An Immortal Descent

“We’re mortal enemies, Ailish, and in case you’ve forgotten, mortal enemies don’t travel together by choice.” It seemed ridiculous to have to explain something so basic, and I could only think that she’d lived an even more sequestered life than I had while in Calhoun’s care. “And I’m not lost,” I added for good measure.

 

She didn’t reply at once, and I used the brief respite to scrunch my eyes together in an attempt to stave off another headache. Or was it just a continuation of the headache from the rowboat? Swallowing once, I felt a scratch in my throat, which also may have been left over from earlier, though it hinted to something more.

 

Please don’t let me get sick, I silently pleaded to anyone who might be listening. As though in response, a sneeze gathered in my nose. I tried to force it back to no avail.

 

Ailish scuffed a boot over the ground, and I opened my eyes to find her staring at the dirt. The fog pushed closer, pooling at our feet and creeping into the folds of our skirts. Tiny water droplets clung to the tips of her lashes and the fine downy hair above her lip. With her small stature and heart-shaped face, she would have looked the very image of a woodland fairy if not for the swollen eye and bruised cheek. A red swell lifted the skin of her other cheek, and it would only be a matter of time before it turned a deep purple like the rest.

 

She raised her eyes to mine. “I’ve an easy way to settle our dispute.”

 

“How’s that?”

 

“I’ll agree to go me own way, seeing that you can point the way to Wexford. Agreed?”

 

My lips pressed to a thin line. “Very well. Have it your way.”

 

It took a minute to reset my bearings. Trees loomed on all sides, and with the fog, it proved somewhat difficult to distinguish one direction from the next. I turned a slow circle, guided by deduction and a bit of intuition, and soon had myself facing north again.

 

Let’s see... The crossroads offered four possible choices. Recalling the map from Cate’s library, I envisioned a northeast line from Dunmore to Wexford. But we’ve been traveling toward Waterford for over an hour.

 

The port town was located northwest of Dunmore, if my memory served, and straight west from Wexford as the crow flies. I looked to the left first, then to the right, while making mental calculations as to the horses’ speed and direction.

 

I looked toward the sky next, but the fog blocked any signs of the sun’s location. No matter, based on everything else, the town of Wexford was to my right.

 

“This way!” I said triumphantly. Turning, I strode off with new purpose, my too-tight boots punctuating each step.

 

“Are you sure?” she asked after I’d gone several yards.

 

“Would I be walking this way if I weren’t?” I called over my shoulder. Even so, uncertainty slowed my feet, and I shot a furtive look at the empty tree branches overhead.

 

Peals of laughter sounded behind me. “Make sure to say hello to the folks o’ Limerick for me.”

 

Hell and furies! I spun around, my teeth clenched hard enough to crack.

 

“Do you have any messages for your friends in Wexford?” Smiling, she turned and started walking away.

 

Blood burned in my cheeks. Blasted girl. I would have had the right road if she hadn’t done those circles earlier. More likely than not, she’d done it on purpose, feigning ignorance to my real intentions just long enough to confuse me.

 

Ailish continued to walk, her slight form nearly one with the landscape. I fixed my eyes on her back as a small war raged inside me—common sense on the one side and a mountain of pride on the other. In truth, I knew my behavior to be childish, but my feet refused to move. Then another sneeze took me, and when I looked again, the fog had swallowed her whole.

 

My heart gave a sudden jump. Fog swirled across the road, hovered like a legion of specters in the woods. Cold seeped from the ground into my feet and legs.

 

Damnation. I couldn’t stand here all day, rooted like a tree to the road. Nor would I walk to Limerick just to spite her. With an inward groan, I readjusted my grip on the saddlebags and ran after her.

 

She glanced over her shoulder at the sound of my approaching steps. “Pleased you have some sense, Selah. Pride be a lonely companion on these roads.”

 

“Better than a tedious sauce box,” I muttered, coming along beside her. When a shiver ran over me, I veered off at an angle to put some space between us.

 

“That be good,” she said. “Nothing like Brigid’s blood to make me feel a bit queer.”

 

“You’re one to talk. I’ve not been warm since we met on the Sea Witch.” At the time I thought it the remaining effects of wet clothes and travel. But this cold ran deeper, as though the marrow had been chilled in my bones.

 

She gave a mirthless laugh. “And I be too warm, like I’ve a fever all over me skin.”

 

“You’ve no idea what I’d give to be—” The remaining words exploded in a sneeze. Drawing breath, I sneezed three more times. Along with the headache and rough throat, it could only mean one thing. “You gave me a cold.”

 

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