Bound

7. Now We Wait

2

Now We Wait

He ran in the mist, the muffled sound of hoofbeats chasing him. He panted, his heart pounding as he looked behind. Black shapes flitted in and out of the gloom, bounding towards him. Red eyes shone with malevolent intent, tongues lolling and exposing sharp teeth as the beasts grew ever nearer.

Fear spurred him on and he turned away, willing his feet to fly. The horn sounded, closer this time, and Thomas whimpered in reaction as the sound cut through the fog.

Name yourself, Fey.

The words stopped him in his tracks, freezing him where he stood. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t move, couldn’t turn to see how close they were. Worse was the compulsion to obey the voice. As he gasped for air, fighting not to speak, the mist broke beside him and a Hound leapt at him, snarling—

Thomas sat upright with a cry, his heart pounding.

“Thomas!” Nona turned from where she had been kneeling beside his father, her face a pale oval in the gloom. “Are you all right?”

Thomas sucked in a breath as the dream faded, and raked a trembling hand through his hair. “Just a nightmare,” he managed.

Her mouth twisted. “Aye. That is understandable. We will all be haunted in our dreams, I fear.”

Thomas shut his eyes, seeking calm, but the vision of the Hound leaping at him returned and he opened them again hastily. “Is he all right?” he asked, wrenching his mind away from the dream vision.

Nona looked down at Matthew. “Well enough. Feverish. There was no poison on the Huntsman’s arrow, but still, the wound festers even with the Healing I did last night. But dawn is nearly here. I will do another Healing then. And then we will have to see.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

She smiled faintly. “Add your prayers to mine. Which is no small thing, even so.”

The human woman moaned, tossing restlessly beside his father on the furs laid out for her.

Thomas looked at her, resentment warring with pity in his heart. “How is she?”

Nona sighed. “She dreams the dream he gave her. There is naught I can do.” She lifted her head, turning towards the shuttered window of the workshop.

“Dawn approaches.” She looked at him. “Come, lay your hands on him with me.”

He frowned, wary. “I’m no Healer.”

“Nay. But God has commanded us to pray thus for the sick, no?”

He couldn’t argue, so he joined her, kneeling beside his father. Power swelled around him as dawn approached. He placed his hands next to hers upon Matthew, the rising surge of power sweeping away the last of the tendrils of the nightmare. Please, God. Help him. Don’t let him die.

Beside him, Nona’s power intensified along with the dawn, and as he opened his eyes he saw the bright glow of it, felt its tingling energy and warmth as it passed through her into his father, who briefly glowed with it as well. Nona’s eyes were closed, concentrating as she prayed in a low murmur under her breath.

Then the power faded and she lifted her hands. She looked at him, brushing a black wavy curl off her face with a hand that trembled slightly. “Now we wait.”

He looked at her, frowning. She looked pale and drawn. “Are you all right?”

“Of course.” She took a breath. “’Tis the Healing. The Gifts have a cost. I will be fine after some rest.” She held up a hand to forestall his comment. “Which I will do shortly. I brought a small amount of herbs in my bag when I answered Nectan’s Call last night. They are in Torht’s house. But I’ll need more. And I need to get word to Bronwyn that I am well so she does not worry. Could you ask someone to go to Bebbanburg to tell her what’s happened and get my herbs?”

“Tell her what’s happened?”

She made an impatient gesture. “Not everything, of course. She is Sensitive. She knows of the Fey. She knew I had a Call last night. Of course she must not be told of the Hunt. But she can be told that someone has been injured by an arrow. She’ll know what I need.”

Truth be told, he was glad to have a task, however small. It would be a distraction from the fears that haunted him. Fears that were ready to pounce both if his father recovered and if he didn’t.

He stepped out of the workshop into a misty drizzle that shrouded the holding. Brorda sat on the porch of Torht’s house under the overhanging roof, out of the damp.

He stood as Thomas approached. “How is your father?”

He grimaced. “I’m not sure. Nona Healed him, but he’s still asleep. He’s feverish. I don’t think he’s healing as well as she would like. I’ve come to get her bag so she can make her potions. But someone has to go to Bebbanburg to fetch some more of her herbs from Bronwyn. Maybe you, or Torht. I should stay here, in case my father wakes.”

Brorda’s face was grave. “Torht mentioned he would search the woods today for antlers. I imagine he could go to the village first.” He looked at Thomas, indecision in his face, and then sighed. “I would have words with you, if you are willing.”

Brorda and Nona both had kept from him the knowledge that there was another Traveller here. Kept it from him on the orders of Nectan, but still, the betrayal stung. He crossed his arms. “So now you want to talk.”

Brorda’s eyes tightened at the barb. “Please, Thomas. Sit.” He gestured at the bench.

Thomas let out a sigh. Might as well get it over with. He sat down. “Fine. But I don’t have long. Nona needs the herbs.”

Brorda sat as well. “I understand.” He regarded him for a moment. “As I said last eve, I did not know your father was here, not until Nectan told me before you arrived last night.” He shook his head. “I was as surprised as you to hear it.”

Thomas snorted. “I doubt that. So what did you know?”

“Two years ago we heard of a Traveller who had come to Dál Riata. And that he had refused to pledge to either Court. Rumours that he had married a human. But it was difficult to know how much was true and how much was Gathering tales. When you first arrived, I asked Nectan if he knew any more of the other Traveller. He told me he had not seen him since he went to ask for his pledge.” His lips twisted. “He said we must not speak to you of him. Usually Travellers do not linger long, so we thought he likely had left. He said he would find out.” He shook his head. “He did not did tell me he knew it was your father.”

Thomas didn’t disbelieve Brorda. And Nectan had given him a taste, last night, of what disobedience might cost. But the knowledge that Brorda knew and hadn’t told him still rankled.

Brorda spoke again before he could comment. “You are angry. ’Tis understandable. But know this. Like Oswy, our king has enemies who watch for signs of weakness. It is hard for him to know who to trust.”

Thomas snorted again. “If you want me to feel sorry for him, you’re going to have to do a better job.”

“Well, then. Think on this. If not Nectan, do you know who would likely be king?”

Thomas looked at him. “No. What does it matter?”

Brorda’s face was grim. “There is but one who could challenge him. One whose family has ruled the Northern Seelies for the last few generations. One who seeks the throne back for his family. Strang.”

Thomas’s jaw tightened, thinking of the unpleasant Fey. He remembered, suddenly, what Nona had said at Nectan’s Gathering. It is said he will challenge Nectan at the summer solstice Gathering, if he can convince enough to follow him.

Brorda’s eyes were intent on his as he continued. “And just how do you think he would deal with a wilding Traveller in our midst?”

You must kill this wilding, now. Strang’s angry declaration from last night ran through his mind, and he shifted on the bench.

“I see you begin to understand,” Brorda said. “Nectan has kept much from you, that is true. But he has protected you from those who would be happy to see you die. And he stood up to the Alder King for your father last night. Don’t let your anger at him goad you into foolishness.”

There was much he didn’t understand, but he had seen and heard Strang’s animosity. Brorda was right. That Fey was dangerous.

Brorda shifted on the bench. “There is one more thing. I have recently heard of another Traveller in the South, one who has joined with the Unseelies.”

Thomas’ eyebrows raised. “Godric?”

Brorda shook his head. “Nay, not the harper. This seems to be someone else. But it was a passing tale only. Perhaps the Fey who told me was mixed up between this other and your father. Or the harper. I can’t say. I haven’t spoken to Nectan about it yet.”

Thomas heard the unspoken message in Brorda’s words: So Nectan hasn’t had the opportunity to forbid me to tell you.

He nodded and stood. “Thank you.”

Brorda stood as well and put his hand on Thomas’ shoulder. “I stand with you and the Lady Nona. And Nectan, if you would but let him.” He squeezed his shoulder. “You are not alone.” He dropped his hand. “I’ll speak to Torht.”

Thomas nodded. He paused for a moment as Brorda went into the house, thinking through what his Teacher had said. He stood for a moment, remembering something that Nectan said the night before.

His father had Called to the king for aid against the Wild Hunt. Even though, apparently, he had refused to pledge to the Seelies. Another puzzle to add to the mix.

He stood up with a sigh. One problem at a time. Until his father woke up, he would get no answers. No point dwelling on the questions now.

But he couldn’t help but wonder, even so.