Collab part 7

Ceron silently pulled an arrow from his quiver and loaded his bow. He could hear others behind him talking quietly but ignored them. Something was out of place. Ceron stroked the feathers at the end of the arrow. They’d come close to Brogan Mar; almost close enough for another battle... A bird call sounded close by, and Ceron heard one of this Brothers reply to it. Within moments Jupp came into view, walking directly towards Ceron.

“She’s gone. The scouts have looked all over.”

“What about her companion?”

“As good as vanished. You know she hates company,”

“Except her brother…” muttered Ceron under his breath. Jupp didn’t hear him and, after a pause, continued.

“We heard a scream, that gave her position away, but when we got there we found only blood and an empty flask…”

“Poor bastard,” Ceron slowly returned his arrow to its quiver and leaned heavily on his bow. There was silence, broken only by the leaves blowing in the wind. No one dared to speak. After a while Ceron straightened up.

“No use standing around. We’re sitting ducks out here in the open. Back to base.”

“But Cer…”

“I said,” Ceron didn’t raise his voice, but his tone was severe. “Back to base.”

The others gathered their weapons and slowly headed into the forest. Jupp waited around for a little longer.

“Why did you load your bow? Kay and Mac were on patrol. You know they never miss a shot…”

Ceron dismissed Jupp with a nod of his head and stood looking out into the distance for a while.

“Dammit, Brogan. What caused this sudden surge of hatred?”

***

Nick opened his eyes slowly. Sunlight was streaming through the leaves of trees but he was shivering. He sat up. Without warning it struck: a migraine but ten times more painful. Nick screamed and clutched his head.

Summer. The stream seemed to clear that day, he could see the fish and knew that later that day he’d go fishing, but not now… not now… he’d scraped his knees the day before trying to fish without a line… he’d dive into the stream after the fish and feel them slip through his clumsy fingers… he was so small then…
FLASH …autumn. He held his bow and waited in the shadows, rabbits sniffed nervously in the undergrowth, but he wouldn’t hurt them, not today, he was hunting for bigger game… Cer had told him there was deer in the forest this time of year… he’d wait… he’d not be outdone by Cer again, not like last time…
FLASH …winter. He could smell blood on the air, hear the dulled sounds of voices calling his name… but his name sounded different… not Nick, not even Nicholas… what was it? If only he could make it out, he’d answer the voices; tell them he was ok…
…cold… so cold… sinking…

***

Ceron held up his hand as the scream echoed through the forest. His company stopped, listening.

“Do you think…?”

“No, it’s not Brogan.” Ceron loaded his bow again. The sound of sixteen arrows being drawn from sixteen quivers gave him a strange sense of comfort.

***

It stopped. As suddenly as it had started. Nick opened his eyes. He was shaking, covered in cold sweat, curled into a ball.

“What the hell was that…?” his voice sounded different, hoarser. He forced himself to sit up, stretching his arms over his head as he did so. When he opened them, he nearly retched. He hadn’t fallen asleep under that tree…

“Christ, what…?” Nick stood up, stumbling back from the ancient birch tree. “I could’ve sworn I fell asleep under and oak…” he ran his fingers through his hair, trying to wake himself up with the pressure of his fingers against his scalp. Suddenly he froze. He could hear someone moving through the forest. He instinctively reached inside his pocket, but found only a jewelled pen.

“Pen mightier than the sword my ass…” he shoved the pen back into his pocket a little too harshly, ramming his fingers into something smooth, cold and very, very sharp. Nick yanked his hand out of his pocket faster than he’d put it in. He cursed quietly as he examined the deep cut on his finger. After a while he thoughtfully put his finger in his mouth to stem the flow of blood.

I don’t remember there being a forest before… he mused. This all looks so oddly familiar, but I can’t for the life of me remember why…

He heard footsteps directly behind him and stood up with agility that surprised him. All that was behind him was a forest, deep and dark and, at this very moment, totally silent.

“OK look!” Nick said impatiently. “Either you come out right now and mug me, or whatever it is you want to do, or you go away. Stop following me like that, it’s unnerving!”

He stopped speaking, having realised what a stupid monologue he’d just performed to a silent forest. He sighed and pulled the dagger slowly and carefully from his pocket. He examined the jewelled handle without interest, and after a while just flicked it from hand to hand.

“Wolfe, what in the name of all the Gods are you wearing?”

Nick shrieked and turned, falling over his own feet. Ceron regarded him with a look of utmost surprise.

“I’m not that scary am I?”

Nick’s heart beat a violent tattoo against his throat. He muttered a curse but couldn’t hear it himself. He shook his head.

Aire, you are so dead when I get back…