Page 49 of Hope Forged
Illan pursed his lips. “Ulta has struggled to isolate the second beacon. He says it is bouncing from point to point.”
Though the male had been grinning when he’d informed Illan of this. No doubt, he found this challenging. Past Illan would’veshut down the lima kuu’s enjoyment, wanting the information without delay. Wiser him understood he’d get the location when he got it. In fact, Ulta’s eagerness to finalize it meant the male would add extra time and effort.
“We are approaching milady’s location,” Brac said to the shuttle in general.
Illan jerked back, realizing his gaze rested on Ziamee…again. He’d strapped her into the seat the moment she boarded. Seba hadn’t come along, choosing to sleep at Ulta’s feet. The massive haunch of kreso had nothing to do with persuading the hulking beast to remain.
Illan smiled, but that faded. They hadn’t inserted an O.D.I. into Ziamee like he’d wanted. Nor had they tagged Seba and ported him home. Both would have to wait until Ziamee was calmer. She gripped her knees with such force that he winced in sympathy.
“Find a safe spot to land,” he said to Brac.
What filled the display vids was a plateau with neatly tilled rows. Various colorful plants grew in abundance. To the right of a cave opening, a waterfall trickled down one cliff into a small pool. A few other items confirmed someone lived here: a bucket, drying garments, a stone-walled fire pit, and a stack of wood to the side of it.
West was a drop-off to the lake below. He raised his gaze and peered across the distance, trying to see where he and Ziamee had leaped off to avoid dying. The jagged rock made him swallow hard. They could’ve smacked into it and died. A footpath went from Faerar’s cave to the edge overlooking the forest and the giant multi-eyed beasts staring at them in passing. That proved Ziamee’s mother missed her.
He wanted to show her this, that she was loved. And she had to know she was. Her father had never abandoned her even thoughher mother had left her under his care. They had to have their reasons though Amet was far from forthcoming.
For Ziamee to find resolution, she needed to understand it all.
The kuta touched down, squashing a tended garden.
Only then did Illan unstrap her. He caught her fingers and urged her to her feet. “Remember, whatever we discover, it will help us to trace her.”
“If only she had an O.D.I.” She offered a weak smile. “I can see the merits. With your help”—she swept out a hand, indicating all of them—“we should be able to find her quickly.”
The shuttle door opened, flooding the compartment with a gust of dusty air. Brac and Coll left first, Amet behind them. Illan lingered, waiting for Ziamee.
“It’s hotter up here,” she said, jumping out, then spinning to take in what her mother had accomplished. “Illan,” she whispered, awe and sadness in her voice. “We have to save her.”
“We will, ohara.” He caught her wrist, then tugged her after Brac, who’d knelt beside the fire.
“It is burning. She was taken not too long ago. We have time.” He straightened, then tapped his O.D.I. “Any news, Ulta?”
“I am triangulating onto something north of you. Will confirm the coords when I have locked onto them.”
“My thanks,” Brac said, then strode toward the cave opening, his blaster in hand.
Coll followed, his focus on the ground. “Many footsteps, some small.” He glanced at Ziamee. “I would surmise your mother to be of your height and size.” He tapped the sand with his booted foot. “These are familiar. Brac, have you seen this tread before?”
Illan joined them, studying the tracks. “They are similar to ours.” He stomped and stepped back, proving his footprint matched. “But why would they be here? And how would we not know of their presence?”
Coll tapped his O.D.I. “Ulta, keep this channel open.”
“Affirmative.”
Brac skirted Amet peering into the cave. “There are lit torches,” he called. “But no one is here.”
En masse, they trailed him. Sure enough, grooves in the rocky walls held torches, their flames flickering as if well fed. To one side leaned some sort of wooden mesh that had been used as a door. Beyond that, carved into the rear wall, was an alcove forming a bed. Shelves held handmade garments and a few carved objects: cups, bowls, and utensils. Strips of drying paper hung over a solid rack. Beside that was a stack of notes.
Everything was well-organized.
“Smells like her,” Ziamee said, blinking back tears. “Had we come sooner, she might not have been taken.”
“She wasn’t ready to return to us,” Amet said.
“You spoke to her?” Brac asked.
Amet met and held Ziamee’s gaze. “I never stopped.”
