Awakenings

“How is she?”

Thom opened his eyes, wincing at how gritty they felt.  Must’ve fallen asleep in the chair.  It was like he’d rubbed sand in them before drifting off.  He twisted toward Matt, rubbing his eyes.  “She’ll be fine,” he murmured.  “The wounds weren’t that deep and they were pretty clean.  A couple stitches in her arm and a few more ‘round her knee.  Whatever she did with Phelan is what made her drop.”  At least, that’s what we’re thinking it is.  He frowned turning away from his brother-in-law.  He stared at his wife, fast asleep in their bed, bundled in quilts.

“And yet you’re not in bed with her,” Matt said quietly as he came deeper into their cubby.  “You’re asleep in the chair.”

“That was an accident,” Thom said, shooting him a wry smile.  The smile faded as he leaned forward to brush hair away from Marin’s face.  “Though I didn’t want to wake her.  Whatever she did sucked a lot out of her.  I could tell.”

“Did you buy that explanation?”  Matt asked as he leaned against the wall nearby, regarding Thom with a serious look.  “About what happened?”

Thom felt hollowed out, sick at heart as he shrugged.  “I don’t know, Matt,” he said quietly.    “I don’t know what to believe anymore.”  His fingers tightened briefly in Marin’s hair.  He was excited by the prospect of being a father—that was for certain—but he was worried about Marin, especially how frail she seemed to him despite the strength she seemed determined to show to everyone else.

We still don’t know why she collapsed while she was setting the wards.  We still don’t know what’s really wrong with her.  He swallowed bile, thoughts returning to the terrifying visions he’d had over the past few years.

I’m not going to watch her die.

Matt touched his shoulder.  “She’ll be fine,” Matt said quietly.  “We’ll keep an eye on her, you and I.  Everything’s going to be okay.  I promised you I’d help, right?”

“Right,” Thom murmured, then sighed, knuckling his eyes.  “I’m sorry,” he murmured.  “I’m just worried.”

“I wish I could blame you for being that way.”  Matt exhaled, straightening.  “Get some sleep, Thom.  Things’ll be better in the morning.”

He snorted humorlessly.  “It’s my job to say that.”   Or hers.  “You’re not the Seer here.”

“I’m not,” Matt admitted.  “But I know it’s the truth anyhow.  Sleep.  You’ll both feel better.  We’ll all feel better.”

“How late is it, anyway?”  Thom asked as he slowly unfolded from his chair, stiff and sore.  He’d changed out of his bloody clothes after the fight while Jacqueline saw to Marin.  She’d made short enough work of that and then had a look at Thom’s array of gashes and bruises, giving him a few stitches of his own.  He, Cameron, and Marin had taken the brunt of the assault on the front lines.  Thordin only had a few minor injuries and Matt and Rory were apparently untouched.  Thordin said they’d been lucky.

Maybe he was right.

“I just got off the first watch,” Matt said.

Eleven or so, then.  Thom nodded.  No wonder he felt tired—he’d been up since dawn and with the melee and getting hurt and all the adrenaline wearing off…

“Guess you’re right,” he said, rubbing his eyes.  “Wake me when it’s time to eat something.”

Matt chuckled softly, straightening.  “If I’m awake enough to make it to breakfast, I will.”

Thom nodded and watched Matt go, the door falling shut behind him.  Thom stretched with a wince and rummaged around for sweats to sleep in, rubbing at his eyes.

He’s right.  You need to sleep—both of you do.  He glanced at Marin and smiled slightly.  At least she’s going to be okay.

This time, anyway.

“Great,” Marin said, her voice laced with sarcasm and heavy with weariness.  “Just great.  It’s the same story on a different day, Phelan.  They’ll want to control us.  They’ll want to control our children.  How do we stop them?”

Cariocecus pointed to the warding lines.  “The way you just did it,” he said firmly.  “By showing them that you’re not to be trifled with.”

“Really,” she said.  “Is that why you came around?”

“I know when I’m fighting a battle I can’t win,” Cariocecus said.  “And I know that I would rather be on the side that’s in the right and still breathing at the end of this than the alternative.  I’ve got no desire to go where the dead men go to be tormented for all eternity.”

So that part’s true?  Interesting.  Matt shook himself and watched his sister’s face.  Marin was staring at Cariocecus through narrowed eyes, her brows knitted together.

She doesn’t like what she’s hearing.  I guess I don’t blame her.  I’m not sure I do, either, but it’s not my vote to make.  All I’m concerned with is making sure that we keep breathing—that she and Thom keep breathing.  That everyone keeps breathing.

“Right,” she said at last.  For a moment, she looked like she was about to say more, but she stopped herself.  She glanced toward J.T. and Jacqueline.  “How’s Phelan?”

“Still conscious,” Phelan said, though his eyes were squeezed shut and his teeth were gritted.  Matt risked a glance toward the wound in his side, which was growing larger as J.T. worked at cutting the spearhead out of the wound.  “You don’t have to talk about me like I’m not here.  I’m trying to stay conscious until J.T.’s done carving me up like some kind of roast.”

“You couldn’t just pull it out?”  Matt asked, eying the spear.

“It’d be worse if I did,” J.T. said, grimacing.  “It’d shred everything coming out.  That’s how these things work.”  He shook his head, switching angles as he peered at the wound.  “No good.  Kel, I need a light.  Can you quick grab me one of the lanterns?”

“And more scraps from my basket by the fire,” Jacqueline added, discarding another blood-soaked bit of cotton.  “I swear, I didn’t think you had this much blood in your body, Phelan.”

“Apparently I do and there’s enough that I’m still talking,” he said.  “But I’m starting to lose feeling in my small bits, so hurry it up.”

“The alternative to my being careful is you potentially bleeding out completely,” J.T. muttered.  “So calm down.  The cold’s probably helping.”

“That good, huh?”  Marin said, her tone dry.  Matt watched her for a moment, saw her waver on her feet.  He bit his lip.

“Mar, are you okay?” he asked, knowing that the question had only been answered a few minutes before, but the more he watched her, the more he thought that maybe she wasn’t.

“Yes,” she said firmly.  “…no.”

Thom caught her as she slumped toward the ground.

Phelan grated out a curse in his native tongue, glaring at Cariocecus as the blood drained from Marin’s face.  Thom sheathed his sword without thinking and went to her, ignoring everything else.  Something inside Matt made him think that he should go to them as well, but one look from Jacqueline ended all thoughts of moving.

“Hold him still,” she said, nodding to Phelan.  “Jay’s going to start cutting and it’s not going to be pleasant.”

“You can’t numb him or anything?”  Matt asked, looking dubiously at the wound.

“With what?” she asked bitterly.  “The snow?  That’s about all we’ve got right now.”

Matt muttered a curse under his breath.  She was right, of course.  He hadn’t been thinking.

“Just do it, damn you,” Phelan said, gaze flicking toward J.T. and Jacqueline for a moment before he resumed glaring at Cariocecus.  “And since you’re the apparent expert on power transference, you keep explaining.”

Matt leaned down against Phelan’s shoulders, holding him in place while Jacqueline and J.T. got ready to cut the spearhead out of him.  The wound was still bleeding and looked painful, the skin around it smeared with enough blood that it was hard to tell if the flesh was already inflamed or worse.  Matt had to look away, focusing instead on Cariocecus, who actually looked contrite for once.

“I suppose this wasn’t the best time to bring it up,” he said.

“Well, the cat’s out of the bag now,” Phelan said, sarcasm dripping from his voice.  “You might as well—”  He gave a strangled cry as J.T. started in with the razor-sharp scalpel, jaw clenching and lips thinning.  Matt winced sympathetically.

“You might as well keep talking,” Matt said.  “You’re really the only one who could explain right now.”

“Not so,” Cariocecus said, his boldness already fading.  “Neve could probably—”

“No,” she said softly as she limped closer, leaning heavily against her crutches.  “I couldn’t.  None of that was ever my forte.  I was the one that had to keep track of artifacts and prophecies, not people and prophecies.”  Her gaze drifted to Cameron for a moment, raking over him as if reassuring herself that he was all right.  There was blood on him, but it was hard to tell if any was his.  He was steady enough on his feet, so if any of it was, it couldn’t be much.

As Matt’s gaze drifted toward Thom, though, he realized that his brother-in-law was leaning as much on Marin as she was leaning on him.

They’re both hurt.  Shit.  We can’t do this over again.  Not if shit’s going to keep coming, keep hitting us.  He swallowed bile and hoped against hope that it wasn’t as bad as he feared.  The amount of blood on Marin’s clothes told him it might well be worse.

“Tell them, Cariocecus,” Neve commanded.  “Tell them what we all want to know.  What do you know about these children we’re carrying—how do you know that theirs is going to be powerful?”

“It’s the bloodlines,” Phelan interrupted, speaking through clenched teeth.  “The bloodlines coming together would make a difference without a doubt.”

Cariocecus studied him for a moment, looking vaguely puzzled, then shook his head, returning his attention to Marin and Thom.  “There have been stories,” he said slowly.  “Stories passed down through the generations about what will happen when the world breaks, what will happen with those who have managed to survive, like all of you.  It’s said that children will be born with power that far outstrips any power that’s been seen since the times of old, since the death of Atlantis.”

“Atlantis is a myth,” Matt said, a queasy feeling settling over him.  It has to be.

                Isn’t it?

“That’s not entirely true,” Kellin said, chewing her lower lip.  “While a lot of what we thought we always knew about it may well be, there’s no proof that it didn’t exist.”

“But there’s no proof it did,” Matt said, regretting the words as soon as he’d said them.  This isn’t an argument you’re going to win, especially when you’re kneeling on the shoulders of someone that’s older than the dirt beneath your feet.  Stop thinking in terms of what’s impossible.  Focus on what there is to be learned.  He took a deep breath.  There’s a lot to learn.

“It did,” Neve said softly.  “It’s where Ériu came from.  It’s part of why so many wars happened when Phelan and I were much, much younger than we are now, why everything broke down.  There was too much imbalance, too much jockeying for power.”

“There are some that would say it started long before the fall,” Cariocecus said, sounding vaguely regretful.

Thordin snorted humorlessly and shook his head.  “More than some.  It’s probably true.”

“What does this have to do with our children?”  Marin snapped, her face pale as she leaned against Thom.  “Mythology become real is all well and good, but it doesn’t help us understand what’s happening in the here and now—not at this point.”

“They’ll be responsible for rebuilding the world,” Phelan whispered, almost too quiet to hear.  He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, body tense as J.T. kept on working on freeing the spearhead.  “For good or for ill.  Every power that’s out there will want them—either to control them, to guide them, or to kill them.

“That’s what’s important, leánnan.  That and nothing else.”

Pain woke him when they tried to move him.  He sucked in a rasping breath, eyes blinking open to see the sky.  He couldn’t have been out for more than a few minutes, though cold was nibbling at his nose, his fingers, and the tips of his ears.

“What in blazes were you thinking?”  Cariocecus asked, almost shouting.  “Do you have any idea what you did?”  His voice was close, though not too close—not inside the wardings, it seemed.

Phelan sucked in a deep breath and shifted slightly, earning a sharp, “Hold still!” from Jacqueline.  She had both hands wrapped around the spear that was still stuck in him, he realized, and J.T. had produced a pair of scissors from somewhere and was cutting away the fabric of his shirt and coat to get to the wound.

Phelan put his head back down and glanced to the side.  Cariocecus looked as angry as he’d ever seen the southron godling, though Phelan suspected it was less anger than fear that was fueling the expression and his tirade.

“You just rang the entire bloody world like a bell,” Cariocecus snarled, his ire focused not on Phelan, but on Marin.  “You started to rewrite the lines of magic around this place!  Do you have any idea what kind of beacon that is to—to—”

“To bad guys like you?”  Kellin suggested, her eyes narrowing for a moment as she came to her friend’s defense, Phelan’s fallen staff in her hands.

Cariocecus actually flinched.  “I deserved that,” he said, his voice quieter, more even.  “But that doesn’t mean that what just happened here wasn’t insane and dangerous.”

“It’s my job to tell them that,” Phelan croaked, wincing at the sound of his own voice.  He swallowed and tried again, voice more normal this time.  “Besides, it couldn’t have been her.  It must have been me.  I wasn’t in control.”

“No offense to you, Wanderer, but I don’t think you quite have that kind of power.”

“Neither does she.”  At least, I’m fairly certain she doesn’t.  The power to see the future, yes, the power to change it and to ward like no one I’ve ever encountered, yes.  But to reweave the very fabric of the world?  I doubt that very much.

Cariocecus was silent for a long moment.  “Then it must be the child.”

He didn’t just–  Phelan started to jerk upright, only to be shoved back down forcefully by Jacqueline.

“Dammit!” she cursed.  “Matt, get over here and hold him down.”  She glared at Cariocecus.  “And shut him up.”

“No,” Marin said.  “No, don’t shut him up.  I want to hear this.  “What are you talking about?”

Phelan wanted to pound his head against the ground a little harder than he was able to, though he bounced it lightly off the snow-covered ground beneath him even as Matt came to hold him down.  He could feel the cold against the flesh of his abdomen, now.  J.T. would be trying to extract the spear soon enough.

I guess it’s better than them trying to carry me back to shelter with it sticking out of me.  At least it’s not snowing.

                Not snowing yet, anyway.

“Sometimes when a woman is carrying a child of great and special talent, their abilities begin to manifest through her temporarily,” Cariocecus said, his tone even but his voice soft.  “It’s rare and usually only happens in times of great stress and only when the child will hold great power.”  He stared pointedly at Marin’s belly for a moment, still showing no sign of her condition.  Then his gaze flicked toward her face, then toward Thom, who stood nearby, the point of his bared blade hovering just above the crust of snow.

“It seems,” he said softly, “that the pairing of the two most powerful Seers left in the world may be producing the most gifted child to walk this earth since the days of old.”

“It’s not time yet, Uncle.”

                He opened his eyes at the sound of Ériu’s voice, at the voice of his goddaughter from centuries long past.  He took a deep breath and turned to look at her.  They stood together on the shore where he’d found her so long ago, found her while out walking with Brighid and Finn and Ciar.  He could hear the waves against the shore, smell the salt mingling with the heather and clover smell that he’d always associated with her.  She was sitting in front of him, dressed in a white gown, skirts spread around her just shy of the crashing waves.

                “Why is it that you always look like you did when you were seventeen?” he murmured.

                Her laughter chimed like bells.  “Why do you look like you haven’t aged since you were twenty-five?”  She twisted to look up at him, her eyes luminous in his dreams.  “It’s not time for you to go yet.”

                “I know,” he said softly.  “There’s too much to do.  Too much is happening.”  A faint smile touched his lips as he eased forward one step, then another.  He didn’t hurt in the dream.  That was a pleasant change.  “But I’ve missed you, little one.”

                She smiled up at him.  “I’ve always been with you, Uncle.  You know that.”  Her smile faded after a moment.  “You have to guard them, Uncle.  There’s so much evil afoot now.”

                He shuddered.  “I realize that,” he said, tone dry.  “Trust me.  I have the terrible trio after me these days.  They want revenge for what I did to their sister.”

                “I would ask, but I know better.  Did you finally manage to kill one of them, Uncle?”

                Phelan gave her a hand up from the sand, smiling a weak, wry smile.  “Not before she almost killed me.”

                “Perhaps that’s where the hole in your soul came from, then.”  Ériu rose from her seat with his help and then stepped closer to hug him.  “It seems better.”

                “I didn’t realize that it was there until you healed it,” Phelan said honestly.  “Now that I’m aware of what it feels like…”  His voice trailed away.  Ériu squeezed his arm.

                “You have the Spiritweaver,” she said softly.  “He’ll grow into his gift.  I’ll stay as near as I dare.”

                “You frighten Marin,” he said.

                “I know.”  Pain briefly flickered through her expression.  “I wish I didn’t.  I would very much like to…to know her.”

                “You already do,” Phelan said softly.

                “I know,” she said.  “I know her soul.”

                “That’s all that matters sometimes.”  Phelan folded the girl into his arms and held her tightly.

                “Not in this, Uncle,” she murmured into his chest.  “Not in this.”

                He sighed softly and rested his cheek against her flaxen hair, watching the wind worry the silver trinkets woven into her braids.  “She may warm to you yet.”

                “Doubtful,” the girl whispered, though he could hear the smile in her voice.  “But you were always the one with the hope springing eternally.  And the devil’s own luck.”

                “In some things,” he agreed.  “Though not in others.”

                She rocked back, peered up at him.  “You’re still lonely.”

                “Even surrounded by people who care about me, I’m alone.”

                “That won’t last forever, Uncle,” she said, smiling up at him.  “I promise you.”

                He smiled sadly.  “And how would you know that, Ériu?  I’ve been alone for as long as you’ve known me, or near to.  Friends only.  Nothing more.”

                “But nothing less,” she reminded him gently, then reached up to cradle his face between her palms.  “And that’s important.  You’ll not be alone forever.  I promise.”

                He managed to smile and kissed her forehead.

                “I’ll believe it when I see it,” he said.

                She laughed.

The energy tore at his jacket and magic-born wind blew his hair back from his face, stung his eyes.

Just like at Winterkill.  He swallowed bile at the memory and bent his head against the growing magical wind, the sting of the green sparks that were starting to spill from the wards.

“What the hell did they do?”  Thom asked, almost in his ear.

“Acted on instinct in the case of your wife if I’m anyone to guess,” Thordin said.  “You’ll need to cross the ward lines.  I’m not sure what will happen if I try to.”  They’re more than certainly keyed for him to be able to pass.  It’s me that I’m not so certain of.

“Right.”

Thom ducked past him and headed for the wall of light that seemed more solid than not.  Their friends on either side of the warding lines had begun cluster nearer to Phelan and Marin, many wide-eyed and slack-jawed.

“Keep a sharp eye on the ravine!”  Matt snapped from somewhere behind Thordin.  “There may be more coming.”

I doubt it, after what we all just saw, but it’s certainly not a bad precaution to take.

Thom swore as he touched the light-built wall of the ward lines, green sparks showering around his hand.  Then he grit his teeth and forced his way through, leading with one shoulder.  The faint smell of burnt hair and cloth drifted to Thordin and he winced.

If it did that to him, I’d hate to think what it would have done to me.  He eyed Marin’s back.  Then again, we’re not out of the woods yet, are we?

Before common sense could rear her fair head and stop him, Thordin seized Marin by the shoulders and hauled her backwards with every ounce of his strength.

•             •             •

The pain was incredible.

He couldn’t breathe.  Red-tinged darkness chewed like a hungry beast on the edges of his vision as his lungs spasmed, seemingly incapable of sucking air into his body.  Every nerve in his body fired in rhythm with each heartbeat, burning and freezing all at once, every muscle taut and knotted tight.

Then, abruptly, the pain vanished and he was falling, falling…

The ground rushed up to meet the back of his head all too quickly.  He blacked out for a moment, but when his eyes came open again, he was staring up at the winter-gray sky, eyes tearing, and he could breathe again.

The pain was back, though, but duller, a soreness through his whole body—except for his side, which felt like someone had shoved a sharp, hot poker from Matt’s forge deep into his flesh and left it there for a while.

Phelan sucked in a pair of breaths before he realized he was cold, bleeding, and laying on top of someone else.

“What the hell–?” he slurred, not realizing right away that he’d reverted to his native tongue and the words probably sounded like a mishmash of vowel sounds to his friends.  He blinked and tried to roll onto his side, off of whoever was beneath him, then froze as the pain in his side doubled.  He flopped back over again, moaning.

“Jay, give me a hand,” Thom said from beneath him.  Phelan cursed under his breath.

“What happened?” he managed to ask in English this time.

“We were hoping you could tell us, “ Thom said, grunting as he tried to carefully slide out from underneath Phelan.  J.T. hurried to help, lifting Phelan slightly to give Thom room to move.  Phelan hissed softly, hands flopping uselessly, though he was trying to touch his side.

“I feel like shit.”  His tongue felt swollen in his mouth.  Poisoned again?  Gods and monsters, I hope not.

Thom ignored the question as he managed to ease out from under the once-druid.  “Is she okay?”

Phelan just stared at him as J.T. eased him back down to the ground as gently as he could, then moved to examine whatever was stuck in his side and causing so much pain.  “Thom,” Phelan began, “what are you—”

“I think so,” Thordin said.  “Though I think I’m going to need some kind of ointment for my hands.  Otherwise, they’re going to blister.”

Marin.  Damnation, she–  “Cac!  Jameson…”

“Shut up and hold still,” J.T. said as Jacqueline joined him.  “The bugger lodged the head of this thing deep.”

“Well for the love of god, don’t just yank it out,” Jacqueline said as she dropped to her knees in the snow.  “You know better than that.”

“So we’re just going to carry him back to camp with a four-foot spear sticking out of his side?”

Phelan closed his eyes.  Bugger me sideways.  The fragments were starting to piece themselves together.  “Is she all right?” he rasped.  “One of you check on her.”

“I’m fine.”  Marin’s voice reached his ears dimly, barely audible over the roaring that started up in his ears.  “Head’s ringing and I’m shaky and I feel like I’ve been screaming for hours, but I’m fine.”

“Good.  Never do that again.” Phelan managed to say before he tumbled back into darkness.

The Hamrammr alpha went limp in his grip as a surge of power ripped outward from the settlement’s warding lines.  It left Thordin’s head ringing and his eyes stinging, but he redoubled his efforts.

The alpha was no longer resisting.  He stared up at Thordin, his eyes wide with terror, jaw slack.

Thordin could understand why.    The surge of power was unexpected and heavy with more power than he could ever remember Phelan wielding.

Someone was shouting above them—Thom, he thought, though he couldn’t be sure.  A second pulse of power rolled out from the warding lines and the alpha jerked in Thordin’s hands, then went limp again.  He glanced down and snarled in disgust.  The creature was dead, impossibly, inexplicably so.

Maybe not inexplicably…  Thordin dropped the corpse, looking back toward the lip of the ravine.  What the hell did you do, Phelan?

Thom shouted his name and Thordin scrambled up the hill, past the prone corpses of the enemy and toward the leading edge of the ravine.  Behind him, from the bridge, he could hear Cariocecus’s voice echoing as well—something about getting someone to bring him across the lines before whatever Phelan was doing tore half the world asunder.

“Valkyrie’s teats,” he muttered.  “What have you managed to do this time, Phelan?”

Cameron grasped his hand and helped him clear the edge of the ravine and as Thordin stumbled a few steps forward and caught his balance, he realized that his assumption that it was something that Phelan had done might actually have been a bit hasty.

“What happened up here?”  Thordin asked.

“We’re not even sure,” Thom said, blade plunging through one of the Hamrammr bodies to ensure that it was, in fact, quite deceased.  “But that’s par for the course lately when it comes to them.”

The normally invisible walls of energy that were the ward lines were the green of holly leaves and pine needles, and that same green mingled with bright sliver wrapped around Marin and Phelan, who both leaned against Phelan’s staff.  Blood dripped to the snow-crusted ground alongside Phelan, down the shaft of a spear that was still shoved deep into the flesh of his side.

The energy that the pair had called had either slain their enemies or rendered them unconscious for now—and probably won them the day this time.

But they’ll not be able to keep this up forever.  Thordin grasped Thom’s arm.  “Help me.”

“Right.”  Thom’s brows knit.  “What am I helping you with?”

“Pulling them apart before they tear the ley lines around here wide open and spill raw energy into the world.  You thought this place was a beacon already.  It just got worse.”

Setting his jaw, Thordin strode toward his friend and one of the most powerful Seers left in the world.

I hit the ground so hard that it knocked the wind out of me.  I lay there for a moment, blinking mutely, lungs spasming and head ringing.

Something nearby was screaming an awful, inhuman scream.  I couldn’t figure out what it was for a minute until my brain started to function again.

Phelan.  Phelan just did something awful and wonderful and unexpected and it either saved us or doomed us.

Thom yelled my name and I forced my bod to respond, slowly at first and then faster—rolling onto my side, grasping for my bow, getting my feet back under me and rising unsteadily to my feet.

The green light hadn’t faded, I realized with startling abruptness.  Phelan stood beyond the border of our wards, the line—the normally invisible wall—illuminated in green by his spell.  His expression was a mask of concentration and pain, jaw tight and teeth gritted.

One of the skinchangers had thrust a heavy-hafted spear through the protective wall of magic and right into Phelan’s side.  Though he and his fellows were trapped outside the confines of our wards, they had still managed to reach their quarry.

I drew back on another arrow and fired.

The head and shaft punched through the spear-wielding Hamrammr’s spine and it jerked once before it fell sideways, blue and green fire engulfing it as it fell.

Bile rose again in my throat and I pitched forward to my hands and knees and puked up everything I’d eaten that day and the night before.  Darkness nibbled at the edges of my vision and I gasped for air.  I couldn’t go down here, not like this—this was insane.  I was barely even hurt and the skinchangers were still coming.

Hands closed around my shoulders and lifted me.

“Get her beyond the ward lines!”  Thom was shouting at someone.  “We’ve still got work to do out here!”

“We’ll cover Thordin, just do it!”  Matt added, his voice no quieter and no less commanding than Thom’s.  It almost made me shiver.

Thordin, I thought dimly.  What idiot thing was he trying to do, anyway?  He’d thrown himself into the ravine.  What was he up to?

“Up, Marin.” Cameron’s voice murmured in my ear.  “Get up and work with me here.”  My shoulder was wet.  Was I bleeding, or was he?

With his help, I stumbled to my feet, gasping as my thigh was suddenly aflame with pain.  I’d forgotten what the Hamrammr had done to it.

Forget it.  Forget the pain.  Not important right now.  Worry about it later.  Time later, not now.

“It’s just a few steps,” Cameron said as he pressed my bow back into my hand.  “Just a few steps.  Just do it.”

All I could see ahead of me was a wall of bright green light.  Phelan was still holding on tight to his staff, but his face was pale as death and he wavered on his feet.  Blood was soaking through his shirt where he’d been stabbed, running down the side of his pant leg, oozing sullenly around the spear still stuck in his side.

I swallowed and spat, shoving Cameron away as I stumbled a step toward the wards under my own power.  “Take care of my husband and my brother,” I ordered, voice rough and rasping.  “Leave the rest to me.”

I lurched across the border, skin prickling with power and something else I couldn’t quite identify as I crossed through the wall.  Phelan was only a few steps away, his expression a rictus of pain and concentration.

Something flickered in his eyes as he saw me coming toward him.  He sucked in a breath, the green fading for a moment before flaring brighter again.  “No, leannán,” he said hoarsely.  “You can’t.”

“Watch me.”  My hands closed over his on the staff.

The world screamed and I didn’t care.

I notched an arrow and took aim at that leader, shouting something I can’t remember to this day at Thordin—probably identifying the leader to him, if I were to guess.  I barely had time to get my bow up into position before I caught sight of a blur of motion out of the corner of my eye.  I spun, more slowly than I would have liked, the tip of my arrow tracking the source of the blur.

One of the skinchangers bounded past Thom and Cameron and headed for the wardline.  I held my breath.

Then I was blindsided.

Another of the Hamrammr tackled me to the ground, its claws slashing deep through the sleeves of my jacket.  It snarled at me, breath hot on my face before it used me as some kind of platform to launch itself onward in its fellow’s wake.

Both hit the ward-lines and screamed.

I started to shove myself back to my feet, gasping in pain as the muscles in one leg refused to respond properly, having been raked by the leaping skinchanger’s claws.  Blood slowly soaked the leg of my jeans as I forced myself up onto one knee, fingers tightening once again around the shaft of my bow.

I could hear my heart pounding in my ears.  Thom was shouting something that I couldn’t quite hear.  My brother was swearing.  My vision swam for a moment before it righted itself.

Hell.  What just happened?  What are they—

They were going after Phelan, I realized suddenly.  He was their primary—their only—target.  The rest of us were just incidental, an obstacle to overcome.

Thordin was throwing himself into the ravine after the leader as Thom and Cameron pounded toward the pair of Hamrammr that were trying to fight their way through our wards.  It was as if the two creatures were trying to muddle their way through frozen gelatin, not quite able to push through to the otherside.

It was only a matter of time, though—and pressure.  It was just like anything else.

Just like the last time.  No wards could hold forever.

Even as I released the arrow I had notched and watched it speed toward one of the pair of Hamrammr that were trying to force their way through the wards, more came pouring over the lip of the ravine, bypassing our first line of defense.  Their numbers had thinned from our gunfire, but not nearly enough.

Phelan stepped toward the edge of the ward lines, his knuckles white against the wood of his staff, his jaw tight, eyes blazing.  Faint green light twined around his arms and wreathed his eyes, which seemed to flame with the power he drew either from himself or the land—which, I couldn’t be sure.  There was anger there, anger he was trying to keep under control.

His words carried to me on the wind.  “These are my people under my protection,” he said softly, “and you’ll not harm them today or any other day.”

His staff thrust forward through the wards and the world erupted in bright green light.

Cameron launched himself at the axe-wielding bastard even as I jerked another arrow from my quiver and let fly.  Thom cried out as the man’s axe struck a glancing blow to his shoulder, not the cleaving strike the skinwalker had intended but damaging enough as it was.  Thom dropped to one knee before pushing himself up again, blood already soaking his shirt and jacket as Cameron bore his attacker to the ground.

The tip of Thom’s sword raked across the neck of the man with the warhammer and he stepped closer to the taller, bulkier figure, trying to work his way inside the man’s reach, seeking the balance between near enough to strike and to close to effectively hit with the massive hammer.

“Marin!”  Thordin roared.  “More coming!”

I spun back toward the ravine and loosed another arrow almost without thinking, then another.  The pair thunked into the flesh of another of the Hamrammr as it was about to crest the top of the ravine.  All along its top edge, they were making it to the top in singles and in pairs.  Our friends cast aside firearms in favor of swords and other melee arms, but most of them were about to be sorely tested.

My heart hammered against my breastbone.  Not good, not good, not good.

“We have to force them back!”  I yelled.

“If you’ve got a plan to do that, I’m all ears!” my brother shouted back at me, peppering the still-charging wolves and men below with shotgun fire.

I wished I did.

I heard a wet snapping sound and spun toward it, suddenly sick to my stomach.  Cameron was calmly getting to his feet, quickly, the axe-wielder prone at his feet, head canted at a slightly unnatural angle.  Bile welled up at the back of my throat and I swallowed it back down again.

Calm down.  You’ve seen worse.

Rory shouted something to my left and suddenly a great, bright gout of flame erupted from where he stood, the flames licking over the snow and pouring down toward two of the Hamrammr who’d made it far too close for comfort.  One of the skinchangers that was still in the ravine, a great, black, golden-eyed beast, howled.  The sound shot shivers down my spine—not from the howl itself, but from the inherent knowledge that he’d just given his fellows some kind of instruction that we couldn’t understand.

Something deep in my gut told me whatever orders had been given couldn’t be good.

We were about to find out how bad It could really get.