Page 128 of Shadows of Winter

~ Ranger Lord Vlerion of Havartaft

Kaylina stared down at the beast, the great furred body unmoving at her feet. Faint pops and groans sounded as he transformed back into Vlerion, the shredded remains of his clothes barely covering him. He didn’t stir except for the faint expansion and contraction of his ribcage with breaths that had grown soft and even.

The crossbow quarrel that had struck him in the shoulder remained, embedded deep in his flesh. Kaylina put aside the book and mace and rested a hand on his back.

“Vlerion?”

He didn’t move.

In the catacombs, the last time he’d changed into the beast, he’d disappeared after killing the fur shark, then soon returned as himself. If he’d fallen unconscious after that battle, it couldn’t have been for long. But this battle had been more extended and, with so many foes, it might have taken more out of him. Maybe the powerful magic that infused the beast drew upon Vlerion’s own stamina and constitution. Was it possible that if he had to fight long enough and hard enough, it would kill him?

“He’s not dead,” she told herself.

Kaylina eyed the quarrel and thought of the invaders that had made it up the stairs and had to be, even now, fighting the castle defenders and trying to reach the king. When he came to, Vlerion would want to help, but having a quarrel embedded in the shoulder muscle of his sword arm would impede him.

Though it might not be the most medically sound thing to do, she tore the remains of his shirt to create bandages and gripped the quarrel. Better to remove it while he was unconscious and couldn’t feel it. His ranger doctor could fix the wound later.

She pulled out the quarrel, wincing as his muscle spasmed.

“Vlerion?”

Maybe that had woken him. But, no. His eyes didn’t open.

She tied the strips of the shirt around the wound as a bandage.

Remembering the quarrel in his thigh, Kaylina summoned her strength to roll him over. He wasn’t as big when he wasn’t the beast, but he was still a tall and muscular man, and she grunted with the effort. When he flopped onto his back, she could see the quarrel through a great tear in his trousers. It had broken off, and she couldn’t tell if it was near a vein. Reluctantly, she left it in.

A faint groan came from Vlerion.

“There you are,” Kaylina whispered, shifting closer to his head and watching his eyes. “Time to wake up, Vlerion. Your people need you.”

She needed him too. She touched his jaw.

“I would kiss you, to see if my lips have some magic to them, but your mouth was dripping blood a minute ago, and there are bodies everywhere. I’m not feeling moved to romantic overtures.” Despite her attempt to keep her tone light and avoid looking at the carnage, her voice had an edge of hysteria to it. She needed to get out of the gory dungeon. Badly.

In case it would help, Kaylina kissed Vlerion on the blood-free forehead.

His eyelids fluttered. She trusted he’d been about to waken anyway and that her lips were not magical.

“I was hoping… you’d read to me more.” Vlerion turned his head left and right, enough to glimpse some of the bodies, and he winced. From more than physical pain, she knew. “I was also hoping… you’d never see me… see this.”

Kaylina had seen the beast in the catacombs already and almost said so, but this had been far worse. Far gorier.

“I didn’t particularly want to.” She helped him sit up. “A lot of the Virts ran up the stairs. Hopefully, the castle guard has already rounded them all up, but they might need your help.”

Frowning, Vlerion looked around the cave until he saw the hole and rubble on the far side of the pond. “I briefly had time to wonder where they came from before…” He waved vaguely at himself, then stood, wincing again when he put weight on the leg that had been shot. His pain didn’t keep him from looking her over. He lifted a hand toward the flap dangling from her torn dress, but didn’t touch it. “Are you injured? Were you…?”

“Just a couple of bumps. But I need to get out of here.” She also needed to clear her name, but if assassins were in the middle of trying to kill the royal family, this wouldn’t be the time to plead her case again to the queen.

Vlerion eyed the front of the cell, the warped hinges all that remained of the gate. “Someone already opened the door.”

“Someone has strength that makes the Kar’ruk seem puny.”

“Yes,” he murmured, looking at her again. “I’m glad I didn’t hurt you.”

“Me too. You’ll have to teach me the lyrics to that song later so I can sing it to calm you if need be.”

“It’s called ‘Lake of Triumph and Sorrow.’” Vlerion stepped over the body of the guard and limped out of the cell, finding his sword lying on the ground. He pointed toward the stairs. “My brother wrote it. He could play numerous instruments and had the soul of a poet. It still surprises me that he wasn’t any better than me or our father at controlling the beast.”

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