Venturers

by Bella Forrest

  “I have made a promise to you. I intend to keep it,” Navan said firmly, though it did nothing to quell my fears. It would only take one rogue insect and a sudden change in Cambien’s mood, and all of us would be stuck here with no way out.

  With that ominous warning hanging in the air, Cambien led us away from the hives toward a set of stairs that burrowed below the earth, cut into the very rock itself. The heat was sweltering as we descended, though there were ventilation shafts overhead. We were getting closer to the center of the volcano.

  The staircase gave way to a long tunnel, which opened into a cavernous chamber. The room was brightly lit, with lamps dangling from the ceiling. Projections rose from pieces of machinery fitted into the walls, golden fractures of light rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Tucked against the walls were a series of beds, half of them empty. Draconians slept beneath the sheets of some, and an unmistakable scent hovered in the air—disinfectant. We were in a hospital of some sort, buried beneath the volcano.

  “It will only be a matter of hours before the plague takes full effect on your friend Bashrik,” Cambien explained, moving over to a curtained area in the far corner. “If you would be so kind as to lay him down here. He might as well be comfortable while you wait,” he said with alarming cheeriness, pointing to the bed.

  Awkwardly, Navan sat the stiff-limbed Bashrik down on the edge of the bed, maneuvering his legs and arms onto the mattress. Fully flat on his back, poor Bashrik looked like a nutcracker who’d been left in a box, his arms straight down by his sides, his legs unmoving, his neck frozen in one position. Already, his skin was changing color, little marbled patches showing through. I wasn’t sure I could bear to see the rest. My stomach wasn’t strong enough.

  “And you’ll give him back to us, just as he was?” Angie asked anxiously, perching on the side of the bed and resting her hand on Bashrik’s arm.

  Cambien shrugged. “Sometimes the revived coldbloods return with damaged memories, but they can usually function well enough,” he said brightly.

  “I was wondering that—how come you’ve revived coldbloods in the past?” Lauren asked.

  “We wanted to see if we could bring them back, to restore the corrupted opaleine in a safe manner. It does restore a solitary piece, but it does not reverse the entire corruption,” he explained. “Plus, it becomes an extraordinary hassle, considering the state their minds are in. I have lost count of the number of patients who have run off, never to be seen again. All of them, in fact.”

  “Is that going to happen to Bashrik?” Angie looked at Cambien with desperate eyes.

  “He has only been infected for a short period of time, so he should not have the same level of mental disruption,” he replied thoughtfully. “Saying that, it might be best to say your goodbyes now, in case you friend forgets who you are when he wakes up again. That is more likely to happen.”

  Bashrik looked up in horror. “What? Why didn’t you say that before?”

  Cambien smirked. “It is a common side effect, coldblood. This is not an exact science.”

  “That’s the small print you should have led with, you—” Angie cried, but broke off, clearly holding back from saying anything she might regret. After all, Cambien held Bashrik’s life in his hands.

  “Will I remember my friends?” Bashrik rasped.

  “Who can say? As I mentioned, it is not an exact science,” Cambien replied casually.

  Angie stood in his way. “Well, I want an exact answer!”

  Ignoring her completely, Cambien brushed past. “If there are going to be tears, I will make myself scarce,” he said, casting a glance over his shoulder at Angie. “But, never fear, I will still be your shoulder to cry on, should you need it. I am excellent at comforting sad damsels.”

  Angie’s eyes narrowed. “Well, then you’re barking up the wrong tree, lizard-breath!” she snapped. “I’m no damsel, and I won’t be needing your shoulder, or any other part of you, thank you very much!” Apparently, she had decided to let loose with the insults, after all.

  Cambien sighed. “I can see the emotion is already too much for you. Worry not, I will be back,” he said, before heading quickly down the central aisle between the beds and disappearing out of the hospital via the rock-hewn tunnel.

  Still reeling from shock, we all turned to look at Bashrik, who was staring straight up at the ceiling. I didn’t know what to say. Although we’d been around each other for a while, I realized I didn’t know all that much about him. And now, I might never get the chance.

  “Why don’t we each take a moment alone with Bashrik?” Navan suggested, pointing at the opposite end of the cavernous chamber, where a waiting room had been arranged. It wasn’t much, but it was far enough away to give us some privacy. Solemnly, we all nodded. “I’d like to go first,” he added.

  The three of us humans made our way toward the waiting room and sat down on the slate benches. My eyes trailed toward Navan and his brother, who were just visible through a slim partition in the curtains. Even from this distance, we could all hear some of what was being said, though we made a show of pretending not to listen in. Navan’s shoulders were hunched, his hand gripping Bashrik’s arm, his head lowered in sorrow. I heard him speak about their parents, and the word “Naya” popped up from time to time, alongside a mention of Sarrask, and a bunch of names I didn’t recognize. A short while later, he got up and came over to where we were sitting.

  “Lauren, do you want to go next?” he asked. With a nod, she got to her feet and went behind the curtains, where Bashrik lay, returning several minutes later, her eyes wet with tears. She sat back down without saying a word, snuffling softly.

  “I’ll go next,” I volunteered, knowing Angie would want to be last. She smiled at me, letting me know I’d done the right thing.

  As I reached the bed, I sat down awkwardly on the edge of it, opening my mouth to speak. However, before I could say a word, Bashrik’s voice halted me in my tracks.

  “You asked me… what’s holding me back… with Angie,” he rasped.

  I nodded, not wanting to break the moment.

  “I don’t want to start something that can’t last,” he continued sadly. “Angie will return… to Earth, at some point. I will stay on Vysanthe. It’s my home, even if it no longer is… for Navan. I think Angie feels… the same way about us. She knows it would be… borrowed time. She deserves more than that.”

  Tears pricked my eyes. By all reasoning, Navan and I shouldn’t have been together, and we definitely shouldn’t have been in love. But the universe had found a way to bring us into each other’s lives, and I was determined not to let go of a second of the time we had together. In love, there was no such thing as borrowed time, only the gift of the time we had been given.

  “That’s ridiculous, Bashrik. And that isn’t your decision to make,” I insisted, dropping the volume of my words, aware that the others could almost hear. “You need to give Angie the choice. If you really feel any kind of affection for her, you’ll give her that. Embrace what you might have, and do it now, while you still have the chance. Tell her what’s in your heart. It doesn’t matter if it lasts a few days or a few years; it’ll have been worth the risk.”

  Bashrik looked at me strangely. “The risk is too great,” he murmured. “Send for her… before it’s too late,” he added, straining through his words.

  Scared he might fade before Angie had her chance to speak to him, I jumped up and beckoned for her to take her turn. With a worried expression, her eyes rimmed with red, she jogged forward and passed me with a loud sniffle, before reaching Bashrik’s bedside.

  From where I sat in the waiting room, I couldn’t help eavesdropping on the pair. I knew it was wrong of me, but I itched to know what was happening between them. All of us watched the two of them through a narrow gap in the curtains.

  “Your face is all splotchy,” Bashrik teased, though there was a hint of sadness in his voice.

  “It is not,” Angie replied defiantly. “I
t’s heat rash from the sun.”

  He tried to smile. “I never thought I’d get you to cry over me.”

  “You haven’t—I have allergies,” Angie sniffled.

  “Nice try, Ange. If my arms weren’t frozen solid… I’d reach up and wipe those tears away,” he murmured.

  A loud sob wracked her chest as she clung to his hands. “Maybe you’ll wake up and not remember who I am, but… I hope you’ll remember a girl, in that head of yours somewhere, and I hope you’ll remember how you made her feel,” she wept. “In all my life, I’ve never met someone more annoying, and frustrating, and utterly baffling… and fallen so hard for them, regardless. All that time we spent on the alchemy lab… They were some of the happiest moments I’ve ever had. I looked forward to seeing you every day, and even when we fought—which was all the time—I couldn’t stop my heart beating that little bit faster when you walked into the room.”

  She choked back another sob. “Seeing you like this, it makes me wish I’d said something sooner. Life is so short, and if you make it through this, and still know who I am, I don’t think I want to waste another moment of it without you,” she admitted, her voice rising to a wail, her shoulders jolting with an aftershock of sobs.

  From our vantage point, it was hard to gauge his reaction. I was holding my breath, terrified he wasn’t going to say anything in return. That would just about devastate Angie, no matter what she might say to the contrary.

  “I promise… I won’t let us waste another moment,” he said, his voice strained but confident. “I don’t know what I would do… if you weren’t by my side anymore. I… adore you, Angie. I won’t make you wait another second for me to—”

  He didn’t get to say anything else, as his mouth froze shut. Patches of stone appeared all over his body, covering his skin in a crust of thick opaleine, which would soon take over his entire being, locking his mind inside.

  Shuddering, I turned to Navan and Lauren. “I’ll go and find Cambien. It’s time for him to put his money where his mouth is,” I said quietly, unable to take the sight of Bashrik’s transformation. I didn’t want to see him like that, and I didn’t think he’d want me to, either.

  “Do you want me to come?” Navan asked, squeezing my hand.

  I shook my head. “No, you stay with your brother. He needs you more than I do,” I said with a sad smile.

  I made my way to the tunnel leading up to the surface, my mind focused on one thing—the cure.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I thought Cambien would be waiting nearby, considering that the virus hadn’t taken long to encase Bashrik in an opaleine prison. However, when I reached the surface again, the blinding sunlight stinging my eyes, he was nowhere to be found. I scanned the houses and structures, but no rusty-red scales glinted in the mix.

  Frustrated by his absence, I walked over to the hives in case he was checking on his cruel creations, but he wasn’t there either. Suspicions crept into my mind as I made my way into the village itself. Had Cambien run off? Maybe he’d never intended to help Bashrik out. Maybe he’d just wanted to punish the two coldbloods as payback for returning to the planet their people had exploited and, by proxy, corrupted.

  “Excuse me,” I said shyly to a passing female Draconian with gleaming golden scales.

  She gave me a strange look. “How may I help you, outsider?” she replied, her tone cold.

  “I was wondering if you’d seen Cambien anywhere? He’s supposed to be helping out a friend of mine, but he’s disappeared,” I explained, feeling awkward around her. These people weren’t like the Lunists, who had welcomed us with open arms. Instead, their amber eyes were filled with bitterness, their smiles fading at the sight of me. Already, I’d been outright ignored by two Pyros. Even though I wasn’t a coldblood myself, the Pyros had watched us come into their village in the company of Vysantheans, which I guessed made me guilty by association.

  The golden female laughed. “You sound surprised, outsider. Here is something you should know about Cambien: you should not be surprised by anything he does. He is a free spirit. It is why we follow him.”

  “Fine, but where can I find this ‘free spirit’?” I pressed, thinking of Bashrik, locked up inside his own head, unable to speak or move. I wasn’t going to leave him like that any longer than necessary.

  She shrugged. “You will have to keep looking,” she said, rather unhelpfully, before sauntering off toward a nearby house to meet a blue-scaled Draconian who stood outside. The pair laughed raucously as they looked back over to where I stood, utterly confused by this place and its people.

  I wandered around the village a while longer, trying to get a few more Pyros to speak to me, but they wouldn’t. Only when I reached the edge of the settlement did I feel a glimmer of hope. A hunched male with dark green scales sat on a boulder, staring out at the beautiful view. When he looked up, there was no anger or hatred in his eyes, just quiet understanding.

  “You’re looking for Cambien, I take it?” he asked, his voice gravelly.

  I nodded. “Nobody seems eager to help me,” I admitted.

  “They have learned to fear what they do not know, and you are not a familiar species,” the Draconian explained, gesturing for me to sit on the boulder beside him.

  I shook my head. “I really have to get going. My friend needs help, and Cambien is the only one who can help him.”

  “Your coldblood friend?” the Draconian asked.

  “One of them, yes.”

  “You trust them?” the Draconian wondered, with no hint of judgment in his words, only curiosity.

  I smiled. “I do. These particular Vysantheans have never given me reason not to,” I replied. “I know there are many who deserve your anger, but these two don’t. I just want to find Cambien, so he can fix my friend, and we can do what we’ve set out to do. We don’t wish any harm on your people.”

  The Draconian nodded thoughtfully. “You will find Cambien underground. There’s a stairwell marked by a carved sculpture of a blazing fire within a ring—he will be there, drinking in the bar below,” he said. A wave of relief washed over me.

  “Thank you.” I sighed. “Sorry, I don’t think I caught your name.”

  The Draconian grinned. “Names don’t matter. Run along, before your friend is too far gone,” he warned.

  Taking the hint, I headed back through the village, keeping my eyes peeled for the sculpture the green-scaled Draconian had mentioned. Sure enough, on the opposite side of the village, sticking up out of the ground, was the carved block of stone, and a stairwell heading down below the earth. I took the steps two at a time, fanning my face as a blast of hot air enveloped me. I kept forgetting that these people were humanoid half-dragons—of course they liked their heat.

  At the bottom of the stairs lay a dimly lit cavern with plush cushions arranged on the ground in front of low tables. Cubbies were cut into the walls with curtains hanging over, giving whoever was inside some privacy to talk and drink in peace. A bar stretched along the far side, carved from opaleine, the sapphire veins dimmed to corrupted black. Perched on a stool, trailing his fingertip down the slender arm of a black-scaled Draconian, was Cambien. He was gazing into her eyes, sipping from a glass of something lurid and purple in color, saying words too quiet for me to hear. Whatever he was murmuring, I could tell it was flirtatious from the way his partner blushed and giggled. As the leader of their village, he was probably something of a celebrity.

  Taking a deep breath, I strode up to the bar and cut in between the couple. “We’re ready for the antidote, Cambien,” I demanded, staring directly into his eyes, ignoring the protestations of the Draconian woman behind me.

  He smiled. “I do enjoy a dominant female,” he purred.

  I rolled my eyes. “I imagine you enjoy anything with a pulse, Cambien. I’m not here to flirt. I’m not here to play stupid games. I’m just here for the cure you promised us.”

  That seemed to take him aback slightly. “I was only trying to be friendly,�
� he murmured, searching in the pockets of his tunic for something. He pulled out a small jar. Inside, tiny creatures knocked against the glass, their wings vibrating with a resounding hum.

  “We don’t need any more of that,” I said, taking a step back, almost collapsing into the black-scaled woman. Apparently disliking Cambien’s lack of attention, she got up and took her drink elsewhere, disappearing into one of the curtained cubbies.

  “You frightened my date away!” Cambien said, though he didn’t look too disappointed. In fact, his face looked borderline manic, a grin spreading across his lips, his eyes glassy, his words slightly slurred. Cambien was definitely on his way to the Draconian equivalent of being drunk, and he seemed determined to reach those inebriated heights, as he downed whatever was left in his glass and ordered another.

  “Cambien, just give me the antidote, and you can get back to… whatever this is,” I said, gesturing to the purple drink that arrived on the bar-top, served by a world-weary bartender.

  “This is the antidote,” he chuckled, shaking the jar in my face, making me back farther away. The nanotech insects freaked me out, even though I knew they weren’t designed to harm humans.

  “Relax! These are engineered to reverse your friend’s condition,” he said, tossing the jar from palm to palm, my panic spiking with every casual throw. I wanted to reach out and grab it from him before he could do any damage. All I could envision was him dropping it, the cure crashing to the floor, taking all hopes of fixing Bashrik with it.

  “Just give the jar to me, Cambien,” I said, but he snatched it away like a petulant child.

  “You know, I’ve noticed something weird about your little group of misfits,” he remarked, staring into the glass, his eyes following the tiny insects within.

  I frowned, glad he wasn’t throwing the jar anymore. “What do you mean?”