Page 8 of Winds of Death (War of the Alliance #4)
“There I was after my crash behind enemy lines. I thought I was done for.” Fieran gestured as he spoke to add to his storytelling.
That was all the details he would give Tryndar about those moments lying in the mud, wracked with pain and feeling his life draining from him.
“And then Dacha was there. He stepped from the fog with his swords drawn and his magic blazing.”
This story would have been better if Fieran could have used his magic to illustrate it. But he was under strict instructions not to use his magic because it would burn away the healing magic that had been pumped into him before he’d left the hospital.
Still, Fieran made his best approximation of the crackling magic sounds.
Tryndar’s eyes had widened, and he leaned forward with his hands on his knees. “And then?”
“All the bad guys ran away screaming.” Fieran gave an exaggerated, humorous-style screaming, as if he were a story villain running away. “That’s how much Dacha loves us. He will take on a whole army just to rescue us.”
Those words weren’t enough for what Dacha had done. He’d charged into an army, not even knowing if Fieran was still alive. He might have done all of that merely to retrieve Fieran’s dead body.
Tryndar gave a solemn nod, his eyes so liquid that he looked about to cry. “I miss him.”
Despite the pain, Fieran propped himself onto one elbow and wrapped his other arm around Tryndar in a hug, tugging him to his chest.
Tryndar stiffened for a moment—he wasn’t big on hugs, after all. Then he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Fieran’s neck, pressing his face into his shirt. “I miss him lots.”
“I know he loves all the pictures you’ve been drawing for him.” Fieran patted Tryndar’s back. “He has them tacked to the wall in his room where he can see them all the time. I really like the ones you’ve sent me.”
Though, Fieran lived in a tent so the sketches Tryndar sent were currently stashed in his footlocker.
Tryndar swiped at his face and squirmed in Fieran’s hug. Fieran released him, thankful to sink back onto his pillow.
A knock sounded on Fieran’s partially open door a moment before Mama’s voice called softly from the corridor, “Fieran, are you awake?”
“Yeah, I’m awake.” Fieran swiped a hand over his hair, but it likely did little good. He was in desperate need of a shower. Washcloth baths only did so much.
Mama pushed the door farther open. “Have you seen…” Her gaze rested on Tryndar. “There you are. I told you to let your brother rest.”
“He wasn’t bothering me.” Fieran nudged Tryndar’s knee again. “At least, not once I woke up to find him perched on my windowsill watching me sleep.”
Mama sighed. “Tryndar. What have we talked about when it comes to entering someone’s room while they’re asleep?”
“Not to do it.” Tryndar slid from the bed, hanging his head.
“And why don’t we do it?”
“Because…” Tryndar’s face screwed up as if he was struggling to remember.
“Because when someone is asleep, they can’t give you permission to enter their room.” Mama rested a hand on her hip, giving Tryndar a stern look. “And you should always make sure you have permission to enter a room that isn’t yours.”
Tryndar vaulted from the bed, dashed across the room, and launched himself at Mama.
She caught him with an oomph , stumbling back half a step. “You’re getting so big.”
“I am sorry, Mama.” Tryndar hugged Mama.
“I’m not mad.” Mama hugged Tryndar, then tipped her head at Fieran. “And I’m not the one who needs an apology.”
Tryndar turned his face toward Fieran. “Sorry, Fieran.”
“It’s all right. Just knock next time.” Fieran grinned to show Tryndar that he wasn’t mad. He truly hadn’t minded finding Tryndar there, but he could see why Mama needed to use the moment for a lesson.
“I did knock. You did not answer.” Tryndar sounded so sad about it that Fieran could have given him another hug, if he wasn’t already in Mama’s arms.
“Mama?” Ellie’s voice came from the hall before she stepped into the doorway. Her red hair was in two braids today, and she clutched the new Star Forest novel to her chest. Her smile widened as she caught sight of him. “Fieran! You’re awake!”
He held out an arm to her, and she rushed across the room, giving him a hug. He didn’t even mind that her book knocked into his cheekbone at one point.
This war had to be especially hard on Ellie and Tryndar. Most of their family had left essentially overnight. And now their big brother had come home beat up and wounded.
Fieran’s childhood had been filled with long, peaceful days. He’d never worried that one of his family members wouldn’t come home. Even during the few weeks when Dacha would be gone, attending one of the war games organized by Uncle Julien and Aunt Vriska, Fieran never worried about him.
Mama set Tryndar back on his feet. “Now that Fieran’s awake, it’s time for supper. What do you say to a picnic in Fieran’s room?”
“Do I get to eat in bed?” Fieran gestured at his blankets. No eating in bed had been a rule growing up.
“Tonight, you aren’t allowed to eat anywhere besides your bed.” Mama grinned back, then rested a hand on Tryndar’s shoulder. “And I used our sugar ration to make chocolate chip cookies. You can have one for dessert.”
“Cookies!” Tryndar dashed past Mama, disappearing down the corridor.
“I’ll get a picnic blanket!” Ellie dashed out the door on Tryndar’s heels, her braids flying behind her.
“Sugar ration?” Fieran half-pushed himself onto his elbow again.
“It’s not too arduous yet.” Mama shrugged, the movement shifting her long red braid from her shoulder to her back. “It ensures that the army has what it needs.”
All those donut and ice cream nights, the treats available in Little Aldon, the baked goods in the mess. The army had an abundance, and it hadn’t occurred to Fieran that such a thing could only happen if those back home were rationing their own portions.
Mama crossed the room, halting beside the bed. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine. The nap helped.” Fieran lowered himself back onto his pillow.
Mama rested a hand on his shoulder, her green eyes going soft rather than sparkling with her usual humor. “If you can’t sleep tonight, or any night, there will be plenty of hot chocolate and cookies in the kitchen. No matter our rations. All right?”
There seemed to be something more to those words, but Fieran couldn’t quite discern what it might be. All he could do was work up a smile. “Thanks, Mama.”
She patted his shoulder. “I’ll be back shortly with our picnic.”
Fieran smiled and nodded. A picnic in bed didn’t sound all that bad. Knowing his mama, she’d have all of them laughing so hard they’d be snorting their food out their noses before the evening was out.