Page 12 of Winds of Death
As soon as she was gone, Fieran swiveled to lie flat on his bed, groaning again at the way his soft mattress supported his aching bones.
He fell asleep within moments.
Fieran woketo the warmth of sun on his face. For long moments he simply lay there, soaking up the comfort of his plush bed.
A shadow moved between him and the sunlight. Was that the branch of the tree outside his window?
No, he didn’t think so. There was something off about this shadow. And he could feel eyes on him.
Fieran peeled his eyes open and squinted into the brilliant sunlight. A small figure perched in his windowsill, knees drawn up to his chest, long hair silhouetted by the sun.
With a grin, Fieran lifted a hand and nudged Tryndar’s foot. “Hey, Monkey.”
“I am not a monkey,” Tryndar mumbled into his knees, his tone lackluster and automatic.
“I don’t know…” Fieran gathered his strength, sat up, and swept his brother from the windowsill. A twinge of pain lanced through him, but he ignored it.
Tryndar shrieked, his giggles growing louder as Fieran tickled him.
“You shriek like a monkey. And perch in my window like a monkey. You must be a monkey.”
Tryndar rolled out of Fieran’s reach, then scrambled to the end of the bed. He smoothed the strands of his silver-blond hair, though it somehow hadn’t gotten ruffled in the tickling. His tone held his usual indignation as he crossed his arms. “I am not a monkey. I am an elf.”
Fieran probably shouldn’t be so envious of his little brother’s certainty. If Fieran felt as much an elf as Tryndar did, he likely wouldn’t be having any problems with his magic.
“Of course. I see now. You are definitely an elf.” Fieran leaned a shoulder against the wall to prop himself upright as another twinge of pain jolted through him. He had overdone it, sweeping Tryndar off the windowsill like that. His little brother wasn’t that heavy, but he was probably heavier than what Fieran should be lifting.
Tryndar’s indignant pout faded, his eyes going wide and liquid again as he poked Fieran’s foot. “Does it hurt?”
Fieran resisted the urge to grimace. He must not have done a good enough job of hiding his pain.
Yet there was no way he was going to tell his little brother the truth. Perhaps lying wasn’t the moral option, but it felt like the right one in this case. “Nah. I’m just tired.”
Tryndar eyed him with his huge green eyes as if he didn’t believe him. “You look like it hurts.”
Fieran really must look a frightful sight. He certainly felt bad enough, and even just sitting upright now was making his hips hurt. He plastered a grin on his face. “I’m fine, Tryndar. Really. Mama kissed it better, and you know how well Mama’s kisses work.”
Tryndar’s face screwed up for a moment as he thought about that, then he nodded, as if that made perfect sense to him.
With a sigh to cover his wince, Fieran eased back so that he was lying down once again. He patted the bed next to him where he could better see Tryndar without craning his neck. “Do you want to hear about how Dacha rescued me?”
Tryndar crawled from the foot of the bed to the new spot near Fieran’s waist, taking a cross-legged seat once again.
“There I was after my crash behind enemy lines. I thought I was done for.” Fieran gestured as he spoke to add to hisstorytelling. That was all the details he would give Tryndar about those moments lying in the mud, wracked with pain and feeling his life draining from him. “And then Dacha was there. He stepped from the fog with his swords drawn and his magic blazing.”
This story would have been better if Fieran could have used his magic to illustrate it. But he was under strict instructions not to use his magic because it would burn away the healing magic that had been pumped into him before he’d left the hospital.
Still, Fieran made his best approximation of the crackling magic sounds.
Tryndar’s eyes had widened, and he leaned forward with his hands on his knees. “And then?”
“All the bad guys ran away screaming.” Fieran gave an exaggerated, humorous-style screaming, as if he were a story villain running away. “That’s how much Dacha loves us. He will take on a whole army just to rescue us.”
Those words weren’t enough for what Dacha had done. He’d charged into an army, not even knowing if Fieran was still alive. He might have done all of that merely to retrieve Fieran’s dead body.
Tryndar gave a solemn nod, his eyes so liquid that he looked about to cry. “I miss him.”
Despite the pain, Fieran propped himself onto one elbow and wrapped his other arm around Tryndar in a hug, tugging him to his chest.
