Fallen

by Ivy Cross

  Dekkar is standing a few yards from me, gathering the rest of the meat into a sack woven from some fibrous vines. Dim orange light filters through the canopy.

  “What?” I shake my head to clear some of the cobwebs and try again. “It’s morning?”

  “Yes. I was just gathering our provisions and readying for the remainder of our journey. Did you rest well?”

  “Uh, yeah. I thought I just put my head down… must have been out like a light.” Not only did I sleep like the dead, but that was the first night since my abduction that I didn’t relive it in vivid detail. Maybe there is something in the air on this world.

  “There is a spring close by,” Dekkar says, cinching the makeshift sack to a loop on his leathers. “We will drink, then start out.”

  “Sounds good.” I stretch and notice my back doesn’t ache for once. I guess moss and earth provide better ergonomics than the steel deck of a spaceship. Who’d have guessed?

  The burble of the spring alerts us to its presence long minutes before we get there. It’s narrow, and only inches deep, but the waters look crystal clear and inviting.

  Dekkar drops to his knees and fills his cupped hands. The water shines down his chin and onto his chest in thin rivulets, and suddenly I can’t remember ever being this thirsty in my entire life.

  “Drink.” Dekkar wipes his hands against his chest. “The water is pure and chilled.”

  He doesn’t have to ask me twice.

  “This is the best water I’ve ever had,” I say after the first sweet gulp. I splash some onto my face, and any of the residual sleep fog is gone in an instant. “This may even beat waking up to a hot cup of coffee.”

  “Coff-fee?”

  “It’s just something I used to drink when I—” I turn to see Dekkar rubbing some of the orangish-colored mud onto the large muscles of his thighs. Minus his leathers…

  “Oh, ah, Dekkar?” I say, snapping my eyes back front and center after a little more gawking than I would like to admit. “What’s that you’re doing over there?”

  “These muds have medicinal properties,” he says without a trace of embarrassment in his voice. “We do not know how far we will have to go to rescue your friend. This will keep the ache from our muscles.”

  I hear him slap another gob of the stuff against his flesh.

  “I will do you next.”

  I stare down at the grimy brown slacks I changed into before a long shift at the warehouse over a week ago. My tattered polo-style uniform top can’t be any better. It begs the question—how the hell did this guy ever mistake me for a goddess?

  Dekkar’s leathers creak, and I sneak a peek as he pulls them back over his trunk-like legs. Now this guy… he could be confused for a god any day of the week. I’d have no trouble at all believing he’s Hercules himself, dropped down from Mount Olympus to come to my rescue.

  Dekkar walks out and looks down at me with expectation in his eyes. “You will disrobe?”

  “Um… I’m okay. I don’t really have much in the way of muscles to worry about, anyway.”

  His expression remains serious, even as his eyes bore right into me. “You are certain? The mud also keeps the moss leeches at bay. They tend to focus on the warmer areas of the body…”

  I pull the zipper of my fly down so fast it almost gives me a friction burn. “You had me at moss leeches,” I say, shucking my slacks down and kicking off my sneakers.

  The cool morning air brings out goosebumps on the pale flesh of my legs, but I’ll take a chill and slight embarrassment anytime over having to worry about leeches working their way into my business.

  When Dekkar doesn’t make a move, I look up to find him staring at me intently.

  “You okay there, big guy?”

  “I—uh. Your garments are unfamiliar to me.” He hesitates for a moment, then drops to his knees before me.

  “So, it’s my garments you were staring at, huh?” Awkward situation or not, I can’t help grinning at him.

  He only grunts his reply but doesn’t try to hide his captivated stare. “This will be cold,” he says, before slapping a blob of the mud against my inner thigh.

  “Shit!”

  Dekkar hops back with a startled grunt, toppling back onto his ass and almost rolling over into the stream.

  “That’s like ice!”

  “I told you it is cold.” Dekkar picks himself up and gathers another fistful of mud from the stream’s bank.

  “Yeah, well, that doesn’t make it any less excruciating,” I reply.

  “I am sorry.” The dopey grin on his face says he’s anything but. He kneels again, but this time rubs the goop between his palms and not directly onto my legs. “I will warm it for you.”

  “You could have done that the first time around too…”

  Instead of replying, Dekkar presses the substance against my thigh again. It’s still cool, but not enough to give me a heart attack.

  It’s actually kind of pleasant.

  I hold in a squeak as Dekkar’s vice-like grip works the slick mud into my muscles. He pulls his hands down my thigh, then starts again a little higher, massaging deeply. It’s the kind of deep tissue massage that is painful and enjoyable at the same time.

  “It is not too much for you?” His voice comes out as a husky whisper as he focuses on his task.

  I shake my head, but I can’t tell if he even notices.

  His fingers brush under the bottom elastic of my panties, then Dekkar lifts me slightly and slides his warm hands just under my ass on both sides.

  I’ve never had a real massage in my whole life, and I’m pretty sure one wouldn’t be the same as this, anyway. But Dekkar is working out kinks in there that I didn’t even know I had.

  He slides his hands back around to the front side, and I let out a soft moan.

  Fuck! It was a moan of pleasure, but not a sexual moan… not exactly. I just felt extremely relaxed, and his hands felt so good…

  A blush burns through my cheeks just as I feel Dekkar pull away.

  “I will not need to go any higher,” he says, moving to rinse his hands in the stream. “The leeches most often climb from the lower part of the legs, so they will be deterred long before they get to… higher parts of your body.”

  “Thanks,” I half-mumble. He’s pretending he didn’t notice I just made things awkward as hell. And that’s kind of making it even more awkward—for me, at least.

  “I will tend to your leggings and then we can go.”

  “Tend to my leggings?” I imagine my expression conveys an even mix of bewilderment and slack-jawed confusion.

  He grabs my slacks from the ground and holds out one of the legs. “These are too long for a journey in this climate.”

  He’s right. The morning air is already thick with enough humidity to drink.

  “Okay,” I say, “what do you have in mind?”

  Dekkar pulls the knife from his hip and slices through the fabric with one neat stroke.

  “An easy fix,” he says, doing the same to the other side. “Now, dress and we will continue your quest.”

  Chapter 8 – Dekkar

  As we emerge from the trees and breast a gentle, mossy knoll, I fall back and let Talia take the lead.

  It was a mistake to modify the goddess’s garment.

  Her legs glide languidly beneath her slight frame, glistening with the slick mud and catching the bright day’s light. Her curves—

  Bright pain explodes through my right foot, and I drop to the ground face first with all of the grace of a blind brisna on a frozen pond.

  “Whoa, are you alright?”

  I roll onto my side in time to see Talia kneel beside me with clear concern in her eyes.

  “I am fine. I merely stumbled over a stone.” I hop up and look down at my foot. It is scraped and bloodied, but the pain is not a match for my wounded pride. I do not make it a habit of appearing the fool in front of others, and to do so in front of this goddess is far worse.

  “We can stop if
you need to tend to that,” she says.

  “It is nothing,” I say more harshly than I mean to. “We should continue.”

  She turns and starts again, but I press a hand to her shoulder. “I will take the lead. Just in case…”

  I do not go so far as to say just in case I lose focus while staring at your backside and plunge into a deep ravine. But it is likely implied.

  Morning is well behind us, and the sun baking down from high in the middle of the sky. The stench of the Valat has been enough of a trail for me to follow, and the signs that the hunt is almost at its end have been many.

  Some of the signs, like the many clumsy prints and disturbed plants, I have pointed out to keep Talia engaged in the hunt. But others, like a thin line of bright red blood and several scraps of torn cloth, I have kept to myself. I can see no point in adding to the goddess’s already considerable worry.

  “Your friend will be in there.” I point out the raised earth less than fifty paces from our position.

  “I… don’t see anything.”

  “That bulge you see in the ground just there, that is the entrance to a Valat warren. Our quarry’s horde will dwell inside.”

  “Horde… warren…” Talia’s sparkling eyes flit from the entrance back to me. “So, you’re saying there’s a bunch of those things and they live underground. That’s just great.”

  “You expected different?”

  “Call me old fashioned, but I was kind of thinking we’d roll up on the Valat’s shanty or hovel and you’d just stare the fucker into submission.” She brushes a golden lock of hair from her eyes.

  I regard her silently for a moment, watching as her hand slides down to the strange metal club that protrudes from the side of her newly shortened garment. She is technically armed, but a Valat warren is no place for a female such as this, goddess or not. She is far too… soft.

  “You will stay near the exit,” I say, leading the way toward the warren. “I will not allow any of the Valat horde past me once I enter, but you will still need to stay vigilant in case there are others who have not yet returned.”

  I scan the area for cover. The situation is not ideal—whether inside or out, the goddess will be in some danger. Unfortunately, the day is bright, and the area lacks any true shelter. Perhaps I should have taken her to my village after all.

  The entrance to the warren is more a hole in the ground than anything else. Valat builders excavate extensive tunnel systems, but their ways are quite primitive, and they use only unshaped stone to support the earth at the entrances.

  “No… I think I would feel better coming inside.” She pats the club at her hip. “I can whack anything that gets too close to me.”

  “Normally, I would not allow such a thing,” I say. “There will be bloodshed, and battle is no place for one such as you. But, in this case, you may be right. I fear you would be in more danger out here without me than inside with me there as your protection.”

  The goddess rolls her eyes, likely to extract some debris that has blown into them. When she is finished, she says, “how are we going to be able to see down there?”

  “Warrens are typically lit with torches inside. We should have no difficulty navigating by them.”

  “You’ve been inside them before?” Talia asks.

  “Yes, but only as a stripling, and only to observe my elders in battle. Many seasons ago, a warren grew out too close to our village and some of our warriors had to step in and exterminate the horde. That complex was vast and had many Valat warriors inside, but warrens rarely achieve such immensity these days, and I doubt there will be more than a handful of their warriors inside this one.”

  I can see the fear that widens the goddess’s lovely eyes, but I do not try to extinguish it. In the right measure, fear can be a helpful ally in such a place of danger.

  Talia sidles up and peers over the edge of the entrance. “How do we get down there?”

  The dark hole appears to drop nearly straight down, but I know there to be a steep incline just below the shadowy lip. It is what allows the Valat to scurry in and out.

  “I will drop down first. You will sit along the edge just here. When I call to you, hop down and slide along the dirt floor.”

  Talia looks over the edge again, uncertainty lining her eyes and mouth.

  “Do not worry, goddess. I will catch you—I would never let you come to harm.”

  She smiles, but I can still see nerves in her expression. “I trust you. I do. And you’ve given me no reason to question your intentions. But… I did just see you fall over flat on your face on the way up here.”

  Her smile widens, and I quickly realize she is poking fun at me. I have a feeling she is not going to let me live that particular incident down anytime soon.

  I kick my legs up over the edge of the warren entrance and turn to her, matching her mischievous smile. “Follow when I give sign, and I will catch you. Maybe.”

  With that, I drop. My bare feet connect with cool soil in the darkness after only a moment, and I slide down to the base of the entrance. Inside, the air is dank with the odor of earth and fungus. And something not unlike rotten meat.

  Not too far from me, I can make out the dim, flickering light of a torch. So, at least navigation should not be difficult.

  “You may follow, Talia.” I cast my voice in a loud whisper in hopes it does not carry to the Valat further in. I have little worry that the creatures will be able to match me in combat even if they have foreknowledge of my presence here—the spear on my hip is far more lethal than any crude weapon they might fashion. But they are possessed of a kind of low cunning and, given enough time, they may think to use their hostage as a shield.

  The soil above me grates softly as Talia slides down. I catch her in my arms when she reaches the end of the slope even though her balance is true, and she likely does not need my aid.

  The warmth of her body against mine is enough to dispel the chill, dank air of the crude tunnel.

  “Uh, you—you can let go of me now. I’m okay.” Even in whisper, Talia’s voice dances around the long cavern like a chorus of a hundred hushed voices.

  “Of course,” I say, releasing my hold on her with some reluctance. “See, I told you I could catch you.”

  “Uh-huh, I didn’t doubt it for a second.” It is too dim to see her expression where we stand, but I can hear the grin in her voice all the same. “I just wasn’t sure you could do it without falling on your ass.”

  Chapter 9 – Talia

  For future reference, Valat warren is just a fancy name for an underground rat maze. And it smells just as bad as you’d think it would. And it’s damned cold.

  “Why the hell are there so many dead ends?” I ask, as we turn around and backtrack for the fiftieth or so time. Each tunnel we have encountered has looked almost exactly the same as the last—hardpacked dirt floors and ceiling with some shoddy looking rock walls. More than once, our way has been blocked by a cave-in, which didn’t boost my opinion of the Valat’s tunneling skills…

  “I imagine the false paths act as a deterrent to intruders—slows them down and bottles them in until a response party can be formed.” Dekkar’s raspy whisper sounds like large stones being scraped across one another. In the dim red torchlight, his features have become even more fierce, but no less alluring.

  “It sure seems like they’re taking their sweet time then,” I whisper back. “They could have brought every warrior they have down on us by now.”

  Dekkar’s silence only magnifies my feeling that there’s something off in here—and not just because of the spoiled meat smell. This place feels less like a bustling underground village than an abandoned mine.

  Halfway down the next tunnel Dekkar tilts his head back and begins to sniff the air.

  “You got something there, boy? It’s not Timmy and that fucking well again, is it?” Probably not the time or place for jokes, but sometimes I can’t help myself.

  Dekkar shakes his head slowly, but whether
he means he didn’t smell anything, or he simply doesn’t know what it is, I can’t say.

  Before we can round the next corner, Dekkar’s hand shoots out and presses against my chest, blocking my way forward. He presses his fingers to his lips, then one to his ear. The message is clear: shut up and listen.

  I do just that.

  At first, I can’t hear anything new—only the sound of my harsh breathing. But, eventually, I hear it too. It sounds like the labored, wheezy breathing of an elderly person with an advanced case of emphysema.

  Dekkar pulls his hand back from my chest but continues to hold it palm out toward me, indicating he wants me to hold back while he checks around the corner. I don’t like it, but I nod my agreement anyway.

  He slides the deadly-looking spear from the loop on his hip and glides around the corner, his body language showing he was not only made for this kind of thing but that he also relishes it.

  I barely have a chance to draw in a breath before Dekkar’s arm appears from around the corner, motioning for me to follow.

  I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this. The new corridor isn’t like all the others we’d traveled so far. The narrow entrance fans out before us into a much larger, diamond-shaped area. Its construction is the same as the maze-like tunnels—dirt and crude stones—but this new space looks like it was used as some kind of communal gathering spot. There are at least a couple of dozen man-sized depressions in the dirt scattered around the perimeter of the room, which may have been used as places to sit or sleep for the Valat.

  I quickly scan the dimly lit room, but I can’t locate the source of the sound. “I don’t see anyone here,” I say, turning to Dekkar.

  He points his spear to one of the depressions in the dirt at the far side of the room. In the low light, it takes me several moments to see the spot is occupied. The figure, tucked into a fetal position, blends in almost entirely with the dark soil around it.

  “I think it’s injured,” Dekkar whispers, “But stay wary all the same. The Valat are not known for their great strategy, but it could still be a trap.”