WastelandRogue

by Brenda Williamson

  Rye searched left and right with the turn of her head. She raced forward through the large patch. The fluffy balls made up of tiny lavender flowers swung away at eye level. She couldn’t help thinking if Shay had died there she’d at least be surrounded by beauty.

  Just as she stopped, Sevrin grabbed her again. A body lay facedown, fully dressed in heavy garments, not what Shay had on when Rye last saw her.

  Over six cycles of the moon had passed. People changed clothing. The possibly of it being Shay was real.

  “Don’t touch anything,” Sevrin told her.

  “It’s too late.” She held out her hands to show him the streaks of allium juice on her skin.

  Sevrin lifted up the edge of his shirt and wiped the liquid away.

  She didn’t bother telling him that her skin had already partially absorbed the toxin.

  Sevrin squatted and carefully began rolling over the corpse.

  Rye closed her eyes in fear of seeing Shay. Then she opened them knowing she had to know the truth. She had gone through a lot to learn her sister’s fate.

  Sevrin’s slowness irritated her.

  Hurry. She needed to see the face.

  Hurry. She wrung her hands anxiously.

  Hurry.

  He shifted to get a better grip and his position blocked her view. Then he leaned away as the body landed with a thud on its back.

  “It’s not Shay.” She let out the breath she held and then wheezed in another that made her lungs tighten. “It’s not my sister.”

  Good news—this wasn’t Shay.

  Bad news—she had to keep looking.

  Rye slowly turned. Which way did she continue? The allium seemed to go on forever in all directions. Impossible, since she stood on the outskirts of the field. From her view it still seemed as if she and Sevrin had been swallowed by a blood poison hell.

  Rye wheezed in another short breath. She rubbed her arm, feeling the prickling heat sear a course through her veins. Her temperature climbed—a fever burning out the toxin.

  Sevrin rose and took her hand, wiping it again. “You need to get out of this field. Every step we take is breaking the stalks and getting the poison on you.”

  “Not yet.” She pulled free and walked ahead, ignoring the effects of the lethal surroundings.

  Ten paces away from the corpse lay another discarded poor soul, this one a man. She kept going and found a dead male and female lying side by side. Each step afterward made her sicker. The horrific site was unlike anything she had ever seen. The allium-infused air she breathed added to her nausea. Lightheaded, she fell forward as if caught off guard by the wind. Sevrin’s arms suddenly surrounded her and she grasped hold of them for support.

  “I knew coming in here wasn’t a good idea for you.” He pulled her back.

  “I have to find her.” She wiggled out of his hold but her knees buckled.

  He caught her by the arm and scooped her off her feet. “Let’s get you out of here.”

  “No, I can’t leave her.”

  “I’ll look for her as soon as I get you far enough away from this stuff.”

  “But you don’t know what Shay looks like.” Rye kicked her legs and thrashed her way out of his grip.

  He snatched her by the wrist and jerked her back. “I’m pretty good at faces. I’m sure I will see a resemblance to you.” He then grabbed her low at the waist and legs and hoisted her onto his shoulder as if she were a sack of loot.

  “Put me down,” she demanded.

  “When I have you far enough away to recover.”

  She approved of his strong, muscular physique, however, it wasn’t a comfortable ride with the ball of his shoulder pressed hard into her queasy gut. Struggling did her no good. His strength overpowered her frail condition.

  She turned her attention to scouring the field for signs of Shay. The tall allium stalks prevented her from seeing anything. They swayed against a gentle breeze. The beauty lulled her into a false serenity until she emerged from the dense patch and Sevrin dropped her on her feet.

  “Don’t move from this spot,” he ordered, supporting her in the cradle of his arms as he bent down and sat her on the ground.

  She pushed to get up. Sevrin stood in her way. His hands on hips and reprimanding glare backed her down.

  “Fine, I won’t move.” She put a hand to her throbbing forehead and then looked up at him while pointing to a specific spot on her chin. “Shay has a scar here. Her hair is shorter and lighter blonde then mine. She has dark-brown eyes, more like a lamian’s and she’s a hand length shorter than me.” Rye tried getting up. “There are so many differences. You’ll never be able to tell if you find her. I have to go myself.”

  Sevrin squatted in front of her and fingered strands of her hair. He looked over her face, taking his time as if they had forever. Then he said, “If I find anyone at all with blonde hair, I’ll bring her here for you to see. Dead or alive, all right?”

  She nodded, thankful he understood her fear of him not recognizing Shay and passing her by. She watched him start back for the allium. “Sevrin, the allium. How can you go back into them?”

  “I’m more human, remember?” He gave a wave and continued striding across the dusty barren soil and then into the deadly flower patch.

  While the stalks blocked her view of his lower half, they didn’t prevent her from seeing him from the shoulders up. She watched as he moved farther and farther into the tall green fronds. Lavender balls of flowers swung aside when he swatted them. Then he was too far in for her to know his whereabouts.

  Time dragged. How long had it been?

  One hundred percent better, Rye got up and wandered toward the allium. Although her headache and queasy stomach were gone, she was still hesitant. She searched the sea of lavender flowers for Sevrin. How far had he gone to be out of sight? How far could she go before she collapsed again?

  “Sevrin!” she yelled, hunting for a sign of movement in the leaves. “Sevrin?”

  She pushed through the stalks, aiming for the last place she had searched before. As she recognized each dead body she had already checked, she hurried on hoping to get farther into the field. At the start of the hill rising, she exited the allium. No Sevrin.

  She returned to the patch and headed to the west. Agitated by the amount of allium juice on her hands, she paused and rubbed her palms against her thighs. It didn’t help.

  The poison had already taken new routes through her body. She had trouble concentrating, forgetting what she was doing, where she was going. Her pulse pounded in her head, making it nearly impossible to think.

  Fears gathered in her thoughts—the paranoia. Had Sevrin abandoned her, left her there to die? No, she refused to believe it. He had insisted she stay out of the allium.

  She wandered aimlessly, her senses mired by the poison—her thoughts fraught with delusions.

  The body she saw had all the right features, the hair, the clothes, the size and even the bracelet on Shay’s wrist. Shay loved that string of beads made from clay.

  “Shay, do you hear me?” Rye stroked her sister’s hair back from her face. “Shay, open your eyes. Everything’s going to be all right.”

  Rye lifted up Shay’s hand. The string broke. The beads scattered to the ground and she grabbed some, clutching them tightly so as not to lose any.

  Rye looked at them in her hand—seeds. The beads weren’t made of clay. They were seed heads from the allium flowers. She dropped the crushed pods oozing with poisonous sap and rubbed her palms against her pants. It didn’t stop the burning tingle reddening her fingers.

  She forced herself to ignore the pain and stared at the lamian female lying in front of her. It wasn’t Shay. She had to keep searching for her sister…she had to find Sevrin.

  Slowly, she rose to her feet and looked around. She shook off her disorientation and stepped forward. The field was bigger than they had imagined. Where was Sevrin? Had he met with one of the dreaded marauders? Wouldn’t there have been a noise of some so
rt? She had to find him. Save him as he had once saved her.

  “Sevrin?” She rushed mindlessly through the allium, passing more than a dozen lamians in various stages of decomposition.

  A garbled cough stopped her.

  “Shay?” she called, praying she had found her.

  She spun in circles, listening intently. The silence seemed to last forever as she continued to turn. Dizzy, she reached for the support of anything and fell to the ground.

  The sound came again and she scrambled onto her feet.

  “Shay!” she screamed for a response as she stumbled forward.

  Then she stopped as the cough resounded from somewhere behind her. A moment of clarity seized her wayward thoughts.

  “Sevrin? Sevrin, where are you?” She turned. She waited. She cried.

  When the harrowing echo of someone choking came again, she ran toward the sound.

  “Sevrin.” She dropped to her knees alongside him when she found him. “You said you’re not affected by allium.”

  “I’ve never been around the stuff to really know. What are you doing here?”

  “Saving you.” She grabbed him under the arms, trying to haul him through the patch.

  He weighed so much more than she could drag in her condition.

  “Get out of here, Rye,” he demanded in a hoarse voice.

  “Not without you.” She pulled him to a sitting position but fell down, knocking him back.

  He turned, rolling her off him, and got to his hands and knees. “Damn, I feel so dizzy and weak.”

  “It’s what the allium does to kill you.” She struggled onto her hands and knees and forced herself to her feet.

  Sevrin had more trouble rising than she did. She summoned up all the strength she could and helped him to his feet. Together they lurched forward. When she tripped, he kept her upright.

  “Aren’t we a pair?” A cough cut his laugh short.

  With her arm around his back and his around her shoulders, they continued their short-paced tromping through the poisonous air. Eventually, the perimeter came into sight.

  “I need to stop.” Sevrin tried to sit.

  “We’re too close.” She forced him to keep moving.

  They walked and stumbled until the allium sat far behind them. She dropped to the ground first. Sevrin landed alongside her.

  For a while, silence was enough. Time was their healer. Exhausted, disappointed, worried, she lay on the ground staring up at the clouds.

  After a long time, Sevrin’s raspy breath brought her emotional turmoil to a new level. What if he didn’t recover? It was her fault for letting him look for Shay. More human than lamian didn’t take the lamian out of him. How had he thought allium wouldn’t affect him?

  She held back a choked sob when he slid his hand over hers.

  “I checked the entire field. She’s not there,” he said. “She either left or was never here.”

  Rye squeezed his fingers laced with hers. Ashamed for doubting his intentions for her, she rolled to her side and kissed his cheek. He gave her hope. With her trust in him renewed, she snuggled into his embrace to await his full recovery.

  Her mind didn’t remain idle. If her sister wasn’t in the field, then where was she? Did she go home? Was she taken somewhere else and killed? The worst part was not knowing if Shay was alive or dead.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Sevrin took a deep and steadying breath of relief. He had no idea how harmful the allium could be to him. He had felt drained, lethargic, and yet he had pushed on looking for Rye’s sister, not realizing he’d collapse. The weakness to his muscles had come almost out of nowhere.

  Rye, lying next to him long after she had healed, touched him. Her boundless compassion seemed a stark contrast to her aggressive nature. Back at the camp with the marauders, she killed with brutal detachment and still, she had showed an astonishing concern for the little girl, Tari.

  And then there was her unfaltering quest to find her sister. It was a rare trait in anyone. She reminded him of his mother in the best ways, strong, determined and dependable.

  “We need to find some water and wash the allium from our clothes,” he said as he sat up.

  “At least the worst is over.” Rye got to her feet first. “Touching what’s on our clothes will affect us less as the juice dries. It’s not as toxic.”

  She glanced down at him with concern in her eyes.

  “What?” he asked, wanting to know her thoughts.

  “You heal slowly.”

  “I’ll be fine.” As he rose, he found his joints still ached.

  Rye’s stare forced him to pretend he had recovered more than he had.

  While she was the toughest female he had ever met, she deserved more to life than pain, heartache and hardship. The last thing he wanted was to add to her worries.

  “What about the dead?” She turned toward the field of allium.

  He patted his coat and pulled out a piece of flint. “We’ll burn them.”

  “The allium will come back,” she said in a sad, defeated tone.

  “Will they?” He knew nothing about the plants other than the toxic nature of the juice.

  “I think so.” She took the flint from him. “At least the dead will have their peace. I’ll start the fire. You need more time to heal.”

  “I’m all right.” He wasn’t used to anyone knowing him so well in such a short time.

  She turned her head and locks of blonde waves bounced over her shoulder. Her brow rose. The smirk on her face changed into an infectious smile. It seemed wrong to feel happiness during the dismal undertaking of cleaning up death. It worked wonders at making him forget his stomach hurt and his head felt as if someone pounded his skull from the inside.

  He pulled the knife from its sheath in his boot and handed it to her. Several strikes of the flint against the metal sparked the dry weeds she had gathered at her feet. Then, using dried twigs braided together to form a torch, they both trudged ahead and lit the allium on fire. They walked the perimeter and set the whole field ablaze. The fire sucked the oxygen from the air and the heat evaporated the poisonous moisture from the plants. Flames danced across the ground as smoke unfurled into one continuous gray cloud.

  He tossed his burnt stick into the field.

  Rye tossed hers as they backed away. “This can be seen for quite some distance. We should go.”

  She had voiced what he had been thinking.

  “Yeah,” he replied. He had already decided it was less likely they’d run into anyone uphill.

  “We definitely need a cleaning now.” Rye rubbed his cheek and showed him the black soot that came off on her fingers.

  “Come on.” He took her elbow to move on.

  They stuck to the natural path. His stiff legs slowed him. He wished his body healed faster. Occasionally, when Rye wasn’t paying attention to him, he looked back to make sure they weren’t followed. He wasn’t aware of whether she gave it much thought.

  As evening neared, Rye asked, “How far do you think we’ll need to go to find water? I can’t stand this heat much longer.”

  “I don’t know. You want to stop until nightfall?” He offered the suggestion not wanting to admit he was all for taking shelter until the sun went down.

  “No. We need to keep going.”

  He stooped and picked a blade of grass. “At least our surroundings are looking greener. Someplace up here rain collects.”

  “You’re not used to this much plant life, are you?” She touched his hand, stroking the hairs on the back in a gentle, tickling fashion.

  “Not really.” He smiled, taking hold of her fingers. “But it does make me think.”

  “About?”

  “Food. I’m hungry. I wonder if anything edible grows in this area.” He glanced around, not really expecting to see something handy to munch on.

  “Food? Again?” Rye sighed.

  “What do you mean, again? When did I get something to eat?” Had he mentioned food that much?
<
br />   “That prickly plant.”

  “Two bites of pulp doesn’t make a meal.”

  “What about when we were in Toddas’ camp all night? I saw food in every one of those shacks. Didn’t you eat anything?” she asked.

  “Too busy to think about it, I guess.”

  “If you were really hungry, I’m sure you would have picked up something. It just goes to show you don’t need food. Try thinking about something more practical like what we’ll do if someone finds that steam-trekker and comes looking for us.”

  So she is giving thought to someone following.

  “That’s tomorrow’s problem.” He continued walking.

  They trudged along at an even pace. He stopped every so often to catch his breath, surprised the allium had such a long-lasting effect. On occasion, Rye trailed behind and sometimes she passed him. He saw her take a few discreet extra-deep breaths too. When she looked caught, she exaggerated her panting. It gave him the feeling she was trying to appease his ego by not making him look so weak.

  When she took a turn toward a valley, he stopped her.

  “Go up,” he called to her.

  She looked back. Without argument, she changed her direction and hiked up the slope of the hill. At the top, she stopped and waited.

  He reached her and looked where she did.

  “Did you smell it or what?” she asked, staring at a sparkling-clean pond.

  “The farther downhill the rain washes, the dirtier the water. I thought we could do without any more impurities.” He started down the bank, taking her hand to help her over the rocky slope.

  He took off his long coat, his boots, his shirt and watched Rye take off her clothing in similar order. Only she stopped short of removing her shirt. A sudden shyness in her behavior seemed out of character. They had changed since their first meaning. As strangers they could pretend not to care what the other thought.

  “I guess I have enough off to start washing.” He bundled up the clothing and carried it to the water.

  “You can’t wash your pants while wearing them,” she stated. “If anything has been dredged in an abundance of allium, it would be your backside. You were lying in them.”