Fearless Warrior: Isaacson Trilogy Book Two

6

The wind gentled after what had to have been a decade and touched Esmund's skin with the tender care of a lover before leaving the area entirely still. Elsie moved from the safe little cocoon created by his body, bumping into him as she fumbled around and searched for something in the dirt near his hip.

With aggravating slowness, the sharp ringing in his ears abated until only the soft sounds of night greeted him. His muscles relaxed enough to allow him to open his eyes, and relief rushed through him when he saw the blurry image of Elsie crouching next to him. He blinked a few times until his vision cleared.

When he sat up, his head smacked against Elsie's in a sharp crack. Esmund groaned and clutched his head as stars exploded before his eyes in a blinding spectacle. He was going to vomit. He gulped in a lungful of air and fought the urge to dry-heave as he rubbed his sore brow and struggled to his feet, reaching out a hand to steady Elsie when she bumped against his chest.

Her face flushed a delicate pink as she gave him a small smile and stepped away, "You move awful fast for someone in your condition, what with having been hit in the head twice now. I should know because, over the years, I've been hit in the head several times and have never been able to move as spryly as you."

Pain rattled around within his skull like a blacksmith hammering against an anvil when he, at last, stood straight, but he forced himself not to give in to the urge to lie down and close his eyes.

He blinked several times and turned in a slow circle, stunned by the carnage lying around them. Trees lay in an orderly yet haphazard circular fashion; all in the first twenty feet were stripped of bark, like peeled vegetables.

"Was there an explosion of some sort?" he murmured. Was his brain playing tricks on him? "One of you ladies didn't happen to have several pounds of dynamite on your person, did you?"

He rubbed his head and took two steps forward. Was that what the strange wind and energy had been, some sort of blast? It didn't make sense, though, because there hadn't been a loud bang, or had there been? When he looked at the ground where their small group stood, it was the only explanation to make any sense. "I must be going crazy."

"No, you're not—the dynamite would be this one."

Esmund looked to Ulric who pointed an accusing finger at Piper where she lay on the ground covered by a three-foot-wide sheet of tree bark. He had to have misheard his brother. "What did you say?"

Ulric picked up his charred hat and batted it against his thigh. With the first tap, it disintegrated into nothing more than ash. He became the embodiment of anger, advancing on Piper with a growl as he brushed dirt and debris from his shoulders.

No reply was forthcoming from Ulric, so Esmund turned to Elsie for clarification, but she only shook her head and covered her mouth with a trembling hand. Even more confused, he turned his attention back to Piper and Ulric.

Piper threw the sheet of bark aside and stood just as Ulric stopped in front of her. They scowled at each other; neither made a sound, arms folded across chests and feet braced apart.

Ulric sighed and shook his head, "I can't believe how many times I've had to ask this question today—what are you?"

Her eyes widened, and her mouth opened and closed several times before she forced a smile, "Excuse me?"

"I'm sorry. Are you hard of hearing after that little explosion you created?" Ulric raised his voice, "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU?"

Piper blinked and stepped back as she covered her ears but said nothing.

"Still not able to hear me?"

"I heard you," Esmund muttered under his breath. "And I'm pretty sure the next county could hear you too."