by Mary Auclair
Another figure stepped closer.
“That female cannot come with us.” The figure spoke low, no sympathy in his tone. “She’s bleeding. The Medina will not let her leave.”
“The female comes,” the leader said, shaking his head under his hood. “Blood is owed, Ramek.”
The leader pushed his hood down to reveal scaly brown skin and two bright yellow eyes sparkling bright and clear within a reptilian, noseless and lipless face. A flash of recognition made Hazel’s heart lurch. She recognized those eyes, that voice.
“You.” She blinked in a stupor. “You’re the prisoner from Gerkin’s jail, the one I gave the keys to.”
“I am Yalko, chieftain of the Kerlu tribe. I stand free now, thanks to you.” The creature slowly nodded. “Now, come with me, human female, or the Mother Forest will take what she wants, blood owed or not.”
Hazel had a hard time breathing but she forced herself to speak anyway. “Will you take us outside the forest?”
His yellow eyes turned to the sea of green, then back to Hazel. He shook his head slowly. “The Medina is everywhere on Muhar. There is no getting away from the Mother.”
* * *
Khal
There was no way out of this situation. Still, he didn’t trust the Muharee, blood debt or not. Hazel did not understand that they were not like humans, not like Eoks or even the Arvak. Muharee were a strange and aloof people, refusing any trade with the Ring—refusing to trade with any other civilization, as far as he knew. They were a warrior species, protecting their homeland from invaders as well as waging war with each other in their tribe-like society. Blood was a cult on Muhar, death a God. Hazel might have saved this one’s life, but that didn’t mean the Muharee would spare hers.
I should have never brought her here. I should have turned back as soon as I found her aboard the Myrador.
But he hadn’t. He had failed her at every turn.
The Muharee reached inside his cloak and pulled out two identical cloaks made of the same green fabric they all wore. With surprising speed and agility, the Muharee threw the cloaks at Khal, who caught them deftly.
“What is this?” Khal asked as he rubbed the fabric between his fingers. It was cool and soft, nothing like anything he had ever felt.
“This is the skin of the Medina trunks.” The creature pulled his hood over his head again, hiding his reptilian features. “It will make you both invisible to the Mother as we walk, but if you both value your lives, don’t let the blood drip down.”
Without another word, the Muharee turned his back on them. Hazel looked at Khal, her big green eyes full of gut-wrenching trust. Khal knelt in front of her, pulling his belt from his pants, then tying it tightly around her injured thigh. She winced at the pain when he pulled harder on the belt, but didn’t complain.
“This will slow the bleeding.” Khal spoke in a low voice despite knowing the Muharee had probably heard him. “But it won’t stop it. The ionic detonations are built that way. Only careful stitching will stop it.”
“We have no other choice.” Her voice was musical and sweet in the horror of the hissing forest. She sounded so afraid, yet so strong. How could one so fragile be so brave? “What could be worse than being devoured by a carnivorous forest?”
A lot. A lot can be worse than that.
But Khal didn’t say it. He didn’t tell her about all the rumors of the Muharee and their cruel God, of the things they did to those unlucky enough to land in their hands. Regardless of his mistrust of the Muharee, Hazel was right. They had no other choice.
Already, he could hear the chirping returning, anxious and excited. Hungry.
“We have to trust them.”
Khal looked at her, at the perfection of Hazel’s soft, oval face. From the pale color of her skin, he knew she had lost too much blood already. She would need medical care, but he had no idea what he would find in the home of the Muharee.
Her only hope is that their medicine is not as primitive as I’ve heard.
The very thought of losing Hazel opened an abyss inside his mind, a dark pit where fear and grief churned together in a mixture that was so evil, he knew it would destroy him. He couldn’t lose her without losing his soul. Khal quickly wrapped Hazel in the blanket, leaving only her face uncovered, then picked her up.
As soon as Hazel was safely wrapped in the blanket and in his arms, the Muharee walked away. Khal hesitated only a moment before following them across the black, foul-smelling forest floor. Then, they went on. As they walked, the white roots shot up, covered in their glistening juice, poised to strike, but they hovered in the air, blind, unable to locate their prey.
For an impossibly long time, Khal followed the four Muharee. Somewhere along the way, Hazel fell asleep, her body becoming limp in his arms, her breathing regular, but shallow. She had lost a lot of blood. Many times, he had to adjust the folds of the cloak under her body to prevent the blood from seeping out.
Finally, they arrived at the entrance of what appeared to be a large cave. The stalks grew all around the cave, right up to the rocks covering the entrance like guardians. The Muharee entered without looking back, then disappeared inside. As he reached the opening of the cave, Khal paused.
This could be a trap. I could be leading Hazel right to her death.
He could turn back, walk out of the Medina wrapped in the green cloak, and try his luck with the medical equipment left in the Myrador. But there was no power left in the Myrador and the walk was too long. Hazel would be dead before he could reach the relative safety of the ship. And Knut was likely to have destroyed or looted whatever inside still held value.
A movement in the liquid darkness of the cave attracted his attention and Khal lifted his gaze to see the same Muharee as before—the leader of the group and the one Hazel had freed back on Garana. His yellow eyes went from Khal to Hazel, then back to Khal.
“The Medina can sense her weakness.” The Muharee’s voice was flat and toneless. “If the human is not healed, the Medina will wait for her, hunt her down. The Great Mother is a life-giver, but also a devourer.”
Khal glanced at the ground of the forest to see roots waiting like snakes high in the air, rocking to the sound of their furious chirping.
“Is your Medina sentient?” The thought was chilling, but not impossible.
“The Medina is one and only, a Great Mother to her people and a vengeful one as well.” The Muharee turned his yellow, dispassionate eyes to the forest. “She knows all and remembers all. She judges us all in the end.”
The chill in Khal’s heart spread to his bones as he looked at the forest beyond the cave with new eyes. As though it could understand their words, the roots were turned to them, upright and unmoving as the chirping descended to a low buzz.
A slithering movement caught the corner of Khal’s eye. A white root was crawling over the rocks, moving slowly in his direction. Before it could reach his foot, Khal moved deeper inside the opening of the cave. As he approached, the Muharee turned and walked and Khal followed, cradling Hazel against him like treasure.
Only the Midnight God knew what they were going to find in those caves—if he could hear Khal this far from Eokim.
For a long time, Khal walked in the complete darkness of the cave. His infrared vision gave him sight, painting the world in shades of gray and red. As they progressed further, the cave changed, the rocks intermingling with shimmering, warm, crystal-like veins until finally, a low, warm glow illuminated their way.
Khal stopped as the Muharee waited for him in front of the opening to a large room.
“My name is Yalko.” The Muharee looked from Khal to Hazel, then back. “I am the chieftain of the Kerlu tribe. What is your name, Eok warrior?”
“I am Khal, son of Enlon of the Erynian tribe,” Khal answered. “This human female is my bloodmate. Her name is Hazel.”
Yalko’s yellow eyes went to Hazel’s still unconscious form. There was no telling what feelings brewed behind that reptilian face, b
ut Khal thought he saw gratitude and maybe even respect as he looked down at her.
“Your mate is strong and brave. She freed me and my brothers from many years in Gerkin’s jail,” Yalko said. “It is out of respect for the blood I owe her that you are allowed to come with her, even if your kind is an enemy of mine. She shall have all she needs to heal under our care, and you will receive my personal protection. No harm will come to either of you as long as you remain my guests.”
Khal held the Muharee’s gaze, and not for the first time, wondered about all the things he did not know about the strange species. They were not the mindless savages they were rumored to be, that much was clear.
“I am grateful.” Khal inclined his head but kept his gaze alert. “I accept your hospitality, but I am not your enemy. The Eok people seek peace with all species.”
Yalko’s eyes flashed with something fierce and angry. “You are my enemy, Khal, son of Enlon, never make the mistake of thinking otherwise.”
The Muharee chieftain turned his back on Khal and entered the large room. A second later, Khal joined him, Hazel limp in his arms.
Chapter 20
Hazel
As Hazel floated in darkness, sensations spread through her body. At first, it was only heat, then the heat became more intense, lighting up her body with what felt like dozens of small fires, turning the precious warmth into a searing pain. Too much—it was too much. Voices reached her through the blaze: familiar, yet strange.
Hazel wanted to move, wanted to speak, to tell those voices she was hurting. That whatever they were doing had to stop. A hand ran along her arm, up to her shoulder, then up to her head. A flame licked her skin where she had been cut by the ionic detonation, stinging pain biting into her flesh, spreading under her skin like ants.
She wanted to scream, wanted to yell for them to stop.
Then those same hands closed around her leg and the pain turned into agony. A vivid burn wrapped around her thigh, covering her skin like a kiss from a volcano, penetrating deeper, making her muscles clench. Misery traveled into her veins and invaded her tendons, her bones, spreading up and down her leg like a vicious wildfire, untamed and savage.
Anguish tore through Hazel, relentless and meticulous, setting each of her cells on fire. She fought the hold of darkness, pushed through the heavy blanket of sleep, thrashing against its veil.
She wanted to wake up. She had to wake up or the pain would make her mad.
Finally, her body started to respond, her fingers twitching, her eyelids fluttering but still refusing to open.
“She is coming to faster than she should be.” A familiar voice spoke from somewhere far to her right, sounding like broken glass crushed under a hard heel. “She is stronger than she looks.”
“The strongest,” another voice answered, deep and male. A voice that made Hazel fight anew against the encroaching darkness.
Long, strong fingers wrapped around her hand, warm and good. Hazel held on to the feeling of that hand, focusing on her arm, then her fingers. The agony waged its war on her body, but Hazel held on to Khal’s hand, to Khal’s voice, like a lifeline. Finally, her hand answered her command and her fingers moved, squeezing his in return.
“She can hear us.” There was relief in Khal’s voice, a near-joy laden with a deep sadness. “She squeezed my fingers.“
Hazel’s eyelids finally opened, and she found herself staring at what looked like a rock ceiling marred with luminescent gold veins. As she blinked, a familiar Prussian blue giant bent over her, his eyes of the same shade shining with emotion. A heartbreaking smile stretched Khal’s full lips as his hands cupped both her cheeks.
“Hazel.” He said her name like a prayer, full of devotion. “You came back to me.”
“Hurts.” Her voice was like a thread that broke at the end of that single word, but she managed to push the sound out. “Burns.”
Another figure appeared at the edge of her vision. A strangely featureless face with a lipless mouth and yellow eyes stared down at her.
Muharee.
“I am Relial, healer of the Kerlu tribe.” Yellow eyes ran over her body in cold, professional assessment. “You are a lucky female to survive such a wound. ”
“Healer?” Hazel blinked, then memories flooded her mind. Knut and his Ilarian guards. The carnivorous stalks with their white roots salivating acid like rabid dogs. The ionic detonation. The wound that wouldn’t stop bleeding. The Muharee, coming out of the forest like green ghosts. So much fear, so much pain.
And there was more to come.
As the darkness retreated, Hazel became more aware of her surroundings. She was lying on a mattress made of a strange material which molded to her form like foam, warm and soft, but also subtly humid. No, she reflected as her palm flattened against the mattress, not humid.
Living.
It was just like the fabric that shielded the Muharee from the wrath of their Mother Forest, but in a pale gray color.
The Medina is everywhere on Muhar. Those were Yalko’s words. She began to understand what he meant. The Medina wasn’t just some terrible predator to the Muharee, but also a life giver, nourishing them and giving them shelter.
Her thoughts on the Medina were cut short as Relial’s reptilian face bent over her body, his yellow eyes showing no emotion. His hands ran over her limbs, then went to her head to remove a sticky, milky white patch just above her ear. Hazel stared as Relial put the white patch away almost reverently, then pressed another in its place.
Pain erupted, burning and stinging, vivid.
“It hurts,” Hazel complained, her voice small, defeated.
“The Mother’s milk is like a fire,” Relial explained, his strange voice like broken glass, grating. “But after a fire, life can begin anew, and so it heals even as it consumes.”
That was all the explanation she was going to get. Relial turned his attention back to her body, and Hazel followed his gaze. She lay on the strange living mattress, bare except for a thin layer of roughly hewn, brown panties and a primitive bra. She should be embarrassed, shocked to be exposed this way, but she was far too scared.
Fear coursed through her as she watched the Muharee healer remove a layer of the same fabric from around her thigh to reveal a large gash in her flesh. The ionic detonation really had done a number on her. Her wound was a shocking red, raw flesh exposed, three inches wide and six inches long.
Deft fingers covered in tiny brown scales inspected her wound, then the healer nodded to himself before looking up at Khal.
“The infection is gone. Another day of the Mother’s milk, and she will be able to walk.”
Khal nodded, his relief obvious, but he turned a pained expression to her. Fear embraced her like a lover as she understood that Relial meant to wrap her wound in the same material that was waging such burning, stinging pain on the smaller cut above her ear.
As she still locked gazes with Khal, another Muharee moved to his side. She instantly recognized the quiet features, those bright yellow eyes.
Yalko.
The Muharee chieftain wore the same all-green clothing she’d seen him wear before, the same all Muharee seemed to wear, but his was subtly different. Veins of gold ran through the living material, wrapping around his chest and running up his neck in a regal, beautiful pattern.
This was not the cowering, defeated creature she had rescued in the bowels of Garana’s jail. This was a chief, a leader to his people.
Hazel turned her head and saw the room she was in was round, with a rounded ceiling. The golden veins spread everywhere, illuminating the room from all angles. There was little furniture, and what little there was seemed carved from the rock.
With a supreme effort, Hazel pushed herself into a sitting position. The blazing inferno raging under her skin had spread to her entire leg as she moved, but the pain was better than that all-encompassing darkness. As Khal helped her sit, his hands all over her, his concerned face etched with deep lines of worry, Hazel locked gazes with
Yalko.
“Where are we?”
Yalko cast a glance around before looking back at her. “This is the Kerlu tribe’s home.” His yellow eyes went to the wall and his long, clawed hand came to rest on a large golden vein with what she could only qualify as reverence. “We are safe under the Mother Forest’s care.”
Hazel’s eyes widened as understanding dawned on her. “We are underneath the Medina Forest?” She looked with horror at the golden veins. “Those are the roots that wanted to eat us.”
Yalko’s eyes gleamed briefly as he took a step closer to her. “The Mother Forest protects and she feeds. She gives light and she heals.” He looked pointedly at her thigh. “It is only right that she consumes as well. All life on Muhar starts and ends in the Mother Forest.”
Yalko stopped speaking as the healer turned to them with a thick fold of a material that reminded Hazel of the green fabric the Muharee wrapped their bodies in, but this was pale, almost white.
It’s the root.
“Relial can give you more sedative if the pain is too great.” Words like the cutting edge of an ax reached Hazel as Yalko spoke. “It will make you sleep through the agony.”
Hazel swallowed, gathering what little courage she had left. She knew nothing of the Muharee and their world except for one thing. One thing all warrior species had in common.
Weakness was never rewarded.
“No.” Her voice was stronger as she pushed the darkness further and further away. As she prepared to embrace the pain and let it embrace her back. “No more sleep.”
Yalko nodded, the approval clear in his reptilian face. He was glad she could withstand the pain. At her side, Khal watched her with a gut-wrenching concern.
“Thank you for saving our lives.”
“A life for a life.” The words were simple, but somehow Hazel sensed the Muharee did not dwell on fancy, overly emotional speeches. “The blood has been repaid.”
