“Go on. I know it’s hard, but you’ll die without me.” She sent him an image of night falling and what would happen then. The horse dug in his back feet, his head reared high as he pulled her free of the daydrake’s crushing weight.
“Good boy. Good wonderful, handsome boy.” Kate lumbered to her feet and stroked his face. The horse snorted in response, spraying her with gunk. She laughed, light-headed with relief. “Extra grain for you tonight.”
Now Darby pressed his head into her chest and gave her stomach a push with his lips. Of all the times not to have a sugar cube tucked away in a pocket. “Soon, I promise,” she said, moving his head aside.
“Kate.”
The soft cry made her flinch, and her relief gave way to fear. They weren’t out of danger yet. Giving Darby a firm command with her magic to stay put, she strode over to the prince, stopping only long enough to retrieve the revolver and reload it with fresh bullets. Then she tucked it into her belt, determined never to be without it again. Bonner would have a treat coming to him, too. A lifetime’s supply of his favorite chocolates.
Kneeling beside Corwin, Kate surveyed the damage. It was worse than she’d feared. Gashes ran up and down his arms, and four puncture wounds rimmed his shoulder, blood oozing out, sluggish and dark. It made a shocking contrast to the bright red of his face, a sign of the venom burning him from the inside.
“Kate,” he said, reaching toward her. “Kate.”
“Shhhhh, don’t talk.” Each time he said her name, her heart lost its rhythm. She needed to concentrate. There was no telling what other damage he might’ve suffered, and the sun was already dropping toward the horizon. “I’m going to pull you out.”
Corwin nodded, and she hoped that he wasn’t as far gone as he seemed.
Kate blew out a breath, trying to summon her courage at the idea of touching him. Then she slid her hands beneath his arms, bringing her face alarmingly close to his. Closing her eyes, she tugged. He slid maybe half an inch but no more. Kate leaned back, pulling harder, but it was no use.
She didn’t bother trying to move the drake; it was too big. She went in search of rope, finding some in the nearby wreckage. Returning to Corwin, she fastened an end around his chest and the other to Darby’s saddle. Then she guided the horse forward. Corwin cried out when the rope squeezed around his injured torso. Kate bit her lip, hating the sound of it but not stopping. Pain is better than death.
When it was finally over, Corwin lay panting on the ground, his eyes closed and his sweaty face shining in the fading sunlight. Hesitantly, Kate approached him, her gaze sweeping his body for more damage. Most of his wounds seemed confined to his upper torso, but it was impossible to assess the damage to his legs. There was no blood or visible sign of injury, but that didn’t mean the bones hadn’t been crushed.
Kate cleared her throat. “Your highness, do you think you can stand? We have to get out of here before dark.”
Corwin shifted his legs, drawing them close to his body for leverage. Not broken, then. But when he tried to sit up, his trembling arms gave way at once. More blood trickled out from the puncture wounds, and a sweet, noxious smell came with it, like milk gone sour. He needed a healer. He needed a squadron of soldiers. He needed someone who could take care of him and get him away from here.
But he has only me.
Hardening her resolve, Kate set to work. Never in her life had she been quite so thankful for her magic. Without it, she never would’ve managed to get Corwin in the saddle. She willed Darby to lie down beside the prince. She worried Corwin might remember this later and wonder how she’d made the horse do it, but there was nothing for it. She had to get him out of here. Once the horse was down, she grabbed Corwin under the arms and pulled and pushed and shoved him up, using all her strength.
“You just had to get bigger in the last few years, didn’t you?” she whispered, struggling beneath his weight. Then she shouted in his ear, “Please, your highness, you’ve got to help. We’re not going to make it if you don’t.”
Corwin made some unintelligible noise in answer. Then, with visible effort, he raised his arms, grabbed hold of Darby’s saddle, and hauled himself up. With Kate bracing him from behind, Corwin managed to swing a leg over the horse’s back. The moment he was in place, Kate willed Darby to stand, urging the horse to be gentle. Even still, Corwin nearly plummeted over the side. It was all she could do to keep him up there.
Once the horse was upright, Corwin slumped forward, leaning awkwardly against Darby’s neck. The gelding pinned his ears, but Kate willed him to stay still as she climbed up behind Corwin. Once she was mounted, she pulled Corwin upright until he leaned against her, his broad back as warm as a brick oven and just as hard. In seconds her arms and back began to ache from the effort of holding him in place. Gritting her teeth against the discomfort, she urged Darby forward.
Anything faster than a walk proved impossible. Corwin was too weak to keep his balance, and she was barely strong enough to hold him upright completely on her own. He wavered somewhere near unconsciousness, often muttering under his breath or making soft noises.
Night stalked them, as dangerous as any predator. Kate scanned the horizon again and again, fearful of drakes. The abandoned Relay tower loomed in the distance, but no matter how long they rode, it never seemed to get any closer.
Dusk arrived, quickly turning to twilight. Darby’s ears shifted at every sound, the horse on alert for danger. The normal night noises of crickets and birds seemed ominous, each one a possible drake in Kate’s imagination. She felt her magic weakening by the second. Any moment now and she would lose her ability to control the horse. But it seemed for once the gods were favoring her—or more likely they were favoring Corwin—for they reached the Relay tower just as full dark set in. There was no hint of drakes about, but Kate didn’t waste time. She urged Darby inside, then dismounted.
“Hold still,” she said, speaking as much to the horse as to Corwin. The former listened, but the latter, she couldn’t be sure. She doubted he was conscious. For the last half hour he’d been utterly silent.
She swung the heavy wooden door closed, then slid all three slats into place. Not that the wood would stop a drake. She needed to set the wardstones and activate them. But first she had to get Corwin out of the saddle before he fell and broke his neck. With her luck, she would be accused of murdering him if that happened.
With her magic gone for the night, she had no choice but to pull Corwin from the saddle herself. She positioned Darby in one of the two stalls filled with old straw. Then she grabbed Corwin about the waist and pulled him toward her. She crumpled beneath his weight, and he landed halfway on top of her. Scrambling out from beneath him, she moved Darby into the other stall, pulled off the saddlebag, then raced up the narrow stairs to the second floor.
The three wardstone embrasures were set around the circular room, forming the three points of the sacred triangle. Kate placed the stones in each one, whispering a prayer that the magic on the embrasures would still work. Any shift in the tower’s foundation could cause the enchantment to fail. When she slid the third one into place, she spoke the word of invocation and waited, breath held. A moment later the shimmer of the barrier appeared, and for the first time in hours she breathed easy. They were safe from outside threats.
Now to deal with the ones from inside.
Fighting off a wave of fatigue, Kate made her way back down the stairs. Corwin lay in the same awkward heap he’d landed in.
“Please don’t be dead,” she whispered, approaching him.