Wolf's-own: Weregild Page 4

  And Fen... snapped. Malick actually saw the break in reason.

  Fen's eyes went blank, and his face pulled into a vicious snarl, so full of despair and deranged fury it actually hurt to look at him. A wordless roar broke loose from his chest and rolled up his throat, and he lunged with the strength of a wild beast. He managed to get an arm loose from Samin and went for Shig's throat, fingers hooked into lethal claws.

  "Shig, that's enough,” Malick growled—too late, naturally; his timing was always shit—and swept over to Samin to help hold Fen back.

  And it wasn't easy. He writhed like an oiled mink, kicking and punching and gouging. Incoherent curses and screeches grated out his mouth, until Samin actually threw his arms around Fen's torso and lifted him off his feet. Fen didn't stop, in fact intensified his struggles. He swung his head back, trying to connect with Samin's, and only managing to beat at Samin's shoulder with it. Joori wasn't helping—just as Malick got a good hold on Fen's flailing right arm, Joori latched on to Malick's, snarling, “Get off him, let him go!” until Yori joined the fray and pulled him away. Caidi was screaming back there somewhere, high-pitched and grating, making Malick's teeth hurt, so he clenched them as he grimly held on, buffeted by a mad strength he wouldn't have credited, until Fen actually threw Malick off and he stumbled a little sideways.

  "Shifts to Null,” Fen muttered, thin and breathless as he struggled, eyes shut tight and teeth clenched. “Wolf calls the Prime to his own he sees the Eye and calls the... the Prime the Prime fuck... leers through a... Raven's Raven's duplicity the gods speak no more silent silent dead and quiet, aw fuck, shutupshutupshutup—"

  "Jacin!” Joori was shouting. “Jacin, it'll be all right, just—” Trying to writhe out of Yori's grip just as frantically as Fen was trying to writhe out of Samin's, and only managing to drag Yori in a little closer as she held on tight. “Let me go, I can help him!"

  Malick didn't think he wanted Joori to help him. As hard as it was to watch, as wrenching as it was to allow it to happen right in front of him, he knew now why Shig had pushed so, because he understood what Fen was saying, where it was coming from, what it meant. This was worlds different from what he'd heard last night on the roof.

  "Dying magic Catalyst slides to Zero the Null veils the Eye a cloak of night sound the vaults of Raven cast acid to the sky they don't see like Owl won't hear mockery it's all gone sour worm-ridden carcass of faith and hope the gods won't save them they've all gone home... spitted... spitted....” Gasping now, strength running thin, and yet, still, Fen kept bloody fighting, kept struggling in Samin's hold. “Joori!” Fen screamed, fierce and desperate. “Our boy clinging to corpses wandering both edges... crux... crux of....” A harsh burst of air, and, “Aw, fuck, Beishin, please!"

  It did something in Malick—a hard twist of real concern and compassion wound too tightly with fascination and darkling jealousy. That name—that name.

  "Damn it, let me go!” Joori cried, Yori and Shig both hanging on now, with Caidi fluttering about, weeping, unsure to which brother she should go. Morin was just standing where Malick had left him, watching it all, his face unreadable. Joori's desperate glance fell on Malick, pinned him. “Stop it!” he said through his teeth. “He's falling apart, can't you see it?"

  Yes, Malick could see it.

  "Stop it or I will, Mal,” Samin growled, all caustic accusation. “Enough."

  And yes, it was enough. Malick had seen enough, heard enough. More than enough. Except, before he could decide what to do about it, how to bring Fen out of it, Morin stalked past him, gave Joori a look that was half apology and half disgust on his way by, and stopped in front of Fen. Stood there for a moment and watched him struggle, listened to him mutter and scream. Waited for an opening then leveled a solid kick to Fen's thigh, right where the chunky line of stitches wound over thick muscle beneath the cover of his trousers. Morin couldn't have aimed it better if he'd inflicted the wound himself.

  "For the love of—” Samin gaped at the boy then up at Malick. “Mal...."

  Nothing squeezed out of Fen's chest but a thin, wheezy scream. His eyes went wide and shock-blank in clear agony, then his back arched and his eyes rolled back. It was worse than that night in the alley when Malick had taken him down. A single strangled sob leaked from Fen's throat as he went limp against Samin, head lolling back on one bulky shoulder, like all the bones in his neck had melted, and then all was still and silent.

  They stared, all of them, the silence a live thing, until Joori stepped slowly over to Fen. “What...?” He shot Samin a murderous look before reaching out, laying a hand to the side of Fen's face then sliding it down to his chest. A long breath of relief sighed out when he apparently felt his brother's heart beating. Joori's arms went deliberately to hang at his sides, fists clenched, the muscles in his jaw ticcing and jumping, then he whirled on Shig, a too familiar snarl curling at his mouth, but it didn't have the same fire behind it Fen's did. When he got no reaction from Shig, he turned on Malick, barked, “Temshiel? You're bloody Temshiel? And this is the best you can fucking do?"

  "It's not my fault!” Malick protested, reflexive, because, really—whose fault was it? He'd known what Shig was doing, and he'd let her do it, because there were things he needed to hear, and he apparently needed to hear them from right inside the madness of the Ancestors. He'd used Fen, pretty badly, but he'd gotten what he needed. Well, almost. For now. And he wasn't sorry. Mostly.

  Except... how had Shig seen this, and Malick had missed it entirely? Now he recognized Fen's recurring derring-do for the repeated attempts at passive suicide they were. Malick might've taken too long to twig otherwise, and then it likely would have been too late. He'd bloody admired it, hadn't he? Stood there and watched Fen try to drive himself into apparently welcome death with a twirl of knives, and thought it was pretty.

  "Don't hate, jealous lad,” Shig was telling Joori, though Joori couldn't seem to bring himself to look at her. “He had to say it so Malick could hear.” She turned her glance to Malick, reproachful. “And I had to show it so Malick would see."

  Malick's mouth tightened. “Yeah, yeah, Shig, I get it, all right? Leave off."

  "I tried to tell him you could help him make sense of it, but he doesn't listen."

  "Yeah, I've noticed."

  "Give him to me,” Joori said, staring down Samin, who still held Fen, though he'd adjusted him somewhat so the rain wasn't pelting his face. Fen was now draped rather awkwardly over Samin's shoulder.

  Samin sighed, shot a look over to Malick, then shook his head at Joori. “I'll put him in the cart.” He didn't wait for Joori to protest, just turned and did as he'd said.

  Malick watched. Something about the way Fen dangled over Samin's arm, the bonelessness of his neck as his head rolled about with Samin's stride, the way the tail of the braid dragged in the mud... it bothered him more than it should've done. He looked away, uneasy, only to have his gaze clash with the puppy-dog eyes of Caidi. She was staring at Malick, eyes a bit swollen, and he could only talk himself out of the uncomfortable thought that she was still crying and he was expected to do something about it because, what with the rain, he couldn't really tell, right?

  "Is Jacin going to die?” she asked, voice low and wobbly.

  Oh, hell.

  "No.” Malick put as much force into the word as he could without turning it sharp and frightening her more. “No, he's not going to die."

  Caidi seemed to unknot, just a little bit. She took a cautious step closer, big, worried eyes stubbornly holding Malick's. “Were those really maijin?” was her next quiet question.

  Malick swiped at his face. “Yeah."

  "And....” Her lip quivered. “And they were going to take Joori away?"

  Malick sighed, only just kept himself from growling and snapping at her. What did she bloody want from him, after all? “I don't intend to let that happen,” was all he said, because it was simple, reassuring, and the truth.

  Caidi thought about that for a moment,
then took another step. It was all Malick could do not to step back in absurd retreat. From a little girl. Sucking the swagger right out of him. “And you're really—"

  "Come along, Caidi.” Joori's hand landed on Caidi's shoulder, his angry gaze locking onto Malick, the disdain and blame perfectly clear. “I'm sure Kamen-seyh has Important Things to take care of.” The sarcasm all but dripped. Eyes still on Malick, Joori tugged Caidi away, like he suspected Malick might eat her just to be a prick. “C'mon, I'll give you a pig-a-back,” he said then turned Caidi around and pushed her over toward the cart, where Samin was adjusting Fen's cloak to cover as much of him against the rain as possible.

  That left Morin. Staring at Malick like his sister had been doing, only his eyes were measuring... interested. When Malick had watched the brothers that night in the hut, Morin sneering and snarking and generally making everything more difficult than it had to be, Malick had thought he didn't much like the little shit. After tonight, he thought perhaps he'd jumped to conclusions. Fen covered every emotion he had with anger; this one covered them with pragmatism, and managed to keep a clear head because of it. Born to fear, knowing he would lose one brother, the constant threat of losing another and his mother.

  Morin might be the sanest one in the whole bloody family.

  "She was going to ask if you're really Temshiel,” Morin offered, like he was only doing his sister a favor and didn't really want to know himself.

  "And you're not?” Malick asked mildly.

  Morin shrugged, threw his cloak's hood off his head and scraped his fringe out of his eyes before pulling the hood back down. “It's only that I didn't see you do any magic."

  "Well,” Malick said, giving him a small, conspiratory smile, “just because you didn't see a thing....” He chuckled a little when Morin rolled his eyes. “You should go see if your brother needs help."

  A grim snort. “Which one?"

  "Mm, good point.” Malick cocked his head. “How did you know?” he asked. When Morin's brow twisted, quizzical, Malick clarified: “I didn't tell you exactly where to kick him.” Malick paused once he'd said it—he hadn't told the boy to kick Fen at all, but... well, it had turned the trick better and faster than anything Malick had been able to come up with in the moment.

  "Lucky guess,” Morin said, mouth screwing down into a bit of a sneer as he looked over toward the dray. He turned back to Malick with another shrug. “He used to wait ‘til we were all asleep before he'd go out to the wash barrel. I wanted to know why, so I....” He shifted uncomfortably. “I pretended to sleep. He's got... lots of scars. And those things chewed him up pretty good. Someone better have a look at that leg.” He sighed and shook his head. “Joori's going to kill me when he calms down."

  "Hm,” Malick said, but he couldn't help the smile. He might like the little shit after all.

  "We're ready, Mal,” Yori said, sidling up and bumping shoulders with him. “Samin's going to lug the cart, and Joori's going to carry Caidi. How we're going to get Fen back in through the Gates is for you to figure out. Can't exactly climb it this time, can he?"

  "Oh, fucking hell.” Malick sighed. He slumped sideways into Yori and put his head on her shoulder. “If you love me,” he told her, “you'll just kill me now. Before Umeia gets me."

  Yori shoved him off and shook her head with a grin. “Yeah, if,” she told him. “All this bother about maijin and Temshiel, and all I get is rain down my back, sore feet, and two lost arrows.” She gave him a poke in the ribs. “I want to see the magic next time too. C'mon, Morin, you're with me.” With another shake of her head, Yori prodded at the boy until he went along, then she looked back at Malick over her shoulder and rolled her eyes. “And here I thought tonight was going to be boring."

  Ha. So had Malick. Wouldn't that have been lovely?

  Shig was the last one left, waiting for him several paces away, placid and with a tiny smile, for all the trouble she'd caused. It would take a while for the headache to hit her, but Malick had no doubt it was coming. And he couldn't be altogether sympathetic about it. He only scowled as Shig strolled up to him, looking for all the world like she'd just woken from a particularly pleasant nap. When she failed to wither beneath his glare, Malick just rolled his eyes and shook his head, then he started after the dray. “Not a word, Shig,” he growled, annoyed when she only snorted and followed along. “Not one bloody word."

  * * * *

  "Not a word, Malick,” Umeia growled as she slipped Fen's arm over her shoulders. “Not one bloody word."

  "Umeia, you—"

  "I don't want to hear it,” she snapped. “Samin and Yori already told me the important bits, and anything you have to say will be colored all too brightly with The World According to Kamen Malick paint, so just stuff it, now, before you make me kill you."

  Fen snorted a little, too bendy and wobbly between them as they lugged him up the steps—wet and shivering, though Umeia could feel the fever burning through the chill—but he was at least mostly conscious and semi-aware. “Kill ‘m anyway,” he slurred, added, “Fucker,” and staggered a little against Umeia when he tried to pull his arm loose from around Malick's shoulders.

  "I see you two are getting on just as pleasantly as usual,” Umeia observed then turned a scowl on Fen. “And you're no better,” she growled at him, pausing while Malick readjusted his grip then advanced another awkward step upward. “You knew that leg was infected and you went anyway. Stupid. It was stupid, Fen."

  "Yeah, yeah,” he muttered then snorted again and went silent.

  Umeia turned her wrath on Malick. “I'd ask what you were thinking, but I suspect you weren't thinking at all. At least not with the big brain. If you even have one."

  "It wasn't my fault!” Malick protested. “It was his decision. He was going to go, one way or another. What did you want me to do—drug him and tie him to the bed?"

  "Yes,” Umeia snapped as they cleared the top step to the third floor and started down the hall to the attic stairs. It was creeping up on the small hours, the doors to the rooms all shut and their occupants occupied. With any luck, no one would poke a head out. Umeia didn't want to have to drag Shig down here, not after she'd just gotten everyone dried off and settled in upstairs. “I don't think you understand how serious this is, Malick. Magic doesn't work on him, which means I can't fix this. All I can do is what a surgeon would do. He could lose the leg or die."

  "His choice,” Malick replied, voice tight.

  "Pfft,” Fen put in, stumbling again, and growling when it drove him too snugly into Malick.

  "And it no doubt suited your purposes,” Umeia bit back. She shook her head when Malick narrowed his eyes at her over Fen's head. “Save it, I don't want to hear it. Just get him upstairs before that brother of his has an apoplectic fit."

  Speaking of whom....

  "I thought I told you not to come downstairs,” Umeia hissed.

  Joori stood up from the bottom step of the attic stairs as they approached, eyes glittering in the low lamplight from the sconces, narrowed at Malick, mostly, suspicious and distrustful, but softening a little when they landed on Fen. “You all right?” he asked softly.

  "Fine,” Fen told him, though Umeia didn't miss how he stared at the toes of his boots instead of his brother.

  "He's always ‘fine',” Malick put in, sardonic, “except for the trail of blood behind us, anyway,” then he moved to push past Joori and up the stairs.

  Joori merely angled himself into a firmer obstacle. “I'll take him,” he told Malick, eyes narrow little slits now, jaw clenched in very clear malice as he shoved his arm between Malick and Fen.

  "I've got him,” Malick growled back, slanting his stance to block Joori's attempted coup and bully past him, jostling Fen into Umeia and nearly knocking her sideways, while Fen hissed in apparent pain. Like Fen was a bloody wishbone, and they were going to snap him in two to see who got the bigger piece.

  Umeia's teeth tightened. “How about I take him while you two whip ‘em out and s
tart measuring?"

  They stared at her, both of them, like they had no idea why she'd be pissed off, which pissed her off more. Fen just topped it off with, “Let go. I can do it myself."

  Umeia almost did, just to spite them all.

  "You,” she snapped at Joori, “go up and tell Yori I need my bag then take the sheets off his bed so we don't foul them.” She turned to Malick. “You—get a better hold and take more of his weight before he takes us all down.” And then to Fen. “You—shut up and start hobbling. You're heavier than you look, and if I go tumbling and break a leg, I'll beat you with my crutch."

  They all shut their mouths and did as she'd said, which was good, because Fen really was heavier than he looked; Umeia's shoulder was going numb and her balance was chancy, with him pointedly hanging mostly on her rather than Malick. Fen might look lean and rangy, but he was apparently all dense, compact muscle under the angles and sharp lines.

  Yori trotted down as they reached the third step, sparing no more than a sympathetic shrug of her shoulders to Umeia then a smirk at Malick as she bounded past them without a word. “Tell Samin to hurry it up while you're down there,” Umeia said over her shoulder. She'd sent him down to bring up tea and something to eat for the new arrivals as soon as he'd dried off and changed, and he was certainly taking his bloody time about it.

  Umeia smiled at Yori's quiet, “Yes, Umeia,” from the bottom of the stairs. At least one of them did as they were told.

  "How did you get him through the Gates?” she asked Malick when they were halfway up. She'd fretted for nearly half an hour after Yori and Samin had gotten back with the children, wondering if Malick and Shig and Fen were going to have to spend the night outside the city, and what Umeia was supposed to do with Fen's frantic brother if they did. Malick had gotten them all in then sent them ahead while he went back for Fen and Shig, Samin had told Umeia, with which Samin had plainly disagreed—Joori, as well, from what Samin said; quite vocally too—but of which Samin, at least, had obviously recognized the necessity. Joori, not so much, since he'd apparently been seething ever since. And after Joori had told her exactly why he was seething, Umeia had only fretted more.