Fire

The Flaming Sword

I paused, filled my lungs and then yelled as loudly as I could, “Help!”

Asher jerked a little bit, raising his head, blinking blearily. I strained my voice, yelling over and over, “Help! Someone help us!” The thought occurred to me that I might be giving away our position to them, but Asher’s condition was making me desperate

Another minute of yelling and my voice was ragged, but when I paused I could hear rustling in the bushes, the crack of branches breaking as someone made their way toward us.

A deep voice called through the trees, “Hello?”

            “Here!” I called. “It’s Jess, and Asher. He’s hurt! He needs help.” Oh god, I hope that’s not a rebel.

“Your highness?” Someone broke through the underbrush, a tall man, dressed in the gear of the palace guards. He was followed by another, sword drawn. Fire jotun from the castle.

Thank God.

When they saw Asher they flinched, then ran to him, kneeling down beside him. “Your highness!” The first guard’s hand fluttered over Asher’s wound, as if he wasn’t sure what to do.

“Get him inside,” barked the other man. “He needs to see the healer immediately.”

Together they picked him up gently, and he hung between them as they walked, heading drooping forward. I picked up his sword and trailed behind them, wincing every time I heard him groan.

My hands were shaking, so I wrapped them around the hilt of his heavy broadsword. He had to be alright. The healer could heal him, right? It wasn’t too late, it couldn’t be that bad. They had magic, so he’d be fine.

I repeated this in my head the entire way to the castle. When we finally got in the door the guard called out in a voice that echoed to the stone ceiling, “Get the healer! Get Lady Charlotte! The prince is wounded!”

I don’t even know who responded to his cry, but there were shuffling footsteps and the slapping sound of feet running down the hallway. The first guard dashed into the great hall, presumably to get the King and Queen. The other soldier still had Asher in his arms, and he gestured at me to pull out the couch that was sitting against the wall. Then he laid Asher down gently on the velvet cushions.

I chewed my nails anxiously, watching Asher's eyelids flutter open and then shut again. His face was bloodless, his lips held no color. He looked like a dying man.

My eyes were clouded with tears when Megan and Loki rushed in. The Queen flung herself down by his side, and Loki turned on the guard, his face twisted with emotion. “What happened?”

The guard only turned to look at me, and I almost withered under Loki's fierce stare. My fingers gripped the hilt of Asher’s sword so tightly they went numb. “I…the rebels sent me a note. I had to go into the forest…” my voice caught and trembled, and I had to take a giant, shaky breath to keep going. Loki’s face was like a storm cloud, and I found myself trembling from head to toe. “They said they’d kill Kloe if I didn’t come to them. I tried to go alone…” here my voice cracked, and when I looked at Asher a flood of hot tears came without warning. “I didn’t realize he followed me…”

A flurry of movement from the hallway, and Charlotte was suddenly there, blue skirts swirling around her as she came. Lettisha was at her side, her bow-shaped mouth puckered in concern.

Megan moved aside, still clutching Asher’s hand. Her face was nearly as pale as her son’s. “Can you heal him?”

Charlotte didn’t answer. She moved her hands over Asher’s chest and side, shutting her eyes tightly. Her hands stopped over the patch of blood, pale brows furrowing in concentration.