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A Stroke Of Midnight :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 259 из 293Galen asked, “What is this?” Him, I could hear. “Magic,” Nicca said. Frost stood above us, looking for an enemy to strike down. Biddy was at his side, looking down at Nicca, but her sword was in her hand, too. They would guard me, but the kind of guarding we needed had nothing to do with swords. We needed better magicians, not better swordsmen.
The silence that held us seemed to swell out like a bubble until it burst. Then came the pain. It was as if a thousand fists were trying to shove themselves out through my body. It was as if every muscle was fighting to tear itself free of my bones. I was being ripped apart. I screamed, and fell back onto the floor. Other screams echoed mine, and the hands that I gripped convulsed tightly around mine. Through pain-narrowed eyes I saw Galen and Nicca collapsing with me, their mouths wide with screams.
Other screams joined ours; the demi-fey rolled on the ground, their tiny bodies bursting into a rain of blood as I watched. Then my own pain made me writhe so that I could only look up.
Blood gushed from the wound in my stomach. Blood sprayed out of Galen’s arm. Nicca’s shoulder turned into a fountain of blood. Then everything stopped, and it was so sudden, I thought I’d gone deaf. But then I heard small sounds of pain, and someone yelling, “Mother help us.”
Galen had collapsed on top of me, our hands still clasped. I still held Nicca’s hand, but I couldn’t see him past Galen’s body.
Frost appeared above me. “Merry, can you hear me?”
It took me two tries to say yes, but the voice was someone else’s, distant and dry.
Hands lifted Galen off me, but I wouldn’t let them take his hand from mine. They didn’t argue, but simply laid him down beside me, so that the three of us were on our backs, staring up at the ceiling. It was a woman’s voice that said, “The little ones, look at the little ones.” There was something in her voice that made me turn my head, even though I was so tired.
Royal was closest to us. He had rolled over onto his side, curled around his stomach, curled around his pain. But there was something on his back. I had to blink hard to understand what I was seeing. Tiny crumpled wings were unfurling on his back. They were wet with blood, but they grew larger as I watched, expanding with every beat of Royal’s heart.
“They have wings,” Hafwyn said, “they all have wings.”
Ivi was kneeling at our feet. “Look at your stomach.”
I was almost afraid to look, afraid of what I would find. But it was just a moth, exactly where the wound had been.
The silence that held us seemed to swell out like a bubble until it burst. Then came the pain. It was as if a thousand fists were trying to shove themselves out through my body. It was as if every muscle was fighting to tear itself free of my bones. I was being ripped apart. I screamed, and fell back onto the floor. Other screams echoed mine, and the hands that I gripped convulsed tightly around mine. Through pain-narrowed eyes I saw Galen and Nicca collapsing with me, their mouths wide with screams.
Other screams joined ours; the demi-fey rolled on the ground, their tiny bodies bursting into a rain of blood as I watched. Then my own pain made me writhe so that I could only look up.
Blood gushed from the wound in my stomach. Blood sprayed out of Galen’s arm. Nicca’s shoulder turned into a fountain of blood. Then everything stopped, and it was so sudden, I thought I’d gone deaf. But then I heard small sounds of pain, and someone yelling, “Mother help us.”
Galen had collapsed on top of me, our hands still clasped. I still held Nicca’s hand, but I couldn’t see him past Galen’s body.
Frost appeared above me. “Merry, can you hear me?”
It took me two tries to say yes, but the voice was someone else’s, distant and dry.
Hands lifted Galen off me, but I wouldn’t let them take his hand from mine. They didn’t argue, but simply laid him down beside me, so that the three of us were on our backs, staring up at the ceiling. It was a woman’s voice that said, “The little ones, look at the little ones.” There was something in her voice that made me turn my head, even though I was so tired.
Royal was closest to us. He had rolled over onto his side, curled around his stomach, curled around his pain. But there was something on his back. I had to blink hard to understand what I was seeing. Tiny crumpled wings were unfurling on his back. They were wet with blood, but they grew larger as I watched, expanding with every beat of Royal’s heart.
“They have wings,” Hafwyn said, “they all have wings.”
Ivi was kneeling at our feet. “Look at your stomach.”
I was almost afraid to look, afraid of what I would find. But it was just a moth, exactly where the wound had been.