He was fairly certain he’d hit the ground. The only proof of that was the fact that he was no longer falling, but under the circumstances, that seemed like proof enough. The world was full of a queer un-light—greys and blues, purples and bruised blacks.
But at least I live. A fall like that vould have been a miserable vay to die.
He sat up, looking around for Jitka. He saw what looked like her a few feet away. She was sitting on her knees, her face in her hands as she cried. He heard her, or at least he thought he did. Both the sight and sound of her were distorted into hazy echoes. He heard a woman’s voice, however, fierce and clear.
“Back, both of you! Leave him be, or so help me…”
“I know that cub. S’one of Lakkrid’s pack, and no mistake.”
That was a familiar voice. A man’s voice, both close and clear. It was behind him somewhere. Why was he moving so slowly?
“No matter. If he’s crossed… no. Not crossed yet.” This was another man from somewhere near the first.
“Help him! Vake him up! Stínový muž, vake him up!” Jitka, sounded as if she were shouting from somewhere inside a cave.
“Štít! Štít!” This was that second man. His voice seemed to be aimed upward.
“I hear you, Muž Přísahy, and I am about your work!” The woman shouted from on high somewhere in front of him.
Muž Přísahy? Oath man?
The same man replied, voice amused but full of authority.
“Are there enemies on the alure, Štít?”
“They’re trying to stop him from shooting his bow!”
“Are they newcomers? Have they only just arrived from outside of the palisade?”
Vlk tried to shake his head. Hells it was hard to concentrate. He was so cold. His flesh seemed as if it were waking up from the numbness of too much pressure. A multitude of tiny ants felt as if they were crawling beneath his skin.
A face swam into a half-hazy focus in front of him. Vhat’s vrong vith my eyes? It was familiar, but at first, he couldn’t place it.
And then, suddenly, he could. Red hair, oak-eyes, and yes. He vears the same leather armor the rest of them vear.
“You’re one of… one of Lakkrid’s people. One of his father’s men. Has he come…” His head was so numb, it was hard to think. “Has he come back, then?”
The man grinned, though Vlk noted the smile didn’t reach his brown dreamer’s lamps. They bore a pitying look of sad confusion Vlk didn’t much care for.
“Nye, nye. They’re still far afield. ’S yer name, pup? I know I’ve caught you runnin’ with our cub a’fore, but I can’t ’member what name brings you runnin’ for supper.”
“Vlk… I’m Vlk. Vhere…” He tried to shake his head, and the world started spinning. “Vhere is everyone? Vhy’s it so…” He could hear the sounds of horses, of men and women speaking in a tongue he didn’t know, but they were all distant. It reminded him of the sounds of the city when he’d traveled to Hartscross. Everything inside the walls had been loud and exciting. This makes me think of how the city sounded vhen ve vere still outside at the gate. It vas loud, but… also soft. Thinking about it now, he could almost see it. But that was nonsense.
“Quiet? Aye, well, you’ve had a tumble. One way or ’nother, we’ll get you on yer feet, though, Vlk. Lakkrid’d not forgive me if I left you lying about after a fall like that, now would he?”
Vlk knew it wasn’t really a question, but that was alright. The man’s voice was something to concentrate on, other than Jitka’s shouts and sobs. They were getting quieter, at any rate, so that was something.
Footsteps from near his head. When had he laid back down?
“Štít, you need to be…” This was that second man again, though his voice was both closer, and much quieter now.
“More careful. I know. But you gave me a task, Muž Přísahy. I was about your work, keeping the boy safe.”
“I know. Believe me when I tell you I know, Štít. You did very well on that score. Still, you can’t defend the boy if you’re driven off for killing another child… even unintentionally.”
The woman sighed. Why was there a woman called… called? Havoc’s… Havoc’s…
Havoc’s vhat? Vhy can’t I remember?
A shadow fell across him. A massive hound with red fur and eyes… eyes that were… golden? Glowing? Human? He couldn’t concentrate. It was so hard to think.
Vlk felt a warm tongue caress his face. He tried to smile, but his muscles wouldn’t obey.
“He’ll waken in a moment, Muž Přísahy.”
“Thank you. You’ve done well. Vlk, is it? Remember what I tell you now. Tell Edmund—say to the Count, this. Ebis…”
It was too late. Vlk saw a warm-looking yellow light, felt the heat of a hot hand on his chest and the soft touch of fingers through his untidy hair.
Jitka gasped, then laughed somewhere to his left.
“Can you hear me? Can you hear my voice, boy?”
It was Edmund. Vlk opened his eyes to see the count’s mustachioed face smiling down at him. His entire body moved with the force of his sigh. He was so clearly relieved. “Don’t try to talk. You’ve had a bad fall. I’ve called for my—”
Vlk sat up. He found that he’d apparently been laying in Edmund’s lap, which was somewhat surreal. Using the bigger man’s shoulder for leverage, he pulled himself up to his feet. He had to find her… had to—there!
Vlk took two steps to his right, ignoring Edmund’s admonishment to be easy with his steps. He dropped to his knees before a seated red hound and threw his arms around her neck, burying his face in her luxuriant fur.
“I forgive you, Štít,” he whispered. “I svear that I do. I am a Muž Přísahy, too.”