Hamish rolled his eyes and hacked off another piece from the branch he worked on. Trust his brother to act as if he hadn’t just witnessed a spellster effortlessly heft around a branch almost as big as himself.
Gordon jerked a thumb at the oak. “But that’s the bugger we have to contend with. So unless you can lift that out of our way, I’d suggest—”
“Watch the horses,” Darshan said, marching past Gordon to eye the oak close up.
“Excuse me?”
Even as his brother argued with the spellster, Hamish quietly abandoned his axe in favour of untying his mare.
“You heard me,” Darshan retorted over his shoulder. He laid a hand on the fallen trunk, pressing against it. “Naturally, I would not dream of telling you how to control your animals, but this is going to make a lot of noise.”
“You’re pulling me leg, right? You’re nae going to be able to lift that, magic or nae.” Nevertheless, Gordon edged towards the tethered horses. As did the three guards.
Darshan planted himself before the tree. “I can certainly give it a try.”
Hamish thought back to the night his lover managed to suspend him outside the window. Lifting Hamish seemed to have demanded quite a bit of effort on Darshan’s part. He’d rather the man didn’t strain whatever the spellster used to focus his power. “You really dinnae need to.” If they chopped off the bothersome branches, then Darshan could aid in their removal.
The tree shifted slightly, groaning and dropping pieces as the fragile, hollow shell that remained of the trunk slowly crushed in on itself with the pressure. A faint purple sheen surrounded the tree—a shield?—there for only a moment before failing, much as it had when trying to contain Hamish. A crack, akin to the shattering of dry bones, echoed across the clearing.
Hamish tightened his grip on the reins as his mare launched backwards with a snort. Her focus remained on the tree, her eyes wide enough to show white all around. “It’s all right, lass,” he murmured, sure his attempts to soothe her weren’t getting through.
The others struggled similarly. Sean and Quinn both fighting to control not only their mounts, but also Darshan’s pony. Warrior lived up to his name, pulling back on the reins and kicking out at the bigger horses. Mercifully, each strike missed, if by mere inches at times. The last thing they needed was for one of the horses to break a leg.
“Let me have him,” Zurron said. He tossed the reins of his placid-in-comparison gelding to Gordon and vaulted onto the pony. Warrior reared, shaking off the other two men, and took off into the forest with the elf clinging to his saddle.
“Leave him,” Gordon commanded as the other guards went to follow. “He’ll be back when the noise stops.” Like the horses, the elf was capable of hearing far better than the average human. If anyone would know when Darshan was done moving the tree, it’d be Zurron.
We should’ve gone with him. Although, hearing the dreadful cracking without seeing the cause might’ve been worse for the horses. How much longer would it take? He risked a glance over his shoulder at Darshan.
The oak trunk sat suspended a good few feet in the air. Hamish blinked hard to clear his eyes. Lifting a branch that probably weighed as much as himself was one thing, but an entire tree?
“By the Goddess,” Gordon breathed. His brother’s mouth hung open like a broken trap.
Rocking and groaning, the tree rotated to line up with the clearing’s edge, much like what the man had done with the branch. Only this time, Darshan swayed along with the motion. He no longer stood quite so confidently, his knees sagging to the point where they leant against each other.
Would the tree also fall if Darshan dropped where he stood?
Thrusting his mare’s reins into Quinn’s hands, Hamish hastened to his lover’s side. “That’s enough.” He laid a hand on the spellster’s shoulder, gently least he startled the man.
Darshan’s body trembled, straining as if he lifted the tree not by magic, but with his entire body. By his rasping breath, Hamish would forgive anyone for thinking the man had sprinted all the way here from the castle. Those hazel eyes were glazed, focused only on what was ahead of him, and the angle of his jaw suggested clenched teeth. Hamish wasn’t even certain he had been heard.
The tree rocked away from them, branches snapping against the ground. The main trunk drifted closer to the ground with every foot it neared the tree line. It continued on that way until returning to the forest floor where, with a final grunt from Darshan, it rolled against the other trees. Some of the sturdier branches still encroached on the clearing, a mere handful compared to the main bulk.
Darshan sagged to the ground as if he were boneless. Sweat ran down his face, dripping from his tuft of a beard. “I trust,” he said, puffing at every other word. “That is a sufficient amount of room for the tents?”
“And then some.” There were a few spindly branches scattered around the clearing, but the rest of the group would be able to make swift work of them. “You really didnae have to lift the whole thing.”
Although his lover’s head remained drooped, Hamish was certain he caught the edge of a glare. He knew that expression well, had seen a similar one on Nora’s face right before she proved some unbeliever wrong.
Darshan exhaled in one long sigh, his exhaustion seemingly slipping away. “Yes, well.” He got to his feet and adjusted his sherwani, brushing the dirt off the hem and his knees. “As much as watching you get all sweaty and exhausted whilst chopping wood would have been entertaining, such effort was uncalled-for.”
Effort? Hamish wordlessly wiped his lover’s brow. His skin was a blotchy mix of ruddy and pallid. How much had this little display taken from the man? He wrapped an arm around Darshan’s
