Awakenings

Ten miles further down the road, Phelan heard the wolf howl, too, and the sound shot shivers down his spine as he huddled in his cloak and blanket next to his own meager fire.

“Hell,” he muttered to himself.  “You’ve never been scared of critters before.  Why would anything be different now?”

Maybe it has something to do with the fact that the last time a wolf got close to you, it shapeshifted into a man and shoved a spear into your gut.  He rubbed gingerly at the wound.  Still aching.  Still healing.

“Calm,” he muttered to himself in the darkness, staring at the fire like a fool.  “Calm.  Nothing out here is going to get you tonight.  You warded your camp.  They can’t cross the boundary.”

Because the boundary was so much help when the bitches’ minions came to skewer you.

He bit down on the inside of his cheek hard, almost snarling.  When the hell he started to be this way?

“You’re a foolish boy,” a woman’s voice rasped from beyond his wardings.  Phelan jerked toward the sound, swallowing a curse.

“What do you want?”  he spat, his eyes narrowing as he stared at Leinth.  “Come to out me to whoever the hell’s hunting me?”

“That wouldn’t benefit my bloodline at all, now would it?”  She crossed thin arms beneath her dark cloak, staring at him with something close to consternation.  “You’re a tremendously foolish man, Phelan O’Credne, Wandering One, and now you’ve endangered them all—everyone that you or I have ever dared to hold dear.”

“You’ve turned your coat once,” Phelan said.  “I don’t have any doubt you could easily do it again and come out of this smelling as sweet as clover buds.”

“Not this time,” Leinth said softy.  “Now it’s about who we really are, what we have it in us to be.  What’s dark is darker than night.  What’s light is light, brighter than the sun.  And then there’s us—the shades of gray that inhabit the world that wakes and sleeps and lives and dies by the whims of chance and fate—and the gods that walk her face again.”

She took one step closer to the edge of his wardings.  “They need your help, Wanderer.  You can’t abandon them now.  Turn back or die.  Those are your only choices.”

“Why?  If I don’t go back, you’ll kill me?”

“No,” she said simply, her thin, pale face turning sad for a moment.  “But something else will.

“Something else will.”

“You should have tied him to the bed,” Thordin said for the eighth time that evening.  The sun had slid beyond the horizon and they clustered near a campfire for warmth; the clear night sucked what little heat was left in the world from the day’s sunshine faster than life faded from the eyes of a decapitated man.  The broad-shouldered man was moody, staring into the flames of the fire with the same fascination Rory did, though likely not for the same reasons.

Thom exhaled a sigh, his breath steaming in the still air.  “Too late to change that now, isn’t it?  We didn’t think he was fit enough to risk it, anyhow.”

“We should have known,” Jacqueline said, her knees hugged to her chest and a blanket drawn around her slender form.  “We all suspected he’d try something like this.  Thordin’s right, we should have taken precautions more quickly.”

“It’s too late to change that now,” Thom said again, staring at the sky. “All we can do now is hope that another day’s riding will put us on top of him.  I can’t believe he’s gotten this big of a head start.”

“Well, we did start going in the wrong direction initially,” Rory pointed out, poking the logs with a stick, shifting them so the fire would stay strong and burn throughout the night.  “Still not really sure how that happened.”

Thordin shook his head.  “My doing, my fault.  I thought for certain I was reading the signs wrong at first.  He’s got no reason to go south.  He should have gone west, toward Aoife.”

“This is Phelan we’re talking about,” Thom said.  “He’s unpredictable at best.”

“Well, we know that he didn’t bother to stop at that settlement we passed,” Jacqueline said softly.  “I guess none of us are really surprised by that, right?  Since he left us to keep us safe, he wouldn’t be making contact with any other groups.”

Thom’s lips thinned.  He still wasn’t happy about them stopping in that settlement, but the people there had seemed harmless, they’d had a much easier time of It since the end of the world.  Too bad we’re not so lucky.  I guess they’re not special like we are.

He wasn’t sure how much be believed that, but it was nice to know that they had neighbors that wouldn’t be out to kill them come spring.

“But where is he going?”  Thordin wondered out loud.

“Chicago,” Thom said, the word grating out of him.  “He’s going to the ruins of Chicago.”

“Why there?”

Thom shook his head.  “I don’t know.  But when we find him, we can ask him.  That’s the only way we’ll find out.”

“We’re sure we’re going the right way this time?”  Jacqueline asked softly, her voice barely audible over the sound of the fire.

A wolf howled in the distance as Thordin said softly, “Yes.  I’m sure.”

Neve eventually let go of him and dried her eyes.  She gave him a tiny, gentle push.

“Go,” she said, her voice hoarse.  “Go before I change my mind about letting you out of my sight.”

Cameron swallowed against a lump in his throat and smiled at her.  He pressed a kiss to her forehead.  “I’ll be back before you have a chance to miss me.”

“Too late.”  She gave him a weak, watery smile.  “Now go.  Go and be careful and damn it all, bring Phelan home safe.”

He picked up his saddlebags and headed for the door, turning at the last moment.  “I love you,” he said.

“I know,” she whispered.  “Be safe.”  She touched her fingers to her lips and threw a little kiss toward him, one that chased him out the door and into the corridor.  He took a few deep breaths and kept his head down until his eyes stopped stinging.  No matter how short his trip ended up being, he’d miss her more than anything while he was away.

Try not to think about it, he told himself.  Try not to dwell on it.  You’ll be back before either of you know it.  All you have to do is warn the others, round up Phelan, and tear ass home before the bad guys get to you.

                Easy as hell.

Marin was waiting for him near the fire, another saddlebag in hand.  “Food,” she said as she pressed it into his free hand.  “For the trip.  Tell Thom to be careful.  Tell him I love him.”

Cameron smiled and nodded.  “Of course.  Take care of Neve while I’m gone.”

“You don’t even have to ask.”

Marin smiled and hugged him, then he was off to saddle his horse and on his way in the cold sunshine of a winter afternoon.

“I should be angry with you,” Neve said, arms crossed as she leaned against her crutches, watching Cameron as he stuffed a spare set of clothes and a first aid kit into his saddlebags.   “I should want to strangle you.”

“Only if you want Phelan to maybe die,” Cameron said, his gaze flicking up to meet hers.  “If that’s what you want, by all means.”

She looked away, jaw setting. “I’m not angry at you anymore, Cameron.  Not for…not for that.”

“For the accident of my birth?  I’m glad, but I think we covered that already.”  He straightened.  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before I volunteered.  There wasn’t exactly a lot of time.”

“That’s why I’m just upset, not angry or murderous.”  Her eyes met his and she exhaled a quiet sigh.  “I love you.  I tried for a few minutes not to, when Leinth…said what she said.  But I can’t stop, so being angry or hurt doesn’t help.  Now I’m just scared.”

“Scared?  Scared of what?”

“That you’re going to go off after my cousin and I’ll never see you again,” she said, catching her lower lip between her teeth.  “That you’re going to get hurt or worse and I won’t be there to do anything about it.  I know it must sound insane, but I wish I could go with you.”

Cameron went to her and folded her into his arms, holding her tight against his chest.  He buried his nose in her hair and exhaled.  “You’re with me all the time,” he said softly.  “You’re in my heart, and that’s where you’re going to stay.”

Her arms slid around his waist and she leaned against him.  The tears came a few minutes later and she clung to him—he was the only thing holding her up.

And then, just for a few minutes, he stood and held her there, whispering soothing nothings, until it was almost too late to leave with any hope of getting to her cousin before his enemies did.  But in that one moment, it was worth it.

Just for a little while, it was worth it.

“You want me to abandon my post,” Ériu said softly, shock openly displayed on her face, ghostly eyes wide and jaw slack.  “How could you ask me to leave them unprotected at a time when they are so vulnerable?”

“All three of them are smart, strong women,” J.T. said.  “They’ll be fine while you’re gone.  It won’t be for that long.”

“It wouldn’t take that long,” Ériu snapped.  “You don’t understand, Jameson.  I can’t.  I can’t leave them.  There’s too few and if they’re corrupted or lost we might as well give up all hope.”

He stared at her ghost.  “You’re right,” he said.  “I don’t understand.  No one’s bothered to explain any of this to anyone, so yes, I’m having trouble seeing why you’re refusing to go and save a man’s life right now.”

“Every spirit who lingers is lingering for a reason,” she said, her voice faint and strangled.  “Don’t ask me to abandon my reason.”

“You wouldn’t be abandoning anything,” J.T. snapped.  “You don’t think that Phelan’s damned important to the future of those children?  You don’t think that they’ll need him the way you did when you were small?”  The last bit was a gamble, but one he was willing to make.  He knew that she and Phelan were close.  Odds were good that it was a relationship developed from childhood on.

He refused to believe that she’d be so callous as to refuse to help someone who loved her and she loved in return—a brother, an uncle, a father.

“Phelan needs you now and those kids will need him someday.  Don’t tell me you can’t do it because you’re afraid something bad might happen here while you’re away.  There are a ton of us who will still be here to make sure that nothing bad happens to them.”

“Fine,” she said.  “But you have to guard them for me.  I can’t trust anyone else.

                “It’s you, Jameson, or I remain here and you find another ghost for this job.”

“Done,” he said without thinking.

Ériu nodded and vanished into thin air.

J.T. strode out across the bridge and away from the boundaries of the settlement, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his leather jacket and shivering in the chill.  The sun was bright, the sky bottomless and blue, the world quiet except for the sound of his boots on the snow.

This is insane. All of this is insane.

“Ériu,” he said softly as he reached the plaza beyond the bridge, “are you near?”

“I’m never far, brother,” her whisper-thin voice said.  “Why have you called?  You never call out to me.”

He winced, glancing at her with the corner of his eye as her spirit manifested to his left.  It was true—in a lot of ways, he tried to avoid her as much as Marin did, though he was more used to her presence, more used to her being near, but they rarely talked.  “Maybe I should do it more often,” he muttered.  “But it’s hard for me.”

“Of course it is.  It’s not an easy thing for anyone who can bind and heal spirits.” One corner of her ghostly mouth quirked toward a smile.  “What did you need?”

“A favor,” he said, his heart starting to beat a little faster.  She’s going to say no.  She won’t want to abandon her watch over Tala and Neve and Marin.  “Phelan’s gone.”

“I know.  The damned fool—but my parents could never seem to talk him out of something foolhardy when I was alive, so I don’t suppose it should actually be that different now that they’ve been reborn.”  She tilted her head to one side.  “What favor are you about to ask that pertains to his idiocy?”

“I need you to get to him before his enemies do and warn him that they’re coming.  If you don’t, I don’t know that we’ll see him alive again.”

“Wandered off, has he, like the Wanderer he is?”

J.T. grimaced at the way Marin’s fingers suddenly bunched around the staff in her hands.  He put a gloved hand on her arm and squeezed gently.

They’d known he was gone within hours of his departure.  It had taken a few hours more before Thordin, Thom, Jacqueline, and Rory were kitted and ready to leave the settlement to chase down Phelan.  They hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Cariocecus in weeks before that, probably because things were quiet.

And now he suddenly shows up two days after Phelan decides to make his exit.  Coincidence?  I doubt it.

“Have you come to gloat, or did you come with useful information?”  Marin asked, her voice and expression just barely on the civil side of a snarl.

Cariocecus tsked softly and shook his head.  “I wouldn’t dream of gloating.  The Wanderer is part of the reason I was largely safe hiding here in your vicinity.”  His expression grew somber.  “They’re gaining on him, but I don’t think they’ll reach him before his enemies do.”

“Beg your pardon?”  Marin turned to look at him square, her eyes narrowing.  “Who’s after him now?”

“Who isn’t?”  J.T. scuffed a toe against the snow beneath his feet, grimacing.  I shouldn’t have agreed to this plan.  We should have tied him to his godsdamned bed.  “Seems like that might be the shorter list.”

Cariocecus inclined his head. “Perhaps.  But I’m afraid in this case I’m talking about awful things that are covered in fur three quarters of the time.”

“Skinchangers.”  J.T. grimaced, making eye contact with Marin, who shuddered visibly.

“We just have to hope they somehow dodge them,” she said, her voice heavy with doubt.  “He’s dodged them in the past, right?”

“I imagine he must have,” Cariocecus said.  “But I think he had someplace to run to, then.”  He made a vague gesture that won a grimace from J.T.

He’s implying that the way Phelan managed to dodge was to go back to Tir na Nog or wherever the hell his people retreated to.  Fuck me.  “We have to find a way to warn them, Mar,” he said with a grimace.

“How do you suggest we do that?”  Her brow furrowed.  “I sure as hell don’t have a way.”

“Phelan can see the ghosts,” J.T. said doubtfully.  “Maybe…”

“I’ll go,” Cameron said from behind them.  “I know how to ride in this kind of weather and they’ve only got two days lead.  I can catch up to them.”

“Neve will kill us,” Marin said.

“She’ll understand,” Cameron said softly.  “It feels like something I’ve got to do.”

“Go,” she said, then glanced at J.T.  “And you try to send a ghost to warn Phelan, if it’s possible.”

“I’ll see if I can convince Ériu,” he said, stomach sinking.

If I can convince her, she might be the only chance he’s got.

He emerged from the dark corridors a few moments later and into the shadows of the tents.  The fires flickered, burning low as the graveyard hours of the night wore on.  Whoever had the early morning shift would add more wood to them, stir them up in time for Tala to start on breakfast, but he’d be long gone by then.

With any luck I’ll be long gone by then, anyway.  He felt a momentary pang of conscience as he thought of them waking up and finding him gone.

I can’t think about that.  I can’t.  If I do, I’ll never do what I need to do to protect them, and that’s leave.  Phelan took a deep breath and exahled it slowly.  There weren’t any other choices.  Every moment he delayed, he put the people he loved in danger.  That wasn’t something that he was willing to countenance a moment longer.

He trotted silently away from the fire, toward the loosely secured flap that served as one of two primary access points to the tent.  Once he was out into the cold, it was only a matter of clearing the ward-lines and being on the road.

I’ll retrace my steps south, then around the lake and north again.  If I try to go straight north and then around the lake, I’ll end up freezing to death.  He coudl still feel his sister and Teague far to the east, but they’d all be better served if he headed in the other direction.

Besides, everyone would expect me to head east, to see Aoife and make sure she’s all right.  No one would expect I’d head south and west.  Doing the unexpected was often the only thing that kept him alive.

He was alone as he slipped through the narrow gap between the tent wall and the open flap, not a soul in sight, not even a ghostly one.  The night was clear as a bell and colder than the Irish Sea in January.  His breath steamed in the stillness as he looked around, momentarily marveling at the starlit sky.  That was the one amazing thing about the end of cities, of modern civilization–all the wonders of the galaxy were suddenly visible again, laid out against the black velvet of a winter sky.  Looking at the sky above, he felt a thousand years younger than he was now, thrust back to his youth when times were simpler, when life was next complicated.

He tore his gaze away from the sky and tugged his hood up and into place, drawing it tight around himself.  There was a light flickering in the watchtower.  Paul had the night watch.  He would be in the tower with his rifle, bundled against the cold night air.

Be unseen, Wanderer.  You remember how.

Swallowing hard, Phelan drew light and shadow around himself like a cloak and headed for the gates, fighting to keep his boots from crunching on the snow with each step.  If Paul looked at him dead-on, he’d be seen.  If he didn’t, then there was a chance that he’d make his escape cleanly.

Phelan had no illusions.  He knew that his friends would go to great lengths to make sure he’d say.  They thought it was for his own safety and theirs, but they were wrong.

I’ve survived alone before.  I’ll do it again.

He whispered a prayer and made his run for the gates.

Camp was silent, so silent that he scarcely dared to breathe as he lay in his bed, straining his ears to hear any hint of noise beyond the walls.

Nothing.  There was nothing to hear, no one was astir except perhaps the sentries on watch, and he’d find a way to slip past them easily enough.

It’s now or never, and there’s no time like the present, as they say.

Phelan took a deep breath and sat up slowly.  His side ached, but it was the gnawing, itching ache of a healing wound, not the sharp pain of a wound liable to rip open again.  He’d be able to cut out the stitches after a few days on the road, and then all would be well.

They’ll be safer without me.  He gathered his things quickly—his backpack, his staff, two pouches of herbs and the first sword that had come from Matthew Astoris’s forge.  He tugged on his boots and wrapped himself in coat and cloak.  He’d have to travel fast and light.

“But where will you go, Wanderer?  Where will you wander to this time?”

He winced at the sound of her voice and shook his head, pressing a finger against his lips.  Ériu’s ghost wasn’t amused, her pale brows knitting on her ghostly face.

“They care about you, Phelan.  Why are you running from them?”

“I have to protect them,” he hissed in a whisper.  “Leaving is the only way I can guarantee that they’re not going to pay the price for sheltering me.”

“They’re targets by themselves, Uncle.  You’ve said it yourself.”

“They’ll be less attractive ones once I’m gone.”  He fastened his cloak around him and tugged up his hood.  “Don’t tell them where I’ve gone.  Don’t help them track me.”

“I won’t have to,” she said.  “The only tracker that could ever hold a candle to Thordin was my mother, and she’s been reborn into one of the Seers.  They’ll find you unless you’ve somehow managed to convince Thordin not to help them find you again.”

“He’ll understand why I’ve left,” Phelan said, snuffing the lamp.  “He’ll leave well enough alone.”

“Will he?”

“I have to trust that he will.”  He felt an uncomfortable flutter in his stomach.  “He’ll understand my reasons and he’ll do what I need him to do.”

“We’ll see,” the girl’s ghost said.  “We’ll see.”

He cast her glowing form a glare in the darkness and ducked out into the corridor and the night beyond.