i be90349f18331670 (48 page)

Permission granted, Thorne laid his fingertips to Wil’s 370

Carole Cummings

brow, pulled in a long breath and closed his eyes. “You have been lost for a very long time, my boy.” Thorne frowned a little, adjusted his fingers. “You do not know the joy that moved through Lind when Calder sent us word from Chester that you had been found. Doubly glad, for ’twas your Guardian that found you.”

No smart-arse comment from Wil as to the exact circumstances under which Dallin had found him and what had resulted immediately after. He must really be hurting.

“So, you really were looking for me?” Wil asked.

The soft yearning in his voice nearly pierced Dallin’s heart.
Just how long before you understand you were
never abandoned? How long before you can accept,
have faith in another, believe you’re worthy of even the
smallest kindness?

Thorne sighed, kept the fingers of one hand on Wil’s brow. Gently, he ran those of the other through Wil’s hair, tucking a hank of satiny blue-black gently behind his ear. Dallin was both surprised and relieved to see Wil’s posture slouch just a fraction more, a further release of pain and the tension it wound about him like a coiled spring.

“We looked, my lad, believe it.” Thorne shot a conciliatory glance over at Dallin. “Though our methods were…” He lifted an eyebrow, wryly expectant.

“Antiquated,” Dallin supplied.

“Antiquated,” Thorne agreed.

“Amateurish,” Dallin added.

“Hm, right, and…” Thorne’s mouth twisted, sardonic.

“What was the other?”

“Incompetent and negligent, I believe were my exact words.” If Thorne was expecting Dallin to flush and take a single one of them back, he was going to be sorely disappointed.

371

The Aisling Book Two Dream

Thorne merely nodded, turned back to Wil. “All of those things and more, brave lad. We would prostrate ourselves at your feet, but young Brayden tells us you might be moved to…” Again he looked at Dallin, expectant.

This time Dallin did flush a little. “I believe I suggested that he might kick your arses.”

“And that you might hold us down for him, yes?”

Dallin was saved from answering that one by Wil, looking a little worried, but Dallin was extraordinarily relieved to see a bit of defiance creep into his pained gaze.

“Calder said you would be expecting me to prostrate myself. That I’d sinned against—”

“The only sin here,” Thorne soothed, “is our own. We have waited for our Lost Shaman so that he may guide us, as he always has done. Now that he is home, he has wasted no time in pointing out our sins and mistakes to us rather plainly.”

Wil looked from Thorne to Dallin. For the first time, a faint smirk touched his lips. “And has he spent the last few days ‘guiding’ you, then?”

Thorne returned the smirk. “In a manner of speaking.”

“You have my sympathies.” Wil smiled up at Dallin, somewhat weak and thin, but it took the sting out of the tease. “He’s ‘guided’ me a bit, too.”

Thorne pulled his hand away. “The pain has lessened?”

“Thank you, it has.” Wil rubbed his fingers over his brow, where Thorne’s had been. “Calder said Fæðme—”

“Not here, lad.” Thorne patted Wil’s cheek. “Let your young Brayden get you settled and fed. The pain will return shortly if we don’t let him tend to you. You and he have more work to do.” He waved at the others behind him. “We will come to you afterward.” He sent another meaningful look at Dallin. “All will be disclosed, and then we will hear your decision.” He turned back to 372

Carole Cummings

Wil. “Is that acceptable?”

“My…?” Wil’s brow twisted in confusion, but he merely looked up at Dallin. When Dallin shifted an encouraging nod, Wil turned his gaze back to Thorne.

“It’s acceptable. Thank you.”

Courteously, Dallin helped Thorne to his feet. Not-so-courteously, he set his gaze on Shaw alone, said, “We could probably use your help, if you don’t mind.”

Shaw gusted a weary sigh. Dallin didn’t really blame him. Dallin had been putting Shaw in the middle since he’d joined them, using him as a sort of buffer between himself and Calder, but it was either that or they’d end up knocking each other out, so Dallin maintained the tacit parameters and pretended at decorum. Since the bone over which they were snarling was Wil, however, Shaw had been remarkably cooperative. He nodded his agreement while the Old Ones, one by one, sidled past Wil, dipped full bows to him, and left them to themselves, thankfully chivvying Calder along with them. Wil just sort of blinked after them, then up at Shaw and Dallin, then… He frowned, lifting a questioning eyebrow at the young man who, like his apparent kin, didn’t seem to take a hint that his presence was not welcome.

“I can help,” Hunter said—somewhere between a demand and a plea. He shifted his glance from Wil, to Dallin, to Wil again, spread his hands and dipped himself as close to bowing as he could get in his half-crouch. “Wil from Ríocht, please forgive me for any affront and allow me to make amends.” He lifted his head and flipped an anxious glance at Dallin. “I can fetch whatever you need, if you’ll just tell me. Food, medicines—”

“Tea,” Wil mumbled, head resting in his hand again, eyes closed. “You said you’d fetch me tea.”

Hunter grinned, eyes bright. “I did.”

“Please do,” Wil told him, “and…” He squinted up, 373

The Aisling Book Two Dream

blinked Dallin into focus. “What was that stuff Mistress Slade gave me?”

“Mistress…?” Dallin had to card through several weeks of chaos to place the name. “Oh.” The healer in Dudley. “Meadowsweet and skullcap.”

“D’you still have it?”

Dallin shook his head, rueful. “I lost my pack in Chester.”

Wil turned back to Hunter. “Can you find some of that?”

“I don’t know meadowsweet,” Hunter replied. “But mæting would surely—”

“Did I
ask
for mæting?” It was sharp-edged through clenched teeth. Dallin wasn’t surprised, but Hunter certainly was; the boy reared back, blinked. “I’m sorry,”

Wil said, voice low now and with none of the strength of mere seconds ago behind it. “I didn’t mean to… just… I don’t want mæting.”

“Poppy?” Shaw put in.

“Actually, wood betony will be better for this,” Dallin told Shaw. “It grows like a weed around here and most use it for amulets and charms. Shouldn’t have any trouble at all finding a good supply.” Not with all these
Weardas
.

Dallin had found over the years that almost everyone who carried a weapon also carried a good luck charm in some form. Those who were regularly shot at tended to be a superstitious lot, and Linders were the most superstitious by far. Dallin shifted his glance to Wil. “It will help you relax. It won’t put you to sleep and it won’t… do anything else.”

He left it there. It didn’t matter if Shaw or Hunter understood what Dallin didn’t say, only that Wil did.

“Fine,” Wil muttered, eyes closed again and kneading at his temples like he was trying to dig right into his skull.

“Whatever, just…
some
thing. Quick.”

374

Carole Cummings

“All right, then,” Dallin said to Hunter, “you heard the man. Tea and wood betony. Drop the dried petals right into the tea—a good palmful of them—and make sure you don’t get any leaves or anything else in there, only the petals, mind. Once they’ve sunk to the bottom of the cup, bring it along.” He waved the boy off. “Get on, then.”

Obviously pleased, Hunter sprang to his feet and hurried off. Dallin just shook his head. Another bloody Calder. What was he supposed to do with
another
bloody Calder who wouldn’t go away?

“Right, then,” Shaw said, clapped his thin hands together and quick-stepped over to Wil. With the smallest of grunts, he crouched down and took hold of Wil’s arm, wrangling it over his shoulder. “C’mon, lad, up you get.”

Dallin joined him on Wil’s other side and hauled him to his feet. He kept firm hold while Wil staggered. Wil wouldn’t open his eyes, and his brow was drawn in tight again.

“Shall I carry you?” Dallin asked.

He hadn’t meant anything by it but necessary help, but Wil snarled, snapped, “
No
, you shall bloody
not
,” and tried to pull his arms away.

Dallin caught him as he staggered, suffered some more snarling with some added growling. “Hey.
Hey
.” This as Wil jerked away from both Dallin and Shaw, obviously too sharply because he gasped, clutched at his head with both hands and bent at the waist, gagged up nothing.

Dallin didn’t wait for him to settle down—he took hold of Wil again, kept him from keeling face-first into the grass.

Wil didn’t fight him this time, just stood there, bent over and breathing hard. “Wil, I’m not trying to… whatever you think I’m trying to do, just…” Dallin shook his head.

“You asked for my help, now let me help you.”

“I

will
, I only… Not
here
. They already think I’m 375

The Aisling Book Two Dream

fragile and half-mad, and now you want to bloody
carry
me.”

Pointing out that Dallin had pretty much lugged Wil from Chester to here would probably be a very bad idea right now.

“I don’t
want
to bloody carry you, I asked you if I
should
. All you had to do was say ‘no.’” Dallin frowned.

“And
who
thinks you’re fragile and half-mad?”

Wil let Dallin straighten him up some, let him slip himself back beneath his arm, and took a shaky step.

“They all do,” he muttered. “I could feel it. I can still feel it. All of them.”

Dallin privately thought Wil was likely confusing concern with contempt, because Wil just would—
weak
, for the love of the Mother, like that was even possible—

but Dallin prudently kept that to himself. Wil was not in a reasoning mood.

Listing a little toward Shaw, Wil slid a squinted gaze up at Dallin. “I can’t stop seeing it all. It’s everywhere, even when I close my eyes, and it hurts.”

“Let us get you settled back in,” Shaw said, low and soothing as he reached up, guided Wil’s head to Dallin’s shoulder. Dallin was fairly impressed that Wil let himself be guided, that he closed his eyes again and seemed willing to at least try to let Dallin lead him. “Brayden knows what to do, all right? We’ll get you tucked back in and let him do his work.”

Wil lifted his head, blinked up at Dallin. “Yes. Please.”

Dallin sighed, nodded, and led him back to the caves.

Relief shouldn’t be coming this hard. In fact, Wil shouldn’t have even woken yet. He should have stayed under the sway of that heavy sleep until Dallin lifted it 376

Carole Cummings

away, but it was as though he was becoming immune to those small things Dallin could offer him by way of respite. Or, perhaps, this place was just too much, and anything Dallin could do would always come up just short of enough. Guardian or no, chosen or not, this sort of thing was just not the sort at which Dallin excelled.

Give him a gun, a sword, a bow, or even just his fists, and he’d stand against anything and take his chances, but this…

“Wil, you have to listen to me, all right? I can’t do it if you won’t let me.”

“I

am
letting you, I just… I can’t… you’re making it worse.”

“Because you won’t let me make it better!”

“Brayden,” Shaw chided softly.

Just that, just his name, but it worked: Dallin drew in a deep, calming breath, let it flow slowly from his chest.

“I’m sorry, Wil, I don’t mean to be impatient.” He knelt in front of Wil, and slipped his fingers into dark hair, began a gentle massage. Wil was stiff and tense, but he didn’t jerk away. “It’s going to get worse before it gets better, and I’m sorry, but it can’t be helped.” Wil still wouldn’t open his eyes, squinched tight in pain, so Dallin did with his voice what he couldn’t with his expression.

He measured his words carefully, set his tone smooth and low. “You have to open up, just like you told me in Chester, all right? You do it quick and then you push it right at me—in to you and out to me, as fast as you can.”

Wil shook his head against Dallin’s hands. “You don’t understand.”

Down to a strained whisper now. If Wil didn’t start cooperating soon, Dallin was going to have to put him out again. Except then, he’d simply wake sooner than he should and the whole thing would start all over again.

“Then explain it to me.” Dallin kept his voice as 377

The Aisling Book Two Dream

soothing as he could, what with all the anxiety ramming through him.

“You were
there
.” Wil’s hands came up, pressed over Dallin’s—not for any kind of intimacy, Dallin was sure, but an animal instinct pressure-to-pain. “Siofra couldn’t… I pushed, I pushed it
all
, and he couldn’t—”

“Siofra was not your Guardian,” Dallin told him, gentle but stern. “You told me once I was as chosen as you, and this is one of the reasons why.”

He’d argued long and loud with both Calder and Shaw about this, and they were half-right—he didn’t have the spells and prayers he was supposed to have spent the past twenty years learning, and he certainly hadn’t trained for it or practiced it, not even once. Still, he
knew
what he was doing in this, the same way he just knew a person was guilty or innocent just by looking at them.

Shaw, after coming around somewhat to Dallin’s point of view, had speculated that perhaps, down deep where even he never looked, Dallin had been training himself without even knowing. Dallin didn’t necessarily believe that entirely, but it had convinced the Old Ones enough to leave him to it. They’d even chastised Calder—albeit mildly—for his vehemence in his protestations. For now.

Because if Dallin couldn’t keep Wil under control, or help him find a way to keep himself under control, Dallin had no doubt the next armed standoff in which he was going to find himself was going to consist of him against twelve magic old men.

The problem, as Dallin saw it, was that even those twelve old men, as versed in magic as they were, had no real idea what they were dealing with in Wil. Power over elements they understood, and on those things Dallin would happily take their advice. But the dreams, the pushing… they were as ignorant about it all as Dallin was about tatting lace. They hadn’t touched the edges of 378