Page 36 of The Demon of the Wood

I have to find Melina.

The thought beat like a mantra, the only thing keeping him on his feet. Darkness covered the world around him and he lost all sense of time, only using his familiarity with the forest and his powerful sense of smell to guide him back.

His mind swirled with memories. Tumbling over the feeling of holding Melina in bed, his hands on her as they danced, his desire to kiss her. Then they fell away, and he was fifteen again, in the human town. Cillian asked him and Enid about the rite they would perform to cleanse the temple, so it could be removed without damaging the magical ley line. Enid had shut down his questions, proudly proclaiming that it was sacred knowledge for only the priests. But Kaemon knew, and Cillian could tell. He’d pried it out of him. Placating him with endless histories, making Kaemon believe it was nothing more than casual curiosity. And it was just a silly ritual, anyway. What harm could it cause?

So, he told him. He told him the passages the priest recited, that each member of the colony was there, they had to be. For the Lord of the House of Shadows was tied into the magic of his people, and his family and colony created a conduit for it. That was the only reason they had all come. Because they needed to remove the temple, and they all needed to be there. It was fine, though. They had guards on duty. And Kaemon did not think Cillian would piece together the information that he told him. How there was one part of the ceremony, one line of the enchantment that caused their magic to bottom out, surging into the temple, to be distributed back into each member, leaving them vulnerable, prey.

But Cillian was smart. Cillian had already known all this. All he had needed was the one line of the enchantment, so he knew when to strike. And Kaemon told him, thinking surely he wouldn’t figure it out. Surely Cillian meant no harm.

Kaemon stumbled, his face planting against the leaves and twigs and snow. He stumbled to his feet again, visions swirling of his colony slaughtered outside the temple. His parents lying around the circle in the middle of the temple, gasping for breath. The Hunters grabbed Kaemon and dragged him away. Dryston stared, looking from Kaemon in the hands of the Hunters, to Enid next to him, an arrow in her abdomen, bleeding out.

“Save her!” Kaemon cried out and was uncertain if he said the words now or in his memory only.

Other memories flooded him, then slipped away. His mind always wandering back to Melina. Melina. Melina. He had to get to her. Food cooking drifted in the air as he approached the cabin. A light shone in the window.

He fumbled with the handle and stumbled in. He heard a gasp and was faintly aware of Melina rushing to grab him and help him to the bed.

“Hunters,” he managed to get out, his mouth like cotton and his throat sore.

“Okay, it will be okay. Just stay with me, Kaemon,” she said. She rustled around, and he soon felt her hands on him, a wet rag wiping away his wounds, and he hissed.

“I’m so sorry!” she said, but didn’t stop.

She touched the first arrow in his wings, and he groaned. “I have to take this out. But first, I need you to drink a couple of things.”

She propped his head up in her arm, helping with a drink, bitter and thick, but he slurped it down quickly, then another that was almost tasteless. His head felt light, and his body ached much less. He heard her sawing at something, then a searing pain shuddered through his wings as she pulled out the arrow, her hands flying to the wound and holding rags to it to stop the blood. She took something that looked like mud and plastered it on each side of the wound. Sweat beaded Kaemon’s forehead, and his breath began slowing as the pain ebbed to a soft ripple instead of a lightning bolt.

His mind drifted, his vision blurred the whole time. The process of sawing, pain, and then it receding occurred for each arrow stuck in him. She was near him, and he placed a hand on her, needing the touch like an anchor.

A cold cloth brushed against his face, and he fluttered his eyes open to see Melina leaning over him, worried. Kaemon’s mind slipped in and out, but he was aware of her presence, the soft assurances she gave him until his eyes closed and the world went dark.

eighteen

Melina

MelinasatnexttoKaemon for hours, checking and rechecking his wounds, administering more medicine to fight off the poison and ease his pain. She realized they were alone. She had no one to go to, or any way to travel to town for supplies if he needed it. And he might. She was uncertain what she was using would work. The Hunters used a plant from the nightshade family to make their poison arrows and she knew that Golden Locks counteracted it. To what degrees or what quantity was needed, she didn’t know, though.

He was restless through the night and the next day as well, slipping in and out of feverish dreams. He often talked to people who weren’t there and seemed to believe he was back in his home country. She worried that meant something bad, but she couldn’t tell.

She stood up, throwing on her cloak and stepping outside. She couldn’t leave him, not for long. Walking through the deep snow, she knelt by the river. She dipped her hand in the icy water, waving it about, hoping that Naida was nearby or another nymph who would help.

“Naida!” she said loudly, but not too loud. Whoever had attacked Kaemon could still be in the forest.

No response came, and she stood, defeated. Silence hovered at the edge of the forest as she gazed into it, hoping that any moment Silenus would show up. The cold bit through her cloak, but she barely noticed. What could she do? She couldn’t leave him, but what if the medicine wasn’t enough? What if the Hunters came back?

She felt desperate, unsure what to do, how to care for him, so she walked back into the cabin. She pressed another cold cloth to his forehead, then laid next to him, speaking in soft, soothing tones, hoping it helped.

“You have to get better,” she said, her hand brushing the dark curls from his forehead. His skin was leached of color, and his eyelids fluttered as his breaths puffed out, labored. She wanted to cry, but she couldn’t. Not now. Instead, she kept her watchful gaze on him, looking for any signs of him doing worse or better.

His hand moved, grasping her waist, and pulled her to him. She obliged, nuzzling against him, praying to the gods that he would heal, that this was enough.

“Melina?” he croaked out.

“Yes!” she cried out eagerly. “How do you feel?”

“Like a gryphon hit me while flying,” he groaned, holding her tighter.

His breathing evened out, and she knew he had slipped back into sleep. She gave a sigh of relief. He would probably be out of his right mind for a bit longer, but she took his response as a sign of improvement. His hand began tracing sleepy circles on her back, then his mouth found her forehead, and he pressed his lips to it tenderly.

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