The Last Sídhe

9 - Where There's Smoke

Shayne's arrow had done more damage than I'd first thought.

Flying was no longer an option: when I tried to shift into a falcon again, each beat of my right wing felt like I was tearing it off. Running as a horse—or almost anything else, for that matter—wasn't much better.

So, yet again, I found myself stuck as a human. I trotted up a steep hill, grumbling to myself as the grass scratched my bare feet. Why were people so slow? The only advantage this form had was that I didn't have to rely on a working arm to travel. And perhaps the ability to speak, although it wasn't of much use without someone to converse with.

Worse still, I hadn't thought to bring supplies like Maeve—which meant I had nothing to treat my wounds. Fortunately, the cut on my arm wasn't too big. Tearing off part of my shirt and tying it around the muscle was enough to cover it. But my side... that was another problem. Each step seemed to reopen the cut, leaving me to deal with a small-yet-constant trickle of blood. By the time the night was beginning to fade, it had left a large, dark stain on the side of my trousers.

A flash of light streaked across the sky, swiftly followed by the low rumble of thunder. I drew my brows together and looked up. Annoyed as I was at my pains, I'd almost forgotten about the storm that had been brewing over the course of the night. It was almost as if, after Maeve's death, the sun refused to return.

The rain came soon after. By the time grainy light filtered through the clouds above, signifying the arrival of morning, I was soaked. Not that I minded—rain, like storms, was something I embraced. I had missed the feel of cool water against my face and skin.

A soft, distant rushing broke the stillness of the forest. I frowned and pushed ahead; it grew louder, finally sharpening into the familiar sound of a river. Not a minute later, I broke through the trees and found myself on a stone slab that jutted out over the shore. The water stretched out before me, roughed by the storm.

"Damn it," I whispered. I'd managed to forget about the Liath. Far to the north, it was part of the Rene: but here, in the southern regions of Rienne, the two split to form twin rivers. And now the second was in my way.

A quick glance up and down the Liath revealed no other pathways across. It was thinner than the Rene, but not by a lot. I remembered how strong the currents had been in the other river and swallowed dryly. Could I fly or swim? I glanced at my arm, pressing my lips together. Probably not. But there weren't any other options.

I hopped into the air and shifted into a bird. Agony screamed through my injured wing as I forced it into motion, tentatively raising myself into the air. I held myself that way for a few seconds, struggling in an awkward hover.

If I ignored the blood leaking through my feathers, it was possible. I braced myself and angled my wings, sweeping across the river. The wind instantly rose against me, battling at my wings. I let out an angry sort of squawk and pushed harder.

I made it halfway across; then something seemed to snap in my shoulder. Pain sung through me, drenching my vision in red, and I lost control. The water struck me before I even realised I was falling.

I fought the current and changed my shape once more, taking the comforting form of a bear. A rock scraped against my back paws as I thrashed; I propelled myself off of it and broke the surface, opening my jaws to lap at the sweet air.

More water washed over my side, throwing me back under. My foreleg was useless, agony searing through it as I failed to fight the river. Still, I dragged myself into a feeble swimming position. It wasn't easy, but drowning was a good motivator.

It was a good thing there were only ten metres or so to swim. I kept my eyes upon the opposite shore, shoving off of rocks whenever I could to hold my head above the surface. Finally, the slick mud of the bottom brushed against one of my legs. I clawed at it, pulling myself onto the shore.

I let myself slip back into a human form and rolled onto my back, sprawled across the thick grass like a wet dog. Everything hurt. Rain pattered against my cheeks and fell into my eyes. I could hear it drumming on the surface of the river.

"I hate"—I broke into a coughing fit, flinging myself on one side and spitting out water—"rivers."

Of course, nobody answered. I sat up after a moment, checking my arm. The bandage had slipped loose, but it was still there. Biting one lip, I went about the difficult task of retying it around my wound.

Another burst of lightning flickered across the sky, accompanied by that low, ominous grumble. I scowled at my makeshift bandage and glared up at the clouds: the storm was making my life much harder than it needed to be.

Then I froze. There was a thick trail of smoke rising into the sky, just about visible against the dark clouds. It couldn't have been more than a kilometre away. I watched as the ribbon curled apart, torn through by the rain and wind.

Where there's smoke... The stuff grew thicker again, eating up the sky, its volume replenished by whatever was burning beneath.

I sat up, wracking my mind to remember where I was. There were several small villages clustered around the Liath, much like An Hainn had clung to the Rene. I remembered one such settlement had been somewhere along my path, although the name utterly escaped me. After all, I'd seen no reason to bother with those places.

Yet, in the midst of a storm, this nameless town was on fire. It was strange, and I couldn't help but be intrigued.

Slowly, I dragged myself upright and limped in the direction of the smoke. I needed to go that way anyways, and I had an instinctive feeling—one that reverberated from the earth to the roots of my being—that there was something important lingering behind the black haze blotting the sky.