*****
The pleasant tingle of fingertips caressing his cheek was the first sensation he registered sometime later, along with the hypnotic sound of Ninsianna's voice as she chattered into the air as though a third person had arrived to carry on a conversation with her. Gods, it hurt to breathe! But so long as it hurt, he knew he was still alive.
Mikhail opened his eyes. The harsh, golden rays of the sun had shifted to sit upon the western rim of the valley, the lengthy shadows indicating he'd been unconscious for quite some time. The scent of fresh-crushed leaves wafted up from the wound in his chest. Medicinal herbs? Yet more proof the root race was fully sentient.
Damantia! The thought flitted through his mind and left before he could grab hold of it. Root race. Root race. What in Hades did that mean? He had the urgent feeling he was supposed to communicate that piece of information to somebody, but he couldn't remember who, or why it was so important! He looked up into the face which stared at him upside down.
“Hello?" He searched her unusual tawny-beige eyes.
She murmured something which could be hello, or thank you, or I want to smash your skull in with a rock, but by her smile, it appeared to be gratitude.
“Who was that?” he asked, knowing she couldn't understand him.
“Who?” she repeated, recognizing the word. “Jamin."
She pointed in the direction her assailant had run away and muttered a string of words. By the way she wrinkled her nose, he guessed this Jamin was a disgruntled former boyfriend.
“Who … Jamin?" He pointed in the direction the man had disappeared.
Ninsianna nodded yes. “Jamin."
Mikhail studied the way her entire body became animated when she spoke. It appeared she shared the same underlying non-verbal body language as his species. Not wanting to make any assumptions, he nodded his head up and down and said “sua" [yes], and then he nodded side to side while he said “aon" [no]. He did this several more times until she understood.
“Yes, sua, Jamin!" She pinched her nose as if blocking out a bad smell, and then she laughed, a delightful, musical sound. Definitely somebody she knew.
“Let’s get back to the ship,” Mikhail said. He grimaced in pain as he attempted to sit up and groaned.
“Up,” she said in her own language, pointing up.
Mikhail repeated the word and then said it in his own language, “suas."
Ninsianna helped him to his feet, laughing with delight as she experimented with the unfamiliar words. She propped herself beneath his armpit like a crutch, wrapping one arm around his waist to stabilize him as they made their way back to his ship. Pleasant warmth tingled throughout his body; wherever she touched him, he could feel a lessening of pain.
She helped him duck through the crack in the hull, over the shattered components of his ship's tiny bridge and into the less damaged galley.
“Back here." He pointed towards the sleeping quarters. “I can't remember my own name, but for some reason I remember the layout of my ship." His fingers automatically found the light switch built into his bunk. By the size and number of bunks, he guessed his ship could transport four crew members and a modest cargo. He appeared to have been the only person on board at the time of the crash.
Ninsianna helped him maneuver so his splinted wing would fit between the narrow aisle between the bunks.
“I need to sit down,” he said, “before I collapse.” With a pained sigh, he lowered himself to sit on the lower bunk.
Ninsianna pursed her lips, her expression intent as she examined his injuries. His chest wound still seeped blood, but otherwise the stitches had held despite his recent adventures. She reached into her crude, brown satchel and pulled out more leaves, crushing them so they leaked a pale, green liquid and then rubbing the leaves against the hole in his chest. The leaves contained a faint astringent odor, somewhat reminiscent of alcohol. Some type of medicinal herb, perhaps?
He studied the unguarded expressions which crossed her face as she gave him water from her water skin, the one that had started all the trouble when he'd thoughtlessly drained it. This time, he only took enough to quench his thirst.
She pulled dried jerky and berries from her satchel. The meat was chewy and salty and the berries tasted sour, but they were all he'd had to eat in two days and he was so ravenous he didn't care. Taking a draught of water for herself, she put the rest away. Pulling back the covers, she pointed to his bed and barked an order he clearly understood despite the language barrier.
“Up … suas?” Ninsianna pointed towards the ceiling. She then pointed down and muttered something in her own language. She had to repeat the gesture a second time before he realized she asked him what the word for ‘down’ was.
“Down,” he said, pointing down to the floor. “Sios.”
“Sua, sios [yes, you down]." By her stern expression, she wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. Having just witnessed her punch that Jamin fellow in the face, he decided it was wise to do as he was told.
“Yes, Ma'am. Down." He arranged his broken wing to minimize his discomfort. Pointing to the opposite bunk, he said, “you, sios, down.”
“Sua, sios [yes, down]." Ninsianna pulled back her covers and kicked off her crudely laced animal skin shoes.
She slipped off the shawl which served as her dress, leaving herself naked except for a loincloth fastened around her hips. Mikhail gaped at her lush, firm breasts as she slid beneath the covers as if he had never seen such a thing before. With a smile of pure innocence, she said something he assumed meant “good night,” and promptly fell asleep.
He stared at the trusting woman asleep across the aisle. With a sigh of resignation he reached up to click off the light. Closing his eyes, he filled his otherwise empty brain the memory of what she looked like, the woman who had saved his life. Olive skinned, with wavy dark hair, long dark eyelashes and full, red lips, he felt she would compare favorably to women of his species.
Drifting off to sleep, he dreamt of travelling through the stars with his bossy little savior in tow.
Chapter 11
Sword of the Gods: The Chosen One Page 14