by C B Williams
She didn’t open her eyes right away. Rather, she lay still and attempted to patch together what had happened and where she was. She remembered racing through the tunnels. Running to near exhaustion. She remembered a sniffer had latched onto her leg, had almost succeeded in hauling her back into the tunnel when she finally kicked herself free. She remembered battling the sniffers.
She remembered she should be dead.
Yet she wasn’t dead.
So what happened?
Wren opened her eyes…
… and stared up at a tarp that shielded her from the sky. She wasn’t in Sub-City. Upper? Had one of her Kin found her, then? She turned her head to look out. Her neck was so stiff it felt like she hadn’t moved her head in weeks. The light slanted in, like late afternoon. Her view showed her nothing but broken-down buildings.
Rubble. She was in Rubble.
How?
“Hello?” Was that her voice? It sounded like an old woman. She cleared her throat and tried again. Better.
There was a whisper of leather and a figure blocked the light. A large figure. An enormous figure. Maybe three times her size. She had never seen anyone that large before. Maybe she was dead after all, and she was in the holding place the priests always talked about. “Am I dead?” she croaked.
The figure squatted down beside her and reached out to feel her forehead. She tried not to flinch.
He quickly pulled his hand back. “I’m sorry, did I hurt you?”
His voice was the rich rumble she remembered from her dreams. Perhaps she hadn’t been all that asleep.
“You didn’t hurt me. I just don’t like to be touched is all.”
“I see,” he replied, and she thought he really did see…which was rather disturbing.
“I’m not dead, am I?” she repeated.
He chuckled. It was low and gentle. “No, you are not dead. But you were very close to it at one point.”
She thought for a moment and swallowed. “What happened?”
“Would you like a sip of water first? Some food? I can tell you while you eat.”
Her stomach cramped and she nodded. “Please.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to touch you to help you sit up. You have been asleep for nearly four days. I expect you are very weak.”
She nodded, and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and smoothly moved her to a sitting position while she tried not to groan.
“Your face is white. Do you feel faint?” His arm tightened, supporting her.
Wren took a breath, letting it out slowly. “No. It’s the pain.”
He nodded gravely. “I see. Shall I fetch the food, then? It will take a moment.”
She nodded and closed her eyes briefly, listening to the rustle as he moved away. So weak. She’d never been this weak before, even after her parents had beaten her nearly to death and she had crawled to Upper and found the fountain.
“Here,” he said, startling her. “Sip this until your food is ready.” He helped her curl her fingers around a cup.
She nodded her thanks.
The water helped. She sighed at the sensation of cool liquid gliding down her throat. Her stomach lurched and then settled. She sipped more and watched the giant man make a fire. For one so large, he moved with an effortless ease she could appreciate. No wasted movement. No wasted energy.
He was very beautiful, she decided, even with the growth of beard covering his cheeks and nearly hiding the slight cleft in his pointed chin. His deep-set eyes were the most brilliant green, and glittered like precious stones. And the strength of him when he lifted her. So warm and strong. Quick, deft fingers. Gentle touch. No, she wasn’t dead when she could still respond to such glorious maleness.
The man glanced up, cocked his head at her. “You’re smiling! This is good,” he exclaimed, smiling in return.
Who had teeth that white? she wondered, feeling the flood of warmth rising up her face. The man was waiting for a response. She had none. “It’s nothing,” she said. “Just realizing I’m not dead is all,” she took a sip of water and closed her eyes, listening to the spoon scrape against the sides of the pan as he stirred while heating its contents.
“Nearly ready, and afterward you can rest again,” he told her.
She opened her eyes to let him know she wasn’t asleep already. Her leg was so painful she wasn’t sure she could go back to sleep. Nearly four days, he’d said. “My leg. How bad is it?”
He looked grave. “It is not infected,” he told her.
“But?” she prompted.
“But it is bad. I am not sure if you will be able to walk properly. I am sorry.”
She nodded. “But I will walk?”
His face gave nothing away. “I am hopeful you will, yes.”
“I want to look at it,” she said abruptly.
He crossed over to her, carrying a bowl with a spoon stuck in it. “Eat this first,” he said as he took the cup from her and replaced it with the bowl. “And then you can look at it.”
She sniffed at the bowl. Her stomach rumbled. “What is it?”
“A porridge I made out of a meal bar.”
“You can do that?”
“Eat,” he told her. “It’s rather good.” He spooned a small portion and aimed it for her mouth.
She opened her mouth to protest and was greeted with a mouthful of warm, soupy meal bar. She swallowed. “Not bad,” she commented.
“You sound surprised,” he said spooning up another portion.
“I am,” she said before she took a second bite.
He spooned up a third bite and offered it to her.
She reached for the spoon. “I can do it myself,” she said.
“You sure?”
She nodded and he handed her the laden spoon. Her hand shook as she leaned forward so she wouldn’t spill anything. Pain shot through her leg and she gasped, nearly dropping her food. He reached out to steady it and she flinched, spilling porridge on her blanket.
“Let me help you.”
She sighed and nodded, waiting for the pain to settle. “I’m sorry for the mess,” she told him.
“Nonsense,” he said and produced a rag from his tunic, deftly, cleaning up the spill. He paused to study her. “You realize the weakness is a result of your wound and is not something to be ashamed of.”
“I make it a point to never show weakness if at all possible.”
Without answering, he picked up the spoon and resumed feeding her.
She ate in silence until she was full, only a few bites. She shook her head at the spoon. “I’m sorry. I can’t eat any more.”
“I’ll save it for later,” he told her.
She nodded, her eyelids feeling heavy. She willed them open. “What happened? How did I get here?”
“Why don’t you rest so your body can recover? When you awaken, I will answer all your questions.”
She stifled a yawn. “I want to see my leg now.”
“That can wait as well. Let me help you lie down.”
It was an effort not to cry out.
“Now sleep,” he said as he drew the blanket to her chin.
She didn’t know if she actually slept or passed out from the pain, but when she next opened her eyes, it was dark. She glanced toward the shelter’s opening and saw his profile reflected in the firelight. “Has it been dark long?” she asked, pleased her voice sounded stronger.
“Not too long,” he said. “Would you like to sit up?”
“Yes, please.”
He crossed to where she lay and helped her up. Her leg hurt just as much as before. It was hard, but she managed to ignore it. “May I have water?”
“What about some hot tea instead?”
“That sounds nice. Yes. And some meal bar mush?”
While he was gone, she found if she held her leg very still with it turned inward, the pain lessened.
He returned, using a board as a tray. Squatting next to her, he placed the tray on the floor and handed her the
tea.
She nodded her thanks and shakily lifted it up to drink. It smelled of happier times with her Kin. The warmth spread down her throat and throughout her body. She sighed and looked at him. “This is nice.”
He nodded.
“So what’s your story?”
“My story?”
“Yeah, who are you? What’s your name? How long have you lived here?”
“I am called Eloch, and I have not lived here long. A little over a month maybe.”
“Where are you from, then? I’m assuming from Upper, because I have never seen anyone as tall as you in Sub-City.”
He shook his head. “I am not of Spur. I come from Entean.”
The way he looked when he told her made her feel like crying. She swallowed.
“Entean?”
He nodded. “I am her Champion.”
“I don’t understand. Is Entean a planet or a woman?”
“A planet. I serve Her. Protect Her. Make things right upon Her surface.”
Was he touched in the head? “But how did you get here? In Rubble? I assume we are in Rubble.”
“Yes, this is Rubble. I thought you wanted to know how you came to be here, not me.”
“I want to know both.”
His eyes narrowed as he studied her. “I will make you a deal,” he said and picked up the bowl of porridge. “You allow me to feed you, and I will tell you what you want to know.”
“Both your story and how I got here?”
“If you finish the meal, yes.”
“I’m not sure I can finish all that,” she told him, frowning at the bowl. “You added to it. It’s much fuller than before.”
“You need to eat to heal. You’re much stronger now than before, yes?”
“Yes.” Careful not to disturb her leg, she straightened and held out the tea mug. “Okay. Talk.”
He took the mug, set it down, and spooned up the first bite of her meal.
As he fed her, he told her his story. It was remarkable, even if she didn’t believe half of it. People didn’t talk to planets. They just didn’t. She suspected he was one of the off-planet Martials who had fallen on hard times.
Perhaps he had been wounded in the head, which made more sense than him actually being able to do the things he described. She knew he believed what he was telling her, so decided to play along. After all, he had saved her, patched her up, and, despite his strength and size, she was not afraid of him. He was too gentle. And too beautiful, she added to herself.
“And so you were on your way south when you heard me fighting the sniffers?”
“Sniffers? Is that what they are called? The beasts?”
“Yes. They’re bred to track and attack. But never in Sub-City. They’ve never been used in Sub-City before.”
She grew silent.
“This is the last bite,” he told her as he offered the spoon.
“It is? Really?” She ate.
“My story captured your attention, and now your meal is over. More tea? I can reheat it.”
“No, I like it that way. Name’s Wren” she told him as he handed her refilled mug. “You never asked me what my name was.”
“I assumed you would tell me when you were ready.”
She shook her head. “I don’t understand you, Eloch of Entean.”
“I know.” He rose. “I will wash these and come back to get you resettled for sleep.”
“I want to look at my leg first,” she told him and took a sip of the tea. It still reminded her of her Kin.
“After you’ve slept. It will be daylight then, easier to see. Enjoy your tea. I will return.”
As soon as he left, she set the tea down and flung back the blanket. A smile tugged at her lips when she saw how many times he had needed to roll up the leather leggings she wore. Her grin faded when she realized he had dressed her. Gingerly, she pushed up the left legging, glad to find it was loose. Her leg throbbed. She closed her eyes then opened them again. “Coward,” she muttered and looked. Encased in its clear bandage, it looked like an uncooked sausage.
Her stomach heaved.
With shaking hands, Wren rolled down the legging and tugged the blanket back up.
“All done with your tea?” Eloch asked as he walked back into the encampment.
She nodded mutely, staring straight ahead.
He re-shelved his items and came over to her. “Ready to sleep?”
She pointed at her leg. “How am I ever going to walk on that?” she asked, her voice sounding hopeless to her.
“You couldn’t wait until morning when it was light?”
He sounded disapproving.
“Oh, it was bright enough.”
“Firelight can be deceiving.”
“I’m not easily deceived.” She looked at him. “I’m useless if I can’t walk.”
“Your leg is healing. You don’t know what will happen until it heals and strengthens.”
She nodded, her heart thudding dully in her chest. She felt very tired.
“I suppose I should try to sleep.”
“I think it’s what you need most right now.” His voice was calm and gentle. “Let me help you lie down.”
Now she’d seen her leg, Wren was afraid to move. She allowed Eloch to give her more help than she normally would have allowed. “This is not one of my best days,” she told him.
“I expect not,” he said as he smoothed the blanket around her. He reached out and wiped the tear that leaked from her eye.
“Don’t.”
“Good night, little Wren. Sleep well.”
She didn’t answer him, willing him to leave so the tears could just come. It was a relief when she heard him walk away. She stole a glance and saw he was getting ready for sleep himself. He’d taken off his tunic. She closed her eyes again, wishing his broad chest and hardened muscles could have distracted her.
“It looks like a sausage,” she said suddenly.
“What did you say, Wren?”
“My leg. It looks like a sausage. Like something you’d cook and eat.”
“Go to sleep, Wren. Your leg is healing.”
“My sausage, you mean,” she muttered to herself.
No, it hadn’t been one of her better days.
Chapter 7
Little Sister
“The Sausage needs help!”
Eloch grinned. Wren never asked for help. It was always The Sausage. He gave the sniffer one last stroke behind the ears the way she liked and went to collect Wren and her Sausage.
He found her sitting in the bath, water drained and modestly dressed in her borrowed tunic top, a towel carelessly tossed over the tub’s rim. She glowered at the sleeve she was attempting to roll up. Noticing him, she made a face. “I don’t mean to be ungrateful, but I wish you were closer to my size.”
“If I was closer to your size, I wouldn’t be able to do this,” he told her as he lifted her from the tub and helped her balance on her good leg. His tunic fell to her knees.
“True.”
“How is the Sausage after your bath?”
She held it out to him. “See for yourself. Hey!”
He had wrapped his fingers around her thigh to get a closer look at the wound. It still looked angry but less swollen. “It seems to be healing faster with this bandage.”
“The Sausage Case?”
He snorted. “Exactly so. I’ve never seen it used before, but it appears quite effective. Without it, your leg would have needed a lot of stiches, and it would have been a nightmare to do. Yes. It’s healing quickly and cleanly.” He released her thigh.
“Not quickly enough. I still can’t put any weight on the thing without wanting to scream in pain.”
“In a few more weeks you should be able to.”
“A few weeks more of you carrying me all over the place? I’m not sure if I can handle a few more weeks.”
He shrugged and lifted her. “Perhaps it will be an incentive to heal faster.”
“As if I have a choice a
bout how fast I heal. Don’t lift your eyebrow at me. I have no healing knack.”
“But you have a strong will.”
“So I’ve been told. What’s that?”
“What’s what?”
“That sound?”
He had carried her past the sniffer’s enclosure.
“My other guest.”
“Another guest? I didn’t know there was anybody else here.”
“That’s because it didn’t feel like the right time to introduce you. But since you’re stronger, here we are.”
He set her down and chucked to the Beastie. “I’ve named her Little Sister.”
All Wren’s muscles locked on high alert when she saw what Little Sister was. “No. No. Eloch, No. You can’t keep that thing here. You have to kill it.”
“I will do no such thing.”
The sniffer growled low in her throat.
“Eloch, you don’t know what those things can do.”
He chuckled. “Of course I know what they can do.”
It growled low again and bared its teeth.
“Little Sister, calm yourself,” Eloch told the sniffer. “This is Wren. She will not hurt you.”
“Give me a knife and I will.”
The sniffer bristled and snarled. Her tail whipped back and forth. Her muscles bunched.
“Little Sister, stop. Now. And sit.”
The beast whined at Eloch and sat, glaring at Wren.
“No, Wren, I will not allow you to hurt her. Little Sister’s life is as precious as your own.”
“But they’re killers, Eloch. I told you. They’re bred to track and to kill. Do you know what they eat? They eat people. We are their food.”
“This one eats meal bars.”
“It would eat you if it could.”
“I think not. Let me prove it to you.”
Before she could protest, Eloch set her down, helping her brace herself against the wall. In his fluid fashion, he walked in.
Wren cried out.
“Hush, Wren, all is well. Just watch.”
Eloch knelt down on one knee and held out his arms. “Little Sister, let’s show Wren what you’re really like, shall we?” he crooned. The great beast stood and walked into Eloch’s embrace, rubbing her head over his chest and nuzzling his neck.