Her eyes rolled up into her head and her body went slack. Caleb wetted one of the cloths and dabbed her face. On closer inspection, Lore realized Caleb’s face was also pale and glistening with sweat.
The man was scared.
Funny. He would never have thought death would scare an assassin. But perhaps it was more than that. Caleb had mentioned that his mother had died from desert fever. And watching Caleb and Nierne the past couple weeks, Lore knew there was something between them.
Caleb laid the cloth across her forehead and closed his eyes.
Was he . . . praying?
Lore looked away and shifted uncomfortably.
Let him go.
•••
All Caleb could see in his mind’s eye was his mother: her body wasting away until nothing remained but skin and bones. In the end, she hadn’t even recognized him. The fever had eaten her mind, leaving behind only fragments of her past memories.
On her last day of life, he ran. He couldn’t watch death anymore. It terrified him with its all-consuming maw. And so he had let his mother die alone.
When he took his first assignment from his cousin Corin a couple years later, he swore he would never let death affect him again. He had buried his heart so deep inside that death was simply an act he committed, with no emotions attached.
But now . . .
His focus came back. Caleb stared down at Nierne. She was slowly wasting away, just like his mother. Her lush, red hair now lay in brittle strands around her face. Her cheeks stuck out unnaturally, tinted with the heat of the fever.
And now the hallucinations had set in. It was only a matter of time until—
His heart beat faster. He wanted to run again. Coward!
Caleb dropped his head. Yes, he was a coward. But he would not leave Nierne.
So he bowed his head instead. There were no words he could say. He had stood over countless bodies and watched the life drain from them, death brought about by his own hand. He had learned to control death.
But now? There was no controlling this. Even his Eldaran blood had failed him.
His hands began to shake and sweat broke out along his forehead. He closed his eyes. Word, I don’t want to watch her die. Please, don’t let Nierne die.
He stayed beside her until his legs went numb. Still, he never moved. The sun began to sink in the west. The smell of cooked rabbit filled the air. He continued his vigil.
“Here.”
Caleb looked up. Lore held out a strip of bark with chunks of meat and a couple dates on it.
“Eat.”
Caleb nodded and took the bark. He placed a chunk of meat in his mouth and chewed. He ate a date as well, then put the makeshift plate to the side.
After a while, Lore came by and took away the food. “I will watch her if you need a break.”
Caleb shook his head. If he left, he might not come back.
Lore brought him a waterskin. “For both of you.”
“Thank you.” He took a long drink, then placed a hand beneath Nierne’s head and held her up. The water dribbled out the sides of her mouth and down her neck. She was so far gone she didn’t even seem to notice. Caleb placed her back down, his heart frozen.
The sky darkened. Lore laid out his blanket on the other side of the fire. An hour passed before he heard Lore’s soft, even breathing. The air cooled.
Fatigue pressed down on his body. His eyelids grew heavy and sleep called. He fought it. He stoked the fire instead. Red sparks flew up into the sky. The moon came out, its pale light washing across the oasis and reflecting off the water.
Unable to stay up, Caleb laid down near Nierne, his gaze fixed on her. Her chest rose and fell every few seconds. He closed his eyes. Word, I will need your help. He squeezed his eyes tighter. I am not strong enough to face this. Help me.
•••
Voices echoed across the sand.
Caleb grabbed his dagger and sat up. His heart rapped hard against his ribcage. How long had he been out? The fire nearby had died. Overhead, the sky was already turning a light blue.
“There is a caravan—”
Caleb swerved around and pressed his dagger to Lore’s throat.
“—approaching.” Lore looked down at the dagger. “Remind me not to be this close to you when you first wake up.”
Caleb pulled the dagger away and rubbed his face. “I don’t startle well.”
“I noticed.”
Voices hummed through the air. Caleb looked up and around.
“They are approaching from the south.” Lore pointed toward the thickest patch of trees. “I don’t think they’ve noticed us yet.”
Caleb didn’t answer. He turned toward Nierne instead. For a moment, she looked . . . different. But he didn’t have time to figure out why. He covered her with the cloak, grabbed the end of the blanket, and pulled her across the sand into the bushes nearby.
Lore already had his sword out and was now crouching beside one of the palm trees. Caleb pulled the branches over Nierne, then moved toward Lore.
Lore pointed between the trees.
Caleb stood above the bushes and looked. Past the tree line and almost a half-mile out was a caravan of about twenty camels, horses, and people. He crouched back down. “Probably one of the nomad tribes.”
“Hostile or friendly?”
Caleb held his head just above the bushes and watched the caravan approach. “I don’t know. I don’t see any insignia.”
“So what do we do?”
Caleb looked back at where Nierne lay hidden. “I will go meet them. Better someone familiar to them than a foreigner like you. If things go bad, protect Nierne. All right?”
“You know that without you, we won’t make it across the desert.”
Caleb checked his side. His other dagger was there and ready. “Then let us pray that the tribe approaching is friendly.” He straightened up and headed toward the caravan before Lore could say anything else.
He started calculating how many men he could take out if the group proved hostile. A heaviness settled across his middle. Please don’t let it come to that . . .
One of the men looked his way and pointed. A shout went up. The caravan slowed to a stop.
Three men broke away from the group. Two of them were thin and young. They walked on either side of a larger man, broad in the shoulders and a half head taller than his companions. They all wore headscarves across their heads.
Caleb forced his body to relax. If a fight broke out, he didn’t want to be stiff.
We can’t afford a fight.
Don’t think about it. Just do it.
Haven’t I shed enough blood for a lifetime?
Focus.
The large man in the middle stopped. His eyes widened. The other two men stopped as well.
“Well, well, Caleb Tala. We meet again.”
Chapter
12
Caleb stared at the older man. “Balthazar?”
The man smiled. “It has been a long time.”
“Yes, it has.” Caleb took a step closer, but kept his blade out and ready. “Fifteen years at least. What are you doing here?”
Balthazar threw back his head and laughed. The men on either side of him glanced at Balthazar, then back at Caleb. “Why, I am here for the water, of course. And why are you here, son of Selene?”
Caleb lowered his blade a fraction. “I am traveling across the Great Desert with friends. We are heading to Kerre and to Thyra.”
At the name of Thyra, Balthazar frowned. “Thyra, you say. What is in Thyra? What do you seek there?”
“Answers.”
“Then perhaps you have not heard. Thyra is no more.”
Lore stepped from out of the trees. “What do you mean? Has the city been razed?”
Balthazar’s men drew their
swords, long curved blades that flashed in the sunlight.
“Wait.” Caleb threw his arm out in front of Lore, his dagger pointed at Balthazar’s men. “This is one of my companions. He is no threat to you.”
Balthazar shifted his gaze between Caleb and Lore. “Your companion, you say. Will you vouch for him?”
“Yes. On my name.”
Balthazar nodded, apparently satisfied. “I am Balthazar Shalom, High Chief of the Great Desert tribes.” He gave a small bow and waved his hand.
Lore bowed. “I am Lore Palancar, former Captain of the Guard of the White City and varor to High Lady Astrea Celestis.”
Balthazar straightened. His men still stood on guard, their swords held before them. “Captain, you are a long way from home. And if I am not mistaken, you are Avonain.”
“I am. And please call me Lore. I am no longer captain.”
“I see. Well then, welcome Lore Palancar to the oasis Merida.” Balthazar held his hands up and looked around. “This place must be a wonderful haven in the midst of this hot and dry land for a sea dweller like yourself.”
“It is, thank you. But back to Thyra. What do you know of that city?”
Caleb eyed the two guards. “Yes, I am curious as well.”
Balthazar clapped his hands. “All in good time. It is a conversation that will take more time than I wish to spend here in the hot sun. Come. Let my people make camp. I invite both of you join me for dinner.”
Caleb bowed. “As you wish. One more thing. Do you travel with a healer?”
“I do. Are you ill?”
“No, but my other companion is. Desert fever.”
“Hmm. I will see what she can do, but you know as well as I that little can be done for those afflicted by desert fever.”
“I know, but any help is welcome.”
“I will have Thamina’s tent set up first. As soon as it is ready, I will send someone to let you know.”
Caleb bowed. “Thank you, Chief Balthazar.”
Balthazar waved his hand. “Just Balthazar, please. I would do anything for the son of Selene.” Balthazar turned and headed back to the caravan waiting behind him. His guards gave Caleb and Lore one last look before following their chieftain.
Caleb turned around and headed toward their own camp.
Lore came up beside him. “How do you know this man?”
“He was a friend of my mother’s.”
The sand crunched softly beneath their boots. “And do you trust him?”
Caleb kept his dagger loose in one hand. “Most men I would say no. But Balthazar, yes, I trust him.”
“So this Selene was your mother?”
“Yes. My mother lived with his tribe before she met my father.”
“I see. I did not realize you were only half Temanin.”
Caleb glanced over at Lore. “Half Eldaran. My mother was not from Balthazar’s tribe. Nor was she Temanin. Balthazar found her wandering the Great Desert, half dead and with no memory. His people nursed her back to health. She lived with his tribe until my father stumbled upon his camp, injured during a border skirmish with Hont. I don’t know where my mother came from. Neither did she. But now I know what she was before she met Balthazar. She was an Eldaran, at one point in time.”
“One time?”
“My mother relinquished her role as Guardian. She gave up her blood rights and lost her power. Perhaps that is what caused her to lose her memory as well.”
“Your mother lost her Eldaran blood?”
Caleb looked over at him. “Yes.”
Lore shook his head. “I have never heard or read of such a thing.”
“Interesting. The Word gave me a choice to stay human or become an Eldaran.”
“And you choose Eldaran. Why?”
Caleb shrugged. “Perhaps as penance for my former life. To save lives instead of taking them.” He reached the bushes where Nierne lay and pulled back the leaves. She never moved and her breathing was shallow. Still, there was something different about her. He touched her cheek. It didn’t seem as hot. Or maybe that was just him hopin—
“Everything all right?”
Caleb glanced up at Lore. “What? Oh, yes.” He bent down and grabbed two corners of the blanket Nierne lay on and pulled her out. He brought her to a shady spot near the water.
How fortunate that he had met Balthazar out here. No, not fortunate. Caleb filled the waterskin from the spring and knelt down by Nierne. He lifted her head and let the water dribble into her mouth. Word, I know it was you. You brought Balthazar here.
There was no answer, outside or inside his mind. But the wind blew gently through the trees and across his face.
Thank you.
Caleb sat beside Nierne and watched the water lap along the shore. Lore sat across from him, his eyes half shut, sweat beading his face. Behind him, past the trees, Balthazar’s people set up camp.
He kept his dagger out. He might trust Balthazar, but that didn’t mean he trusted his other men. Lore kept his sword out as well. Smart man. In another time and another place, they might have been friends. They thought a lot alike. Unfortunately, that nasty business in Avonai loomed between them, probably permanently.
A half hour later, a small trim woman who looked to be about his age approached him. Her long, dark hair was tied back and covered with a linen scarf. The rest of her clothing was coarse and dark, much like the rest of Balthazar’s people. Her eyes were large and shaped like almonds, set above a small and pretty nose.
She stopped a couple feet away. “Caleb Tala?”
Caleb stood to his feet, keeping his body between the woman and Nierne. “Yes?”
“I am Thamina. I was sent by Balthazar. He said you have someone sick with desert fever.”
“Yes, my companion here.”
Thamina glanced over his shoulder. “The young woman?”
“Yes.”
“Could you take her to my tent? I think she would be more comfortable there.”
Caleb nodded. He turned and picked up Nierne. She was lighter than she had been, and felt almost fragile in his arms, like a bird with a broken wing. He stood and faced the healer.
“This way.” She headed toward the tents set up along the outer edge of the oasis, scattered amongst the palm trees.
As he approached the camp, the people gathered turned to look at him. Most of them were short, with dark coarse clothing and linen cloths wrapped or draped across their heads. He did not recognize any of them, but then again he had not visited his mother’s people in years.
Thamina stopped in front of a long, narrow tent set up at the edge of the camp. She pulled the flap back and glanced at Caleb. “Bring the young woman inside and lay her on the blankets.”
He nodded and stooped inside. The tent was small, with a table set up along the left wall, canvas sacks hanging along the back wall, and a pile of blankets to the right. The subtle scent of aloe hung in the air.
Caleb placed Nierne on the blankets and pushed her hair back. He frowned and touched her forehead again. Her skin was cool rather than hot to the touch. He ran a finger along her cheek and jaw. Her face, though thin and pale, was beautiful. Perfect. Down to the last little red speck across her nose.
“I’m afraid we both won’t fit in here.”
He looked around, then back at Thamina. “You’re right.” He stood and headed toward the entrance. The healer stepped back to let him out. “You will let me know how she is.”
The smile across the woman’s face faded. “Yes, when I know anything. Is she your wife?”
“What?” Caleb glanced back inside. “No, no. A friend I am helping across the desert.”
“Good, very good.” Her smile brightened again. “Now off with you.”
Caleb narrowed his eyes. Before he could say anything, she swirled around and entered the
tent.
He would keep an eye on her.
He headed back to his own makeshift camp near the spring. Lore sat beside the palm closest to the water, his eyes closed. Caleb watched him, then stalked off. He couldn’t just wait here. He had to do something. So he spent the next thirty minutes checking the traps. A fox and two rabbits. He brought the animals back, skinned them, then sliced the meat and laid the strips across a hot rock. The meat would add to their dwindling stocks. The skins he laid out too. Perhaps Balthazar and his people could find use for them.
Next, he started gathering more dates. He would dry those out as well.
Every hour or so, he would head back to the healer’s tent, but still no word. So he kept busy, setting more traps, gathering more dates.
As he dumped the last of the dates into a pile, the brush moved behind him. In a flash, he had his dagger out and turned.
Thamina held up her hands, her eyes wide and focused on the dagger in his hand. “I came to let you know about the young woman.”
Caleb tucked it back into the sheath at his side.
“I’ve heard stories about you, Caleb Tala.”
Caleb glanced up.
She tapped her chin. “I’m wondering if some of them might be true.”
Before he could respond, Thamina turned around and headed back through the trees. He followed, puzzling over this young woman. What stories?
She led the way through the tents to the back one. When they reached her tent, she turned around and folded her arms.
“Why aren’t we going in?”
“I want to speak to you first.”
A shard of ice formed inside his middle. “Why? What happened? Is she—”
“No, she is not dead. Actually, quite the opposite. You will be happy to hear that the young woman is no longer sick.”
Wait, what? “You mean she no longer has the fever?” The air left his lungs.
“No. Judging from her appearance and weakness, I would say the fever broke last night.”
That’s why Nierne had looked different to him this morning. All strength drained from his limbs. She wasn’t going to die. He wouldn’t have to watch her—
Heir of Hope (Follower of the Word Book 3) Page 11
