“You’re washing away!” He pushed back her hood and repeated his surprise. Her face was streaked in the same fashion as her hands. He jerked his tunic cuff over his wrist and rubbed at her skin, LaRenna flinching when he mashed the tender bruises spotting her face.
She pushed his hand away. “Stop it. You’re pinching my nose.”
“Be still. I’m almost through.” Trazar scrubbed all the dye from her face except in the immediate vicinity of her stitches. “So that’s what my sister looks like.”
“Minus the dark hair and bruises.” LaRenna rubbed her nose.
“A little more rain and the hair color will be gone, too,” he replied. “The dye’s streaking down your neck.” Thunder shook the canyon walls, pelting the roof of their temporary roost with a shower of small pebbles. “We’d better climb out of here before we end up in a landslide.” Trazar kicked away several rocks that had landed near his feet.
LaRenna’s death grip properly entangled in his tunic, he shimmied up the outcrop’s ironstone covering. A gusting wind began to blow, slathering them mercilessly with mud and small, biting stones. Trazar cursed their luck and strained to pull higher. Below, the launch bobbed in the current.
“I can’t go much farther in this wind.” Trazar blinked the water from his eyes. “Start looking for a spot we can wait this out.”
LaRenna looked upward then released her hand long enough to point to their upper right. “What about there?”
“No matter what it is, it’ll have to do.” Trazar began climbing in that direction. The climb seemed easier the nearer they came to the opening, as if a rough ladder had been carved into the canyon wall.
“Wait a second!” LaRenna touched the eroded symbols etched between the handholds.
“What does it say?” A violent gust blasted away any answer she may have given and LaRenna clutched his tunic as he scaled the last ten meters to safety. Trazar crawled several lengths into the opening before she would consider loosening her grip and then still held a handful of his dripping tunic.
“Crazy climb, wasn’t it?” Trazar peeled her loose then dumped the water from his boots. “What were those symbols?”
“They’re Taelach markings of a safe haven.” LaRenna gazed around their new surroundings. “This is a Hiding Cave.”
“Hiding Cave?” He looked up in the same dumbfounded manner.
“A place to which Taelachs can flee in times of crisis.”
Trazar stopped what he was doing. “Why would your people need something like this with all your technology?”
“We’ve had them since the time of the Hunts.” LaRenna briefly explained the Kinship’s history to her brother. He listened with locked interest, gaining new understanding and respect of how survival had influenced Taelach culture.
“Amazing,” he muttered when she paused. “Autlach teachers never teach any older history.”
“They should.” LaRenna rasped. “Taelachs learn their own and Autlach history in detail.”
“Let’s get out of this wind.” Trazar helped her hobble into a dark interior chamber and propped her against the wall.
“There should be a light panel here somewhere.” LaRenna leaned against the damp stone as Trazar felt for the main panel. His hand grasped something that wiggled like a switch, so he jerked it down, flooding the chamber in a low, pleasing light.
“Got it. Now what are these?” He pointed to the corrosion-proof crates stacked in the room’s center.
“Stores. Open them. They should have everything we need.”
Trazar unlatched one of the heavy lids and shuffled through the box’s contents. “Want some dry clothes?”
“Please!” LaRenna appreciated the thought of being warm again. “I’m frozen through and through.”
Trazar gathered a knit tunic, leggings, and underclothing for her. “Will these do?”
“Perfect as long as they’re dry.” She managed to fumble out of her wet garments without assistance and slid into renewed comfort. Trazar dug back into the crate and pulled out two bedrolls before moving to the next one. It was full of charged lighting rods. Trazar stacked several near the rolls. A third crate provided extensive food stores that he set aside for later.
“Now if we had a little heat to burn off the dampness,” he mumbled, “we’d be set.”
LaRenna’s keen hearing picked up her brother’s lament. “Throw the orange breaker beside the one for the lights. Maybe the heating cells still have—” A violent cough brought her sliding toward the floor. Trazar caught her before she landed and carried her near the room’s large central vent, where he remained at her side, afraid to move until she assured him heat would help the cough.
The heating system sprang to life with a rusted clank. “There. That should do it.” Trazar returned to the crates. “Any of these contain medical supplies?”
“Try the small ones.”
He carried one of the smaller crates to where she sat. “Let me change and I’ll tend your foot.” He resumed his search in the clothing crate, complaining about the selection as he looked. “Skirts and leggings for lanky-limbed women. Don’t your people have something for those of lesser height?”
“Not really.” She smiled. “Not even children’s clothing fits me right. I have to have everything cut to fit. Roll a smaller pair of leggings at the waist and leg bottoms and hold them up with a belt. That’s what I do.”
Trazar did as she suggested and slid a heavy tunic over the top. The combination fit loosely once he’d rolled the sleeves. “Did I give you anything for your feet?”
“Nope.” She sniffled. “It would be appreciated as would some assistance with my boots.”
Two sets of warm footlings and bedroll in hand, Trazar joined her on the floor. He unrolled the bedding and helped her onto it. “Rest yourself while I warm our feet.” He slid the leather from her shriveled toes and rubbed the sole of her good foot.
“Oh, thank you.” LaRenna stretched into the warming massage. “I was beginning to think it as dead as the other one.”
“You still can’t feel it?” Trazar moved to the injured leg and removed the brace and bandages. The skin had turned an almost blue-black from toes to heel. Dark drainage coated the arch, crusting into rot-smelling clots on the bandages. “LaRenna,” he stammered. “This is in desperate need of a healer. It’s infected.”
LaRenna propped on her elbows to look for herself. “See what’s in the medical crates.” She stared at the dying flesh. The foot seemed so detached that the thought of removing it didn’t matter. It was useless anyway.
Trazar removed several small packs from the crate. “Your people aren’t much for pain medications, are they?”
“We rely on each other for relief. Phasing is faster and more effective than any drug.”
“I was afraid of that.”
“Why?” LaRenna began to pull her foot away. Trazar shook his head and gripped her leg just above the knee.
“No you don’t. The bottom is abscessing. If I don’t open it and clean out the infection, it’ll spread to your blood.” He slid forward until his own legs wrapped around her injured one, his thigh muscles tensing to immobilize the limb. LaRenna squirmed with discomfort as he doused the foot in antibiotic cleanser. “You feel that?”
“Cold.”
Trazar opened two surgical packs then washed his hands in the cleansing solution. “Lie back and be very, very still.”
LaRenna lay back, her eyes tight in anticipation. She focused on a relaxing meditation chant to ward away the pain, repeating it as Trazar opened the abscess with a small scalpel. The chant was lost, replaced by a low moan when he squeezed the infection into squares of sterile packing surrounding the abscess. A brief reprieve as he changed the packing allowed her to begin again, harder and faster than before. Trazar glanced sympathetically at her pain-riddled face while he swabbed underneath the skin with a medicine-soaked piece of packing. Eventually, she began launching obscenities at him, the words growing louder and harsher
with her gasping breaths.
“Go ahead if it helps.” His grip became all the harder. “It has to be done.”
“Then get it over with!” She restrained her instinct to phase him limp. “Dear Mother take me so it’ll stop!”
“There.” He removed the last of the packing. “You’re not dead and there’s nothing left but to stitch it up.” He inserted a threaded wire just beneath her skin and loosely closed the wound, providing plenty of room for proper drainage, LaRenna continuing to mumble obscenities the entire time. “I don’t know much Taelach, sister, but I do know when I’m being sworn at in any language. You should be ashamed.”
“I take no credit for what I say in pain or passion,” she growled, her teeth clenched.
“I’ll remember that.” Trazar placed a light bandage over the incision site. “It’s finished. I don’t believe I ever heard such colorful metaphors from a woman’s mouth. Where’d you learn those words?”
“Auts.”
“That so?” Trazar wasn’t sure whether to be insulted or amused. “What about the Taelach swears I heard? I’m fairly sure one of them concerned my mother, who, by the way, is your mother, too.”
“I told you I take no credit, but I do apologize. Just, please, leave my leg alone. It’s throbbing into my hip.” She thought of the inhaler.
“I’ll leave it alone for a while.” He brought her a water bottle from the food stores. “Forgive me?”
“There’s nothing to forgive.” LaRenna accepted his gesture, pulling from the bottle to coat her throat. Trazar waited until she’d finished then held up several tins and airtight packs for her approval. “They’re marked in Taelach. You’ll have to translate if you want a decent meal.”
“Open everything except the green-topped pack. That’s pickled sponge fish.” LaRenna wrinkled her nose. “Disgusting stuff.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” Trazar opened the tins with his dagger and set them before her. “You’ll have to use your fingers. I can’t find any tableware.”
“Fork tines and spoons are Autlach conveniences,” she said, amazed by how little most Autlachs really knew about their closest cousins. “We only use them around Auts. At home we use our knives. I thought everyone knew that.”
“Not everyone,” he countered, embarrassed. “Don’t you eat soups and stews?”
“Sure. We drink them from a sipper bowl then use our knives to retrieve what sticks in the bottom.”
“Now I know why even the youngest Taelach children carry blades.”
“That, and old fears.” LaRenna took the dagger from him and pointed at the array. “Dig us some preserved black bread from the crate and I’ll dish you up whatever you want.” Trazar found the bag and handed her one of the small precut slices.
“I’ll take some of whatever that is in the oblong tin.”
LaRenna deftly layered a piece on the bread. “Here, it’s roast bandit beast.”
“I’ve never seen bandit beast cooked that way.” Trazar took a small bite. “The color is odd.”
“It’s been cooked in rangleberries. Hence the bluish color.”
“Oh.”
They made quick work of that tin and four more of various Taelach staples. Trazar ate ravenously. LaRenna merely picked, more to keep him company than for her appetite. She was coughing more deeply as the day progressed, every hack grabbing at her sides.
He was tossing away the empty containers when a series of coughs cut her breathing short. “I believe the rain has left you with pneumonia.” Trazar helped her settle onto the bedroll when the worst was over.
“I’m afraid so.” Truth was, she had felt the fluid building long before their rain-soaked ascent. Brandoff’s kick had caused her to inhale some of her own vomit, setting in an opportunistic infection of a type Taelachs seldom incurred.
“You’re burning up.” He retrieved several bedrolls from the crates and stacked them into a reclining wedge for her comfort. “Sleep. That’s an order, not from a superior, but from an older, wiser brother.”
“You’ll get no objection from me, on any count.” LaRenna closed her eyes and drifted off. Trazar sat with her a while then took an armful of light rods to the main cavern entrance, spacing them at regular intervals across the mouth. It was a feeble signal at best but the most he could hope for as long as the rain persisted.
Trazar held his hand into the rain as he pondered the dramatic twist his life had taken. LaRenna filled an ever-present void in his life. The pure coincidence of their meeting made him wonder if it had always been part of the Taelach Maker’s grand plan. LaRenna relied on him. That, he decided, was why he had been placed here. By helping her, he would help bridge the gap between the Taelach and Autlach, proving that families could exist in harmony no matter their makeup. He wouldn’t fail. LaRenna couldn’t die.
Chapter Thirty-One
We cannot choose whom we love. The heart acts independently of the greater senses when making such attachments.
—Elder wisdom
“Where’s your mourning sash?” Chandrey asked Krell as the recovery teams assembled on the landing deck. She knew Ockson had provided the guardian with one and was disappointed it was not draped across her shoulder.
“I threw it away,” replied Krell. “It’s not necessary.”
“Not necessary?” stammered Chandrey. “How can you honor her memory without it? You can’t free her ashes to the winds. It’s a sacrilege!”
“She’s not dead,” insisted Krell. “Firman, Tatra, and I intend to find her.”
“How—” Chandrey quelled her words when Belsas called the confused deck to order.
“You’ve all been given your duty assignments.” The Taelach of All spoke reverently from the top step of a maintenance riser. “The crash site has been tracked to the Glory Lands. The area is currently blanketed in heavy storms, resulting in the widespread canyon flooding typical of this season. A base camp will be set up at the search area’s center. All teams will report to me on a daily basis. There are to be no heroics. This is a recovery operation only. Teams from the Training Grounds will canvass the outer perimeter of the search area. Are there any questions?” Shuffling feet and shifting equipment echoed on the otherwise silent deck. “Very well, all crews are to report to their designated launches.”
When the teams scattered, Krell dashed away before Chandrey could ask more questions. Firman and Tatra caught up with her at the launch. They were garbed in heavy climbing gear, Tatra with a small medical pack strapped to her waist. “Here.” She tossed Krell a rolled jumpsuit. “That should fit.”
“Thanks.” Krell slid the suit on. Despite the size, it was still short in the leg. She snorted at the accustomed ill fit and tucked the leg bottoms into her boots.
“Don’t feel bad.” Firman tugged his jumpsuit down. “She made sure mine was short, too.”
“She could never pick clothes for anyone but herself,” said Krell.
Firman leaned close and pointed to Tatra’s backside as she disappeared into the launch. “I’ve never seen a climbing suit filled out quite so nicely, how ’bout you?”
“I’ve always appreciated the way she seems poured into her clothes,” whispered Krell. “Her mouth is what scared me away.”
“I heard that!” called a voice from inside the launch.
“See?” Krell chuckled as she forced a frown. “All sense of appreciation is lost.”
“Not mine,” beamed Firman.
“I heard that, too!”
“Good!” he yelled. “Your ears should be burning ’cause the rest of you is flaming hot already.”
Krell found their developing relationship amusing. Tatra had never been one to deal with Autlachs more than necessary and Firman was one to love a challenge. They made an interesting pair.
“You going to hold on this time?” he asked when Krell had barred the hatchway.
“Oh, shut up.” Tatra turned up her nose.
“You first, if you can.” Firman winked at his siblin
g when she passed. Krell smiled back knowing Wileyse had finally met her match.
They waited their turn for liftoff and took their place in the convoy. The imbedded storms made landing a tricky affair but all crafts were successful. It was late afternoon on the surface, so the teams were dispatched to do preliminary searches while daylight remained.
“There’s so much to cover.” Tatra surveyed the narrow canyon they’d been assigned. “Where do we begin?”
“Not here.” Krell looked toward the western horizon. “Belsas gave us this area because she wants me close to camp.”
“There might be something down there.” Firman leaned over the canyon edge, watching the bottom rage with muddy turbulence. Chills cascaded down his spine at the thought of LaRenna being washed away, unsteadying his stance until Tatra grabbed his arm, pulling him from the edge.
“Careful, you’ll slip.”
“Didn’t know you cared,” he crooned.
“I don’t.” She dropped her hand. “Just wanted to spare myself any unnecessary work.”
“When you two are through,” interrupted Krell before Firman could form a comeback, “I think we should look west.”
Firman consulted their map and shook his head. “That leads us outside the search parameters. Are you sure you want to cross Belsas?”
“LaRenna is in that direction. I’m sure of it.” Krell led the way across the rough terrain. The others followed, dedicated though reluctant, puzzled by her fixed sense of direction.
They walked due west of their starting point, circumventing large standing puddles and deep-mudded bandit beast wallows. Krell kept the lead, homing in on some invisible beacon. All thoughts faded from her mind save one—LaRenna. That one image forced Krell blindly onward. LaRenna was in pain and that’s all that mattered.
“Krell!” Firman pointed to the nearly set sun. “It’s getting late. We should return to camp.”
“No, I’m going on. It’ll take most of the morning to get this far again.”
“We’ll take a land launch.”
“It may be too muddy for touchdown. You saw how far the planetary launches sank when we landed.” Krell looked at the clouds stacking on the horizon. “I can’t leave. Take Tatra back if you want. I’m going to keep moving until it’s too dark to see.”
Jeanne G'Fellers - No Sister of Mine Page 21