Iron Bones by Yasmine Galenorn
“Why?” I asked, but then stopped. “Oh, right. Cougars, bears, and coyotes, oh my.”
“That, yes, along with kelpie in the lake, and who knows what else out here. And nobody go toward the lake, especially Ember, Viktor, and Yutani. We have enough water right here, and if you need to go to the bathroom, behind that rock over there is private enough.” Herne looked at me. “If you hear anything during the night, any singing or anything, you wake me up.”
“Be sure to bag your waste, though—there’s a carry-in, carry-out rule in these mountains. You’ll find plastic bags and gloves over there on that rock, with toilet paper and hand sanitizer.” Yutani pointed over to one of the rocks near the campfire. It was the size of a small end table, with a flat top. The gloves, toilet paper, and blue plastic bags were inside of a larger, clear bag, along with a battery-operated light.
Lovely. But I understood the need. The hiking trails around here were heavily used and the forest service did their best to keep them clean.
I finished one s’more and fixed another. I thought about a third, but decided to leave some room for a snack later if I wanted it. Kipa offered to take the dishes down to the lake to rinse them out. After a quick argument with Herne, he wandered off toward the water.
I suddenly had a thought. “Where’s he going to sleep? There’s not enough room in either tent, is there?”
Herne snorted. “Well, he’s not sleeping with us.” He paused, then gave me a stern look. “Don’t even think of offering, no matter how much you feel you owe him for today. Viktor and Yutani have room. They have an oversized tent to accommodate Viktor’s stature.”
“I’m going to turn in,” I said, yawning. Even though it was early, the day had been long and arduous, and my encounter with the kelpie had left me drained. “Coming to bed?”
Herne shook his head. “I’ll take the first watch and Kipa can keep second watch. The three of you get some sleep.”
He stretched out his legs, leaning back against the rock he was propped against. Against the glow of the firelight, he truly looked like what he was: the son of a god, the lord of the hunt, wild and wonderful and absolutely stunning.
I thought about cajoling him into sneaking off for a little backwood nookie. The thought of sex on a summer night out in the middle of the forest turned me on, but then I realized I really was exhausted, and decided we could come back here later. Or find another park to canoodle in that was easier to get to.
I crawled inside the tent and stripped off my jeans and shirt, slipping into a pair of pajama bottoms and a sleep shirt before using the flashlight to make sure nothing had managed to crawl inside my sleeping bag. Satisfied that I wouldn’t be sharing it with anything too wild and unwelcome, I thrust my feet into the bag, arranged my backpack as a pillow, and drifted off to sleep, lulled by the sound of the lake lapping in the distance, and the owl who was singing to the forest.
I WAS STANDING in a wide meadow, under an unending stretch of blue sky. The meadow was ringed by mountains and I couldn’t see beyond the peaks that rose to protect the valley. As I shaded my eyes against the brilliance of the sun, I suddenly became aware of how vulnerable I was and I felt far too exposed. Looking around for something to shelter me, I saw a shadow pass by on the ground. It was a massive winged creature, and I glanced up to see an owl circling overhead. It must have had a twenty-foot wingspan and the giant raptor was focused on me.
As it came hurtling toward me, I started to run, trying to find something to hide behind, but there was nothing save the gentle concave bowl of the valley. I raced for one of the peaks, but as I ran, the hill began to recede into the distance. Panicking, I swerved to the side. Every time I switched directions, the mountains would fade into the distance, and the valley seemed to keep getting wider and wider.
The owl circled around me, and with each revolution it kept descending. I met its gaze, and the chill in its eyes paralyzed me as I fell to my knees, sobbing. It was coming for me and there was nowhere I could go, nowhere to hide.
As its wings gusted through the flowers and grass around me, I leaned forward, not wanting to watch as it caught me. I prayed for an easy end. Let it break my neck, or stab me through the heart. Just don’t eat me while I’m alive, I prayed.
And then, the talons grazed my back as the earth fell away from beneath my feet, and I knew that this was the end.
“EMBER, GET UP! Arm yourself!” The voice broke through the dream and I startled awake, blinking in the dark tent. Herne was beside me, dragging me out of the sleeping bag. He thrust my dagger into my hands as he pulled me out of the tent.
“What—what the hell—” I shut up as we exited the tent. All around us, the camp was filled with feral-looking creatures, all wielding massive scythes and axes and spears. There were too many to count, at least in my sleep-befuddled state. They were goat men, with the heads of goats and the torsos and legs of men. There must have been at least ten of them. Kipa was fighting with one, and I could see two packs of wolves attacking two others. Viktor was swinging a hammer at one, while a coyote was leading another away from the camp. It had to be Yutani, on the run.
Herne pushed me toward the nearest boulder. “Keep out of range!” he shouted before diving into the fray. He brought up his pistol crossbow and aimed at one, narrowing his eyes as he let the arrow fly. It lodged dead in the center of the creature, who wavered a moment before it dropped to his knees.
I tried to make out what the fuck was happening. We were being attacked, that I knew. But by what? And then, as the fog from sleep lifted, I knew what we were facing. The Bocanach—the goat men who were aligned with the Fomorians! And if they were near…
I jumped up on top of the nearest boulder, trying to make out the forms in the light of the campfire. They were hard to discern, but I needed to see if what I feared might happen, had happened. Contingents of the Bocanach were usually accompanied by at least one Fachan—the monstrous one-armed, one-legged, cyclopean sorcerers.
I squinted, scanning the chaos. The Bocanach we could probably win out over, but if…oh crap. There he was—staring right at me. A Fachan.
The creature was about five feet tall, and he was like a pillar, with one arm coming off from his left side, balancing firmly on his foot. One eye rested in the center of his bulbous head, and he was wearing no clothing, which left nothing to the imagination given his gender.
I wanted to summon up a water elemental to help but quickly quenched the thought.
What else could I do? I was good with a dagger, but not nearly as adept as Viktor or Herne or Kipa. Besides which, the Bocanach looked tough. Tougher than tough. And I couldn’t shapeshift like Yutani.
The flickering campfire flared up, and a thought hit me. I leaped down and grabbed one of the sticks of burning wood—the longest one I could see. I darted forward toward one of the Bocanach and smashed him with the burning wood. The flames caught hold in the hair of his chin, catching at the stringy goatee faster than he could put it out. He slapped at it, screaming in some tongue I didn’t understand, then went running for the lake. I silently wished the kelpie a good feed. To bad I couldn’t enlist her help, but again, not such a good idea.
I looked around for another goat man to smack with the makeshift torch and froze. The Fachan had moved—silently and swiftly—and now he was standing right in front of me. I stumbled back, then caught myself. He only had one eye, but it was a big one. As he held up his hand, I could see sparks surrounding his fingers. He was preparing a spell, mostly likely to my detriment.
Holding the flaming branch straight out in front of me, I charged, heading directly toward him. Startled, he stopped. I took advantage, pushing extra steam into my legs as I aimed the torch at that one massive eye.
The Fachan suddenly seemed to be aware of what I was planning and he lurched to one side, but too late. The flame hit the center of his eye and I shoved the stick extra hard, knocking the creature over onto his back. I lifted the branch, which was s
Chapter 17
“MOTHER PUS BUCKET,” I croaked, unable to move for a moment. At least I could still speak. I struggled, but it felt like there was barbed wire around my legs. And it was digging in tighter the longer I lay there. “Herne!”
But Herne was engaged with one of the Bocanach. He appeared to be winning, from what I could see at this angle, but he couldn’t just drop everything and come to my rescue.
After much effort, I managed to sit up, wincing as the magical wire tightened even further. “Cripes, does everything I end up fighting want to punch a bunch of holes in me?”
I stared at my legs in horror as I realized it wasn’t just a spell. There actually was some sort of barbed snake wrapped around my legs. Looking like a neon-colored boa with thorns sticking out of it, it was doing its best to constrict around me.
“Fuck you, too!”
I raised my dagger and brought the edge slicing down across the body of the snake. The moment the silver blade hit the snake’s body, it let out an echoing hiss and turned its head toward me, coiling for a strike. I twisted, trying to hide my face from its wicked-looking fangs.
But before it could strike, there was a loud howl and one of the shadow wolves came leaping over to me, grabbing the snake in its jaws. It shook it, dragging it away from my body, and I screamed as the barbs raked their way out of my skin. The wolf gave the snake another good shake and the snake vanished in a puff of bright light.
My legs were bleeding, saturating the legs of my PJs, but at least I was able to stand. The wounds burned like hell, but I ignored them, trying to take stock of what was happening now. The Fachan was dead on the ground, the branch from the fire protruding from his giant eye. The sight seemed even more hideous given the branch was still burning.
Herne was just finishing off his opponent, and Kipa had killed yet another. There were two more of the Bocanach in the camp, but Viktor had one on the run. Herne turned to the other and aimed his pistol bow, and the arrow went singing through the air to land dead center in the goat man’s chest. Slowly, the creature toppled over. At that moment, Viktor landed a blow on the last one. Long hair flying, Yutani came leaping over one of the boulders to skewer it in the back. He and Viktor both twisted their blades and the Bocanach fell over, silent.
I was breathing hard, the pain of the snake’s barbs burning brighter on my skin. I limped over to the campfire and, shaking, sat on one of the boulders ringing it. My pajamas were saturated with blood—at least the bottoms—and I could only stare at the creeping crimson that spread across the material.
Herne and Kipa spread out to check out the perimeters of the camp as Viktor and Yutani joined me.
“You’re hurt,” Viktor said.
I nodded, unable to speak. I was exhausted, but the adrenaline was rushing so hard through my system that I felt like I was flying. The camp was littered with blood and bodies and the smell of death hovered over us like a cloud.
“They must have followed us, hoping we would lead them to the rest of the bones,” Yutani said. He motioned to my PJs. “Take off the bottoms. You don’t want the material to stick to the wounds.”
I blushed. “I don’t have underwear on.”
“Do you think I really care?” the coyote shifter asked, giving me a blank stare. “Get them off now or you’re going to regret it. I’ll go get the first-aid kit.” He ducked into his tent.
I slowly peeled off my pajama bottoms, pausing as the cotton began to yank at the wounds that had already started to clot. “Fuck. He’s right.”
Viktor offered me his shoulder and he helped me work the material away from my flesh. He glanced up at me as I winced. “Trust me, I’m not enjoying this. I don’t like hurting friends.”
Finally, we got them off as Yutani returned with the kit. Viktor headed toward my tent.
Yutani frowned. “I’m going to assume you only wore jeans.”
“I have underwear in my pack, dude. Going commando while hiking isn’t my idea of comfort. I just took them off for bedtime.” I was beginning to get irritated with his haughty tone.
“That’s not what I was asking. I meant…your jeans are going to rub against the wounds and hurt like hell. We’d better rig you up a skirt, even though it makes hiking harder. You’re going to need help anyway, by the time tomorrow morning comes. The wounds will start to stop bleeding and you’re going to be in quite a bit of pain, I’m afraid.”
“Oh. All right, then.” I thought for a moment. “I suppose we can cut open the lower legs of my jeans…sort of make bellbottoms.”
“Here,” Viktor said, returning with a unused pair of my panties, and he had also brought a microfiber blanket—the kind that folds up small and compact, but does a good job of keeping the chill away. “Put these on and then wrap the blanket around your shoulders.”
With their help, I stepped into my underwear and they helped me pull it up over the punctures on my legs without scraping them.
“What’s going on?” Herne’s voice echoed from across the campfire. He and Kipa had returned.
“We’re fixing Ember up. She got attacked by the Fachan. She also did a damned good job of bringing him down,” Yutani said.
I glanced at him and he smiled. I gave him a weary smile in return.
“Crap, those look nasty. I can see I’m going to be carrying you out of here on my back tomorrow,” Herne said, kneeling to examine my legs. “Fix her up, Yutani.”
“Anything else out there?” Viktor asked.
“We didn’t see anything, but at first light, we need to destroy that rock field up there and then get the hell out of here. Elatha will no doubt send another contingent in to search for the first group. We have to bury the bones if we can’t get to them ourselves.” Herne handed Kipa one of the pans. “Can you bring water so we can heat it and clean up Ember’s wounds?”
“My pleasure,” Kipa said, his gaze catching mine. Once again, I felt a feeling of recognition and it unsettled me.
As the water heated, Herne and Kipa set up a ring of makeshift torches around the camp, just in case there was anything else waiting in the wings. Yutani and Viktor bathed my legs, counting the puncture wounds.
“Thirty-five total. Seventeen on one leg, eighteen on the other. Yeah, you’re going to have scars, I’m afraid,” Yutani said.
“War wounds,” Viktor added. “I’m still amazed by how you took down the Fachan. I doubt if he was expecting anything like that attack.”
“I learned early that you have to make do with what you have. You learn to fight dirty when you’re constantly a target.”
I flashed back to my high school days. Angel and I had managed to stave off most of the bullies when we were together, but they learned to wait for when I was alone, then ganged up on me. I was strong, but it was hard to fight off a half-dozen jocks and cheerleaders. And the hayseed types were worse.
They had left me bruised up and bleeding several times, had jammed me in my locker, had thrown me in the dumpsters, and everything else they could think of. All this urged on by some of the other Fae students who taught them to chant “tralaeth” over and over as they beat on me.
A couple of the jocks had set out to rape me, but I always managed to get away, once crushing one of the boy’s nuts so hard that he ended up in the hospital. He couldn’t exactly confess to what he was trying to do, so he said he had landed hard on a railing while trying out a skateboarding move. After that, the guys stuck to beating me up. And I kept my mouth shut, not telling my parents, not wanting to burden them with the knowledge.
Kipa suddenly knelt beside me. I glanced at him and realized he had caught a flash of what I was thinking. I prayed he’d keep quiet. I had talked about some of it to Herne and the others, but I didn’t feel like dissec
After Yutani doctored up my wounds, Herne carried me back to our tent. He lay beside me, stroking my hair.
“Who’s keeping watch?”
“Kipa and his wolves.”
I wondered how to approach the question that was running through my mind. Finally, I decided that being direct was the best choice. “About Kipa. Something odd happened during the time he was retrieving my soul from wherever the kelpie took me.”
“What was it?” Herne asked, his fingers tracing my cheek.
“There seems to be some sort of connection—not sexual,” I hurried to add. “But, it’s like he can sense what I’m thinking. At least I think he can.”
“He’s been inside your mind, Ember. He’s seen your memories and your thoughts.” Herne almost sounded jealous. “It comes with being a shaman. You will always have some sort of connection with him because of that.” He closed his eyes, and in the soft light of the battery-operated light that rested by our heads, he almost looked ready to cry.
I reached out, pressed my fingers to his lips. “Herne, I love you. Kipa? Yes, there is a connection, but it only makes me curious about him as a person. And I think your background might color your perception of him. I see how that would be, but I feel we can trust him. I didn’t sense any deceit. He can sense my feelings or thoughts, I suppose, but I think I can sense his, as well.”
“I don’t know if I can ever trust him,” Herne said. “I try, as much as I can, but he wounded me so deeply that I don’t know if there’s any coming back from that.” He paused, then added, “When we were young, we ran through the forests together. He would show up in my father’s realm for months at a time, and we would chase through the woods and hunt, and play. But as we grew older, he grew more chaotic while I…while I grew up.”
“What was she like, the woman he stole away from you?” I suddenly wanted to know just who the woman was who had broken Herne’s heart. Reilly, his last girlfriend, had hurt him, but I had the feeling it was in no way to the same degree.