Swallowing Darkness   ::   Гамильтон Лорел

It was taking so long that I began to wonder if it was the humans, the soldiers. They would have trouble lifting him. Then he rose upward enough that I could see legs. The leg of a uniform, the torn leg of a designer suit. I said, "Doyle!"

He knelt, hands still on the big Red Cap, pushing like you'd shoulder press a weight. "I'm here," he said.

I reached out to touch his leg. My hand came back with blood on it. Was it Jonty's, or Doyle's? What had been happening while I lay unconscious? In that moment, I almost didn't care, because Doyle was here. I could touch him. It was all right, because he was there.

I could see more legs. Another was in black trousers and boots — Mistral. I remembered now that Galen and Rhys had been wearing soldiers' uniforms. They were all here, all of them. Thank you, Goddess.

"Are you hurt?" Doyle asked.

"I don't think so."

"Can you move out from under the Red Cap?"

I thought about it, and realized that I could. I began to push my way out from under Jonty's rising body. I had to do a sort of modified crab walk on my elbows and butt, but finally my face was in the clean, fresh air. I took a deep breath of winter air, and kept pushing. When I was clear enough, I turned and crawled on my hands and knees. A hand took my arm and helped me stand. It was Dawson. He looked unhurt.

"Princess," he said, "are you all right?"

I nodded. "I think so." I touched his hand. "I'm glad to see that you're okay. I heard screaming."

He got a strange look on his face. "I'm okay now."

I thought it was an odd way to phrase it. But Galen was beside me, taking me into his arms, and there was no time to question Dawson. Galen lifted me off my feet, holding me so tightly that I couldn't see his face clearly. But I could see Jonty's back over Galen's shoulder. The sight stole the smile from my face.

The Red Cap's back was a mass of wounds, a red ruin. Doyle and the others laid him gently down on the grass. I knew why they'd moved him slowly now. "Oh, my God, Jonty," I said.

Galen loosened his grip enough to see my face as he lowered me to the grass. "I'm sorry, Merry." Blood was drying on the side of his face from a gash near his temple.

"You're hurt."

He smiled. "Not as bad as some."

I looked back at Jonty with the other men grouped around him. They were too serious, too quiet. I didn't like it. "Jonty's heart is still beating. If we can get him to a healer he won't die."

Galen's face was stricken in the moonlight, so pain-filled. "But you would have died."

He was right.