Thirty-nine – 05

Posted on September 2, 2016 by Erin M. Klitzke

[This post is from Seamus’s point of view.]

“The drums are closer,” Thom murmured, staring at nothing as Seamus’s smile faded. “I can feel them as much as I can hear them. Is it the same for you?”

The seer had tilted his head back—probably not what J.T. would have wanted him to do, but Seamus wasn’t about to tell him to do something else—and he was staring at Seamus, but almost through the older man at the same time. There were more questions in that gaze than he cared to think about and the feel of Thom’s eyes on him made Seamus want to shiver.

There is more than Finn of the Fianna there. I am certain of it.

Seamus took a steadying breath, choosing his words carefully as he answered. “I feel them down to my soul,” he said softly. “Down to the marrow of my bones, echoing in the places that were once broken and now no longer are. This is an enemy I have faced before—my heart knows it even if my head either can’t remember or won’t.”

“Can we beat them?” Thom whispered.

“We have to,” Seamus said. “We don’t have any choice. This is our home. We defend it—you’ve said it yourself.”

Thom nodded slowly, still holding the balled-up piece of gauze against his nose, looking pale and drawn—and impossibly young. Seamus exhaled a sigh and reached down to squeeze his shoulder.

“Have faith, old friend,” he murmured. “We’ll get through it.”

“We have to,” Thom said, his voice distant. “We’ve seen so much that hasn’t happened yet.” His eyes closed again. “Right?”

“Right,” Seamus said softly, his throat tight.

Nothing is written in stone.

The lie tasted like ashes on his tongue, but he said no more.

They needed the lie, the two of them.

All of them needed that lie.

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Thirty-nine – 04

Posted on August 31, 2016 by Erin M. Klitzke

[This post is from Seamus’s point of view.]

Thom groaned, his head lolling toward J.T.’s shoulder as he started to come around. Seamus exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, shaking his head. “Let’s get him over there,” he said, jerking his chin toward the wall a few feet from the gates. He lifted his free hand to motion to Rory and Gray, approaching from the tents. “Get that gate sealed up,” he ordered. “Don’t open it until you see the Hunt’s scouts coming back. We need bodies up on the walls and in the tower.” He glanced upward, squinting. The light was at the wrong angle; he couldn’t see if Paul or anyone else was manning the lookout.

“Fuck, man,” J.T. said softly as they carried Thom toward the shadows beneath the wall. “If I didn’t already know that you had experience with this sort of shit, that would have convinced me.”

Seamus choked on a bitter laugh and shook his head. “Just common sense,” he muttered, turning his attention to Thom. The man’s eyelids were fluttering as they leaned him back against the concrete and stone, settled in the sparse grass at the base of the wall.

One of Thom’s hands flailed toward J.T.’s wrist, knocking his friend’s hand and the gauze it held away from the nose. Thom sneezed once, then again, spraying blood. He leaned forward, groaning, hunched over like a man about to be thoroughly ill.

“Matt,” Thom whispered. “Goddammit, Matt.”

J.T. put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back against the wall again, jamming the gauze against his nose again. “Hold still,” the medic growled, eyes narrowing. “What did you see?”

“Matt,” Thom repeated. His eyes were a little glassy but were clearing fast as he regained full awareness. “Up on the wall. There was a fight. He was bleeding. Then there was this light and then—” He broke off, pressing the heel of his hand against his temple and squeezing his eyes shut. “Fuck, that one hit like a ton of bricks.”

“Apparently,” J.T. said, his tone dry. He grabbed Thom’s hand and moved it to hold the gauze in place. “Keep that there.” He glanced at Seamus. “Stay with him? I’m going to go get my kit.”

Seamus nodded. “Go, but be quick. Bring Phelan, if you can.”

“No promises,” J.T. said, then jogged away.

Seamus shook his head, smiling grimly despite himself.

The smile didn’t last.

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Thirty-nine – 03

Posted on August 29, 2016 by Erin M. Klitzke

[This post is from Seamus’s point of view.]

“Thom! Thom, snap out of it!”

Seamus stopped dead in his tracks, shifting direction to job toward the sound of J.T.’s voice. The dark-haired healer was on his knees just outside the gates, trying to rouse Thom, who was slumped against his shoulder, eyes closed but the lids fluttering.

Seamus cursed under his breath. He could see the blood starting to drip from Thom’s nose from where he was and his jog turned into a run.

Not good. Very not good.

“What happened?”

He realized it was a stupid question as the words left his lips. Seamus dropped into a crouch on the other side of Thom, sliding his arm underneath the younger man. J.T. shot him a relieved look and started digging around in his pocket with the hand freed up by Seamus’s help.

“A vision, I think,” J.T. said, jamming a piece of gauze against Thom’s nose. “One second we were talking, then I look over and he’s not here anymore.” He shook his head, expression grim. “When I said something had to give eventually, I sure as hell didn’t mean this. This happens with Marin. Not usually him.”

That answers that. Seamus shook his head. “How long ago?”

“Only a couple of minutes.”

The beat of the drums was close enough that Seamus could feel it deep down. The scouts hadn’t returned.

I have a bad feeling about this.

“We need to close the gates,” Seamus said, starting to haul Thom upright. J.T. swore under his breath and quickly moved to help, the gauze still pressed against his friend’s nose and growing more and more red with each passing second. “Get forces up on the walls, be ready. They’re coming.”

“We don’t even know who they are,” J.T. said, his tone grim. Seamus took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly.

“We don’t,” he agreed. “But when has that ever mattered?”

Either way, whatever was coming wasn’t friendly and they needed to be prepared for that.

“Let’s get inside,” Seamus said.

J.T. only nodded.

Together, the two men hauled Thom through the gates, to the relative safety of the walls. Seamus’s heart felt like lead in his chest, beating too sluggishly for comfort. He felt old.

For the first time in a while, he felt afraid.

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Thirty-nine – 02

Posted on August 26, 2016 by Erin M. Klitzke

[This post is from Thom’s point of view.]

“How do we look?” J.T. asked as he came out to meet Thom partway between the gate and where he’d been standing. Thom exhaled, shaking his head slightly as his friend fell into step with him, heading back.

“Nothing we can do until this is over,” he said. “We’ll need to reinforce from the inside in a couple of spots and make sure we’ve got ranged up in the tower and on the walls with pretty heavy cover. I really don’t want whoever or whatever this is getting too close.”

“Do you really think we’re going to have a choice in that regard?” J.T. asked, his expression as grim as his tone.

“Probably not,” Thom murmured. “But when do we ever, Jay?”

“Well, never,” J.T. said, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. “But something’s got to give sometime?”

Yeah, like us. Thom shook his head with a grimace. “Don’t think that sometime is today, Jay—but we can hope.”

Not like we’ve got any other choices, right?

His lips thinned.

 

“There’s too many!”

                It was Matt’s voice yelling and the sound shot shivers down Thom’s spine. His ribs ached and his leg was worse, but he kept moving, limping toward the wall. He tried to shout but the words died in his throat, swallowed up by pain, by it being too damned hard to breathe.

                “Just give me a few more seconds!” Phelan shouted back. “That’s all I need, just a few more seconds!”

                “We might not have that kind of time.”

                Thom could see the Hunt on the wall, could see Paul up in the watch tower, sniping with his rifle. He didn’t see Marin, but somehow he knew she was there somewhere—though what she was doing was a mystery to him.

                “Whatever you’re going to do, Phelan, you need to do it now or we’re all dead!” Matt yelled.

                He could see his brother-in-law now, clinging to the wall near the gate. Blood streamed down his face from a gash at his hairline, glittering in the sun.

                Thom fought down the bile that rose in his throat.

                Light flared in the distance followed by a sonic boom.

                His world went dark.

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Thirty-nine – 01

Posted on August 24, 2016 by Erin M. Klitzke

[This post is from Thom’s point of view.]

The drums echoed off the trees, off the wall, still distant but growing closer as Thom stood on the flat span of ground before the gates, before the walls, scanning them for signs of weakness that needed to be shored up before whatever was coming arrived. It had been a project they’d been working on and abandoning on and off for weeks. Now he was angry at himself for not just seeing the fix through to the end.

I should have made it a priority.

His guts had tangled into a knot in his belly, coiling more and more tightly with every heartbeat that he lingered outside the safety of the walls. It wasn’t the act of being outside their confines that concerned him, though—he was armed, and he wasn’t that far from safety. The gates stood open for him, had stayed open when the Wild Hunt sent their scouts out to determine who they were facing, where they could come from, how large the force would be.

It wasn’t even worry for his wife and unborn son, though he knew that by rights he should be terrified for them, for their safety in the coming hours.

No…it was some formless, nameless dread that gnawed at him, tormented him, slowly wearing him down like waves against a shore, against old, porous stone.

And yet there was a significant part of him that didn’t want to learn the source of the feeling, the reason for it, as if something that lived in his lizard brain screamed that he was safer not knowing. Maybe.

Maybe not.

Thom closed his eyes, exhaling slowly.

If I’m meant to know—I will.

He opened his eyes and started walking back toward the gate.

“Just another storm,” he muttered under his breath. “We’ll get through it, just like every one before.”

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Thirty-eight – 06

Posted on August 22, 2016 by Erin M. Klitzke

[This post is from Thordin’s point of view.]

Thordin stiffened, blinking as he turned. “You? Sif, you’ve never needed anyone. You’re a one-woman army.”

“It’s a front,” she said, then smiled crookedly, stepping out of the doorway. One hand tugged the door shut behind her, plunging them into shadows, the forge illuminated by a single lamp and the glow of embers. “A game, in some ways. How many people can I fool—at what point can I fool myself? For a long time, I did. Even I believed I didn’t need anyone.”

Thordin’s heart gave a painful squeeze. “When did it stop working?” he asked quietly.

“It stopped twice,” she said, her voice still quiet as her footsteps carried her slowly from the doorway toward him. “Once when I lost in that forest all those centuries ago and then again when the lindworm…”

“I’m sorry,” Thordin said, and meant it.

Her fingers found his in the darkness. A current passed between them, sending shivers up Thordin’s arm. His eyes slid shut and he exhaled a sigh. “This hasn’t been easy,” he said. “It hasn’t been easy for either one of us, has it?”

“No,” Sif whispered, then wrapped her arms around him, drawing him tightly against her. Then as now, there was little softness to her, but Thordin sensed a warmth now that was almost unfamiliar—and would have been completely unfamiliar if he hadn’t always believed that she was capable of it, that it was buried inside somewhere. She tucked her head against his shoulder and he rested his head against hers. “But so few things are,” she continued. “This is worth the effort, though. You and I are worth the effort. These people—they’re worth the effort.”

Thordin pressed a kiss to her temple and exhaled, wrapping one arm around her shoulders and the other around her waist. His throat felt tight as he held her.

“You chose exile to be with me,” he whispered.

Sif looked up, meeting his gaze in the forge’s dim. “And I would do it again.”

Her lips met his and he closed his eyes, holding her tightly, like this might be the very last time.

Every time could be the last time.

Make every second count.

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Thirty-eight – 05

Posted on August 19, 2016 by Erin M. Klitzke

[This post is from Thordin’s point of view.]

“They’ll need you out there.”

The hammer rang off-key, striking the anvil instead of the metal on it. Thordin’s shoulders tightened and he stared silently at the glowing metal. He took one breath, then another before asking, “For what?”

“Something’s coming,” Sif said, not budging from where she stood in the forge’s doorway, staring at him in the dim even as the light from outside threw her face into shadow. “I know you feel it.”

He stood there in silence, fingers tightening around the haft of the hammer—Matt’s hammer. He stood in Matt’s place, because the younger man wasn’t here, because he was gone, because he’d been taken.

Taken by one of them.

Thordin had felt whoever was out there coming, true enough—and the feel of it shook him down to the very core of his being.

He hadn’t dared to wonder if it was all of Olympium that had declared war on them or only a few—or if whoever it was came in peace or not. The latter was the distinct possibility and he feared that it would be the whole of that Otherland’s population.

It always felt like war with them anyway, even when it wasn’t. His lips thinned.

“Why are you hiding in here?” she asked. It came as a question, not a demand, which surprised him. Thordin finally looked up, meeting her shadowed gaze.

“I’m not hiding,” Thordin murmured, knowing the words were a lie the moment they left his lips. He turned away from her gaze, from her judgement of him, and started to bank the forge fires. “And you’re right. I felt it.”

“They need you,” Sif said softly. “The Dragon isn’t here to help them. If Marin and Neve try to join the line, you can bet I’m going to toss them both over my shoulder and tie them up somewhere so they can’t get hurt. But the others? They’ll need you.” Sif paused for a moment, then added, more softly, “I need you.”

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Thirty-eight – 04

Posted on August 17, 2016 by Erin M. Klitzke

[This post is from Seamus’s point of view.]

He forgot to breathe for a moment. He didn’t like to admit it, but he missed riding with the Hunt—he missed the strange camaraderie, missed the comfort of not having to think, just needing to act. He had spent so many years as one of them, he had stopped thinking of them as anything other than—

They were his family.

Except I have another family, one that’s only just gotten me back.

Seamus closed his eyes. It would be all too easy to fall back into old patterns—he already had, by coming here, by seeking out Anselm, by listening to the old instincts instead of the even older ones, the ones from the time before the Wild Hunt, the ones that screamed for him to go to Leinth, to go to Phelan, to go to his sister.

I should be ashamed.

Seamus shook his head slowly. “My place isn’t with you anymore, old friend. I need to be here, with them—with my family.”

Anselm smiled. It wasn’t quite what Seamus expected—truly, he’d expected the old soldier to argue, to bargain, to lecture. Instead, he said simply, “They have always been and always will be your family.” He reached over and squeezed Seamus’s arm. “And we will always be your brothers and sisters. I’ll send scouts and pickets. We should have enough time for that.”

Seamus exhaled, nodding. “Thank you, Anselm.”

“Anything for a brother.” Anselm squeezed his arm again and turned away. Seamus watched him walk away, standing frozen near his old friend’s tent, near his friend’s cookfire.

A brother.

Seamus closed his eyes for a moment. He took a pair of deep breaths, heart still feeling like lead in his chest.

They are all family. All of them.

He took another deep breath as he opened his eyes. The Hunt’s camp was rousing itself, the men and women of the Wild Hunt girding for the combat that Seamus, in his heart of hearts, knew was imminent.

He turned and walked back toward the room he shared with Leinth. He would need his gear for what came next.

After all, he had a family to protect.

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Thirty-eight – 03

Posted on August 15, 2016 by Erin M. Klitzke

[This post is from Seamus’s point of view.]

Seamus walked toward the Wild Hunt’s camp, toward the home they’d carved out for themselves along the walls of the tiny village. They weren’t his to command any longer, but he knew that they must have felt what he did, known in the very pits of their stomachs that there was something amiss, something wrong.

He hadn’t needed to see Marin going to the fire, see her talking to Tala, complexion ashen, to know that something was coming.

He knew at his very core that something wasn’t right.

It was instinct more than anything that drove him toward the Hunt, toward his brothers and sisters in arms for so long. Even months later, he was still getting used to his freedom—still having to force himself to remember that he was no longer one of them.

And yet, somewhere inside, he always would be.

Anselm met him near the outermost tents. The old soldier’s expression was as grave as Seamus imagined his own might be.

Seamus’s voice came out as a rasp. “What is it, old friend?”

“An old enemy,” Anselm said quietly. “Old and powerful.”

“An enemy of ours?” Seamus asked, falling into step with Anselm as the old soldier headed toward his tent. “Or of…of my cousin, or the old souls?”

“All of them,” Anselm said, his voice grave. “Southrons, the ones that set the Ridden Druid against your kin, the ones we stole him from—saved him from.”

His stomach dropped.

Olympia arrays against us.

“The Hecate?” he asked in a whisper.

“I don’t think so,” Anselm said quietly. “It does not have the feel of her. Can’t you sense it?”

Seamus shifted uncomfortably. “Enough to know something’s amiss. Not enough to be able to identify it with certainty.”

Anselm stared at him for a long moment before he nodded. He stopped in front of his tent, staring at Seamus for a long, silent moment before asking a question that made Seamus’s chest tighten.

“Will you ride out with us, Captain?”

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Thirty-eight – 02

Posted on August 12, 2016 by Erin M. Klitzke

[This post is from Phelan’s point of view.]

“There’s something out there.”

Phelan forced himself not to jerk toward the unexpected sound of Leinth’s voice. He hadn’t heard her approach, hadn’t sensed her—probably because he’d been so focused on the wards.

Instead, he only nodded.

“It’s getting closer,” she murmured, coming up alongside him.

“Do you know what it is?” he asked her softly.

Leinth grimaced, crossing her arms tightly against her chest. With a slight start, Phelan realized she’d eschewed her usual cloak for jeans and a linen shirt, looking more like a young soccer mom than an ancient goddess of winter and the night. Around her neck hung a silverwork pendant on a matching chain, an old piece in a style he recognized.

Seamus gave that to her. Seamus made that for her.

How long ago?

“You’re giving me that look,” she said.

Phelan barely suppressed a wince. “It’s just that you haven’t answered. About what it is.”

“Mostly because you’re giving me that look.” Leinth sighed and shook her head. “It’s familiar and not in a good way. This said, it could be anything. I’m hoping it’s not Yam back for another shot.”

A shudder wracked him. “Whatever brought him back—or preserved him—probably idn’ thave anything pleasant in mind, did it?”

“Assuming it’s anything capable of thought.”

Phelan shivered. “I’m not sure if that makes it worse or not.”

“our world runs on chaos, Wanderer,” Leinth said, staring at him for a long moment. “That’s something we need to remember. The moment we set order to something, the universe will try to tear it apart. A known fact.”

“Morbid,” Phelan said.

“Realistic,” Leinth corrected. “I assume someone’s already rallying the troops, since you’re still out here.”

“I sent Marin back,” Phelan said. “She sensed it, too, before we heard the drums. We both did.”

Both let ourselves believe it was nothing.

“They’re getting closer,” Leinth said.

Phelan only nodded.

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