Page 21 of Hope Forged
“When did you last see him?” Illan asked, crouching opposite her.
“Heading north.” She stood, offered him her back, dropped the toweling cloth, and pulled on her pants. Tying on the tunic took moments. Despite the cloth being damp, she coiled it around her head to help dry her braids.
While the water boiled, she mashed the buds, then hoped he didn’t notice when she rubbed a little of their fragrant oil on herwrists. The teasing scent made her smile, summoning memories of her mother…wherever she was.
“Do you have boots?” he asked, gesturing to her feet.
She frowned at his strange question, then hummed the affirmative while sipping her tisane. Its heat rolled down her healing throat and exploded warmth into her body.
“Put them on.” He tapped his forearm, and those shiny letters appeared. “Ulta, scan the area for lifeforms. We have a missing Durn.”
“Acknowledged.”
She squeaked, grabbed his arm, and shook it. “Your people?”
“Show me where your father went.”
At his command, she glared at him, then with a huff, she set aside her tisane and squatted to lace the ribbons around her calves. She shouldn’t be angry with him when he was trying to help…in his way. Seeing the crevice might inspire ideas on how to descend. And she’d wanted this.
She grabbed a purple jabecu fruit in passing, biting into the white, fleshy pulp, then spitting out the seeds while she led him along the craggy path. From a distance, the crevice sat like a dark eye. With careful steps and her thigh burning, she veered to the left and gestured to the hole.
“I think he’s down there. No tracks circle this area. When I brought Seba here, he whined, his gaze fixed below. I can’t…figure out how to get down there without dying.”
He leaned over her, brushing her shoulder with his arm as he peered inside. “And you called to him?”
“Yes. That’s how I lost my voice.”
His head shot up. “This is not your natural tone?”
“No.” She scowled.
He dug into his pocket and withdrew a black box. She stumbled back when he pointed it at her. Fear strangled her throat, and her eyes widened.
His slow smile formed. “Do not be alarmed,” he said, as calm as the lake’s surface on a winter’s morning.
He could kill her now and toss her body into the crevice.
“Ziamee,” he said, his deep voice rolling her name over his tongue. “This is a med-gun. It…encourages your body to heal faster.”
“Don’t,” she said, inching away from him.
He sighed, unsheathed his dagger from his boot, and palmed it.
Ice chilled her spine. Fear caught her breath. She managed a few steps, eyeing the path home. Though, using it to save her life would gain her nothing. Unless she could make it inside theHaile. Oz could throw up a shield—the same one he’d powered up just days ago and when it rained.
What she didn’t expect was Illan slicing his arm. She gasped when blood dribbled onto the rock.
He showed her the wound, then ran the box over it.
She didn’t blink, too scared to miss something. As sure as the abyss existed, his skin knitted, and the wound faded.
“Elorach,” she whispered, then clamped her mouth shut.
“May I?” He waved the black box while hastily sheathing his dagger.
She swallowed, testing how badly her throat stung. It had healed for the most part, not as excruciating as a few days ago. “Heal my leg,” she rasped.
He froze. “I can scan it to alleviate the pain, but I suspect you will need the bigger med-E.D. on my ship.”
