Page 72 of Fly to Fury
Fieran dragged himself through the layers of darkness, his mind foggy. He wasn’t sure how long he drifted, slowly breaking through the haze.
His boneshurt. That was the first hint of clarity. A throbbing that ached in his chest, his hips, his legs, and even one of his arms.
When he drew in a breath, it was like every inch of his body had been pummeled with a hammer. Even the weight of the blanket over him ached against his skin.
Voices spoke somewhere nearby, the words slowly coming into focus as Fieran clawed his way out of the depths of the cloying darkness.
Dacha’s voice, pained and broken in a way Fieran had rarely heard. Uncle Weylind’s deeper tones, steady and unyielding.
“Victory…”
“…changed the nature of this war today…” A heavy, ragged sigh. “…only Escarlish general…Julien…never use me as a mere weapon…”
The mention of Uncle Julien dragged Fieran closer to wakefulness.
“Now Escarland’s generals have seen what death I can unleash. They will not soon forget.” Dacha spoke in tones made low with weary despair.
“You are undermycommand, shashon.” King Weylind’s voice rang hard as the blades Dacha carried. “I will never allow them to use you in a way that would break you.”
“Yet how can I refuse? Today I killed as I have never killed before to save my son.” Dacha’s voice shattered for a moment, breathing shaky. “How can I tell the families in Escarland, in Tarenhiel, in Kostaria, that I will not do the same for their sons and daughters? I fear what I will be called upon to do before this war ends.”
“Shashon…” Uncle Weylind trailed off, as if even he couldn’t find the words to refute Dacha’s fears.
“Worse, I fear what they will ask of my children. They have seen what I can do. What Fieran can do. So far Adry and Louise have been spared, but for how much longer?”
“Adriana is not pleased to have been spared.” Uncle Weylind’s voice rang dryly. “Her commanders are growing weary of her campaign to be stationed anywhere but in the safety of Estyra.”
Dacha sighed again, but he otherwise didn’t respond. Which, perhaps, was response enough.
The sensation of light glowed against Fieran’s eyelids. He probably shouldn’t be listening to this conversation, but it hadn’t occurred to him until then, as the fogginess somewhat cleared, that he shouldn’t.
His back ached where he lay against the bed. He tried to shift to relieve the points of pain, but the movement sent stabbing agony throughout his body.
He gasped, and his magic rose within him, cracklingthrough his limbs in a way that added strength but also burned away the last of the numbing sensation, leaving the full force of the pain behind. He couldn’t help the moan that rose in his throat.
“Fieran?” Dacha’s voice was even louder now, as if he’d leaned over. A hand settled gently on Fieran’s shoulder.
Fieran somehow managed to open his eyes, the scene above him blurring as he tried to remember how to focus.
Dacha sat on a chair beside the head of the bed, leaning over him as he gripped Fieran’s shoulder. Uncle Weylind sat on another chair beside the foot of the bed, though he stood and stepped closer.
A fresh wave of pain had Fieran clenching his teeth. He muttered something he probably shouldn’t have with his dacha and elf king uncle in the room, but he didn’t have the presence of mind to censor himself right about then.
“I will fetch the healer.” Uncle Weylind spun and disappeared out the door.
“Breathe, sason.” Dacha’s grip and tone were both firm. “Keep hold of your magic. Unleashing it will consume the healing magic faster.”
Too late for that. Fieran bit back more words as the agony somehow built. He would have writhed against it, but most of his body seemed pinned in place, as if in a splint. He cried out, his gasping breaths coming faster and faster.
He lifted the one hand he could move. “Dacha…Dacha, please…”
He wasn’t sure what he was begging for. His dacha to make the pain go away. Or hold his hand. Or just tell him it would be all right.
Dacha gripped Fieran’s hand and brushed something wet from Fieran’s face with his other hand. “Deep breaths if you can, sason. The healer will be here soon.”
Fieran squeezed his eyes shut, more tears streaming down his face, as he tried to follow Dacha’s instructions. Breathe through it. In and out.
“My…my squadron…” Fieran somehow got the words out.
