Shadows of Aggar (Amazons of Aggar)

by Chris Anne Wolfe

  Stone and dirt slid loose, dumping her back into the hollow. She could see them now — small, shell-armored creatures scampering into the sunlight. Their mottled beige and gray bodies blended perfectly with the rock. Each looked like an odd flower, long petals grasping in and out of their centers as they clamored over the rubble in her direction.

  She kicked the gravel and dust, burying a few and gaining precious seconds.

  “Climb!” The order was imperious as Elana’s cloak descended, but it reached only half-way.

  The ground moved as her toes dug, the cucarii scrambling about her ankles. A blast of heat enveloped them as a roaring inferno leapt from the rocky pit. She clawed and reached for the blazing cloak as the creatures jerked spastically, dropping from their pursuit.

  “It’s not real… not real!” Diana muttered desperately, her hand blistering within its burning glove as she held tight to the cloak. The strained tendons in her shoulder shrieked with the pull.

  It was done in a second, and Elana’s hands were there, guiding her over the edge. Gasping, she sprawled limp. The roar of the flames died. Her gloves were unsinged. She concentrated, and slowly her body calmed, accepting the reality that there had been no burning.

  Stiffly Diana rolled to her back and pushed herself up to sit against the cliff wall. Only vaguely aware, she watched as Elana unlaced and discarded her boots. She managed a faint “wait” as the woman drew her knife, intent on slicing through the fieldsuit’s fabric.

  Her shoulder protested as she slid the pack off beneath her cloak and leaned forward to pry open the velcro seams at her calves. Elana’s fingers moved quickly, usurping her fumbling.

  “Do you know if you were stung?” Elana asked.

  Her head moved weakly in negation. She dropped back against her pack, wearily pushing the hair from her eyes. Goddess, she had wrenched that shoulder, and that tumble — between the bow shaft and the soldier she had taken quite a pummeling.

  “I don’t see any marks.” Elana’s voice softened with her relief, and she looked lovingly at Diana’s drawn face. “Are you all right?”

  A tired smile played across her lips, but Diana couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes again. The warm concern radiated by that blue gaze enveloped her, and she tried a gallant nod.

  “I am not sure if I should believe you?” Elana gently teased.

  “Nothing is broken,” Diana mumbled and tried to swallow. Elana produced the waterskin and guided her lips to it.

  “Thank you.” Her eyes fluttered open, and this time her smile was a little more convincing. “How about you?”

  “A few bruises, nothing more.”

  “Good.” Diana sat forward and felt her ears pound. Her stomach didn’t feel queasy, though, that was good. She didn’t particularly want to deal with a concussion this morning. “What about our friends?”

  Elana glanced at the still figures that shared their ledge. “Dead. Have you hit your head badly? Or your shoulder?”

  “I think my head’s all right. My shoulder…” She rotated the arm slowly, stiffly. “It’s not dislocated, but I strained the muscles pretty badly.” It easily could have been worse. Diana took a deep breath and reached for her boots, grunting at the tenderness in her side where the bow had jammed before breaking. Still, everything seemed to work, although painfully. At least her eyes were feeling more normal in their sockets. “What are cucarii?”

  Elana’s fingers touched Di’nay’s hair, straightening the tousled brown strands. “They’re desert scavengers and quite deadly. They tend to hollow out nests in sandy or gravely terrain. They have few natural enemies because they are so poisonous.”

  Diana ventured a look over the trail’s edge. The pit was littered with curled up cucarii — and the soldier. In a strange way, she had been lucky to land in their nest. A few meters to the left or right and she would have tumbled nearly a league to the ravine’s floor. “They look dead, not…?”

  “Those are,” Elana confirmed. “Their nervous systems are too primitive to survive such a violent change in amarin — they can’t discriminate between the illusion of change and the reality.”

  Diana laughed humorlessly. “For a moment, I wasn’t so sure I could either.” She forced herself to stand. Elana hovered near, but the world seemed to be behaving itself. Diana drew a deeper breath and mentally took inventory. Her ribs were sound, her legs steady, her head fairly clear… over all she was going to do fine. But more immediately, her hands felt a little too clammy in their gloves and the pain in that shoulder was enough to make her see stars.

  “How are you?” Elana asked, concerned. “You are very white despite your tan.”

  Diana smiled weakly. “I have felt better.” She gestured to her gear, unwilling to risk bending over quite yet. “In the green bag, there’s a little box with a red cross.”

  Elana returned to find Diana looking around, somewhat confused. “What’s missing, Di’nay?”

  “My knife… I don’t think we were so close to the edge that…?”

  “It’s there.” Elana pointed up the trail a few feet to where it had fallen. “I’ll get it. You take care of yourself.”

  Diana nodded. She was shaken. It had been a long time since a man had been able to wrestle her to the ground. She rummaged through the cluttered box and pulled the capsules free, swallowing two.

  “What are those?” Elana asked, trading Di’nay’s knife for the box.

  “A great little drug that should keep me from going into shock.” Diana winced as her shoulder reminded her not to shrug. “I think I’m all right. But I don’t feel like leaving it to Fates’ Jests.”

  Elana suspected Di’nay’s shoulder was not their only cause for concern. She was very aware of their vulnerability on this trail. More soldiers could be stalking them soon. The brush with the death had been too close. She was not prepared to give up this beautiful woman to some Fates’ whim — not yet.

  Impulsively, Elana stood tip-toe and brushed Di’nay’s lips with her own. A warm smile returned her uncertain look, and Di’nay gathered her close.

  † † †

  The reefs parted and like towering sentinels stood back, rigidly frowning at the encrusted plain. The path tumbled out beyond their gravely feet and forked both east and west onto well-trodden roads. Elana paused to survey the deserted wilderness to the east as Di’nay rested.

  Elana felt reassured. The dimness that had clouded her Sight before the ambush had lifted. The reef rock no longer shadowed either her body or her mind and the faint trace of Maltar’s traveling band was readily visible in the mid-day sun. They had not sent others back yet; it was still too soon for them to guess the trio would not be returning. If luck held, the soldiers would not be missed before darkfall, and by then she and Di’nay would be well hidden in the rolling wastelands.

  They pushed on.

  Diana found her body less cooperative as the leagues passed. She had been hoping that she would do better once out of the reefs — once past the shifting, uncertain footing. The wastelands lent little improvement, however. The drifting sand and grit filled their path with small dunes that tugged at her toes and balance. She had to set her teeth with each jarring step when the ground was solid.

  They rested and she forced another pair of capsules down her aching throat. She didn’t protest as Elana opened the packs and began redistributing their gear. She was in no position to deny the help and long past hiding the pain from her lover.

  Elana watched worriedly as Di’nay rose to continue. She did not know enough about Terran biology to disagree with the Amazon’s own assessment. She had to trust Di’nay’s judgment when she described the clammy, groggy ache as something that would wear off. The Blue Sight was a poor gift here; Elana recognized the pain and the quivering shakiness that told her of a weakening body, but the source was not clear. Her helplessness was as aggravating as Di’nay’s distress was painful.

  † † †

  The desert’s sun was only half-way to the horizon
as Elana called a prolonged halt. Di’nay’s confidence in her ability to cross the wastelands was more uncertain with each league. Elana was loath to lead them to a point of no return. She compromised and set up a make-shift camp with her blanket creating a lean-to against the day’s white glare. The chill of the faint wind negated any warmth from the sun, but Di’nay’s relief in gaining refuge from the harsh light was tangible. Exhausted, she slipped into sleep — too quickly, Elana fretted. She hesitated, crossbow in hand as she surveyed the eastern land.

  No one. Di’nay would be safe.

  She was reluctant to leave her, but her reasons for stopping were only partially fulfilled. This close to the reefs, their tracks would need to be covered. With a final glance at Di’nay, Elana left to retrace their steps.

  † † †

  Chapter Seven

  “I’m not doing very well,” Diana mumbled shakily, trying a sip of the weak tea. The admission was somewhat belated. Her skin was flushed pink and her temperature had risen drastically. Her eyes felt blurred, and she hadn’t been able to focus on anything for very long since waking. Her throat was swollen — her whole body felt swollen, and her tongue felt like a roll of cotton.

  Elana turned, watching the sun approach the horizon. There was no possibility that she could safely get Di’nay across this plateau in three days. She was past caring for their mission’s urgency now. Survival was primary.

  She came near and knelt beside the shivering woman. Even despite their metabolic differences, her fingers felt cool against Di’nay’s forehead. “Well, n’Shea, what do you suggest?” Diana asked.

  Elana pulled the cup and blanket from her grasp in quick decision. “I’m going to look at that shoulder and the rest of you — just as I should have in the beginning.”

  Diana winced as the vest and tunic were discarded. The hands seemed rough, but she kept silent. She knew any movement was too much, and at least the quickness meant it would be over soon.

  “My guess would be that you’ve broken something and that the pain is from that,” Elana murmured grimly. “The fever — I only hope you haven’t injured something inside from the fall. There’s so little I can do if you’re bleeding internally….” Her fingers touched moisture and she stood, moving behind Di’nay. The fabric of the fieldsuit was shredded. Her shoulder was oozing blood.

  “What is it?” Diana managed, gulping a dry swallow.

  Elana said nothing and snatched up the discarded jerkin. The same ribbon tear was there. The fieldsuit had kept the blood from coming through to stain, but the semi-circled pattern was undeniable. “You must have fallen on one,” Elana said quietly, pulling the white cloth away from Di’nay’s back. The cuts were deep but almost swollen shut by the angry, red skin. The discolored swelling was easily twice the width of the wounds, with scarlet streaks extending further.

  “I fell on my pack,” Diana reminded her, trembling. She covered her eyes as she hunched forward, caring less about the pain than her increasingly blurred vision. “And I wrenched my shoulder even more than when I slammed into the cliff.”

  “I am certain you did,” Elana agreed. The top of Di’nay’s shoulder was bruised yellow-and-green in testimony. “But you have also been stung by a cucarae.”

  She didn’t care anymore, Diana admitted as Elana moved off toward their dying fire. All she wanted to do was lie down and sleep.

  She didn’t, though. A piece of her realized how deadly such passivity might be, so she sat and watched as Elana brewed some unnamable concoction from her small bag of medicines. A poultice, her mind vaguely registered with relief. The smell had not been particularly unappealing, but her stomach was not entertained by the thought of accepting anything — not even more tea.

  It was hot and numbed the pain, a relief that made Diana gasp, almost in tears. She had literally forgotten it could be so different.

  “Take these.”

  She looked at the capsules from her medical kit and shook her head groggily. “I don’t think I could keep them down.”

  Elana drew something from her bag and mixed it into the tea. She handed the capsules and tea to Di’nay. “This will help.”

  Still the Amazon hesitated.

  “You must try, Di’nay.”

  A weak nod and she did. The tea was moist in her parched mouth but left a tingling sensation that relaxed the clenched muscles in her jaw. The capsules hit her stomach with a protestingly ill feeling. The feeling persisted but the knotted tightness lessened. She finished the tea.

  “Better?” Elana asked, taking the empty cup.

  Diana tried to nod. She suspected Elana’s ministrations were only prolonging the process, not curing her. Her tongue touched her dry lips. “What now?”

  “I am not certain,” Elana replied honestly, wrapping the blanket more securely about Di’nay. Gently then she took her hands. “There is a healer, not quite a day’s journey to the west of here. She will have what is needed for this kind of poison.”

  “Even though I am an alien?”

  “It is your alien biology that has saved you so far, Diana n’Athena,” Elana returned steadily. “If I had been stung, you would have buried me hours ago.”

  A dry laugh pushed out at that. “One of the few advantages to a less efficient metabolism?” The half-hearted smile faded. “I can’t make a day’s march anywhere, Elana. And I don’t think my body is so inefficient that I will live another two days, so that you may bring help here.”

  “No,” Elana brushed the hair from her clammy forehead, “I do not think you will.” Her hand dropped and she drew a deeper breath. “But can you promise me a full day, Di’nay?” Her blue eyes captured Diana’s blurring gaze and the Amazon felt the power of the woman’s urgency. “I will get us there, but you must fight this poison. You must try to live — to breathe — to stay with me, Di’nay. You must try!”

  To stay with you for always, Diana thought. For this woman of sapphire eyes and tender touch, she would try to move the very universe itself.

  “Yes, I will try,” Diana whispered. “But how will you…?”

  “Shh, that is my concern.”

  The blueness of those eyes shut out the world about Diana. A softness of warmth surrounded her, lulling the groggy aching of her body into oblivion.

  “I am going to ask you to sleep.” Elana’s voice drifted in from some distant place.

  Concern stirred — a sleep that she might not awaken from.

  “I will watch for you,” Elana’s voice answered soothingly. “Dream of me — Diana n’Athena — dream of me as you saw me in the mountain’s cave…”

  A tall, strong woman — Diana’s mind reeled with the image and clutched to the strength of the woman.

  “…strong enough to fight for you, Di’nay — strong enough to carry you west. Draw on this strength — our strength — as you fall weary. Don’t let go of this life… don’t let go — ”

  Elana lowered Diana gently, carefully preserving their contact. The sleep deepened, slowing her pulse and breath even more… slowing the poison’s course even more. Elana only prayed to the Mother that it had slowed enough.

  She worked quickly then, breaking camp. The packs were closed and buried along with their weapons. Water, knife, medicines, and a single cloak, she kept. Except for a few pieces, she scattered the dried meat. The scavengers would dispense with it. Left with the packs, the scent would have the creatures digging it up, and the Terran technology was to stay hidden, even if she was not to return for it. This way, the lifestones in the sword’s hilt would eventually disintegrate the lot. She hoped to be back long before that happened.

  The sun had set when she was done. The first moon would soon peer over the southeastern mountains. Her path would be brightly lit by the celestial pair tonight. Elana thanked the Mother for the small favor. She only hoped the healer, Melysa, was at home.

  Elana stood, finishing her short meal as she gazed west. What she was about to do was against almost everything she had ever been taught as
a Blue Sight. It was never needed by the Seers and seldom risked by others, but she didn’t see an alternative. If Di’nay died, her time was certain to be short… a ten-day at the most.

  She capped the waterskin and turned to the sleeping figure. It was not a question of being able to carry the woman; it was a question of time. If she kept a steady pace, she might make the journey in a two day march. If she ignored the natural exhaustion and fatigue of her body, she could match the pace of a normal pack’s weight and reach Melysa’s cellar by mid-day tomorrow. Mid-day — hopefully it would leave Di’nay enough hours of life to respond to the healer’s touch.

  She knelt beside her lover. That would be soon enough… if she didn’t drop first.

  There was little danger in projecting an intentionally exaggerated image to another as she had done with Di’nay. The risk came from deciphering the mythical image back and accepting it as reality. It created a hypnotic circle of illusion that prevented the Blue Sight from distinguishing illusion from reality. Elana would not feel the tiredness of her feet or the ache of strained muscles. If she stumbled and twisted an ankle, she would not feel the pain. The danger was that she truly would not know when she was past the point of exhaustion; she would merely drop into unconsciousness. If she was strong enough to push past that limit of endurance, she might simply drop into a coma. But if she did not try, Di’nay would not live.

  She roused the Amazon just enough to lock eyes and share dreams. The power and freshness surged through her veins, and she let Di’nay slip back into sleep — pausing to be sure the Amazon’s body rhythms were still slow and even.

  Carefully then she pulled Di’nay up to her feet and swung an arm across her own shoulders. With an adroit dip, Elana grabbed Di’nay about the knees and lifted, saddling the woman across her lower back. She bounced her body quickly, settling Di’nay’s weight more evenly on her hips. Her muscles barely protested the lift; her illusion of strength was so well entrenched. But Elana knew better than to waste her body’s reserves with arrogance. The Old Master had taught her this carry, and in reality she could easily move a man three times her own size. Di’nay was considerably smaller than that, even if she was a good deal taller than Elana.