Page 117 of Sword & Shadow
Deckard drew in a deep breath, stilling the guilt inside of him. “We need to take care of the camp. Rafferty, tend to the horses. We can’t fit them in here, but I want them as safe from the storm as possible.”
“Yes, sir,” Rafferty said, eyeing the rain dubiously.
“Thom,” he turned to his brother, “did you hunt this afternoon?”
“Yes, I managed to get three rabbits,” his brother confirmed. “They’re already skinned; they just need cooking.”
“Ethenn, could you take care of that?”
“Yes, sir.”
Ethenn moved for the small firepit, a magical breeze from Ilain keeping the smoke out of the rocky enclosure. That left the three Deckards alone.
Thom set a hand on Evylin’s arm, his eyes going to the wound on her temple. “Are you all right?” he asked.
Evylin gave him a half smile. “Don’t be so squeamish. My pride’s a little wounded, but that’s the worst of the damage. I’ll recover before you know it.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Thom said. His hand squeezed her arm before falling away.
Deckard narrowed his eyes, finding the action a tinge possessive. He forced the jealous thought away, presuming it to be a lingering effect of the Night Relic. “Thank you,” he said to Thom.
His brother’s expression was pinched. “For what?”
“For taking care of Ilain and Rafferty. For getting them here safely and securing a camp for us.”
Thom shrugged, his eyes downcast. “I’ll go help Raff,” he said, then hurried off.
Deckard and Evylin stood there, silent. He thought to apologize, to tell her that he recognized the horrendous actions he had taken. But there in the tiny enclosure, he couldn’t bring himself to say anything. He didn’t want to admit his sins for the whole troop to hear. Not yet.
“I’m going to help Ethenn,” Evylin mumbled, then left him.
With nothing else to do, Deckard took a seat against the wall. He remained there for the next two hours, staring first at his hands, then his food, and finally the fire, wondering how long it would take for Night magic to turn him mad. Had it already begun?
They ate in a tight circle, talking softly or not at all. Ilain sat next to her brother in perpetuity. After the meal, Ethenn joined her with a bowl of rainwater and a cloth to press to Auden’s cracked lips. Locked in time, the Mage couldn’t eat or drink, and it was the one means of getting sustenance into him. Ilain accepted the hunter’s help, quietly administering the water to her brother.
It wasn’t until they began to bed down for the night that Auden’s racking coughs swept through the enclosure.
The troop hurried over, as close as they could in the small space without crowding. Ilain held Auden’s hand while Ethennpropped him up. The highlord sputtered, his eyes filled with tears from the body-wrenching coughs. Ilain held the water bowl to his lips, and he attempted to drink before the coughing took over again, spilling some of the liquid across his front and his sister’s arm.
Deckard dropped to his knees next to them. “Can we help?” he asked.
Ilain handed him the bowl, but it was Auden who spoke. “No,” he said, the single word slurred and barely audible.
It took several minutes for his breathing to ease and the coughing to subside. Then he had Ethenn help him scoot back so he could lean against the rock wall. Ilain tried to fuss, putting her cloak behind his back, but he pushed off her attempts. “I’m fine, Lain,” he said weakly.
She huffed, green eyes fierce. “You certainly look it.”
He gave her a feeble smile, patting her hand. “Be easy, firebrand.”
At the pet name, Ilain softened.
There was a collective sense of relief as the siblings relaxed.
“Do you need something to eat?” Deckard offered.
Auden swallowed laboriously, then turned to face him. His gaze held a flare of anger. “What in the Heavens and hell wasthat?” he demanded.
A tense silence filled the rock enclosure.
