by Davis Ashura
Jessira exhaled heavily, and some of her fear ebbed. A flutter of relief flitted its way through her stomach, up the taut cord of her spine, and into her heart and lungs. From there, the sensation went into her throat. Jessira felt like simultaneously laughing and crying. She let go of her Jivatma. Lucency emptied from her mind. She wanted to hug Rukh and also smack him for scaring her so badly.
“Are you hurt anywhere else?” she asked after his fit of coughing had passed.
“I’ll be fine,” Rukh growled around a cough. “See to the gelding. He shouldn’t suffer.”
Rukh’s horse still thrashed about, his eyes rolling as he screamed in pain and fear.
“Stay here,” she ordered Rukh even as he moved to sit up.
She approached the gelding with a heavy heart. He looked like he’d snapped his left cannon bone. There wasn’t much to be done about such an injury. Maybe back in Stronghold, they could have Healed him, but out here in the field, with her limited skills, it would be impossible.
Jessira called softly to Rukh’s horse, coaxing him to quietness as she reached for his reins. The horse lay on his side and panted, froth forming on his lips as he chewed the bit. She knelt next to him and placed her hand on the gelding’s cheek. She conducted Jivatma, stretching it out fine before letting it empty into the animal. The horse sighed once before fading into a sleep from which he’d never awaken. Within moments, he stopped breathing.
Rukh hobbled to her side. “Thank you for taking care of him,” he said, his voice tight with suppressed pain
Jessira stood and faced Rukh, annoyed that he was on his feet. “You’re hurt,” she accused.
“I think I did something to my right leg. Near the ankle. Hurts like the unholy hells.” Sweat beaded on his forehead.
“Then sit down!” Jessira snapped. “Why didn’t you wait for me like I told you?”
Rukh opened his mouth and looked like he was about to answer. For once, wisdom gripped him. He took one look at Jessira, reconsidered his decision to speak, and shut his mouth. He sat down on a nearby boulder.
Jessira shook her head in disgust. Men and their bravado.
She knelt beside Rukh, conducting Jivatma as she examined his right ankle with senses other than touch and sight. It took a few minutes before she found the problem. He’d broken one of the two bones in his right calf, almost snapped it in half. Luckily, there were no torn ligaments or tendons, which meant it was an injury she could handle. Although the swelling in the muscle would have to take care of itself. She’d never been good at Healing soft tissue damage. Rukh would have to hobble around with a crutch for a while, but after a few weeks, he should be fine.
Jessira placed her hands on Rukh’s leg, making sure the two ends of the bone were aligned correctly. She sparked Healing into the bone, forming a lattice so they could come together.
When she finished, Rukh leaned away from her with a sigh. “Thank you,” he said.
Jessira gave the injury a final inspection before releasing his leg. “It’s the best I can do for now,” she said. “Stay here. And don’t move this time. Let me round up the rest of the horses, and we can get you out of here.”
“Don’t bother,” Rukh said. He gestured to a spot across the mostly frozen stream. “Looks like a cave. There’s even a bunch of driftwood piled up near it. I could use a rest.”
Jessira looked to where he pointed. Carved into the walls of the southern cliff was a cave. It had a narrow entrance and should be a cozy place to stop for the day. She nodded agreement. “We’ll make camp here.”
“While you’re bringing the other horses down, I can get the gelding unpacked.”
“No,” Jessira said, her voice brooking no argument. “Me. Let me get the gelding unpacked.” She patted his cheek. “You just stay here and try not to break your leg again.”
Rukh muttered something coarse under his breath but did as he was told.
After Jessira got the pack rolls and saddle off the dead gelding, she hauled them over to the cave. Several large slabs of rock had cracked off the escarpment above, sealing the entrance and reducing it to the width of two men walking abreast and with no need to stoop. Further in, the cave opened up, large enough for her, Rukh, and even the three remaining horses. There was even what looked like a natural chimney, a flue, cutting through one of the fallen slabs of stone that framed the entrance. Jessira tested it and smiled. It drew air. If she cleared the rubble underneath, they could have a nice fire inside if they wanted.
“JESSIRA!”
She rushed outside, wondering what could have Rukh sounding so alarmed. He pointed east.
The blood emptied from her face. Blizzard. And it was coming fast.
Jessira snapped into motion, rushing back across the stream.
“Get the horses!” Rukh shouted as she approached. “Don’t worry about me. I can make it over on my own. We’ve got five minutes.”
Jessira nodded. “Gather up as much firewood as you can,” she ordered.
“It came out of nowhere,” Rukh said before she left. “There was wild lightning up in the sky before it appeared, and a storm cloud that looked like it was crisscrossing the sky.”
If she’d been scared before, now she was terrified. “Suwraith,” Jessira whispered in horror.
“Get going,” Rukh said. “And Blend as deeply as you can.”
Jessira did as directed, running hard to where the horses still stood atop the rise. They’d picked up the scent of the coming storm. Their eyes rolled, and they whickered nervously. Somehow, Jessira got all of them down the steep rise and across the icy stream without delay. Rukh worked near the cave’s entrance, furiously gathering driftwood: logs, twigs, anything that could burn.
He broke off when Jessira arrived, taking the reins of one of the packhorses. He led the animal inside before hobbling back out. Jessira was guiding her mare into the cave when the leading edge of the blizzard struck. She stared outside in horror. Rukh and the other packhorse were still outside. Jessira raced to her packs and grabbed a firefly lantern. She lit it, raising it high as she stood next to the entrance just as the teeth of the storm hit. Where was he? She hated being so scared. Twice in one day. She almost cried out with relief when she saw two forms emerge from the snow. It was Rukh and the other horse.
He had managed to gather more wood, loading it on the packhorse. Jessira wanted to berate him for taking an unnecessary risk. Though he’d been no more than ten or fifteen feet from the entrance to the cave when the storm had struck, he still might have found himself lost. Jessira bit her lip, holding back the flood of terrified words. The extra firewood might be the difference between survival and death.
They needed to keep a fire burning if they were to survive the blizzard, especially since Rukh was dripping wet. His clothes already looked to be freezing on him. And of course, keeping up a tight, strong Blend in case the Queen lingered about.
“I’ll get a fire started. Get out of your clothes,” Jessira ordered.
Rukh smirked. He actually smirked.
How many times could he make her want to smack him in one day? After everything that had happened in the past hour, his insolent expression was the last thing she needed. She smiled in grim satisfaction when he shivered, wiping the smirk off his face. His clothes were freezing. Served him right.
While Rukh changed, Jessira cleared out a space below the chimney flue. She stacked twigs and larger pieces of firewood. It wouldn’t be easy to get the wet wood to light, but Rukh needed the heat. They both did. She went back to the horses, meaning to fetch her flint and ironwood. A roar sounded behind her. Rukh had ignited the wood with a Fireball. It burned merrily within her makeshift fireplace.
“Your way would have taken too long,” Rukh explained. His coat and shirt were off, and his chest was covered with goosebumps. He shivered again before reaching into his packs to pull out some dry clothes.
Jessira shrugged. One problem down. Now time to do something about the entrance. It was open to the elemen
ts and gusts of an ill wind blew inside, carrying sheets of snow. She had to close off the opening if they wanted to ride out the storm. If not, fire or no fire, they’d freeze to death. The watertight canvas from their tents should work nicely. After a few stumbles, she managed to close off the entrance, doing so just as darkness fell. Jessira stepped back and assessed her handiwork. Blasts of wind whipped against the canvas, causing it to billow inward and push a dusting of snow into the cave, but overall, she was pleased. The air already felt warmer.
She turned about and saw Rukh limping about. His leg was obviously giving him problems. He grimaced as he carried a log—a larger one—and placed it on the fire.
“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.
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 felt 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 not 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.”