Honor-Bound [ Lore of Penrua: Book III ]

50

Uachi could hear Diarmán's footsteps approaching him, hear his heavy breathing.

There was a silence, broken only by the sound of two men and two huge shadowcats breathing. Uarria had turned her attention back to Ealin's body, sniffing it cautiously as if she weren't quite sure what to make of it. Farra was there too, making her own careful examination. Uachi stepped toward them again, or tried, but it was more of a lurch, uncertain and unsteady. Diarmán was there in an instant, offering an arm for him to lean against. "Steady on," he murmured.

"I'm fine." Uachi shook his hand off.

Diarmán did not argue, although there was something in his face that suggested he wished to. He stayed where he was as Uachi once again drew near to the two shadowcats. Both had their hackles up; their tails were puffy, their eyes wide.

"Uarria," Uachi said. The princess started and turned toward him as if she'd heard the clash of a sword. "It's okay." He raised both of his hands. His pulse was racing. The adrenaline was fading, leaving him feeling shaken. Did this mean Uarria was a threat? She stared at him, her face dripping blood, obviously on edge. Had she intended to hurt Ealin, or had she responded to some base animal instinct to lash out at her?

Uarria scented the air, looking from Uachi to Diarmán, who had come up behind him. Then, she moved slowly forward, her large paws making hardly any sound in the soft grass, and she butted her head against Uachi's knee.

He knelt next to her and put his arms around her. "It's okay," he said again. "It's okay, firefly. You're okay. We all are."

All of us except Ealin. Oh, Ealin...what has become of you? Who were you before I held you in my arms?

There would have been no helping her. Uachi knew that. Even had he managed to pull Uarria off before the end, how could they have staunched the flow of blood? What surgeon could have helped her? How could they ever have even found a healer in time?

"Uachi."

"Can you not leave me in peace for one damned minute!" Uachi whirled to regard Diarmán; Uarria went tense at the sound of his raised voice. The Faelán man's eyelids batted closed, the barest hint of a flinch, before he met Uachi's gaze calmly. Uachi glared at him, and he was horrified to realize that his voice was shaking. "What is it!"

Diarmán pointed. In the distance, Uachi could barely make out a flash of light on metal and the beacon of a banner, blue and silver.

"Tell me they're friends," Diarmán said.

Uachi rose, focusing on the sight. It was something to latch onto, something real. "The silver and blue are Matei's colors, the fancy damned fool," Uachi replied. "It's the Imperial Army."

"Marvelous," said Diarmán. "I like my fools fancy." His tone was too soft. Too solemn.

Silence fell. Uachi stared at the distant sight for a long time. Where was the relief? Where the joy? He could sense Diarmán moving, but he didn't turn. He couldn't, not when he knew that Ealin lay just a few paces away, her tortured body a brutal accusation.

Then came a rustling sound, and Uachi could not help but look. Diarmán was kneeling at Ealin's side. Seeing her sent another lance of horror and grief through Uachi. He was ready to tear Diarmán back, push him away...but Diarmán simply reached out, sliding his long, slender fingers down Ealin's brow, gently closing her eyes.

"'Tis an army," he said quietly. "We'll be able to track them easily enough. There's time to see to her, Uachi."

Something painful filled Uachi's heart, something he could not, would not dare to name. It tore at the very core of him with bloodied fingers, and Uachi wrapped all of his strength tightly around the urge to scream, strangling the sound in his throat. It came out a choked sob as he sank to his knees.