Seon's Freedom: Found by the Dragon (Book 2) by Lisa Daniels (46)

Chapter Three

Everything hurt.  Someone gently shook her body, murmuring words into her ear.  She stirred reluctantly, unsure what was happened, what had happened, if she was alive or dead.

At first, nothing but darkness greeted her vision.  Every bone ached, but her back elevated off the ground, as if cushioned by something.

“Come on.”  Now she felt herself being picked up, one hand tucked under her knees, the other between her shoulder blades.  Her head lolled groggily, and she saw the reason for the softness on her back – one of the undead wolves there, squashed to a mangled pulp.  The horrible, disturbing thing about what she saw was that the eyes still blinked.

The bloody thing still lived.  If that could be called living.

It twitched, still wanting to obey the absolute command of its master.  Faith focused more, saw shafts of moonlight in the gloom, and came face to face with Erlandur. 

“Wha—what happened”?”  She stared into his blue eyes, which examined her in worry, appearing weighed down and burdened by whatever fears swam in his mind.  She saw beyond Erlandur’s head, as her breath frosted the air, the crack of earth they had apparently fallen into, and a segment of moon in the sky. 

“Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable,” he said.  Faith saw the wolf which had cushioned her crawl across the ground, dragging its back legs uselessly, following Erlandur as he cradled Faith in his arms, and walked with her a short distance.  On either side of them, nothing but damp rock and limestone decorated the view.

“We fell into a chasm,” he clarified, clambering over a heap of scree.  “You landed like me.  You hit the shelf above then slid into the incline, the impact absorbed by the change of direction and well…”  he glanced towards the undead wolf.  “My creature.  Loyal to the end, they are.”

He continued his walk, wincing slightly, and Faith saw part of his armor had dented into his shoulder, obviously making breathing difficult.

The chasm swallowed them up, a yawning gap at the bottom of the Fractured Spine, which according to Erlandur, they normally would cross over a bridge for, rather than fall into it.

“Did anyone else survive?”

“I don’t know,” Erlandur answered.  “You’re the only one I found.”

Oh.  The news didn’t surprise her, but didn’t thrill her, either.  In that chaotic swirl of destruction, she doubted anything could survive.  Least of all her, or Erlandur, in their fragile human bodies.  Except, well, he had the armor, she had the magic.

They entered within a gap in the chasm face, walking through a narrow corridor into a cavern, lit by candles, with a frayed blue carpet on the floor, a running underground river, and a bed.

A bed?  The undead wolf Erlandur had ridden lay crumpled near the river, equally mangled and messed up from the long fall.  Erlandur gently placed her upon the bed, then began to check her body, first for concussion, then for additional injuries on her skin.  She squeaked in weak protest as he stripped her bare, his eyes very careful not to linger on her bare chest as his fingers ran over the bruises and blemishes across her skin.  She shivered involuntarily at his touch, her skin hot where his fingers trailed.  He took off her pants as well, but mercifully left her panties on, before turning her over.

“A few blood spots.  Scrapes.  Bruises.  Bleeding on the back of your thigh.  Let me clean that up for you.”  He went to grab a cloth. 

“Well, we failed rule number one,” Faith said.  “Don’t get lost.”

Erlandur chuckled as he came back with a damp cloth.  “We didn’t fail rule number two, though.”

“Oh?  What’s that, then?”

“Don’t get lost alone.”  He smiled slightly, before dabbing the cloth over her skin.  He lingered a while on her clavicle, before washing away the scrape of blood on her back, the contusions on her arms.  A dark cloud of discord hovered above Faith’s head, thinking about the ones who didn’t make it, who didn’t survive past the horrors of the Supreme.

“You were so surprised to see the Supreme there.”

“Well, yeah,” Erlandur said, gritting his teeth, wincing when he stretched his arm at an awkward angle.  “The cold inhibits them.  Pretty much the last place you’d expect to see a Shadow is on the top side of the Fractured Spine.  I don’t understand how it got up so high.”

“Well.  If they can make it out of the Fractured City, surely they can all climb the mountain as well?”

Erlandur shook his head.  “There’s other ways to cross the mountain.  We just took the fastest one.”

Faith hissed in pain as he dabbed at her thigh.  “What’s with this cave?  Why does it have things in it that look like someone was living here?”

“Because someone was.  There are human and werewolf nomads right by and in the Fractured City itself.  I encountered some of them on my first venture.  There are some plentiful sections of land here, if you can be bothered to risk living in the heartland of the Shadows.”

“Huh.  Was that what you were so tight lipped about?  Because I knew you were holding something back.”

Erlandur finished his ministrations upon Faith, and placed her clothes back on as she shivered uncontrollably.  Part of her felt oddly disappointed he had not looked at her in the way she expected men to do so – with lust, with longing.

She pointed at the misshaped armor.  “Here, let me help you with yours.  The armor is bent into you.  That will restrict breathing.”

“I’m fine,” he dismissed, waving off her efforts, before wincing, not convincing her in the slightest.

“Don’t be a baby.  This needs to happen.  That armor and those robes need to come off, so I can do the same thing you just did to me.”

He wrestled with the idea for a moment, but Faith didn’t give him the chance to turn her down.  She helped unclasp his armor, pushing it off his body and dropping it gently to the ground.  He protested more, but she silenced him with a deadly glare.

She took off his clothes one by one, until his bare skin showed.

Faith paused for a moment, seeing the crisscross of black veins, the discolored patches of skin.  Erlandur didn’t look into her face as she inspected him, noting how the veins extended all the way across his arms and chest.  Beautiful muscles protruded from his skin, and she tried not to gape or start openly drooling as she grabbed a cloth, wet it, and daubed it over his bruised skin.

“So this is the secret you wanted to hide,” she said, shaking her head.  “The same thing Yarrow has.  No wonder you could give her useful advice.”

Erlandur said nothing.  He stared at the ceiling of their cave, his face stormy in the light of his affliction being revealed.

“Do you hear the voices?”  Faith’s voice fell soft, as she dabbed at his skin, let her hands touch the strong muscles that constantly supported that heavy armor she had freed him from.

After a long while, Erlandur focused his gaze upon her dark eyes, and said, “Yes.  I have learned to deal with them though.  Yarrow is still in the process of managing.”

Yeah.  Except I’ve seen you suffering at night, whispering to the voices that ring in your head. 

She finished with his body, though he didn’t bother getting dressed afterwards.  When she asked him what the plan was, he merely smiled.  “We’ll find a way out of here.  If there’s a cave, then there’s a way out.  But first, we need to rest.  You’re not going anywhere until you’ve slept properly.”

“But what about the others?”

“I’ll look for them.”

“No.”  Faith’s hand reached out for his.  She clasped at his warm palms.  “Don’t leave me alone.  With… these.”  She glanced towards the two crushed wolves.

Erlandur sighed.  “Bother,” he said.  “Perhaps you’re right.  I shouldn’t split us up now.”

His thumb pushed into her hand, soothing her for a moment, quelling the escalating fear in her heart and mind.   

“Is it just me, or do we have something here?”  He asked then, not taking his gaze away from her.  He lightly inhaled the aroma from her hands, sending a strange thrill inside Faith.

How long had it been since she desired someone?  Wanted to be desired?

“There might be something,” she conceded, flicking him a sultry smirk.  “I suppose it depends on what you see in me.”

“Or what you see in me,” he whispered back softly. 

“You first.”

He sighed.  “In you, I see a person.  She’s strong, she’s brave, and she’s alone.”

Faith swallowed, eyes expanding, an unwelcome lump of emotion wedged in her throat.

“She watches those around her, confident she can never be touched, knowing that people hate her for it.  You’re used to being on a level above everyone else, but that still doesn’t mean you like it.  People see Faith the warrior, Faith the slayer.  They don’t see you.”  He raised up his bare arms then, showcasing the blackened veins, the dark contusions on his skin.  “People don’t see me anymore, either.  The taint has made me strong.  My knowledge gives me insight that others barely struggle to touch.  But it also means I can’t associate with anyone, anymore.  Not even my little sister.  All I have are my nightmares, and a certainty that I can’t fail.  Because if I fail, then everything fails.”

Sadness welled into her blood.  Ah.  The lonely warrior.  The lonely God.  She brushed his cheek with one palm, taking a deep breath.  “I see these things in you too, Erlandur Malgrave.  There’s something heavy on your shoulders, something heavy in your heart.  I don’t need intuition to grasp that.”  She smiled, her heart beating a little faster, mice wriggling in her stomach.  “Let me thaw whatever it is that holds your heart prisoner, then.  Even if it’s only for a short while.  These veins don’t bother me.  They are what make you strong.”

Erlandur said nothing for a moment.  Then, he advanced closer to Faith, pushing her onto the bed, and capturing her lips in a deep, greedy kiss.

Heat flared in Faith’s core.  Oh.  Oh.

She grasped at his arms, at his clothes, pulling him closer to her.

Their breaths hissed raggedly against one another, as they gave into whatever emotion lay stuck in their hearts, never seeing the light of day.  Emotions drowning in darkness.  His aroma overpowered her senses, his muscles rippled.  The moves flared in Faith’s mind, how to block each of his motions, how to flip him over and take charge, like she always did – but she suppressed everything.

She didn’t want to take charge.

She didn’t want to keep everything locked away, never seeking release.  Her mouth pressed into his with hunger, her fingers grasped at him, and her legs splayed to let him wedge between her thighs, his heat igniting every place he touched.

Their clothes peeled off in the tussle, in the attack of each other’s bodies, minds and souls, and her core ached, longing for him, longing for the thing she had never had.

The cold seemed to evaporate from the room, and they bathed in one another’s heat, in the press of bare skin, of sighs and rustling movements as their bodies tangled together.  His hardness, now exposed, jabbed against her stomach, and when he finally slid inside her, she rolled her eyes back in pleasure, giving herself into the moment, allowing them both to be transported to a faraway place, where all their walls had come down, leaving them open to one another’s pain.

Maybe it wasn’t quite love, but her heart swelled, expanding into the empty spaces, making her feel more full and complete than before.

The seed of an idea formed in her mind, the notion that maybe another future existed, past the cold and the constant fighting, until exhaustion caused her body to thump on the ground, and consume her soul.

She saw a future by Erlandur’s side, fighting the darkness with him.  Lonely together.

She came with a soft cry, as he buried his face into her neck, lips lightly caressing, treasuring her for who she was.

When he came a few moments after her, they lay side by side for a long time afterwards, saying nothing, just holding.

Nothing needed to be said.