The Fall Of Snow: Guard Your Heart

23. Twenty-Three

Twenty-Three

The Sorcerer’s Deal

A fter racing back to camp, Huck all but barrels through the back door of the cabin looking for his friend. I trail in behind him nearly just as excited with Archer following. The others are already gathered around Coy's bunk, tending to him with extra pillows, a pitcher of water, and Terran close by to help with anything he can. I can't help but stare at those big round eyes as the others fuss over him. They are clear and blue and full of life. My heart blooms as we near.

I know better than to overstep and allow Huck to go to Coy first. The others part as he approaches Coy's bed, knowing that Huck has to see for himself, has to see that his friend is conscious and that he is going to pull through. That he will not lose another person that he holds dear. When Coy sees Huck, he smiles and opens his arms wide as if to say ‘ Hey, look at me. I'm alive .’ But as soon as Huck approaches Coy's bed, he drops to his knees and lets out a shaky sigh, his shoulders shuddering. Coy blushes at Huck's raw reaction to seeing his friend and he pats him on the back.

"Oh, since when did you become such a softy, Huck? Has the world frozen over?" Coy's voice sounds light but weak like all the strength has been sucked out of him. My throat tightens up at the thought of what he’s endured. I take a step towards them, careful not to overstep but too anxious to wait for a glimpse of Coy, in the flesh.

Huck doesn't reply to Coy, but instead just raises his head from the mattress, stares at Coy for a beat, and then rises from the floor, giving Coy space again.

As I watch Huck out of the corner of my eye, it seems like he's trying to hold his emotions together too tightly, but his stitching is tearing open, the thread loosening from the seams like at any moment the stuffing inside of him will come spilling out. Part of me wants to think of how silly it is to hold in his relief, his pure joy for Coy's recovery, but the other part of me knows better. Knows the feeling that once it's out, you can never reel it back in. You can never again put up that wall, or sew that seam shut because the stuffing will burst out like an avalanche, demolishing all in its wake.

"Snow," Coy waves me over and I walk to the bed, taking a seat on the ledge of the bunk.

"You gave me quite a fright."

"I imagine that's a tough thing to do." I laugh with him at his insinuation.

"You are never to scare us like that again," I order him with the sternest face I can muster. His blush deepens to crimson. To see so much color in his face is as good a sign as any.

"I wish I could make that promise to you, but I'm afraid that is one vow a warrior can never make." Coy reminds me how serious this life they live truly is. It's easy sometimes, to forget what these warriors face every day, especially during battle.

But he's right; if anything, this ambush taught me that we aren't just playing house out in the forest somewhere, but in a warrior camp full of trained killers. These warriors lead dangerous lives, and I have somehow found myself right in the middle of their world.

I grab Coy's hand from the pillow, "I'm so glad you are here." He knows what I mean without having to say it.

"As am I." He squeezes my hand before I get up from the bed to finish the batch of cider I abandoned earlier this morning.

As I work on my task and Coy finds sleep, the group leaves the cabin to work on their own tasks for the day. Terran heads to the infirmary to give a hand but promises to be back when the batch of cider is done. Bear and Aspen head out to help rebuild cabin four, and the others head out to stock supplies. With all the damage, they needed to call for an emergency delivery.

A few of the nearest camps sent out whatever extras they could part with. The nearby villages were also willing to send anything they could after hearing about the ambush. I suppose it was the least they could do for the warriors not allowing the enemy to get any farther than the camp. If it weren't for this group, who knows how much damage the enemies could have done if they ventured further into our country.

When the sun slowly begins to fall from the sky, Coy's shoulder begins to act up. Despite the rest he got throughout the day, the pain has been draining him and putting him on edge. I was able to get some soup in him and made sure he always had tea nearby but I can see the pain on his face, in the pinched corners of his eyes, in the thin line of his lips. He won't let on, but I can tell.

I sit down at the edge of his bed, the cot sinking just slightly with my weight. "Can I try something?" I feel my magic stir within, rumbling to life. Coy eyes me quizzically.

"Depends what you mean by something."

"Do you trust me?"

"I do." I hold his hand with mine, giving a slight pressure as I close my eyes, concentrating. My intention for the type of magic I want to use comes with ease now, it is breaking that natural human barrier that gives me a problem. I let my magic flow through my veins, unfurling like ribbons down my arms. When it reaches my fingertips, I feel it reach out for something to grasp onto, something to fuze to. I squeeze his hand a bit harder, thinking maybe the pressure will help, but nothing changes.

My magic bounces off the natural barrier between my body and his. I try one more time, taking a deep, calming breath before surging my magic outward once again, and again it stops short, never reaching its destination. The unspent energy ricochets off of my insides in a flurry, and I exhale a long sigh of defeat as I release Coy's hand. Reluctantly, I open my eyes again meeting his baby blues. A small smile paints his face in understanding, and I nearly cry from defeat. Why can't I break through? What is it that’s stopping my magic from flowing?

"I'm sorry." My voice sounds small and weak, and I hate it.

"You'll get there, Snow. Maybe not today, but you will get there. I can feel it." I give him the best hopeful look I can with a shrug. "Once the others return, I'm going to pick more frost apples for you if Terran’s still not back. You're in pain and I have a way to take it away. At least for a little while." I watch him try and sit up, the tips of his ears reddening.

"No, Snow. Really, I'm fine. It's just a little sore." He tries to straighten, but even that is a challenge for him.

"Mm-hmm." I dismiss his lie easily enough. We both know he won't stop me.

"Let me at least go with you." Coy's voice is timid like he already knows the idea is absurd. But I know Coy, he can't help but try. He's too meek to tell me not to go, so the least he can do is try and help.

I raise my brow at him, asking if he is serious.

"Even if you were in any shape to join me, I believe it’s a full moon tonight."

Despite the softness in my voice, Coy's entire face reddens as he turns his head away from me. His long lashes flutter against his cheeks as he focuses on the wood-grained floor.

"Coy. It' s okay. None of this is your fault." His curse or his injuries. I see his jaw working over his words.

"It's just . . . the curse is a reminder." Finally, he looks at me.

"A reminder of the deal you made." It's not a question, but I pause for him to correct me. I wait for him to elaborate.

"Yeah, the deal. Which wasn't so much a deal as an idiotic mistake of a desperate kid." He blows out a puff of air before continuing. "I wanted to save my sister from a lifetime of misery. She was only thirteen when my father arranged for her to marry a man more than twice her age who was known to knock his women around. His last wife died from a bleeding brain. Said she fell down a flight of stairs . . ." His words trail off in a memory I can't see. His eyes are filled with more pain now than they were last night before he found sleep.

"I couldn't let her life be thrown away like that, just so my father could settle a debt. Why should my baby sister have to pay for his mistakes? And why were his children nothing more than pawns to him?" In all the months I've known Coy, I've never heard such rage in his voice. It's unsettling, like a newborn with teeth.

"My mother and I tried to reason with him, but he wouldn't have it. So I went to visit a sorcerer who would make a deal if you could find her location. I was a good tracker, so I went out one night, a week before my sister's wedding, and I made a deal that damned us both." His eyes gleam and swell, but I don't dare interrupt him.

"Sorcerers are tricky devils. They speak in riddles, never truly giving you what you desire. "

I've heard of the types of people Coy speaks of. They lurk in the shadows of society, waiting for desperate people to find them, begging them for a life raft. Anything to give them that last bit of hope. They feed off the despair and misery of others. Violetta taught me to never trifle with them, under any circumstances. And that included my mother's murderous tendencies.

"She promised to stop the marriage if I brought her a sailor’s locket in three days time. She claimed it had been stolen from her long ago. Turns out it was a blood moon that night. A week later my sister was gone, married off to the man’s older brother, and I was left cursed. A slave of the night." I try to picture Coy as a young teen, sneaking out to meet a sorcerer, desperate and afraid for his sister. The thought makes me sick. How could a father be so cruel as to use their child like that? How could they be so disconnected from the bond between parent and child that they don’t see what they’re doing?

But then I think of my mother, and how quickly things turned between us. How her eyes hardened in my presence instead of softening at the edges. A pain blooms in my chest and I try to push it away. Ignore it. But it lingers there, in my beating heart. No matter how hard I try to rid myself of such weak human emotions, they never seem to dull.

"And your sister?" I prompt. "Where is she now?" I hope I haven't overstepped, but I am suddenly too invested to stop my curiosity.

"She is still with her husband, making herself small so he won't notice her presence. I saw her a few solstices back." I can tell that saying this out loud pains him. "She used to be such a force when we were young. Loud and full of life. Fearless." The clouded look in his eyes makes me wish I had never broached the subject at all. "Now she's just a shell of the person she once was. But at least she's alive."

I walk around from the kitchen table and sit at the edge of his bed.

"Children should never be treated in such a way." Before Coy or I can say more, the front door opens wide revealing six worn-out warriors filing into the cabin. Their presence has all but pushed out the negative energy in the room when Archer announces most of the warriors from the infirmary have moved back into their cabins. He doesn't say it, but I know the implication is there. That if it weren't for my cider, that might not be the case.

I begin slicing the rosemary bread I baked as the warriors discuss their day and upcoming plans for the camp amongst one another, filling in Coy on all that he missed. Although Huck resembles a shadow of darkness with his black leathers and midnight hair, his eyes are bright with contentment as he helps Coy to the table. The look is so unusual on him that I bite my tongue before making a joke about his strange demeanor.

After cleaning up from dinner, I let the group know I'm heading out to gather more frost apples for Coy's shoulder pain and begin fastening my boots. But before I reach for the back door, Huck stops me, grabbing the crook of my elbow gently, "Not by yourself, you're not."