Ki Book One

by Odette C. Bell

Chapter Ten

  He’d carried her up the mound. Locked in his arms, they’d slipped with every step, but somehow he’d done it.

  He’d also been right about the cavern. It was a shaft, with mining tracks dotted through it. More than that though, there was a ramshackle hut of sorts at one end. When Jackson had seen it, he’d placed her down and sprinted towards it.

  Resting on the thankfully flat rock underneath her, she’d waited. Jackson had taken the gun with him, and the further away he’d run, the more the shadows had loomed over her. In the dark, she’d dared to pull her robe up and run her hands over her legs. They were painfully hot.

  Seconds ticked on into minutes, but she couldn’t go over to find him; she could not walk. Any pressure on her legs felt like standing on white-hot coals.

  So she waited.

  Eventually he returned, that swinging blue light heading towards her through the massive cavern they were in.

  It was far colder up here. Unlike in the caverns below, air moved through this shaft. It forced the bitter cold to bite harder at her bones. At least it served to cool down her legs though.

  It also served one other purpose. It gave her hope. If the air was moving, it had to be going somewhere. Which meant this cavern could not be blocked off. There had to be a way in and out.

  “Ki, you okay?” Jackson called out to her before he reached her.

  His voice was so obviously filled with compassion that it made her want to choke.

  How could this be the same man that had turned on her in the cavern just below them?

  He seemed so different.

  Warming her frigid fingers against her throbbing, hot legs, she tried to make sense of it.

  Was she meant to trust him? Was it foolish to hope he could change?

  Before she closed in on herself, before she yielded to her suspicions, a single thought stopped her.

  This was not meant to be easy, and she should stop pretending it should be.

  They were two people from two warring races, thrust together by nothing but circumstances. Trust would take time to build, it would also take sacrifices. It would be all too easy to conclude from his brutish behavior that he couldn’t be trusted. She would have to ignore all the times he’d saved her though.

  Forming a bond with Jackson would not be like forming a friendship with an ordinary Tarkan. She would have to start accepting the trauma her people had inflicted on him. She would have to realize she couldn’t wipe it all away with a smile and a tale of legendary soldiers.

  He finally reached her, his breath heavy and punctuated, echoing through the enormous cavern around them.

  “I’ve found a map. It shows the shafts. I’ve also found some strong alcohol.”

  “Jackson, I’ve told you—”

  “I’m not going to make you drink it. It’s for your feet. We need to treat them. There’s a table back in the miners’ hut. There’s other tools and supplies too. Come on.” He leaned down to help her up.

  His cheeks were flushed from action, his breath sharp and percussive from sprinting back to her. As she accepted his hand, she felt how warm it was compared to hers. Instead of yanking his fingers back, he laced them further into hers, supporting her as he turned around, leaning down. “You’ll have to get on my back; I won’t be able to carry you in my arms. It’s too far away.”

  Awkward, wanting to say no, he told her to hurry up.

  Pressing her lips together, she shifted forward, falling against him.

  He grabbed hold of her legs and heaved her up. She yelped with surprise, locking her arms around his throat.

  “Hey, I can’t breathe,” he pulled her arms back.

  “S-sorry.”

  He didn’t say anything more. Just held onto her legs and pitched forward, jogging as fast as he could towards the mining hut.

  She could see the ramshackle building more clearly as the light from the gun reached out to it.

  Why they needed a hut underground, she didn’t know, though she guessed it would be a handy place to lock up supplies and keep the dust off any documents or supplies the miners would have to bring down with them.

  As Jackson ran towards it, footsteps heavy and jolting through his body and into her tender legs, she distracted herself from the pain by staring up at the ceiling above. It had to be almost fifty meters away. This room really was cavernous.

  Soon Jackson reached the hut, kicking open the door with his foot. The rifle swinging at his side, it sent waves of light washing over the room, illuminating snatches of a table, dusty documents, chests, and several broken oil lamps.

  Jackson did not hesitate. He brought her to the table and let her down, turning and ducking over to one of the chests.

  Her feet dangled over the edge as she watched him.

  He ripped open one of the chests, using the butt of the gun to knock off an old rusted lock that was chained around it.

  Rooting around, he snatched up a pick.

  She shivered as he brought it towards her.

  “Ki, I’m not going to hurt you,” he looked at her seriously.

  “I know that,” she whispered back.

  Nodding, he got down on his knees, clutching one of her legs securely. He brought the pick down and used it to try to cut through the fabric binding her feet.

  “Why don’t you just untie them?” she tried to keep her leg as steady as she could. She could see how sharp that pick was; its edges glinting in the light.

  “You’re feet have swollen too much. They are pushing against the knot. It will be impossible to untie. Just try to hold as still as you can.”

  Gripping her hands onto the edge of the table, she did as he instructed, looking away so she didn’t have to watch.

  Biting her lips as hard as she could, she waited for him to finish. The pain was unbearable.

  As he managed to unwrap one foot, she heard the stone that had been her shoe fall to the ground.

  Her leg immediately throbbed harder.

  Digging her fingers into the table, the nails bending against the hard wood, she waited for him to untie the other.

  He did it. Then he dropped the pick, jumping to his feet as he grabbed a bottle of light-colored liquid from on top of one of the many chests that dotted the room. Opening the cap, he smelt it, coughing suddenly. Wiping a hand against the back of his nose he nodded. “That should do it. Those miners definitely knew how to drink.”

  Pulling down one of his rumpled sleeves, he made a cut in it with the pick and ripped off a large section. Then he dosed it in alcohol. “This is going to hurt like hell.” He shifted towards her hesitantly.

  She managed a nod.

  “Okay...” taking a deep, fortifying breath, he brought the cloth up to one of her feet. Wincing, he started to dab at it.

  She screamed. She couldn’t help it. Blasting hot pain ripped through her legs.

  “Just hold still,” he begged, locking her leg under his arm as he continued to clean the foot. “God, I’m sorry for dragging you through that field,” he added under his breath.

  She couldn’t reply. She could hardly breathe. Crumpling her body in, squeezing her eyes shut, she waited for it to be over.

  When it was, she felt him rise beside her. “It’s okay. It’s done....”

  She winced open her eyes.

  His expression was muddled and anxious. “We need to find a way out of here quickly.”

  She looked down at her legs. They were pink and round. She couldn’t shift them up to look at the feet, despite the fact she was usually flexible. They were too turgid and stiff to move.

  She understood what he meant.

  “How are we going to...?” She couldn’t finish. There was nothing worth saying. They couldn’t get out of here, not soon enough. She was no doctor, but she understood basic biology and first aid. Her feet were infected. Combined with her fatigue, other injuries, dehydration, and lack of food, her chances were preciously slim.

  It was a miracle she was still awake. If it h
adn’t been for her desperate fight with Jackson, she would probably have slipped into unconsciousness long ago. She could feel its promise dulling her senses. Her mind was foggy, her body tied down by pain, her senses blunted.

  It looked as if Jackson had been wrong after all. Giving up down there had been the sane thing to do. She was going to die anyway.

  Shifting back, she struggled to bring her legs up onto the table, then she moved to lie down.

  Jackson snapped forward and caught her shoulders before she could. “No, no, don’t give up.”

  “It’s over, Jackson. I can’t move anymore. Just go. Leave me here. Save yourself,” her words became long and slurred as the promise of sleep drew closer.

  “No,” he shook her gently. “Stay awake, stay with me. We have to find a way out of here. You see that map on the wall?” he turned her, shifting out of her way as he did.

  She blinked its way, but her bleary eyes could hardly register anything.

  “Ki, it’s a map of the tunnels, it will show us a way out of here.”

  “Then what? No Ashkan hospital is going to treat me.”

  She felt his grip falter as he held her. Then it firmed. “I’ll find a way to treat you. Just don’t give up.”

  It was no longer an option. She began to black out.

  The last thing she heard was Jackson calling her name.

  Then she slipped away, back into the arms of a dreamless sleep.

  Whether it would be her last was no longer up to her.

  Like it or not, Jackson was her only hope.