Warrior, Renewed: Book Two of the Comhairle Chronicles

Chapter Twenty-One: Back Here Again, Again

Deòthas’s Taghadair great sword and Tor’s maul were recognisable even though their wielders hid behind ski masks and goggles. Gloves covered their hands too, every inch of skin masked to avoid the sunlight they’d braved to reach Ambustus’s lair. Others followed them, but Tancred didn’t care which of his people surged towards him as he crawled to his mate’s side, he didn’t watch as they mowed down the few puppets Eallair hadn’t managed to defeat on his own.

“Eallair!” he called as he pushed the fallen marionette from on top of his mate, but Eallair’s eyes were already rolling up, consciousness fading. Tanc tugged Ambustus’s sword and the puppet’s dagger out of his mate’s middle, tossing them aside, then he pulled Eallair into his arms, needing to know he still breathed.

“You’ll be alright. We’ll be home soon and you’ll be alright,” he insisted as he stroked Eallair’s hair back from his clammy forehead.

Yet tears still stung his eyes as he looked over the many wounds that marred his mate’s body, from the three letters burned into his chest, staking Ambustus’s claim, to the many skinned abrasions that crisscrossed over his chest, cutting through his warrior brands. Those skinned bands were so extensive... Too extensive. Not that he cared about scars, not beyond loathing that Ambustus had dared to touch Eallair in the first place.

“Tancred!” Corvinus’s voice sounded muffled behind his ski mask, and he tore the balaclava and googles off as he knelt beside Tanc, amongst the putrid sludge and old bones that had once been marionettes. “Gods, your leg... Fuck, what did he do to him?”

Tanc didn’t bother turning towards his friend, unable to look away from his unconscious mate. “Too much. He did too much. Eallair had to kill him because I couldn’t fight... I should’ve prevented this...”

Corvinus opened his mouth to protest, but Tanc already knew his guilt wouldn’t be assuaged, so he changed topic instead, “The corpses didn’t fall when Ambustus died. There must be another puppeteer. Have you seen any other bhampairean?”

He sensed rather than saw Corvinus shaking his head. “No. Just marionettes. I’m sorry, my friend. Whoever else was behind this, we’ll catch them. We will. But not today. Right now, our only priority is getting you and Eallair to Jäger...”

“Fuck,” Tor breathed as he sank down next to them too, his voice rough as he reached for Eallair’s hand. “I shouldn’t have left him. I shouldn’t have...”

“You just saved his life,” Tancred interrupted. “If you’d been captured too, you’d be dead. Ambustus would’ve gotten rid of you because Eallair provided all the stick he needed to punish me. Then you wouldn’t have been here to stop that puppet taking his head. You needed to help Deòthas get the kids to safety. Don’t blame yourself for this. You did exactly what you needed to do.”

“Chief?” Tor said softly, finally making Tancred look up. “Don’t blame yourself either. You are not to blame for Ambustus’s cruelty. You’re also not responsible for Eallair choosing to stay with you when you told him to go. Don’t take his autonomy from him by claiming responsibility for a choice he made, OK? He’s going to need to remember that he made a decision, that there is power in sacrifices made for the purpose of protecting others, no matter what happened to him as a consequence. You might need to remind him of that. Don’t make his choice into something that was stolen from him, because it wasn’t, it was something he gave because he loves you and he was strong enough.”

Not for the first time, Tanc wondered if Tor had his own gift, more subtle than Eallair’s but just as capable of seeing people for who they were. All the same, Tanc wasn’t convinced he could comply with Tor’s demands. He nodded anyway, even though that slight motion made him dizzy.