do everything we can, Lord, and Dearra is a strong girl. She can fight this.”

Hugh lifted Ann’s hand and gave it a little squeeze in thanks. He saw her wince and looked down at the hand he held, turning it over in his own. Angry blisters had formed on the tips of her fingers. Along the edges of the burn the skin was blackened. “Ann? What happened?”

Ann shrugged her shoulders and cocked her head to the corner of the room where Dearra’s sword leaned against the wall. “The sword has one owner, Lord; I was careless.” She gave a small reassuring smile, and said, “Now please, Lord. There’s nothing for you to do here, and it’s already so crowded. Please, go and get some rest. We will send for you immediately if anything changes.

“And could you please take him with you?”

Hugh followed Ann’s gaze to see Darius sitting silently in the darkened space furthest from the fire and activity of the room. His eyes watched Dearra, and his hand absently stroked the sleeping puppy in his lap.

Hugh strode over to Darius who did not seem to notice he was there. “Darius?” he said. “What is the meaning of this? What are you doing in my daughter’s sick room?”

“Your word, Lord: anywhere I choose,” he said in a hoarse whisper.

Darius’s eyes met Hugh’s and seemed to bore straight into him, challenging him to go back on his word, as if he were daring Hugh to try and remove him from Dearra’s side. He never looked more Breken than he did at that moment.

Hugh sighed and shrugged. “Leave the boy be, Ann. He will stay out of the way. If he doesn’t, I’ll remove him myself, promise or no promise.” Hugh stalked from Dearra’s room to seek the solitude of his chamber.