It was long into the night when Ailen finally made it to Brenna’s tent. He stood outside the door and waited without making a sound.
“Come in, Shadow,” she called. “I’m sure ye’ve wounds needing repair and armor needing polished. It’s taken ye long enough to find yer way to me.”
Any smile he might have worn beneath the mask faded when he stepped through the tent flap to see her stiffly rise from her seat. She sat the shield she’d just finished repairs on aside and wiped her hands against her thigh. When she turned to him, the first thing he noted was the pale of her skin. She walked to him, her eyes scanning every feature of his chiseled body.
Often he’d wondered if she ever looked past the wounds and torn cloth to see him for him. Her clever tender fingers reached to his forearm where a darkened stain and tear in his shirt marked a wound.
Before her fingers ever touched him he caught her hand in his. Her eyes widened and she let out a sharp hiss in alarm. He waited for her large eyes to connect with his own before speaking. “Ariel,” he said, “tended me while you worked to save young Airon.”
“Ahh,” she said moving her gaze from his back to the shirt. “Then ye’ve come for me needle to mend the shirt.”
He shrugged as he still held her hand in his. “You can do that after you’ve been tended.”
Her eyes narrowed on him. “Tended?” she pulled away from him.
He held her gently but firmly in his grasp. Keeping his eyes locked with her own he nodded his head. “Lay down, Brenna.” His voice was tender yet still very strong. “So that I may have a look.”
“I…” she started to say but the tent flap opened again and Cuin stepped in.
“Lay down Brenna,” he said pointing to her mat. “Let’s get you taken care of.”
Brenna’s head snapped from Cuinn back to Ailen. Her eyes narrowed and the green turned greener as her glare spoke her silent words of betrayal.
“He’s better than I, Brenna.” Ailin kept his eyes steady so she would not see how her glare cut through him.
“Ailen has told me, Brenna my lady,” Cuinn said with a bow. “He worried the wound might be mortal if not tended. Let me look at it.”
She looked from Ailin to Cuinn then back again. “If there were any other way, Brenna, I would do it. But I see your pain and,” he motioned with his eyes to her stomach. She sighed heavily not having to look to know he spoke of the darkening stain on her own shirt. The wound had reopened during the battle with the goblins, venom from her mare’s dying blood had mingled with her own. She’d not had time to have Ariel or anyone else give her their opinion. It didn’t take a healer to know what the goblin blood was already doing to her. Without Cuinn she would be dead by morning.
With Ailen’s help she lay down and watched as Cuinn knelt down beside her and drew up the tail of her shirt. She wasn’t sure if his gasp was the result of the jewels or the wound but either way she was feeling lightheaded and feverish.
“It is bad,” Cuinn reported. “Goblin poison has seeped into the wound.”
“Mary,” she turned her head to explain to Ailen, “was brought down by the vermin. I held her during her last struggles.”
“Brenna…” Ailen started to scold her only to be interrupted by the bellow of a bull.
“BRENNA!” Jirair snapped the tent open and barged on through the door. She started to rise only to be pushed down by both Cuinn and Ailen.
“You are going to rest, my lady Brenna,” Cuinn instructed in a gentle voice.
“I will see to Jirair,” Ailin said and stood. He crossed the floor of the tent.
“Where is Brenna?” Jirair demanded.
Ailen motioned toward the kneeling Cuinn. “She is being tended,” he said simply.
Jirair’s expression immediately softened as he took in the sight. “The wound is bad then?” It had to be if the Shadow was trusting another with her secret.
“It is worse even than I had thought,” Ailen explained in a whisper. “Goblin venom seeped into it…” he couldn’t finish his sentence.
Jirair rubbed his chin in deep thought. “Other injuries are mild, casualties were few. We have to keep moving. We must keep moving until we are in safer lands.”
“You once said you’d never run from a fight,” Ailen reminded him careful not to raise his voice. If Brenna heard them she’d fight Cuinn to stand with them.
“Things are different now,” Jirair explained.
“They are no different,” Ailen corrected. “You still have a good team. We can hold whatever follows us. We do not need to leave her.”
The giant of a man shook his head. “The three…” he sighed heavily then continued. “Cuinn will stay with Brenna. They can catch up to us in the morning.” He would not be deterred from his decision to move.
Ailen stiffened, seeming to grow in stature as he stood against his friend. Jirair could see the dangerous glint in the Shadow’s eyes. He shrugged off the hostility and continued with his plans. “In a day’s ride, with luck, we’ll be in the Elven lands. It will be safe there. We will all be safe.”
“Except for the two we leave here to die!” Ailen’s voice rose as he spoke.
“If they do not catch up we will return for them,” Jirair countered. “We will return once everyone is safe.”
“You mean,” Dawnie came up behind Jirair and slipped her delicate fingers over his forearm, “once I am safe. You think he comes after me.”
Jirair’s composure softened at her touch. Ailen’s did not. If anything his glare hardened as his eyes turned toward her.
“You will feed Brenna to the wolves even after she sacrificed so much for us to be together?” She asked him with a shake of her head. “I will not allow that. Particularly since it’s not me he’s after.”
