Deadfall (Fellfire Summer Short Story #3)

By Blayre Delecour

Their duty done at last, Lir and Finn struggle to figure out how to be together without the constant threat of death or capture hanging over their heads. The best place to do this? In the middle of nowhere, of course.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Blayre Delecour
• Release date: Aug 15, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370533176

Blayre Delecour

Just a M/M fantasy enthusiast who, after being inspired by so many great stories and playing in others' sandboxes for ages, finally decided to add her own worlds and characters to the melting pot. She lives in a tiny high-rise in Tokyo with the world's cutest and fluffiest cat-shaped distraction.

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DEADFALL

Fellfire Summer Short Story #3

Blayre Delecour

Copyright © 2016 Blayre Delecour

All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

No part of this publication may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author. This book is free-to-share but may not be redistributed through any means, print or electronic, for-profit without permission from the author.

DEADFALL

Lir winced, leaning forward to straddle his saddle as he reached around to ruefully massage his rump. Nothing felt broken, but he was sure another day or so like this was going to shatter his tailbone, which would entirely defeat the purpose of their embarking on this little excursion in the first place. "Is it much further? I really feel like it wasn’t this long a journey the first time ‘round."

Because it wasn’t, Finn called back, sitting tall in his saddle and looking quite comfortable, like he didn’t feel the same strain in his groin Lir did as the big belly of his mount threatened to split him in twain. We had to ditch the horses and continue into the Brechnoi on foot, remember? We couldn’t afford the time wasted cutting a path through or taking a less-direct route the horses could manage. Now, though— He cocked his head to the side, glancing back at Lir to make sure he hadn’t fallen too far behind. We can take our time. Unless you’d rather take your chances with the remains of my dead-rot bed frame?

There’s always Bantam, Lir reminded as he batted away a low-hanging branch, and Finn shook his head with a dry, mirthless bark of laughter.

"No, there was never Bantam, and you well know it. Besides— He nodded at the mare Lir sat astride. I’d have thought you’d be happy spending more time with your lady love."

Lir reached forward and gave the old girl a pat on her neck. "I suppose I’m not unhappy, in that respect—but my joints are beginning to voice complaints. Pray don’t forget you’ve a pampered, spoiled dandy trailing after you."

As if you’d let me, Finn sighed, injecting sufficient dramatic exasperation that Lir couldn’t mistake him for being all that serious.

This trip into the hinterlands had been a much more pleasant experience by far than their last—not least of all because now they weren’t racing against time to save a wayward Fell Mage who’d gone and gotten herself captured by a Ruzian captain eager for a game of cat-and-mouse. This time, they could make the whole of the journey from Layton to the tiny little underground hunting lodge deep in the Brechnoi on horseback, taking a more leisurely—but more time-consuming—route along well-traveled trails that had been graded and picked clean of most debris to ensure there was no danger of foundering.

It helped also that Finn and Lir were quite fond of each other this time around and passed the bells on the trail in pleasant conversation rather than tense silence as before. Finn took great, scandalized delight in hearing tales of Lir’s misspent youth at the Academy on Tremayne—and if Lir embellished some less tawdry moments to make them more exciting, it hurt no one—but was reluctant to share much of his own past, insisting there was nothing special worth recounting.

This was a bad habit of Finn’s, Lir had learned—the way he, unconsciously or otherwise, wound up comparing his own experiences to Lir’s and found them woefully wanting. It was what had brought them out here in the first place, really—and it’d been a fortnight coming.

Much as they might have liked to smoothly transition their relationship from one forged under constant peril as fugitives to something a bit more pedestrian, Lir had been summoned up to Bantam less than a bell after delivering his final report to the King. His cousin had taken a poor turn and caught an early winter chill that the Fell Healers couldn’t keep from her lungs, and the Holdhelm staff had been woefully unprepared to handle the daily duties of the Holdmistress themselves, clamoring for Lir to return and settle matters in his cousin’s stead. He’d made a brief attempt to convince Finn to accompany him, confident he wouldn’t be more than a day or so, but Finn was adamant he’d had more than enough flying for one day and would be heading straight down to the Layton launch post-haste.

Lir couldn’t blame him, but it was impossible not to feel just the tiniest bit disappointed—and a little offended—that Finn hadn’t given the suggestion further thought. Instead, Finn had quickly sketched out a crude map to the argentsmithy on a parchment scrap and instructed Lir