In response, Dougal unsheathed his claymore, and Victoria pulled her crossbow and quiver from the sling at her side.

Then ClanFintan exploded through the hedge. Up close he was barely recognizable. His claymore and the hand that held it were drenched in blood. His body was covered with gore. His vest was gone, and in its place were deep claw marks that bled freely. His hair was matted with blood and grime, and a laceration ran from his right temple down to his jawline, barely avoiding his right eye. He skidded to a halt in front of us as Dougal yelled.

“They cannot follow us into the swamp!”

He grabbed me with arms that felt like slick iron, and threw me to his back. I caught a glimpse of a set of deep gouges on his rump. I couldn’t tell if the blood that covered his back was his. I put my hands lightly on his shoulders, and tried not to tighten my legs around him, afraid I would break open an unknown wound. Normally, his skin felt warmer than mine, but beneath my hands his shoulders felt like they were burning.

He spun around and faced the hedge.

“The centaurs who were following me?” His voice was raw.

“There were too many creatures. They didn’t make it,” I said quietly. His only response was to reach up and lay a hot, blood-soaked hand over mine.

The first Fomorian leaped over the hedgerow.

In a motion so fast it blurred, Victoria fired an arrow that embedded itself to the quills in the creature’s forehead. It fell, and another creature sprang onto its body, snarling. Vic dispatched that one with an arrow through its throat.

The centaurs began backing quickly down the slope of the incline, with Victoria firing arrows as if she was shooting a machine gun. As we entered the grove that bordered the swamp, a long, sharp hiss focused our eyes on one of the Stonewatchmen.

I knew that hiss.

He hid behind the giant rock, with only the outline of his erect wings visible, but his voice echoed eerily to us.

“I see you, female.” His wings quivered. “Remember, I have claimed you for my own. This will not be the last time we meet.”

Victoria sighted and let fly an arrow, which tore neatly though an exposed flap of his wing.

We entered the swamp as Nuada’s scream sounded behind us.

17

After we left the cover of the grove of trees, the land changed dramatically. It was like we had been transported from a lovely villa in Greece to the middle of the Louisiana bayou. Before us stretched a trackless wetland—a world of still water, and seen and unseen (yeesh) reptiles and bugs. The air was very quiet, and the saturated ground sucked at the centaurs’ hooves as they surged ahead, determined to get as much of the wetlands between them and the Fomorians as possible.

The soft ground gave way to a stagnant lake, but the centaurs didn’t hesitate. Soon they were flank high in soupy, green-tinted water, pushing their way through thick mats of algae.

As time passed, ClanFintan slowed and fell behind Victoria and Dougal. I saw them sending worried glances over their shoulders at him. Vic pointed in the direction of a stand of trees that appeared to be on semisolid ground. We changed direction and made for the trees.

As we got closer, it was obvious it was some kind of island shooting up in the middle of the shallow lake. Along the edges of the solid land, huge cypress roots were exposed. They looked like thick, brown-gray snakes. I was sure they housed all sorts of crawly things.

One at a time, the centaurs hauled themselves out of the water and onto solid ground. As soon as ClanFintan’s four hooves were on the island, I slid off his back and handed the wineskin to Victoria. She uncorked it but handed it to Dougal before she drank. Then I began untying the pouch Sila had given me (and I said a silent prayer of thanks for her thought-fulness—please let her have crossed the river). Inside the pouch was a jar of thick, yellow salve, a couple of rolls of gauzy linen strips and (I was surprised to discover) several hooked needles and a black thread that felt like fishing line. I gulped when I realized they were clearly meant to sew up wounds and not to replace a button on a dress.

“Show me where you are hurt.” I looked up at him, overwhelmed by what I saw. He was breathing hard, and where he wasn’t covered with blood and grime, his ordinarily bronzed skin was pale and gray. His muscles twitched and I could see blood trickling steadily out of the slash on his head.

“I heard you call me,” he rasped.

“I wouldn’t leave without you.” I felt tears wash over the corners of my eyes. “Are—are you going to be okay?”

He reached his hand toward me. I rushed forward and clung to it.

“I’m afraid to touch you,” I said shakily.

He raised my palm to his lips, closing his eyes as he kissed my hand.

“Do not be afraid.” I felt his lips move against my palm.

Salve his wounds, the voice in my mind ordered.

Before I started working on his wounds, I took a strip of gauze and motioned at Dougal to bring me the wineskin. Then I soaked the linen, took a drink, then soaked the linen again.

“You’ll need a drink of this, too.” I handed the wineskin to ClanFintan, who drank deeply.

“Bend down so I can reach that cut on your head, and hold still, I’m pretty sure this is going to hurt. A lot.”

“Tend to Dougal’s wounds first.”

I looked at the young centaur, who shook his head pointedly at me. “Dougal’s not bleeding, you are. Now bend down and hold still.”

“I will tend to Dougal,” Victoria said in a businesslike voice. She, too, took a strip of gauze and soaked it in wine. I watched out of the corner of my eye while she approached him. He looked as if he didn’t know whether to wriggle with enthusiasm or bolt. He chose neither and froze as the beautiful Huntress began cleaning the wound on his cheek. I wasn’t even sure he was breathing.

“You can breathe,” I overheard Victoria chiding him.

“Yes, Huntress.” The young centaur expelled a long breath.

I guess I had a silly smile on my face, because my husband’s rough voice whispered, “Don’t laugh at the colt.”

I gave a guilty jump. “I’m not laughing,” I whispered back, pleased beyond words that he felt well enough to tease me. “You know I think Dougal’s adorable.”

“Perhaps so does Victoria.” I was pleased to see his lips relax into a smile.

“That would be nice, but right now I want you to quit talking and hold still.”

He grunted a response, but he kept silent as I worked on his head wound. As I got the blood and dirt cleaned out of it, I was relieved that it didn’t appear as deep as all the blood caused me to think. I spread Sila’s salve over it, and began working on his chest wounds, which were far deeper. There were four long, ugly slashes that began up over his left breast and traveled in a diagonal line to the bottom of the right side of his rib cage. They had quit bleeding, but I had no idea if that was a good or bad sign. I looked up at him and found him watching me.

“Do you have any idea how badly you’re hurt?” I asked, trying not to sound as incompetent as I knew I was.

“I will recover.” His voice was starting to sound more normal. “Centaurs are very resilient.”

“I know, I know.” I smiled, relieved at his answer. “You’re probably way better at healing than a mere human.”

“Among other things.” He bent to kiss me, but the effect was lost when I saw him grimace in pain.

“There’ll be time for that later. Let me get you cleaned up.”