The Shadow Tide

CHAPTER 12 - Return

The carriage raced down the road at full speed, swerving past other travellers whenever possible. When it wasn't, Brethen shouted at them to get out of the way while struggling to guide the horses.

Inside the carriage, Arian had his hands firmly over Arture's wound. Occasionally, Brethen glanced through the window behind her and saw the scene: their friend on the ground, leaning against the wall, Arian kneeling before him, doing his best to stay steady despite the carriage's abrupt jolts and turns. In the opposite corner, an unconscious man, with a Shadow Tide tattoo on his chest, was tied at the wrists and ankles, being jostled from side to side.

If they travelled at a normal pace, it would be just under two hours from the site of the attack to the Capital. However, Brethen was pushing the horses to the limit, hoping to make the journey in half the time. But she knew she couldn't sustain that pace for long, and the horses were starting to slow down.

"Brethen," Arian shouted from inside, and she turned to look through the window once again. "We have a problem."

He didn't need to explain what it was, as she quickly noticed that the prisoner was awake and struggling against the ropes. Brethen slowed the horses to a steady trot, tied the reins to keep them going straight, then, clinging to the side of the carriage, opened the door and jumped inside.

As soon as the bound man saw her, he panicked and thrashed even more. Brethen grabbed him by the torn tunic and brought his face close to hers.

"Behave, or your death won't be as gentle as your friends'," she growled. With a blow from the dagger's hilt, she knocked him unconscious again.

Without her in control, the carriage continued to lose speed. Nevertheless, Brethen took a moment to look at Arian. From his position, she could only see the side of his face and his back, but she noticed how pale he was – even more than Arture, who was the one bleeding out.

"How long can you hold on?" she asked.

"Just take us home, Breth," Arian retorted.

"Arian," Brethen's voice was stern. "How long?"

"Brethen!" Arian turned his head quickly, and Brethen was startled again by those completely black eyes. "I'll take care of him for as long as it's necessary. Just. Take us. Home."

Brethen didn't argue. There was no need. She knew that magic would take its toll on Arian, but she couldn't let Arture die.

She made her way back to the driver's seat, took the reins again, and led them home.

-

Arture was taken to the infirmary as soon as they arrived at the palace, and the prisoner was dragged to the dungeons. But Brethen didn't leave Arian's side inside the carriage until the king and queen had arrived and all the guards had stepped back. She had to embrace Arian, hiding his face, pretending that he had fainted due to the shock from the attack, all so that he could keep his eyes closed.

Several guards insisted that they needed to take him away and bring him to the infirmary too. Brethen had to shout at them to step back and let her take care of the prince.

Brethen knew that Arian hated appearing weak. But he remained motionless the whole time, his head resting against Brethen's shoulder. Too motionless.

"Arian?" Brethen called once they were alone. He didn't respond. She touched his neck. His skin was cold. "Arian!"

"Shhh..." Arian whispered, unmoving, almost making no sound. "Keep it down, please."

She had to hold him by the shoulders and pull him away to look into his eyes. The prince's skin was as white as paper, covered in a layer of sweat. His lips had a worrying bluish tint. And his eyes... Well, she preferred not to look at them.