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And then she collapsed.
Kormac barely managed to catch her. He cradled her against him and pressed his face to the crown of her head. She breathed. She lived. The question was, when she woke, who would be looking out of her eyes?
Lomar cleared his throat. “We should get her to the fort. There are medical supplies there we can use.”
He glared at his friend. “She wouldn’t need any if you hadn’t stabbed her.”
“I was doing you a favor,” Lomar retorted.
“By killing the woman I love?” It emerged and while it shocked, it was true. He loved Fionna. Loved his brave and incredibly stupid witch. Bargaining her life for his.
“Better than you having to do it and living with that guilt.”
“I almost killed you for it,” he snapped.
“You should have. What I did…” Lomar hung his head.
“Wasn’t your fault.” Kormac sighed. He stood with Fionna. “Help me get her over the rock fall.”
Together they managed to get her over the blockage and to his waiting horse. The snow had stopped falling, leaving behind a pristine layer that glittered in the sun. Kormac mounted and Lomar handed Fionna’s limp body over.
“Tomorrow, if she’s recovered, we’ll locate you a mount to return to the citadel.”
“Where you’ll execute me for my crimes.” Lomar appeared resigned, even relieved of his perceived fate.
It stole Kormac’s wits and words for a moment. His people would expect him to punish Lomar for his grievous acts. There was only one outcome that Kormac had been trying to avoid.
His voice emerged gruff as he said, “I hereby banish you, Lomar of Wexkord. You are not welcome in Srayth.”
His friend’s eyes widened. “What are you doing?”
“Giving you a chance.”
“But why?”
“Because you could have fled when Fionna freed you but instead you came to my aid. I could not do what she asked, even as I knew it had to be done. For that, I and the world owe you our gratitude.” While it was pure luck Fionna survived, it turned out Lomar had done the right thing.
“Banished…” Lomar mused the word aloud. “I’ve never been outside our borders.”
“Now’s your chance to travel. To see what the world offers.”
“I know what’s past the southern mountains.” Lomar glanced at the rubble they’d just traversed. “But as a boy, I always wondered about the mist.”
“It’s a death sentence to enter there,” was Kormac’s harsh reminder.
“Is it that such a bad thing?” Lomar’s lips twisted. “It would seem while you might be willing to forgive me, I can’t.”
“Try. You’re a good man. Don’t let what happened make you forget that.”
“I’ll try.”
Lomar accompanied him on foot to the fort, but he didn’t stay, instead insisting he start his journey of banishment. It hurt Kormac to say goodbye, but better knowing Lomar lived in exile than died by his hand.
He brought Fionna to the bed they’d lain in only hours ago. He wrapped her in the thickest blanket he could find and started a fire in the small iron stove.
He didn’t leave her side for more than a few minutes, once to check on his horse which he’d once more stabled indoors and another to build another fire in the kitchen hearth to ensure no more giant spiders.
She woke up in the evening, her lashes fluttering slowly. He immediately held himself ready. He wanted to believe the malignant spirit was gone but had to be realistic. Something so powerful and tricky might have found a way to infect his beloved.
