by Davis Ashura
“Let me take care of that,” she said.
Rukh passed her the log and settled to the ground with a groan. He yawned widely and gave her a tired smile. “I think I’m starting to warm up again. Making me sleepy,” he mumbled.
“Are you hungry?” she asked. “You should eat before you fall asleep. Healing always takes something out of a person.”
“Let me just rest my eyes a bit,” he said. “Wake me up when supper’s ready?” He lay down on his bedroll, not waiting for her response as he closed his eyes.
Jessira made a thick stew, using up much of their remaining meat. Rukh would need it. She woke him up with a gentle nudge, and after he’d eaten his full, he fell back asleep.
Once Jessira had also eaten, she took further stock of their situation. They looked to have enough wood for the next two days or so, by which time the blizzard should have, hopefully, blown over. Afterward, with all the fresh snow to block their path, travel would be slowed to a crawl. They’d be lucky to make it to Stronghold in three weeks. Jessira mentally shrugged. They’d deal with it when it happened. Right now, the temperature outside was dropping quickly, and the fluttering canvas and the fire were the only things keeping them alive. The horses were already unsaddled and unpacked, and she fed them some oats and grain they’d managed to save up. She melted snow and let them drink their fill as well.
Finally, she could rest. Jessira spread out her bedroll and eased herself down with a grateful sigh. She pulled off her soaked boots and socks and stretched her legs out before her. Her feet faced the fire, baking nicely. Much better. She lay down, propping her head against her saddle as she stared up at the ceiling, content and cozy. Despite the raging blizzard outside, the air within the cave was actually warm, probably from a combination of the fire and the three horses. Jessira was more comfortable than she could recall being for weeks.
She glanced over when she heard Rukh thrashing in his sleep. He did that now and again. Usually, it meant he was having a nightmare. Sometimes he would even cry out. She couldn’t make it out, but sometimes it sounded like a woman’s name. Who had he left behind in Ashoka? He moaned and seemed to gasp in alarm.
Jessira frowned, studying him more closely. His face had a blue hue to it. Unholy hells! Now what? She sat up and leaned over him, placing a hand on his forehead. She conducted from her Well, sending a thread of Jivatma into him, searching for what was wrong. She found it quickly. Somehow, during the accident with the gelding, he’d broken a rib — again! How had he not noticed the pain? The rib had punctured a lung, and air was filling up in all the wrong places.
“Priya, no,” she whispered in horror, only dimly realizing the word she had called him. She had to work quickly.
She took a deep breath, conducting Lucency. Calm certainty came to her. Only then did she unbutton his shirt, lifting the undershirt out of the way as she placed her hand on his chest. She moved first to Heal the broken rib, carefully knitting it whole. Next, she diverted the air and blood filling his lung, draining both before ‘cauterizing’ the tear that had caused the pneumothorax in the first place.
Rukh took a gasping breath and his color returned to normal. Another one. He’d be all right.
Jessira let go of Lucency. Her emotions came back, full force. Damn it! She was tired of Rukh scaring her like this. Three near-deaths in one day — first, when his gelding had thrown him; second when he’d almost drowned, and now this — she couldn’t take much more. Jessira trembled from adrenaline and subsiding fear as her head bent low, chin to her chest. She almost didn’t feel it when Rukh ran his fingers through her hair. She only noticed when he cupped her face. She briefly leaned into his hand before lifting her head, staring into the deep, depths of his dark eyes.
“Jessira,” he whispered in a soft, husky voice. She leaned closer in order to hear him more easily. “You can let go of my chest now.” He grinned.
Her hand still rested on his chest, and she snatched it back even as a slow chuckle built within her. His words — so similar to her own when he had first learned to Heal. Her amusement built, and she fell over on her side, laughing.
Chapter 7: The Final Distance
It’s said that a home is where you make it. I just never thought I’d end up making mine in some damn hole in the ground.
-From the journal of Babylin Suresong, AF 1767
It only took a day for the blizzard to blow over, but while it lasted, it dumped over two feet of snow on the ground. A particularly large drift had piled up in front of the cave leaving a small opening at the top of the entrance. The view through the narrow passage revealed a world outside that was quiet and still. Nothing moved but an intermittent low, moaning wind. The top of the escarpments wore powdered wigs of white snow upon their heads, and the few trees growing along the canyon floor had branches stenciled in ice with tapering crystals hanging like strange, glassy fruit. The stream was frozen over, and the boulders strewn about its banks and along its water were almost entirely buried by the snowfall. While the snow was no longer coming down, the weather outside was as bitterly cold as a flaying knife.
Rukh and Jessira decided to hole up for another day before venturing out. Thankfully, the next morning dawned sunny and unseasonably warm. By early afternoon, the bright sunlight had thawed much of the snow, leaving the ground a boggy mess. Where the sun shined the warmest, pools of water collected in shallow lacunae while in the shadows, snowdrifts maintained their cold redoubts. The stream was soon swiftly flowing, gurgling over stones and around slick boulders.
With the death of his gelding, Rukh was forced to ride one of the packhorses. The animal was a big mare who would probably have been better suited pulling a plow than being ridden. The mare shuffled about for a few seconds when she felt Rukh’s weight on her back, but otherwise, she remained placid and calm. She would likely have a smooth walking gait, but Rukh dreaded what would happen if he ever needed her to run. She’d probably bounce the teeth right out of his mouth.
The remaining packhorse took the extra weight of the doubled-up belongings without complaint.
“Which way?” Rukh asked.
“West. We follow the stream,” Jessira said. “About two days travel from here, it joins up with a small river and turns north. Afterward, we’ve got one more mountain pass, the one between Mount Salt and Mount White, and then we should reach River Fled.”
Rukh studied the canyon back the way they had come. It stretched off to the southeast, toward Ashoka. He stared in the direction of his home for long moments, wishing he was back amongst the city’s green hills. With an irritated growl, he turned away. Time to let it go and get on with his life.
Of course, Jessira couldn’t be as much a part of his life once they reached Stronghold, but sometimes — maybe oftentimes — he wished there could be something more between them, something richer. He smiled wistfully. Who would have guessed he would have ever felt that way toward a ghrina?
He knew it was a foolish dream, but for now, he might as well enjoy her company. He whistled a jaunty tune when she bent over at the waist and laced up her boots. The front of her shirt flopped down. Beautiful views were certainly to be found in the Privation Mountains. He hid a grin, when she straightened up and gave him a questioning look.
He must not have been entirely successful at hiding his thoughts because she frowned at him in suspicion, glanced down at her shirt, and rolled her eyes. “Men,” she muttered.
They broke camp and headed out. The sad carcass of the gelding was already being worked over by a group of foxes — a skulk was what Rukh remembered they were called. He eyed the scene with sorrow. He and the gelding had been through a lot.
“How much hunting will we see the rest of the way?” Rukh asked.
Jessira shrugged. “Not much, but with the blizzard coming on so suddenly, I’m guessing we’ll find other animals that were caught outside when it blew in.”
“Think we should cut off some meat from the gelding?” Rukh hated voicing the question but fe
lt he had to.
“He was your horse,” Jessira protested. “It would be like eating … ” She made a moue of distaste. “ … I don’t know, but it’s disgusting.”
“Then we’re in agreement.”
“Why would you even think something like that?” Jessira asked, still stuck on his question for some reason.
“How would I know what Strongholders do?” Rukh asked. “You’re all a bunch of ghrinas, remember? Who knows what kind of disgusting rituals you have.” He knew his words would likely get Jessira’s dander up — which was sometimes the entire point of the matter. She didn’t disappoint. He tried to hold a straight face, but with Jessira’s open look of stunned amazement and rising anger, Rukh broke into gales of laughter. “Your face … ” he said, wheezing out the words.
Jessira didn’t look amused, which only made him laugh harder.
“You’re very amused with yourself, aren’t you?” she finally asked. She looked like she was trying to suppress a smile.
Rukh finally got his laughter under control. “You sure you won’t regret having horse steak around when we run out of food?” Rukh asked as they rounded a corner, losing sight of the gelding. “The skulk didn’t seem to mind.”
“The what?”
“The skulk. It’s a group of foxes.”
Jessira stared at him, an expression of skepticism on her face. “You made that up.”
“No, I didn’t,” Rukh protested. “It’s what they’re called.” He sniffed in disdain. “I can’t help it if you’re uneducated.”
“And I’m sure your education will keep you comfortable tonight when you’re hungry.”
“What do you mean?”
“Why should I take care of you when you insult me?”
The flaw in his earlier comment suddenly came clear. Jessira held a serene expression on her face before heeling her horse forward. A half-mile passed in silence, and Rukh rode alone, trying to figure out if Jessira had been joking. “You weren’t serious, were you?” he asked.
Jessira laughed, patted him fondly on the cheek and rode on.
Rukh couldn’t tell if she was joking or not. Recently, his sense of her thoughts and emotions had failed him, but he had a sneaking suspicion that Jessira would do exactly as she had threatened. “So, is that a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’?” he asked to her retreating back.
*****
The warmth following the freakish blizzard didn’t last long. The wintry cold soon reclaimed the mountain heights, but Rukh and Jessira had to press on, including through another snowfall. A week later, they found themselves about a day short of Stronghold, and in the evening, they made camp under a rough overhang, just large enough to keep the weather off.
Rukh’s leg was still sore, and he had it stretched out in front of him as he tried to rub out the achiness. It was especially bad at night when it seemed to throb in time to his pulse. The pain was annoying, but he knew the leg would eventually be fine. He was more concerned about his right arm. Sometime during the accident with the gelding, he must have injured it. Initially, it had hurt like the unholy hells, but now, in addition to the pain, there was a creeping numbness and weakness extending from the elbow down to his fingertips. He couldn’t even grip a sword. Jessira had examined him as best she could, but so far, she hadn’t been able to find anything wrong with the arm. He hoped the physicians in Stronghold could do better. He had always planned on joining the High Army, but if he couldn’t hold a sword, how could he be an effective warrior? And if he couldn’t earn his keep as a warrior, then what would he do with the rest of his life?
Rukh tried to set aside his concerns and simply enjoy the tranquil stillness of the mountains, a meditative quiet. Tonight would be his last night alone with Jessira. After their arrival in Stronghold, she would have other duties and responsibilities, and he would have to figure out what to do with himself. He knew it was a life Jessira couldn’t share.
In fact, it would be best if her people didn’t even think he and Jessira were close. Given how much time alone they had spent in the Wildness, gossips would gossip and put out all sorts of scandalous stories about what might have occurred between them. But such rumors might not crop up if the two of them were thought to dislike one another.
But Jessira couldn’t know about his plan. She wouldn’t go along with it. She would ignore the damage done to her reputation while she tried to help him settle into Stronghold. All the while, rumors would rise like a swarm of locusts, spreading everywhere and ruining her future. Rukh would have to push her away. It would be the final time he could save her.
He’d miss her company, though. He enjoyed being near her. They sat close to one another, leaning back against their saddles with legs stretched out on their bedrolls.
“We’ll probably reach the Croft by mid-afternoon,” Jessira said, interrupting his thoughts.
“When will we start seeing patrols?” Rukh asked, wondering how far out Stronghold scouted.
Jessira shrugged. “They might have already seen us, but they won’t reveal themselves until they know who we are, especially with you being Kumma.”
“They won’t challenge us?”
“They will, but only once they’ve made sure we’re alone. I’m sure they’ve marked us and are backtracking our trail. I’d expect them to stop us sometime tomorrow morning.”
Rukh nodded. It’s what Ashoka would have done as well, although the challenge would have come much sooner. “Think they’re watching us now?” he asked.
Jessira glanced out into the gloom. Their firelight didn’t do much to push back the darkness. Nights were bleak and lonely in the mountains. “Maybe,” she said.
Rukh figured they were being watched. Stronghold might only have several thousand warriors under arms and the lands surrounding the city were vast, but he and Jessira were traveling what she said was one of the more easily accessible paths to her home. It was likely to be one that was closely guarded.
They fell into a companionable silence, although there was a question Rukh had, one he wasn’t sure he should ask, but one he dearly wanted answered. He shifted about on his bedroll, trying to figure how to broach the topic.
“Ask me,” Jessira said. She turned to him with a smile. “It’s written all over your face.”
Rukh took a deep breath. She wouldn’t like his question. “What does priya mean?” As expected, Jessira’s smile turned into a flat look of annoyance, and her shoulders tensed. “I heard you say it to me once.”
“When?”
“Back in the cave when you were Healing my lung.”
Jessira didn’t respond at first. She stared into the campfire, not meeting his questioning gaze. “It means close friend,” she finally said.
Rukh could tell her answer wasn’t the entire truth. The word meant something more. It certainly did in Ashoka. “In Ashoka, it means … ”
“I know what it means in Ashoka,” Jessira interrupted in a tart tone. “But we aren’t in Ashoka anymore.”
“No, we aren’t,” Rukh agreed, letting the matter drop. He shouldn’t have brought it up in the first place.
Silence reined between them once more, although now it was Jessira who shifted about on her bedroll now and then. Once or twice, she opened her mouth as if she was about to speak, but each time, she closed it again without saying a word.
“What is it?” Rukh finally asked.
“I would appreciate it if you told no one I called you … you know…what I said.”
She couldn’t even bring herself to say the word, at least not in his presence.
Rukh nodded, understanding what she couldn’t tell him. “As you wish … priya,” he replied. It might be the only chance he would get to let her know how he felt.
Jessira gave him a startled, uncertain look before quickly rising to her feet. “I need to check on the horses,” she said. She walked out of the camp and into the darkness.
Rukh wished he’d just kept his stupid mouth shut.
*****
Well before sunrise the next morning, it started to rain. It was a cold, damp drizzle mixed with icy sleet, promising to turn into either a heavy snowfall or a freezing rain. The wind kicked up, blowing hard and directly in their faces, pelting them with stinging rain and ice crystals.
The weather was dismal and progress slow, but Jessira’s heart soared. She recognized these mountains. This was where she had trained as a nugget, where she’d scouted with the Silversuns. This was the valley directly east of her home.
She had trouble containing her bubbly excitement. By the end of the day, if Devesh was kind — which was a big ‘if’ given the current weather — she would be home. She would see her parents, her brothers, her family — all the people she loved. She ignored the wicked voice of her conscience that asked why Disbar Merdant wasn’t included in the list of those she cared about.
Shortly after mid-day, a group of scouts — five of them — suddenly materialized before them, no more then twenty feet away. They studied her and Rukh with hard, unwelcoming eyes, faces hidden by close-fitting hoods and tightly wrapped scarves to protect their faces.
Jessira startled at their sudden appearance even as she reined in her mare. She hadn’t been paying attention and hadn’t noticed their Blends until the last moment. Thankfully, Rukh had been more alert. He had brought his horse to a halt a few paces behind her. Jessira looked back at him. He nodded to her in brief acknowledgement, looking unsurprised by the sight of the scouts.
“You’re a long way from home, Purebloods,” the lead scout said, likely their lieutenant.
Jessira frowned. Purebloods? She wasn’t a Pureblood. Only Rukh. A moment later, she understood the scouts’ confusion. To keep the weather off, she’d wrapped a shawl around her face. Meanwhile, Rukh had long since lifted the hood of his coat, leaving his face bare and his Kumma heritage obvious. Stronghold’s warriors thought she was one as well.
Jessira studied the scouts standing in a rough semi-circle before them. She probably knew these men and women, although it was difficult to tell their identities with their faces wrapped and hidden. Jessira smiled as recognition came to her. She dismounted and pulled aside her shawl. “Only a dimwit Shadowcat would mistake a Silversun for a Pureblood.”
