Fearless Warrior: Isaacson Trilogy Book Two

7

Esmund grimaced as an emotion suspiciously similar to regret pierced his heart. Had it not been for the trees and debris in his path, he would have been able to save her. The force of the emotion stopped him in his tracks—or it would have if he'd been moving and not standing still, but regardless, he stared at her.

None of his feelings where Elsie was concerned made any sense. The urge to weep over not being able to save her was eerily comparable to what he'd experienced when his mother had died. In fact, the very idea of Elsie dying again made him physically ill and caused his heart to constrict. For the hundredth time that day, he wondered what was wrong with him.

If he told Ulric about it, he'd say there was only one thing to do—act like a damn man for once and ignore the unwanted emotions. Ulric was also the type of person who'd break his own arm in five places rather than confess he was susceptible to any feeling other than anger or mild happiness.

Esmund ran his hands over his face and through his hair and blew out a breath. Only one explanation would suffice—the blow to the back of his head a few moments ago had addled his mind. After a good night's sleep, everything would return to how it should be.

However, they still had several hours to get through before sleep would even be an option. Esmund groaned and closed his eyes. He'd have to behave as Ulric would in this situation to maintain his sanity. He could do it, Esmund told himself, and for a few minutes, he believed it.

Ulric sat up and shook his head, dislodging clumps of dirt and twigs before he rubbed his hands over his face and struggled to his feet. He took a few hesitant steps back toward the women before stopping a safe distance away. "I apologize for killing you, Elsie. I had no control over myself."

"I forgive you," she said, holding her head upright with both hands. "After all, it wasn't your fault you berserked, and it must have brought you relief to finally be able to give in to the urge you've been struggling to control the entire time you've been in my company today. Isn't that so?"

A smile tugged at the corners of Ulric's mouth until it won the fight. "Yes, you would be correct."

"I'm just glad I could prevent you from killing Piper. It would have been awful if you'd killed the woman you were on a mission to save in the first place." Elsie adjusted her hands and lifted the hem of her tattered dress. "Piper, will you help me fashion something to keep my head in place until my neck has mended sufficiently? I'll never be able to stay atop our mount if I'm to keep a hold of my head at the same time."

"Yes, of course," Piper murmured as she bent and tore off two lengths of Elsie's petticoat. She moved in a stilted fashion, and her manners were far more subdued than before, and yet the two women acted as though nothing out of the ordinary had just occurred.

Esmund brushed off his clothing and shook his head, unwilling to let his mind dwell on either oddity. Instead, he studied the dirt around them, pleased to find it devoid of mushrooms but worried they weren't out of danger yet. The sooner they removed themselves from the area, the better. "I think it's safe to assume we can head back toward meeting up with the others without any fear the McCreedy gang survived."

Ulric dusted debris from his clothing and removed a clot of dirt from behind his ear. "It wouldn't hurt to make certain, though."

"Yes, it would," Esmund insisted. "The last few minutes have proved it is far too dangerous for the two of us to be here with normal humans in tow."

Ulric opened his mouth and, by the look in his eyes, meant to argue, but when Esmund shook his head and silently pleaded for him to heed his warning, Ulric snapped his mouth shut. He rested a hand on his left hip and heaved a sigh, "Fine...in any event, they probably would've made their presence known by now if anyone had survived the earlier blast." Ulric's brow creased in a frown as he sniffed the air, "Why do I smell burning?"