If she tried hard, Carialle could perceive the vague appearance of a cat. One sentinel tree stood proud but the other was lightning blasted, its crown broken.
“Now for the road.” Marcus sped up briefly and then brought the car to a halt. “Stay here.” He jumped out and crossed the cracked pavement, walking along the verge for a moment or two. Striding with his former confidence, he retraced his path to the car and activated the flight capability, bringing the vehicle around in a wide aerial loop and flying about a foot above the overgrown grasses, apparently following a road only he could see.
“I’d couldn’t have found this path,” she said after a few minutes of their zigzagging between trees and boulders, heading west.
“Even I’m having a bit of trouble. Never dreamed I’d be coming here again, not after Gramps died. And certainly not under these circumstances. We’re close now.” He set the car onto the surface and drove through a meadow.
Ahead lay a shimmering lake, bordered by more of the towering trees, and a small dwelling nestled in a grove. “It’s a beautiful location.”
Marcus laughed. “My grandfather cared more about the isolation, the hunting and the fishing than he did for the beauty, but I agree it’s easy on the eyes.” He parked the car at the side of the cabin and killed the engine. “Let me check out the place first and then I’ll signal you.”
“All right. I could sit and stare at the forest for hours, so take your time.” She reclined her seat and stared at the towering trees through the sunroof. A peaceful lassitude was stealing over her and she knew she’d be able to pull unlimited power from these old growth woods, when she had the chance.
She watched Marcus bound up the steps onto the porch of the cabin and place his hand on a DNA reader beside the door. There was an audible pinging sound and she blinked as a wave of distorted energy flashed over the dwelling and spread outward, dissipating as it went. Meanwhile, the front door obligingly opened. He turned and waved to her so she got out of the car, grabbed the two packs and joined him.
He’d already gone inside for a quick check before hastening to meet her, taking both packs from her hands. “Pretty much like it was when Gramps was here. We put a stasis lock on the whole thing when he died but this is the first time I’ve been back.”
She stepped across the threshold and exclaimed in delight. The interior was undeniably masculine in decoration but appealing, with the wooden floors covered by handmade rugs, rustic paintings on the walls, a couch and chair and shelves loaded with old fashioned books. Blues and browns dominated the color scheme, with a hint of dark green. Caught by a flicker of emotion from her companion, she said, “You miss him, don’t you?”
He stood beside the table and touched a pipe resting on a ceramic plate. “Yeah. I almost expect to turn around and see him.”
Carialle squeezed his hand in sympathy.
With a visible effort, he straightened. “Bathroom is through there, bedroom on the other side. I’ll uh sleep on the couch out here tonight, if you want to go ahead and put your things in the bedroom. I’m going to move the car into the garage.”
“There’s a garage?” The long gone grandfather had apparently thought of all conceivable aspects when he built the place.
“Well hidden, to the rear. Gramps was thorough.” Grinning, he said, “The house AI rebooted when I logged in with my DNA, so there’ll be hot water soon if you want a shower. Ladies first.”
“And you’re sure we’re safe here?”
“As safe as we can be anywhere short of being on a Star Guard naval starship. We’ll be ok.” As he went outside, the AI lit a fire in the huge stone fireplace and Carialle wandered over to watch the flames for a moment. The mix of low and high tech amenities was a bit surprising but she felt at home in the dwelling, welcomed. She gave a quick prayer of thanks to Thuun and asked for a blessing on the spirit of the grandfather who’d made all this possible. The Valerian family might not be of her people but surely there was no harm in requesting a simple blessing. Then she took her pack and his, walked into the bedroom and stopped short at the gigantic bed dominating the space. Marcus must have inherited his size from his grandfather.
Setting the two backpacks on a carved wooden chest, she took off her shoes and went to explore the bathroom. A shower sounded appealing.
“I’m back,” Marcus called from the main room as she heard the sound of the exterior door closing. “I’m going to see what I can do about dinner, between what I brought from your place and what Gramps left stored in stasis.”
“Anything is fine,” she said, raising her voice. “And hot water for tea, if possible. I brought tea capsules of various blends, and my favorite mug with me.”
“You got it, angel.”
Carialle stripped to the skin and stepped into the large shower enclosure, making herself be efficient in the use of water. She remembered her companion was facing more hours of detox and probably wanted a shower even more than she did, after all those days held captive in the hospital bed. Sure, the machines had kept his skin clean but nothing felt as restorative as a shower. Dressing quickly in the spare clothing she’d shoved into the pack, she stacked her other garments neatly folded on the floor. I can wash them in the lake if worst comes to worst. Giggling at a vision of herself pounding clothes on rocks like a prehistoric female, she checked her hair and stepped into the main cabin.
Marcus had been bent over the closest chair, clutching the top rail with his fists, but at the sound of her arrival, he straightened and smiled. The cheerful expression clearly cost him to maintain. “Food’s ready.”
Going to him, she looked closely at his face and the pain lines bracketing his blue eyes. “You’re not doing too well, are you? How can I help?”
“I’ll be all right. You should eat.” He hastened into the kitchen and dished up two plates of beans and noodles in a delicious-smelling sauce. Juggling the plates, he also brought her a mug full of steaming water.
“Give me a minute!” She made a dash for the tea capsules in her pack and then joined him at the table, where he’d politely waited for her.
Carialle ate with good appetite but noticed he hardly touched his meal. “I’ll clean up, since you cooked. Why don’t you get that shower now?”
“I won’t argue, thanks.” As he rose from his chair, he staggered ever so slightly. “By the way, the cabin is surrounded by sensors a mile out, so no one is going to sneak up on us unannounced. And the windows and doors are locked and blast proof. We’re safe.”
For now. She bit her lip but kept her pessimism to herself. “Thank you for telling me. So your grandfather liked living in a fortress apparently.”
“You don’t know the half of it.”
She stretched and tried to unkink the tense knots in her back from the earlier events of the night. “Well I for one approve. It’s nice not to be scared and at risk for a change.”
He entered the bathroom, shutting the door as he did so. A moment later she heard the water cascading in the shower. Carialle finished the few dishes before strolling to the front door so she could gaze at the forest beyond. Being here in the midst of so much wild nature was feeding her energy levels to some extent, but she couldn’t wait to access the planet’s power via direct contact with the ancient trees, whose roots would run deep. She wished she’d asked Marcus if she could venture outside for a few moments before dark fell. I wouldn’t mind explaining the mechanism of my abilities to him. The ex-soldier was a good listener and their situation required mutual trust.
The water was still running, she realized. Concerned, she went to knock on the bathroom door. Hesitating for a long moment, she decided better to be overcautious. The withdrawal symptoms were clearly overtaking him again. “Marcus? Are you doing all right?”
CHAPTER FIVE
There was no answer. She slid the door aside and gasped as she saw him slumped in the shower, on the floor as if he’d slid down the wall like a broken doll, head tilted against the wall. Despite the hot water, he w
as shivering and she could tell from a faint odor in the air, he’d thrown up earlier. Rushing in, she turned off the water and grabbed the large towel he’d laid on the counter. “Can you stand? Marcus?”
Dazed, he couldn’t focus his attention on her, blinking and barely conscious so she stepped into the enclosure and wrapped the towel around him as best she could before urging him to his feet. “Lean on me.”
The shudders racking his body threatened to topple her along with him as she got him moving in the direction of the bedroom. He collapsed onto the bed and curled up in the fetal position, moaning. He moved his hands over his arms and legs, scratching at himself. She was afraid he’d draw blood if he kept it up.
“I’ll go see if we have any adrenaphix left,” she said.
He shot out his hand as she spun on her heel and held her with a grip of iron. “This is going to be bad,” he said between gritted teeth, each word enunciated as if his life depended on it. “Help me get dressed and make it outside. Can’t risk being in here with you. Might hurt you.”
Shocked, she sent a wave of soothing power at him and tried to uncurl his fingers, knowing she was going to have bruises but unsightly contusions were the least of her concerns. “You won’t hurt me and I’m not going to put you outside to suffer through this alone like a dying animal. Don’t be absurd.”
“Stubborn angel,” he said, slurring the words. “I’m going to be sick again.”
She grabbed the nearest receptacle, an ornamental ceramic bowl, and held it for him, rubbing his shoulders with her free hand while he suffered an attack of the dry heaves. “I’m going to get you the clothes, so you’ll be warmer,” she told him when he lay back, exhausted. “But no more talk of going outside. We’ll deal with one problem at a time and be fine.”
“Should be something in the closet.” He gestured vaguely at the far wall.
She grabbed a faded pair of sweat pants and a soft knit shirt from a shelf in the alcove and with a lot of effort managed to get him into them.
“Burning up,” he said.
Checking his forehead with her hand, she was shocked to find his skin now hot to the touch. At least he’d stopped scratching his arms.
“I’ll be right back.” Carialle walked into the main area of the cabin, leaving the bedroom door open and took a deep breath. Her insides churned and anxiety threatened to choke her breath off. She had to regain her self-control or Marcus was right and they’d never get through the night. “Treat each symptom as it presents,” she admonished herself, taking a deep breath and holding it. “He’s strong, he wants to live, he’ll get through this.” Part of her problem was sheer terror that he might indeed die as the drug left his system. I’m not a priestess—I can’t heal him. She turned as he groaned loudly and called her name. She needed to keep him well hydrated, not only because he was vomiting and sweating, but also to help wash the remaining poison from his system. Quickly she made more tea, adding plenty of sugar and took the mug plus a tall glass of water into the bedroom.
“Can you sit up enough to drink?”
With her help, he scooted against the carved headboard as she hastily piled pillows behind him. He drank the tea in a few gulps, followed by the plain tap water and then fell on the massed pillows, eyes closed. “Having hallucinations again, and an assortment of really bad thoughts,” he said in a weary voice, as if the act of talking was almost more than he could manage. “If you won’t let me out of the cabin, then you should tie me down, in case I get violent.”
Tears in her eyes, she climbed onto the bed. The idea of restraining him even for her own good was too much like what had been done to him at Trang’s clinic. And to her by the Combine. “Roll onto your stomach and I’ll rub your back,” she offered. “I have soothing lotion—it might help the itching.”
Obediently and in slow motion he moved onto his stomach, pillowing his head on his arms, watching her. “Carialle, I can kill you with a single blow. If the withdrawal takes me out of my right mind, I might—”
“You won’t hurt me.” Patiently she folded his T shirt up to his shoulders and massaged the lotion into his skin, while sending him supportive energy. “I’m sure.”
“Smells good,” he said a moment later. “You rubbed some on me at the clinic, didn’t you?”
“On your poor wrists, yes. I’m sorry it’s so floral.”
“S’all right. The sweet scent is how I knew you were real, not a dream. Gave me hope.”
He drifted into restless sleep for a few minutes and she was encouraged, but then he moaned and convulsed. She scrambled off the bed and stood helplessly, watching him arch his spine and writhe. Taking a deep breath, she tried to shut out her own worries and took a deep look at his aura. The gray no longer ate at the edges of his blue flames, but twined through the center like snakes or ropes, as if trying to separate the blaze into smaller segments. Attempting to make the fires representing the core of who he was as a man easier to destroy? Make him easier to kill? She sent her own strength to feed the blue flames, launching dark purple birdlike avatars to swoop onto the gray tendrils, clawing and biting and tearing them to shreds. If he couldn’t defend himself, she’d do it.
How long their battle lasted she had no idea but the gray retreated eventually so she opened her eyes. Out the window across the room she could see the moon had risen so hours must have passed. No wonder I can hardly move. Marcus lay crosswise on the bed, breathing heavily and covered with a sheen of sweat. Carialle trudged to the bathroom to make cold wet compresses and then bathed his forehead, arms and chest with the refreshingly cool towels.
He sat upright with an energy he hadn’t displayed all evening, startling her into dropping the wet towel and backing up a step. He held one hand as if he wielded a blaster and his eyes narrowed as he surveyed the room, presumably searching for enemies. “Quick, get behind me so I can protect you.”
“Marcus, it’s all right, there’s nothing here, no one but us.”
“The Mawreg and the Chimmer are coming—I can hear them.”
His voice was hoarse and he gestured with his free hand. “Hurry up and get on the ship before they surround us.”
This is really bad. Unsure how to reach him in his hallucinatory state, she crawled onto the mattress and worked her way behind him, looping her arms around his waist to make their contact closer. Again she examined his aura and was dismayed by the darkness of the gray intruding on his soul. She summoned her energies and visualized a sword, chopping through the mass of gray, dicing it up into smaller and smaller particles, which her swooping purple avians could consume. The gray sent writhing tentacles at her, trying to suck her into its maw of nothingness but she kept her weapon moving at a blinding speed, fending off such attempts. Through her battle, Marcus muttered and shook and tore at his own skin, first blazingly hot against her body, then shivering cold. As she finished destroying the last of the visible gray, he cried out and collapsed against her.
Carialle laid him flat and wriggled aside. Shaking with exhaustion and fear, she slid a pillow under his head, pulled up the heavy quilt and got off the bed. Time for brewing more tea, while he’s unconscious or sleeping.
Running to the kitchen, she made a mugful for herself and one for him, and refilled the water glass. Leaning on the counter, she pushed her loose hair wearily away from her eyes. For a healing this major there should be a lead priestess and several secondary priests or priestesses, as well as body servants to help with the physical tasks of keeping the warrior comfortable. Not one incompletely trained woman all by herself, battling the evil to save the warrior and trying to keep his body alive at the same time.
And I am no priestess.
Despairing as she heard him stir in the other room, she wiped away tears. He needs me to survive but he has no idea what a weak reed he’s leaning on.
You have the power, you were born with it. The quiet voice speaking in her head sounded like the wind rushing or the ocean waves crashing onto a beach and she pulled upright in shock.
Nothing else was said, but a wave of cool energy ran through her body, head to toe. Her fingers and toes tingled with the sensation. When she exhaled, her first breath was frosty, visible in the dimly lit cabin. Goose bumps ran over her skin, subsiding a moment later. Could Thuun have reached to touch me with his power?
Marcus called her name and she returned to the battle for his life.
Carialle had once heard it said the darkest hours were those before the dawn and now she understood, for her warrior’s body began to fail, his heart beating erratically, and still she had to fight the gray, which continued to encroach on his blue flames, as it withdrew from his mind and body, making a last stand to claim him and kill him.
She held him close, his head pillowed on her breasts, and tried not to be distracted by worry over his infrequent breathing, as she sang her defiant chant over and over. Holding him tight, she refused to surrender. From the few words he uttered sporadically, he was seeing enemy aliens surrounding them and believed he was doing his best to fight to protect them both. What scared her was she too was beginning to see flickers of alien beings herself, as she inserted herself deeply into the fray, as she used her resources and power to battle the evil swamping him and keep his heart beating. Was she going to die if he did?
Probably.
Marcus’s arms tightened his embrace. “Not going to let them have you,” he said, although it was unclear what enemy he was referring to. “Die to protect you.”
She sensed the loosening of the bonds between worlds, life and death mingling in the room, each trying to claim them.
Now what? She whispered a desperate prayer to Thuun, begging for inspiration, a new strategy to try. Hear my plea, help me again.
Taking three deep breaths, she sat up straight and sang the ballad for a new dawn, new beginnings. It wasn’t viewed as a battle hymn, or even a particularly religious song, being left over from an earlier, more primitive time when it was believed priestesses had to sing to coax the huge Tulavarran sun into the sky each day, pulling it over the horizon with chains of harmony. Few even knew all the words any more but it had been a favorite of hers as a child. The music was glorious, full throated and resonant with power and she gave it her all, reaching deep into herself for the last untapped reserves. Extra power came to her from some unknown source, potent in its ferocity, protective. The water glass shattered as she hit a high note and she felt Marcus’s blue flames blazing higher and higher, as they hadn’t done for hours, being nearly embers a moment before. Maybe he’d received a portion of the unknown burst of power as well. Whether her warrior intended it or not, he was giving her what she needed, his renewed will to fight to live on in this world, not slide into death. She hit the penultimate note, held it and then topped it with the final note, at which point the sun would have risen on her home world.
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