Pain.

  It filled every part of her being.

  Strong hands held her down, pressing against her shoulders and ankles as she writhed and struggled against them.

  Heat flared, followed by more pain in her leg as the tissue knit back together, arteries repairing and flesh closing.

  Erin gasped for breath, every rise and fall of her chest laboured as sweat covered her body. Voices spoke around her, above her, the words lost to her as darkness edged her vision.

  A face appeared in her vision, beautiful yet somehow sorrowful, the eyes deep wells of compassion and care. She reached out a hand, pressing it against Erin’s sweat damp forehead, and then she turned, speaking to someone Erin couldn’t see.

  Turning her head, the Wizard came into view, face stern, yet handsome. His eyes were dark, anger burning in them. He turned them upon her, and she raised a hand, reaching out to him.

  Then the darkness claimed her once more.

  When she next awoke, the pain was less, and the delirium gone. Men moaned in the beds nearby, their wounds bandaged. They lay on cots much the same as hers and she shifted, wincing at the stab of pain from her leg.

  The air was rank with the smell of pain and death, the metallic tinge of blood in the air. The stale stench of piss, and vomit. Stained floorboards and bedding as young girls mopped and cleaned, their expressions weary after a long night of caring for the wounded and dying.

  Throwing aside the blankets she grimaced at the thick white bandages that wrapped around her left thigh. Then her cheeks heated as she realised, she was only wearing a short linen gown and she quickly pulled back the blankets.

  “You’re awake.”

  The voice cut through the babble of the wounded men as they traded jokes and made light of their wounds. It came from a woman, young with auburn hair that hung to her waist in a tight braid. She was beautiful, and poised, every movement elegant and graceful.

  On her belt hung a wand of rowan wood, carved with sigils along its length, and her long dress was undyed wool, with a spotless white pinny over it.

  “You’re a wizard?” Erin asked, brow furrowing. She’d not been aware of a second on the island.

  She smiled, shaking her head as she came around the side of the cot and crouched, lifting the blankets so that she could look at the leg.

  “I’m a healer,” she said. “Though, Rose is my name, and much preferred over my title.”

  The healer’s smile was welcoming and there was a sense of calm about her that immediately set Erin at ease.

  “Erin,” she said, and winced as Rose unwound the bandage.

  “I know. The young, fearless, gryphon rider.” She smiled gently. “Everyone is talking about you.”

  “How is Bright?” Erin asked, pushing herself up. “My gryphon.”

  “He is well,” Lady Sarah said, coming up alongside the cot. She reached down, fingertips brushing Erin’s arm before she looked at the healer. “How is she?”

  To Erin’s surprise, the wound on her leg looked to be half-healed, the skin puffy and red around the edges of the largest cut, while the smallest was almost entirely closed up. Rose poked at the skin and chewed her lower lip, expression serious as she determined how well it was doing.

  “Better than expected,” she said, finally. “The wizards attempt at healing did more good than I initially thought. He likely saved her life. As it is, she will be several days abed and then will require crutches.”

  Erin gaped at her. The wizard?

  “Will she be able to ride?”

  “In a week, perhaps two.”

  “Not good enough, I need her mobile,” Lady Sarah said.

  Rose stood and placed her hands on her hips as she stared back at the noblewoman defiantly.

  “There are limits to healing magic, you know this, my lady. If I push too hard, I could do more damage, and she may well lose the leg entirely.”

  Erin’s eyes widened. That was something she most assuredly did not want. She looked from Lady Sarah to Rose and back again, wondering if she should speak up.

  “Do what you can, but I need her ready to fly as soon as she is able.”

  “I shall do all that my skills allow, but not to the detriment of my patient,” Rose said primly, lifting her chin and setting her jaw. Ready to argue as long as needed.

  But Lady Sarah merely smiled and inclined her head, acknowledging the other woman’s greater knowledge of such things.

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  “Very well,” she said. “Do the best you can.”

  Rose nodded agreement and rewrapped the bandage around Erin’s leg. She gave her a small pat on the knee and promised to return later. Then, as Erin’s stomach grumbled, she laughed and added she would have some food brought too.

  Once she was gone, Lady Sarah lowered herself to sit on the edge of the cot. She stared down at her apprentice with a soft smile of pride.

  “You did well, girl.”

  “I did?” Erin’s eyes shimmered with sudden tears. “Bright was hurt?”

  “Brightcrest is a warrior at heart,” Lady Sarah said, laughing. “That was clear to me the moment I saw you swoop down and save my life.”

  “Is he badly hurt?”

  “One of the few benefits of my rank,” Lady Sarah said. “I can ensure that our most esteemed healer uses her skills to repair the worst of the damage for your gryphon, as well as she did for you. He will be fine.”

  A wave of relief washed over Erin. Her memories of the fight were fragmented, and she remembered he was hurt, and his crashing to the street, but little more than that.

  “We were attacked by Skyfang’s she said, along the eastern edge of the forest. There’s a nest of them.”

  Erin spoke quickly, the words tumbling over themselves as they fell from her tongue in her haste to get them out. She told of what happened and gave a rough idea of how far away from the settlement that nest was.

  Lady Sarah’s expression grew serious, and her lips pressed into a tight line. “I shall inform Sergeant Hayes,” she said when Erin finished. “You should rest now.”

  With a final companionable pat of the arm, Lady Sarah rose and bade farewell. Erin watched as she moved further into the long room, stopping at each soldier’s cot in turn and offering a few words of comfort.

  It was clear that they appreciated it, and even those sailors recuperating in the room, stammered out their thanks as she stopped beside their cot to speak with them.

  A young girl, no more than eleven, brought a tray of food. Boiled vegetables and roasted meat with cheese and sliced bread slathered with butter. There was a mug of milk with it, and she ate it all and then drank the milk too.

  Even then, she still felt the faint stirrings of hunger and wondered at it as she lay back on the cot, trying to remember just what had happened.

  It was late afternoon when she received her next visitors, and they stopped beside her bed and pulled up stools to sit beside her. She smiled at them, appreciating their visit.

  “We all heard,” Old Man Uric said. “Though, fare enough, we all saw too.”

  “All?”

  “Aye.” He gestured at himself and Alban beside him, another of the sailors she had made friends with towards the end of the voyage. “We volunteered to come see you.”

  “That pretty healer lass told us no more than two,” Alban added, his voice rough and sounding like a pan full of pebbles being shaken. “Didn’t want to tire you out.”

  “I’m fine,” Erin insisted. “Though hungry.”

  “That’s the healing,” Old Man Uric offered sagely, nodding his head. “I’ve felt it a time or two, and I’m always famished after.”

  “Aye, true enough,” Alban offered.

  The talk soon turned to the battle at the wall, and the creatures they had faced. With a sombre expression Old Man Uric recounted the death of three of his mates, while the soldiers had lost two of their own.

  Both groups had almost a dozen wounded between them and the soldiers considered that to be a great victory because all the bodies were accounted for.

  “T’is dark magic,” Old Man Uric said, turning his head and spitting. “This place is cursed, that it is.”

  “Evil,” Alban agreed. He leaned in, wagging a finger. “We’ll all find our deaths here if we don’t repair the ship and leave.”

  Erin couldn’t fault him for his fear, and she felt more than a little of it herself. But she knew she couldn’t leave, because that would mean leaving Brightcrest. Something she would never do.

  “I saw that coward earlier,” Alban added, and he spat, eyes flashing with anger. “I should have beaten him senseless. The way he abandoned us on the wall, I’ve no doubt the soldiers wouldn’t have stopped me.”

  “Who?” Erin asked, frowning at the anger she saw on the sailor’s face.

  “That blasted wizard,” Old Man Uric said. “A soldier told me he ran when he saw the Shadowbeasts. About pissed his pants too.”

  Erin’s frown deepened. That didn’t seem right. She had a confused flash of images. Bright lying broken and helpless. Her leg trapped as she struggled to move.

  A Shadowbeast.

  Then another image.

  The wizard, his wand shining in his hand, the golden light illuminating the street as he cast his spells.

  There were parts missing and she wasn’t certain of the order of things, but she was sure that he was there. That he’d saved her.

  “I-I don’t think that’s right,” she said.

  “What’s that, lass?”

  “I’m not sure.” Her head hurt with the recollection, the fear and helplessness she’d felt was overwhelming and she struggled to keep the images straight in her mind.

  It was too much.

  She slumped back onto the cot, eyes shining, and the two sailors shared a look of concern. Old Man Uric patted her leg and jerked his head towards the door for Alban. The other sailor nodded, and they both rose from their stools.

  “We’ll check in with you again, lass,” Old Man Uric said. “You’re not alone.”

  Which was enough to make the tears fall in earnest. She sobbed and covered her face with her arm as the two sailors looked on uncomfortably. They weren’t at all sure what to do, and with most of their lives spent amongst other men on the ship, they had little experience in such things.

  Fortunately, Rose came by and shooed them away. They left eagerly and Erin continued to weep as the healer settled onto the edge of the cot and pulled her into an embrace. She patted Erin’s back and held her as she sobbed, letting her find that release that was so very badly needed after the trauma she had endured.

  They stayed that way for some time, even after the tears were done. Rose offering comfort that was sorely needed, and Erin clinging to her for dear life. The past few weeks had been filled with change and excitement, along with danger and loss.

  Rose knew that it was well past time for the young apprentice to let loose all those feelings that had been jumbled up inside of her.

  Eventually, she pulled pack, holding onto Erin’s shoulders and giving her a long look as the younger girl sniffed and wiped at her face with her hands.

  “Sorry,” Erin said, and barked out a short laugh. “I’m shamed.”

  “Not at all.” Rose cast an eye around the room. Those soldiers and sailors in their beds were making a point of looking anywhere but at the two women. “I’ve had many a tear shed in this room. Yours are nothing I’ve not seen before, and will no doubt see again.”

  Erin sniffled and rubbed at her face. Her eyes were red-rimmed and shone in the light of the lamps.

  “Thank you.”

  “Think nothing of it,” she said. “Now rest, you have a few days before you’ll be up, and you’ll need your strength.”

  For when the Shadowbeasts come again, Erin knew.

  She lay back on the cot and exhaled a soft sigh.

  Men had died, and she had failed. She’d not seen where those creatures came from, and they were no closer to locating their lair.

  Even if they didn’t drag away any bodies to increase their numbers, they had still taken more lives of the defending soldiers. It was a loss that could not be sustained. Every fight led to more deaths, and fewer defenders for the next time they came.

  Soon enough, there would be not enough to defend and the Shadowbeasts would win.

  There had to be a better way! A way of stopping them so that no lives were lost. A way to track them to their lair.

  She just had to think about how.