“He should,” Laurel said.
My fist caught Kareste under his chin, and I could hear his teeth click as his mouth was slammed shut. He flew backwards, his eyes rolling up into his head as he landed on the ground. I walked over, yanked him up by his robe, and hit him again for good measure. Then once more, because he was there.
“That’s enough, Two Trees’son,” the Fyrst said. “Leave some for the Faena.”
I dropped Kareste and he fell back with a splat. The ice dragon and Pru Oak floated over, staring down at the Magus in the mud oozing up between the pine needle cover. The unicorn, leopard and other haunts joined us, surrounding him.
There was a soft groan as Slevoic started to come to and Basel, shifting into his man form, quickly floated over so that when Slevoic’s eyes fluttered open, he was staring into the haunt’s face. Slevoic gave a muffled shriek and scooted back. He rolled to his feet, staggering, his terror-filled gaze taking in not only Basel, but Suiden and Moraina too, both focused very hard on him. He made a quick gesture and he was once again outlined in fire. “Stay back, or I’ll burn the whole freaking place down.”
“That’s a poor threat,” Wyln remarked, holding his hand out to the rain.
I sighed and, picking up my staff, faced Slevoic. “The trees weren’t torched during the last war, Vicious, because the Royal Army found out that wood doesn’t burn well when it’s soaking wet. It’s astonishing what a little water magic can do.”
“Do we have to let Rabbit fight this one?” Suiden asked.
“No,” Moraina replied, eyeing Slevoic’s hauberk.
“Good,” Suiden rumbled. He started towards the Vicious.
This time Slevoic’s shriek was piercing loud, and he took off running into the trees. I started after him.
“I wouldn’t,” Wyln said. “They are not very happy right now.” I came to a sudden halt as all the tales I’d heard of angry forests rose up and I stared into the rain-misted dark beyond the clearing, vaguely glad that I wasn’t Slevoic. Behind me, however, was an explosion of hooves against wet ground, and Ryson sped by, riding hard after the Vicious.
Sheep-biting—“Ryson, no! Bloody hell, stop! That’s an order!”
I ran to the tree line and stopped; however, Basel flew past me after him, followed by Honor and several other haunts, all swallowed by the forest. I stared into the murk but couldn’t see anything.
“Come away, Rabbit,” Wyln said. “There’s nothing you can do.” He rode over to where I stood and, turning his horse, placed it between me and the trees. “Even I wouldn’t go after them. Not now, and definitely not with my fire aspect.” He started moving me back into the middle of the clearing. As he did, there was a long, drawn-out scream. Then silence.
“Pox rot it,” Jeff whispered.
“Your soldier was brave, if stupid,” the Fyrst said. “We will hold a memorial—”
He broke off as the shadows moved and, a few moments later, Ryson emerged, Basel and Honor on either side of him. I glanced away from the awful gladness on Basel’s face, only to collide with the dragon skin hauberk lying across Ryson’s saddle front. As he got closer I could see streaks as the blood on it was washed away by the rain.
“The trees gave this to me,” Ryson said. “For his dam, they said.” He swallowed, the sound loud above the rain. “I would’ve gotten the staff, but Basel and the lady ash tree sprite didn’t seem to think it was a good idea.”
“We will retrieve it later,” the Fyrst said. “After they calm down a bit.”
I looked over to where Pru Oak’s and the Dragon Gwyyn’s ghosts hovered by Kareste, still prone on the ground, and saw how Laurel cautiously approached them, his ears flat against his skull. The ice dragon haunt turned his head towards Ryson.
“Uh, maybe you ought to give honored Moraina the skin, Ryson,” I said, stepping a little closer to Wyln. The Enchanter glanced down at me and then slid a smug look at Suiden.
As Ryson hurried to the dragoness, Jeff brought one of the rebels’ horses for me. “Are you all right?”
Sudden weariness weighed down on me, but I nodded. “Yeah, I suppose.” I started to mount.
“Rabbit, your eyes!”
I paused with my foot in the stirrup, staring up at Jeff.
“What—?”
Wyln leaned down, cupped my chin, raising my face to him. The others crowded around.
“The mark of his water mastery,” Moraina murmured, taking over my chin with a talon and turning my face to her. “They are such a pretty blue, like some jewels I have—”
“Rabbit, Wyln, I need you,” Laurel said from where he stood over Kareste. He glanced at the harbormaster. “You too, Lin.”
I stifled a sigh and, handing the reins back to Jeff, walked over to the Faena, my eyes on the haunts, ready to backtrack fast. Joined by Wyln and Lin, I watched as the three, Laurel with earth, Wyln with fire, and—to my surprise—Lin with air, drew wards over Kareste. Laurel looked at me. “Water, Rabbit.” I hesitated, then traced the race of a river to the sea, strong and swift.
“Excellent,” Laurel said when I finished and, stooping down, patted Kareste’s face until the ice shard eyes opened. “Awake?” Laurel asked.
Kareste glared, saying nothing as his hands flexed, testing his bonds.
“Good.” Laurel straightened, raising his paw, the truth rune glowing. “For your use of the forbidden, for your spilling blood with your talent, for your defilement of the Lady, I pronounce you accursed and declare her judgment.” He rapped his staff end against the ground and even through the rain it sounded like a judge’s hammer. “You are bound, Kareste. By earth, wind, fire and water, you are bound, until the Lady has mercy.” Laurel stepped back, motioning for us to do the same, and gestured with his staff. There was a rumble, and then roots burst out of the ground, arcing over the Magus and plunging back into the ground on the other side, tightening.
“So you are bound,” Laurel repeated, “in talent and in body.” He then smiled, showing his fangs. “But lest you feel lonely”—he indicated Pru Oak, Dragon Gwyyn, and the other haunts ringing us—”by the Lady’s will, these’ll bear company with you. Moon season or no. Until they will otherwise.”
Laurel turned away with a flick of tail and ear, and after bowing at the haunts, walked back to where the Fyrst and the rest were. Wyln, Lin and I followed, and in a moment those who rode were mounted and we left the clearing, with the Magus’ shouts and curses fading behind us.
“Well done,” the Fyrst said. “I would add just one more thing.” He turned to me, waving a hand at the sky. “A little drier, if you please, Two Trees’son.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” The clouds immediately started to thin.
“Except over the Magus.”
I smiled. “Yes, Your Grace.”
He continued to stare and my smile faded. “Your Grace?”
“They are a very pretty shade of blue,” the Fyrst said.
I stifled another sigh as I heard not only Jeff, but Javes, Groskin, and the rest of my troop mates snicker. Even Suiden gave a suspicious rumble. “Yes, Your Grace.”
Chapter Sixty-eight
“Had you lost your mind, Lieutenant?” Suiden said, whatever amusement he had felt at my eyes turning blue gone. His own green eyes flamed down at me as I lay on my stomach on a table. He and all the other translated folk had been changed back, so I faced the wrath of my captain in man form. I didn’t think it was any better.
We were in the castle guard’s bathhouse, complete with a steam room, tubs of hot, warm, and cold water, and a small infirmary where minor hurts were seen to. I was there instead of in the castle because it was attached to the barracks on the ground level, and those who couldn’t fit into the infirmary were able to stand in the armory courtyard and watch through the various openings. Dragoness Moraina took an entire window for herself. The fae and fantastic, not being really big on modesty—or at least mine—saw nothing wrong with my examination by Laurel and the castle healer, and, my subsequent hot bath to ease the aches and bruises, being an open-air show. (Jeff snickered a lot.) Things were happening and they wanted to be in on them. Even His Grace’s bard was there, lute slung over his shoulder, having squeezed into the room by threat of satirical lyrics. He was no doubt composing eddas preserving for future generations how I looked naked.