by Sharon Rose
He must have been waiting for the one thing she didn’t know how to say. “When will…they come down?”
Kena shifted her weight from leg to leg. “I don’t know. Another storm hit when the sun came up.”
He closed his eyes. His tight lips twitched.
From behind her, Vinzlet spoke a few words. Murloff took the drink container from Kena. Vinzlet, hovering as always, gestured and murmured a simple sentence that Kena half understood.
Antony’s eyes flicked open. “Now, what?”
Kena wiped sweat from her upper lip. “I think they want me to lie down.”
His eyes locked on hers. “You worse, too?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’m just tired.”
“Lie down,” he said. “Sleep.”
Kena didn’t want to open her eyes. Her fever was gone. She actually felt good. If she could just exist in this sense of wellness for a moment. She’d gone to sleep conscious of her beloved, and his peace still wrapped her.
Too bad that her hip disagreed. An octa-llama rug on rock left much to be desired.
Kena sat up and brought her legs around to cross as she reached for her computer. She’d slept for hours. Could be part of why she felt better. Across the room, Antony lay still, hopefully asleep. Murloff was sitting on a thick pad of animal skins. Rare, but he had reason to be tired. Never once had she seen him leave this room. Vinzlet brought her fresh water. What would have become of her and Antony without these two?
Kena consumed a meal bar from her pack, setting aside the other banana for Antony. She could move her hand easier and unwrapped the cloth bandage. Yes, healing as it should. She pressed her hands to her swelling chest and whispered to her beloved. “Thank you!”
Kena rose and crossed the room to Antony’s side.
One look at him swept away all sense of well-being. A heavy weight seemed to sink down inside her. The skin of his left arm was mottled. His eyes were closed with tension rather than rest. She held her hand by his parted lips. Rapid breaths tickled the hairs on the back of her fingers. Black stubble was stark against his pale cheeks.
She whispered his name.
His eyes opened a crack.
Kena slipped a hand into his and laid the other against his forehead. Hotter still. Even his hair was sweaty. What was wrong that refused to heal? Poison? Infection? Sepsis? She should say something. Encourage him. No words formed. Beloved, she called silently. Even to him, she could not think in words. Just desperation. She felt his presence intensify. Flowing love. She could speak of that.
“Antony, we are still held in God’s love. It permeates us, inside and out. He will never leave. Never abandon us. No matter how dark the moment, his invincible love supports us.”
Antony muttered, “Yeah,” on his exhalation. His fingers tightened against her hand for an instant.
She drew a deep breath and took refuge in practicality. “You must eat again.”
“I don’t think…I can. Feel terrible. Everywhere.”
“I have a banana. You’ll be able to manage it.” She was getting it into him whether he wanted it or not. “By the way, my hand is better, and my fever is gone, which means the Human body can beat whatever causes this.”
Murloff helped her feed tiny bites to Antony. Good thing, because it took forever.
Turglund came back, and Vinzlet whispered to him. Kena wasn’t even sure if she would have understood them, but whispers? Ominous.
She joined them. “Turglund, what is the weather?”
He used a new word, so they linked. It translated to something like water-wind storm. Kena frowned, but Turglund looked pleased.
“Calm follows rain,” he said.
“How long until it’s calm?”
“Tomorrow.”
She looked at Antony, her stomach twisting. Another day?
“Do you want to go to the opening?” Turglund asked.
“Yes.”
Kena hurried the pace, this time. When she knelt by the open gap in the high chamber, she understood. The wind still lashed the plain, but it now carried water instead of debris. Hard to call that rain, since it didn’t fall, yet this sheltered room was damp from the little wind that reached it.
Kena described conditions to Ghent, then said, “Turglund says calm follows rain.”
“Yes. We’ve seen that in storms we’ve tracked elsewhere.”
“But he said…not till tomorrow. I’m not sure if Antony can…can wait that long.” Her voice cracked.
“Kena, we will be with you before sunrise, at the very latest. Pre-dawn wind speeds are low enough to use hover for local flight. We’ll descend on the tether and then bring the craft closer to the cavern. Can you mark the entrance on the 3-D map that Netlyn sent you?”
Kena marked the valley pathway, then transmitted to the Ontrevay.
When she related Antony’s condition to Metchell, he said, “I will bring everything necessary to care for him.”
She wasn’t sure what she’d expected him to say, but that didn’t seem to be enough.
“Drink plenty of water, Kena. Eat until you are satisfied, and don’t worry about saving food for Antony. I may draw blood from you to obtain antibodies for him.”
She did some translation between Ghent and Turglund to prepare for arrival and an initial food delivery.
“Kena,” Ghent said, “I have some updates for you but no problems. The Epri7 will arrive during your local night. The Pont cruiser changed its course to the one you provided.”
“Okay.”
She stood as he asked, “Do you have any questions?”
“No.” She just wanted to finish so she could get back to Antony.
The return walk was familiar enough that her thoughts darted elsewhere. Would Antony last until Metchell came? What if Metchell couldn’t help him? What if— Oh, this was ridiculous. Beloved, please bring Metchell soon enough. Give him wisdom in how to care for Antony. Help me not to worry so.
You’re worried because you are shifting your hopes to a natural solution, and you know it’s unreliable.
Whoa. She hadn’t thought of it that way.
I am your assurance. Do not disturb yourself with time, nor with Metchell’s abilities, nor with the way things appear. None of these things can defeat my love.
She held to that, repeating his words to herself when she saw Antony. How could he be so much worse in half an hour? He shuddered with chills. Murloff tucked a covering around him—something like linen.
She gripped Antony’s hand. “I’m back.”
His eyes found hers. She thought at first that he wouldn’t speak, but then he asked, “Are they…” His lips trembled. “…c-coming yet?”
“As soon as they can, but don’t bother over that. God has you safe in his love. This will pass.” Where was Antony’s computer? There, on the counter. She grabbed it and smiled when she saw the last song played. These Thousand Hills. He must have used it one of the times she was away.
She started the music and dropped to one knee so Antony could meet her gaze. “Every time we’ve sung this together, even the first, that line about the coming storm has tugged at me. Like it held a message. We are in that storm, Antony. But the dawn always follows darkness. We will come through this. We have God’s personal words to us, as well as his ancient words, which speak life to our flesh, and promise that he will satisfy us with long life. So, rest now.” She smoothed a hand down his stubbled cheek. “I will sing to you.”
Kena stood and restarted the music. She sang softly, at first, building into the melody, which echoed from the stone walls. Antony’s brow relaxed. A few times, a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Memories, perhaps. She sang it again, then again, hushing it as he drifted into sleep.
Kena sighed and turned. Turglund, his blue eyes rounded, blocked the entry with a hand braced against each side. A crowd gaped at her from the passage.
This perpetual staring! Kena went to the alcove, so she would be at least partly out of view. Metchell
had told her to eat, so eat, she did.
If only Antony had slept more than an hour. When she tried to feed him, he heaved. Tears jumped to her eyes as he cringed.
“No more,” he muttered, slurring so she could barely understand.
The day wore on. Kena tried to soothe him with encouragement and song, each attempt less successful than the previous. His fitful sleep never lasted. Muttering worsened to thrashing. Murloff and Vinzlet turned Antony to his back and tied him to the table with strips of cloth. And that awful smell…what was it?
Kena couldn’t wait for Metchell. She tapped Vinzlet’s arm and gestured for another blood draw and transfusion. They refused her even when she got Turglund to help her explain about antibodies.
Turglund rested a gentle hand on her shoulder. “They say it is too soon.”
Antony’s babbling grew agitated, and his eyes tracked unseen objects. Finally, they agreed to a transfusion.
After they finished, Kena lay in the alcove, unable to sleep. Night, again. Two other Erondur took turns at Antony’s side, allowing Murloff and Vinzlet to doze in the half-lit room. Kena had given up checking the time. That dimension had frozen in place.
TarKeen woke with a start. The comm system was bleeping ever louder. An emergency? He sat up and slapped the switch. “Yes?”
“Get yourself alert,” Leonfir said. “I will be there in a few minutes.”
TarKeen donned his clothes with swift movements, then went to the doorway of the other bedroom.
“What’s going on?” ShenLee mumbled from the darkness.
“I don’t know yet.” He closed her door seconds before Leonfir entered his quarters. TarKeen crossed the sitting room. “Is something wrong?”
“I don’t know, but you are going to find out for us.”
TarKeen turned his head. “I’m confined to quarters, without communication.”
Leonfir nodded. “Jenarsig has overreached himself. Link with me.”
TarKeen watched a scene play out within Leonfir’s immediate memory. He had listened as Travannesal and Jenarsig debated. References to the terrible storms of Dur, and Ghent’s inability to rescue Kena. An intercepted message about Antony’s severe condition. Jenarsig insisting that Kena would be, or already was, incapable of fulfilling her commitment. No words were spoken about timing, but Leonfir was thinking about it.
“Ah,” TarKeen said. “We near the end of the period during which Pernanyen’s execution is forbidden.”
“NorGah is still many hours away.” Leonfir’s nostrils pinched. “Why would Jenarsig awaken us for a debate, unless he plans to make use of the interval.”
“How can he? You and Travannesal need only maintain your protection of Pernanyen, citing that you will await NorGah’s arrival.”
Leonfir sneered then showed TarKeen the end of the conversation. Jenarsig insisted that the triad send a representative to Dur to confirm that Kena still lived and was attempting to return to the Epri7.
“Still lives?” TarKeen exclaimed. “Is that in doubt?”
Leonfir quirked his lips. “No more than I doubt ShenLee lives, though I cannot see her.”
“Ah.”
Leonfir jerked his head leftward. “The real point is that Jenarsig wants either Travannesal or me off this ship, which would bring the triad to one person. His insistence that only a triad member could confirm her state was inflexible. Travannesal finally agreed.”
TarKeen tensed. “He agreed?”
Leonfir raised his brows as though surprised. “Don’t you want to go?”
A second passed, then TarKeen laughed. “I see.”
“I’m concerned,” Leonfir said, “about what Ghent might think of us sending a craft down. We won’t mention your presence at first, but will send YefRon with you. He knows as much about Humans as any doctor on this ship. It’s conceivable that he might be able to help Antony, if you reach him before Metchell does.”
Were they really doing this? “Isn’t sending me…of doubtful legality?”
“That was my first impression.” Leonfir faked a tone of deep consideration. “Yet, Jenarsig was insistent that a triad member go to Dur, while it was obvious that neither Travannesal nor I can do so.” Leonfir extended his hand. “He must have meant you. After thinking it through, I realize he’s right. You won’t be freely moving about the Epri7. You won’t be in command of the lander. You won’t be escaping, for you cannot survive on Dur. Your rank is still suspended, and technically, you are still confined…just not in your quarters. And, of course, you have a commitment to Kena.”
“Which I will honor.” TarKeen went to the food prep area and opened a container. “Has the weather calmed on Dur?”
“Only slightly. Kena’s position is still in night. Ghent’s staff expects the weather to improve.”
TarKeen chewed a mouthful of nuts as Leonfir spoke. “I want you and YefRon in the lander, ready for launch the moment it is reasonably safe. I’ll give you one PitKree and two Laundun pilots. More than enough, but I can claim they are guarding you if I need.”
“What is your real reason for sending me?”
Leonfir’s full lips curled. “We don’t mind checking on Kena and Antony, but, mostly, we want to know what Jenarsig will do. I’ll have you on the lander before anyone is aware. Then, Travannesal and I will stay out of sight. We’ll see what he does after the lander departs.”
“How will you keep Pernanyen safe, if neither of you are present?”
“She dwells elsewhere now, though I still assign guards to her previous quarters. It’s possible that Jenarsig will take aggressive action based on assumption. If so, he will lose his right to vote. At the very least, we delay his next move until you return.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Kena lay in the alcove, enduring the endless night. Dim and hushed except for Antony’s incoherent mutters. His thrashing had weakened. Murloff and Vinzlet never left his side.
A group of footsteps echoed down the quiet passage.
Kena pushed to a sitting position, fighting a woozy sensation.
Turglund led Metchell and Jorlit into the chamber. Kena let out a sob. They carried packs on their shoulders and wore both EVA belts and emfrel shields. So prepared.
Metchell’s gaze swept the room. He motioned Jorlit toward Kena, then strode to Antony. “Kena, fill me in on the latest.” Metchell swung his pack around and pulled out med sensors while she answered.
“He’s been delirious for hours,” she said, as Jorlit wrapped a med sensor around her wrist. “I convinced them to draw more blood from me and give it to him.”
Metchell turned a startled frown to her. “Stay where you are, Kena. Don’t stand up.”
Quon came to the entrance. “I’ve got the route marked.”
“Good,” Metchell said. “Go back out until I send for you. We can’t move him yet.”
Kena could see just enough to realize Metchell had brought the blood units he kept in storage for emergencies. He hung one above Antony.
The Erondur watched his every move. Swift and efficient. She couldn’t see much beyond the things he pulled from his pack. A breathing mask. A device with tubes. Drug vials. He walked around to scan Antony’s shoulder, which permitted her to see Metchell’s face. Intent…grim.
“Jorlit, bring me the temp control sheet.”
Jorlit took it to him, then returned to Kena as Metchell tucked it around Antony’s body. It would be set to cool him, but Antony didn’t even shiver.
Kena tried to stand, but Jorlit stopped her.
TarKeen watched the descent in the gray light of dawn. The tether base on the plateau fascinated him, but the Collaborative craft resting near the base of two hills was their destination.
One of the pilots completed landing confirmation with the crew on the ground. Ghent had told them that YefRon and an escort were coming.
The wind jostled the lander as it slowed and landed.
A pilot turned to him. “The other craft has a permeable shield extended to blo
ck the wind.” A touch of wonder infused his voice. “They say it reaches into the valley, and they extended it to cover us.”
TarKeen stood. “If we can succeed at friendship with the Collaborative, we may obtain that technology someday.” He and YefRon disembarked. All was calm at the hatch, but grass on the plain bent in wind he couldn’t feel.
Someone approached. Tall and lanky, with hair as black as his own. Veet, perhaps? He stopped a meter away and said, “I am Quon.”
The navigator who had been with Kena on that first day. TarKeen waited until YefRon gave his name, then said, “I am TarKeen.”
“Ah.” Quon met his gaze. “Ghent didn’t say you were coming.”
“No, I was unable to reveal my name earlier. Does my presence concern you?”
Quon’s torso swayed. “Kena trusts you. As long as you have emfrel shields, I can lead you to her and Antony.”
TarKeen lifted some of his hair to reveal the bands of his emfrel shielding device. “It is active.”
Quon turned, and they followed him through the valley. The breeze swept between hills but didn’t carry the debris he’d been told of. Fur-covered Erondur stared, both from the hillsides and within the cavern they entered.
They crossed to a passage, and Quon pointed at a disc stuck to the wall above their heads. “These are comm relays. I attached them on the route from the entrance to Kena’s location, so you can follow them in and out.”
TarKeen watched for the disks as they trailed Quon through a maze of passages and chambers.
More footsteps in the passage. Kena turned to the entry as Quon returned.
Turglund still hovered there and seemed agitated as two PitKree followed Quon.
“TarKeen?” she exclaimed.
He inclined his head to her. “Kena.” Gesturing, he said, “This is YefRon, a doctor who will help as needed.”
Kena hurried through critical introductions as Quon left and YefRon went to Antony. Jorlit foiled Kena’s attempt to get up.