Page 11 of Winds of Death (War of the Alliance #4)

Chapter

Seven

F ieran woke to bright sunlight and a loud chorus of birds. Pushing to his elbows, then upright, he leaned a shoulder against the wall next to his window and simply took in the cheeriness of the morning.

Normally, he would have been up long before now.

Here at Treehaven before the war, he would have already been in the back clearing, practicing his magic with Dacha and itching for more adventure.

At Fort Defense, he would have been up and going about his duties.

Perhaps also training with Dacha, just with more focus than he’d ever had here at home.

He swept a glance around his room, taking in the blankets he hadn’t bothered to fold before he’d left for the army piled on a couch.

Some random paperwork lay strewn over the desk in a haphazard fashion.

The small collection of books with folded pages and bookmarks at various spots because he never could seem to finish them scattered on several of the surfaces.

This room was a huge part of his childhood, the fingerprints of his innocence all over the items on display.

It didn’t feel like it belonged to him anymore. He wasn’t that boy who had dreamed of war and adventure any longer.

Now he’d watched squadron mates die. He’d taken too many lives to count. He’d cost his best friend his leg. Possibly both of them, if the elves couldn’t save his other one enough for him to walk on it.

He couldn’t go back to the person he used to be. And as much as he missed the innocence when it came to death and destruction, he didn’t want to go back to being so obliviously selfish either.

With a sigh and a groan, Fieran rolled out of bed and to his feet. He’d pushed it too hard last night. Now his muscles and bones ached, every step shaky with weakness.

Still, he forced himself to gather clean clothes and shuffled to the attached water closet.

There, he managed to prop himself up long enough to take his first shower since his crash, the hot water washing away the feel of mud and blood from his skin much better than the washcloths and bowls of water with which he’d been making do.

As much as he wanted to linger, taking a shower in less than three minutes was so ingrained in him that he found himself toweling off and tugging on his clothes almost before he’d realized it.

Before reaching for his shirt, he paused, taking in the sight of the new scars dotting his chest. He cataloged each of them, ending with the largest on his abdomen, where that piece of shrapnel had speared him.

When he twisted, he could just make out the pink, still healing splotch where it had come out his back.

Even his body was unfamiliar to him. New scars puckered skin that used to be unmarred. His bones jutted in a way they hadn’t before he’d lost weight in the past few days. Elven healing magic could do much, but it still took a toll on a body. And right now, his body showed that cost.

Once he finished dressing, he located his cane and tottered from his room. In the daylight, the stairs weren’t as much an obstacle as they had been in the dark the night before, and he made his way to the kitchen without too much trouble.

There, he found the leftovers of breakfast covered with a towel and set in the oven to keep them warm.

Outside, laughter rang, punctuated by voices. Mama must have taken Ellie and Tryndar outside to let him sleep.

He could have joined them and eaten there. Instead, he sat down at the small table beneath the black telephone. His stomach churned, his hand trembled, but he picked up the earpiece and jiggled the lever to ring the operator.

When the operator spoke, he gave directions to Uncle Iyrinder and Aunt Patience’s house in Estyra.

He waited while a series of operators made the connections between Treehaven and the house in Estyra until finally the telephone rang far away. He poked at his breakfast with a fork, but he couldn’t bring himself to take a bite.

Would anyone be there? If Merrik was still in the elven hospital in Estyra, Aunt Patience would likely be with him. Merrik’s little sister was probably staying with Merrik’s elven aunt and uncle.

Yet after only three rings, there was a click, then Aunt Patience’s voice came over the crackling line. “Hello, this is Patience.”

“Hello, Aunt Patience.” Fieran gripped the earpiece tighter as he leaned forward to speak into the receiver.

“Fieran.” Aunt Patience breathed his name out on a sigh weighty with relief. “We’ve all been worried. How are you? You must be recovering well if you’re home and able to get to the telephone.”

“Yes. I came home from the hospital yesterday.” Fieran hesitated before he could bring himself to ask. “How is Merrik? Is he still in the hospital?”

“He’s home, but I’m afraid he won’t be able to come to the telephone.” Aunt Patience’s pause held the weight of words she hesitated to say. “It’s only been a week since both of you crashed. He’s understandably still struggling, even if he is physically healing well.”

Fieran slumped even more against the table, stirring the now cold eggs around on his plate.

Why had he hoped for a different answer?

Merrik had lost his leg. His other leg was so mangled the elves had barely saved it, and they hadn’t been able to promise he would be able to walk on it even once it healed.

Yet he’d still hoped.

“Can you let him know I called?” Fieran’s voice scratched roughly in his throat. “And that I’m here if he wants to call back. Once he can get to a telephone.”

“I’ll let him know.” Aunt Patience’s voice was soft, barely carrying over the crackle in the line.

“Thanks.” Fieran swallowed, trying to clear his throat. “Can you transfer me to Adry? If she’s home?”

“I don’t know if she’s in, but I’ll transfer you.” Aunt Patience’s tone steadied.

After they exchanged farewells, a few more clicks sounded. Another telephone rang.

A click, and then Adry’s voice. “Hello?”

“Hello, Adry.” Fieran rested his forehead on his hand, something inside him easing at hearing his sister’s voice. She’d been the only family member he hadn’t seen or spoken with since his crash, and he hadn’t realized how much that had mattered to him until just now.

“Fieran!” Adry all but shouted into the telephone. “You’re all right. You’re calling. Are you all right? Hearing about the crash…”

“I know. And I’m sorry.” He couldn’t imagine how hard it must have been for her, getting the news from either Dacha or Mama. And she was stuck so very far away in Estyra. “But I’m fine.”

“Good.” Adry said that single word with such feeling that the emotion carried even across the long telephone lines.

“I just talked with Aunt Patience.” Fieran couldn’t make himself say more than that.

“Yeah.” Adry sighed. She, too, didn’t say more than that.

“Can you…can you be there for him?” Fieran stabbed at the eggs on his plate. They were unappetizing, rubbery lumps by now.

“Of course I will be. He’s my friend too.” Adry almost sounded insulted that he would suggest that she wouldn’t be there for Merrik without Fieran’s prompting.

“I know, I know. I just…it kills me that he’s going through all this, and I’m not there for him.

” Fieran scrubbed a hand over his face. They were like brothers.

In any other circumstances, Fieran would have been there every step of the way for Merrik’s recovery.

And Merrik would have been there for him.

Instead, they were separated by miles and anger and it was just wrong .

“He won’t be alone in this. I promise.” Adry’s voice held a soft fierceness that reminded Fieran of his mama the night before.

“Thanks, Adry.” Something in Fieran’s chest finally unwound. He was still worried for Merrik, of course. Still dying a little that he couldn’t be there when his brother was hurting so much.

But Merrik wouldn’t go through this alone. Adry would see to that.

After talking a few minutes more with Adry, Fieran hung up. Gathering his strength, he pushed to his feet and carried his plate to the main table, where that morning’s newspaper lay waiting for him.

As he read, he ate the cold eggs and toast since he didn’t have the energy to reheat them. It wasn’t the worst thing he’d ever eaten. Not by far. Funny how much lower his standards for food had gotten since joining the army.

As he finished, the door opened, and Mama strode inside. When her gaze rested on him, she smiled. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

“Yes.” It turned out that eating chocolate chip cookies and talking through difficult things had a way of tiring a body out.

“And how are you feeling?” Mama briefly rested her hand on his shoulder before she collected his empty plate.

“I’m fine.” He started to swivel on the chair to stand, but a stab of pain lanced through his hips and into his legs.

He must not have hidden his wince well enough because Mama paused, her smile fading. “You overdid it last night.”

“Maybe a little.” Fieran remained sitting rather than getting up.

Mama set his plate and fork in the sink and turned back to him.

“I’m going to take you in to the hospital so the healers can take a look at you.

” When he opened his mouth to protest, she speared him with one of her looks .

“I know you’re probably fine, and it’s just a precaution.

But if nothing else, you should get another dose of healing magic. ”

He snapped his mouth shut. She had a point. More healing magic wouldn’t hurt.

“All right.” Fieran shifted in the chair, trying to find a more comfortable way to sit. “Can we stop at the AMPC afterwards? There’s someone I need to talk to.”

Mama’s smile returned, a glint in her eyes. “I’ll pull the car around once I see if Eugene can keep an eye on Ellie and Tryndar for a while.”