Chapter 22: Chapter 22

Elijah

Her wounded leg gave out. He dropped his sword, letting it clatter to the forest floor. It did not matter – not as she did.

Holding her gently, tenderly, he lifted her to his chest. Leaning down, he grabbed his sword quickly, adjusting her in her grasp as he slid it back down his spine. Her bloodied face pressed against him, and he could have wept. Panic rose in his chest, in his throat. Her eyes were closed.

“Lily?” he tried, her name foreign – but beautiful – on his tongue. It fit. It fit, and it felt right for him to be the one to say it. His heart thundered, and the echo of hers was the only thing keeping him sane.

“Lily?” he whispered, struggling to feel for a pulse with her clutched so tightly in his arms. But he found it, and he exhaled heavily. Numb and overwhelmed, he held her reverently. Since the first moment he’d felt her presence, gifted to him through their bond, he’d dreamed of this moment. And, though it was nothing like he’d planned, it was enough. It was more than enough.

But her eyes were closed and her skin was pale. He longed to press a kiss to her forehead, but he felt uneasy about doing so. She had seemed excited to meet him, and attracted to him in kind, but…

But, mate or not, he did not know where she stood. Until he knew, he would not touch her beyond what was necessary for her safety and survival. Carrying her through the forest, he allowed himself to imagine that moment: the moment she told him yes, she accepted their bond – and all that came with it.

Carefully, he set her down. Her leg was still seeping, blood oozing out slowly. He had to bind it before she lost any more blood. Unwinding her shirt from around his waist, he deftly tied the sleeves together around her thigh. Satisfied that it would stem the blood flow for a while, if not that she would not need further attention – and soon – he lifted her gently once more.

Keeping a careful watch on her for any signs of fluttering eyelashes or twitching fingertips, and maintaining a cautious gaze on the surrounding woodland, Elijah, in his exhaustion, struggled to keep memories from resurfacing. Shuddering at the imagined feeling of water rushing over his head, filling his lungs, he kept his focus on Lily.

He needed to get her somewhere safe. They were too far from his pack to make the journey in less than a week, and between them they had only the clothes on their backs, his sword, and her canteen. The few belongings he’d seen fit to bring had been lost in his battles with the mossmen and lengathul.

He sighed. Careful not to jostle Lily, he stepped over a fallen log. When she awoke, they’d talk. He just didn’t know how much to say.

Hoping with everything in him that it was the right choice, he took a sharp turn at a gnarled oak tree. It would extend their journey by a day and a night, but it had to be done.

They needed to visit Entra.

* * *

The village of Entra was said to be the first settlement in Eldda. More importantly to Elijah, it was home to a myriad of magical creatures – many of whom sold the wares he was in need of. It was set against a series of wide, grassy meadows, through which deep canals ran. Merfolk lived along the riverbanks, small market stalls and healers’ huts made up the centre of town, run by faelen and wolves and hobbs, and a group of peaceful eleves crafted magical pranks for the children of Entra.

Elijah tucked Lily closer to his chest, cradling her gently. Her face, though swollen and sore, was the most beautiful he’d ever seen. Her hair had lost its golden-red tint once they’d left the eternal dawn light of Oakhame, and now shone dully in the dim, grey light of the woods. He could hear rain pattering on the leaves high above, but it was not heavy enough to reach them.

She had a hard jaw for a female wolf, and a prominent chin. Her full lips softened her features, and, when closed, the dark crescent of her lashes against her bloodied cheeks made her appear gentler. But he’d seen the fire in her gaze, had felt it scorch his skin. His heart ached to know her better, even as it struggled with nerves.

She would meet others of his kind in Eldda. His fingers itched to cover his ears, even though he kept his hair long enough that there was little risk of them showing of their own accord. Keeping his secret amongst his own wolves was not something he took lightly – even if, sometimes, his own flames were hard to keep under control.

Focusing on the feel of her in his arms, her weight a steady, reassuring presence, he crossed the last of the distance to the small, dilapidated gate that marked Entra’s territory line.

As he nudged the gate open with his knee, his vision cleared. Gone were the crooked trees and scraggly thorns of the endless forest; in their place stood a bustling market town, bordered by wildflower meadows and cut through with wide canals.

Sunlight dripped through the last of the trees, dappling the ground in an uneven pathway towards the innermost square of traders. A canal curled around and through its centre, wooden platforms sticking out at regular intervals for the merfolk to sit upon whilst keeping their tails wet.

“I wish you were awake to see this,” he muttered to Lily.

He had been to Entra only once since his childhood. He’d taken over the Sea Pine pack at age twelve, and, wanting to establish trade and connections with not only other wolves, but other communities, too, he’d made the journey with two older Warrior Wolves. He’d been yet to choose a Beta and Gamma and, as such, relied almost solely on the council of his elders.

Repressed memories of his parents’ most trusted advisors made him shudder. So he looked again at Lily, and allowed the echo of her heartbeat to fill his chest.

Before he could process more than the fact that her eyelids were still softly closed, allowing a fresh splinter of worry to worm into his heart, a small gasp and sudden cry yanked his attention away.

“Oh, Stars above – what happened?”

Elijah stilled. At the curve in the nearest canal, a dark-skinned head and shoulders bobbed above the water. Long-nailed hands scrabbled at the riverbank, struggling to find purchase. Black hair, oil-slick as water dripped from it, shining resplendent in the glossy sunlight, draped her torso and shoulders.

A deep purple tail splashed behind her. Elijah swallowed hard.

“Well?” she pressed, flicking droplets through the air. “I’d like to help, if I may.”

He shook himself. “We’ve come from Oakhame.”

The mermaid sagged noticeably, even in the water. “Eleves?”

“Not the nice kind.”

She glanced towards the bustling market square. “Is she…”

“She’s alive,” Elijah cut in quickly. “She’s a wolf. The wound itself will heal – and soon. But she needs rest, and–“

“And a good dose of magic,” she interjected, hauling herself up on muscular arms. Her waist blurred into a tail, glistening scales smoothing up her sides. She peered with great interest at Lily. “Follow me.”

She dropped back into the canal and, ducking her head under the water, began to swim. But Elijah did not move. Realising he had not followed, the mermaid turned back.

“Tell me why,” he said. “I need to know why you’d help her – help us.”

The sword on his back felt heavy, and he was reluctant to use it. But, to save Lily – to help Lily – then he would do so, and he would do so gladly.

The mermaid merely smiled, her eyes – purple, he noted belatedly – shimmering. “Entra is a place of peace. Why else would you have searched us out?”

Elijah remembered little from their conference many years ago. He had been young and excited, and too enthralled by the magic surrounding him to question as much as he would have now. He’d tried to be stern, to be sure of himself, but he’d been unable to dull the wonder in his eyes.

But, as before, he’d come to Entra because of their reputation. Utterly secluded from the rest of Eldda, they took in any and all that shared their desire for a peaceful existence. The diversity of their community meant that they traded in a great variety of wares, and in the treaty of Trade and Treasures they’d formed, the Sea Pine pack had benefitted acutely.

Elijah did not wish to take that which was not his. Perhaps it was his dual heritage that set him apart from many of the other Alphas that resided in Eldda, but he saw little need to attack and to steal and to claim. He too sought out peace – even if his fire sought to burn bridges against his will from time to time.

He nodded, and their gaze held. “Thank you.”

The mermaid inclined her head and, this time, Elijah followed.

* * *

Tenderly, he set Lily’s limp form down on a bed made of moss and straw. The room opened out to a swell of water, upon which a wooden boardwalk lay. The mermaid – he’d still not asked for her name; his worry had overshadowed his manners – perched delicately on its edge, her slick tail shimmering softly in the lapping water.

The hobb the mermaid had taken them to was a small, wizened creature. Glass jars brimming with herbs filled the wooden shelves lining the room, and his long-fingered hands ran over each of them. His brow furrowed.

“She will scar,” he apologised. “Though accelerated, her healing works much like that of the non-magic folk.” Smiling woefully, he nodded to the open wall, gesturing to the town beyond. “I am confident that, despite her scars, when she wakes all will be well.”

Elijah thought first of his own scars, of the valley carved across his face. He’d been unable to look at it in those first, turbulent months that had followed the betrayal. Though his wolf blood had healed him quickly, a part of him had not wanted to heal. The wounds were a reminder to be careful, to keep his trust for only a select few.

It had also been a weakness. The scar was a reminder of those he had failed. He considered this, and resolved that Lily, at least, would have only anger at her scars. She would not feel shame.

“Heal her,” he nodded, taking her hand. He imagined she needed the comfort and, if he were being honest, he needed it, too.

“It will take time,” the hobb said gently, eyeing their clasped hands. “You must be in need of rest and food, also. Meyann,” he nodded to the mermaid, still waiting outside, “will find you when she wakes.”

The dismissal in his tone was clear. Elijah gave her hand one last squeeze before placing it back down on her moss-and-straw bed with such reverence that his own heart ached.

“Come,” Meyann said, smiling at him encouragingly. “Allow Hargrin to tend to Lily. He was not named Master of Herbs for nothing.”

The hobb – Hargrin – ducked his head. “I can speed up her healing further by inducing a magical rest. You will miss nothing of interest – of that, you have my word.”

“Alright.” Elijah smiled back weakly. “You have me convinced.” Still, his gaze lingered on Lily.

“Even without my help, she would be fine,” Hargrin added, guiding Elijah to the open front of the room. Meyann flicked her tail, sending droplets soaring through the bright spring air. “But you both look weary, and Entra is a friend to those in need of sleep.”

“And good food,” Meyann chipped in. Elijah’s legs bowed with exhaustion, but he held himself upright. “You will find no inns in Entra, but every home is open to weary travellers. Mine may not be suited to your needs,” she smirked, but her face quickly gentled, “but I know of somewhere that is.”

Elijah’s head dipped, and he grasped Hargrin’s hands. “Thank you,” he said, his voice low and sincere. Beetle-black eyes glittered back at him, and Hargrin’s long fingers wrapped around his own.

Hargrin chuckled as he released him. “The bond between wolves is a curious thing.”

Before Elijah could retort, Hargrin was coaxing him further from his little cottage. “The quicker you leave, the sooner you shall return,” he said, and then the open wall of his house materialised as if from nothing, shutting Elijah out.

He followed Meyann along the curve of the canal, but his head and heart both remained in that small, strange cottage with Lily.