Page 38 of Season of Naga: Volume 2
When he completes his ministrations, I feel reborn. The constant background hum of pain has receded to a distant memory, replaced by blessed relief.
"Thank you," I say, the words wholly inadequate for his help.
His eyes meet mine, something unreadable passing through them. "Your gratitude is unnecessary," he says, his voice rougher than before. “It was my turn to take care of you.”
He begins repacking the healer's kit with the same methodical care he showed while treating me, but I notice his gaze keeps returning to me, assessing and ensuring his work is complete.
Lurok returns the healer's kit to the pack and extracts several cloth-wrapped bundles instead. The wrappings unfold to reveal food unlike anything I've seen before. A dark, dense bread that gleams with a subtle iridescence, strips of dried meat with a silvery sheen, and what appear to be fruit preserves the color of garnets.
"Eat," he says, placing the offerings between us. "You need to keep up your strength for the journey ahead.”
I eye the strange fare with curiosity. "What is all this called?”
"Hearthgrain bread,” he says, indicating the dark loaf. "Made from fungi that grow in the deepest caverns. Dried shadowfin," he points to the meat strips. "And bloodfruit preserves."
My stomach contracts painfully at the sight of food, reminding me of how little the TrueCoil provided during my captivity. I reach hesitantly for the bread first, breaking off a small piece. Its texture is surprisingly light despite its appearance, almost crumbling between my fingers.
I take a tentative bite, surprised by the nutty flavor that spreads across my tongue. It tastes of earth and something almost mushroom-like, but richer, with complex notes I can't identify.
Lurok watches me intently, making no move to take any food for himself. "The shadowfin next," he directs. "It contains nutrients your body needs to recover."
I obey, finding the dried fish chewy but not unpleasant, with a flavor reminiscent of smoked river fish but more intense, almost metallic. The bloodfruit preserves prove to be the most unusual. Sweet yet tangy, coating my tongue with a warmth that travels down my throat and blooms in my chest like the first sip of strong wine.
"You're not eating," I observe, already feeling strength seeping back into my limbs with each bite.
"I will. After you have had your fill." His eyes never leave my face, assessing my reaction to each bite with a predator's focus. "The TrueCoil clearly starved you. You need it more."
I want to protest, but can't deny the truth of his words. Instead, I continue eating, savoring each bite as energy flows back into my depleted body. By the time I've consumed a third of what he's offered, I feel more like myself than I have in days.
"Enough," I say, pushing the remaining food toward him. "Your turn."
He hesitates, then inclines his head in acceptance. I watch with fascination as he consumes his portion in neat, precise bites. Despite his fearsome fangs and predatory nature, he eats with surprising delicacy, a contrast to the raw power evident in every scale and sinew of his massive form.
The heartglass rests between us, its blue-green glow pulsing gently like a second heartbeat. Its warmth seeps into the stone beneath us, tempering the cavern's chill. In its light, Lurok's silver scales shimmer with subtle iridescence, and the finestreaks running through his frosty hair catch and hold the glow like captured starlight.
"How much farther to the surface?" I ask, breaking the comfortable silence that has settled between us.
Lurok considers the question, his vertical pupils expanding slightly in the dim light. "Perhaps another hour of climbing. The most difficult sections are behind us." He studies me with that intense, unblinking gaze. "The real challenge begins once we reach the Ashlands."
"How far must we travel through the Ashlands to reach Vessan-Kar?"
"A full day's journey, perhaps longer depending on conditions." His tail shifts, coiling tighter beneath him. "If the winds are high, visibility drops to nothing. The ash storms can strip flesh from bone."
“How much longer until the five days are up?”
“Two, maybe a little less.”
I absorb this information without flinching. After what I've already endured, even the Ashlands seem like just another obstacle to overcome. "Two days at most before my father's plan unfolds. If we don't reach the city in time to confirm all explosives have been found..."
"They will have evacuated," Lurok says with certainty. "Varok would not risk lives unnecessarily. The warning you brought would have been enough to begin clearing the city while the Talons search for the devices."
"That’s good.” My throat constricts as I imagine hundreds of naga displaced, seeking safety from a threat my father orchestrated.
Lurok reaches for the waterskin and offers it to me first. "Drink. The air grows drier as we approach the surface."
I accept the waterskin, taking careful sips as he's instructed. The water tastes faintly of minerals, cool and refreshing. WhenI pass it back, our fingers brush, and I notice again how warm his scales feel against my skin. Not cold and reptilian as I would have expected, but radiating a steady heat that seems to contradict his silver coloring.
"I'm sorry," I whisper, the words escaping before I can stop them. "For what my people did to yours." My eyes meet his, unflinching despite the vulnerability of the moment. "After knowing you, I can see we're not so different. This war should never have happened."
