Chapter 6

6

K yrie

My bedroll is thin against the hard rock. After a few hours of sleep, my back aches, so I stretch, trying to ease my muscles. It doesn’t help much.

“Good morning,” the fae says as I sit up.

I nod as I stand and stretch again; my shoulders ache, especially my right one. Thankfully, it isn’t as bad as it was. It’s my lower back that’s giving me the most trouble. I’m not used to all the hours in the saddle. My eyes feel scratchy from the broken sleep that is necessary in order to take turns keeping watch. I hope Taylor…the fae, isn’t mistaken about the oasis.

The thought of a proper bath makes everything seem more bearable again. I haven’t bathed since being brought to the salt mine. We got a tiny bit of water every day for drinking and washing. On our day off, we’d get a full bucket. It’s been hell.

Bringing me out of my reverie, the fae hands me a skin. It’s plump full of water, but it’s also all we have left. I nod in thanks, taking it from him, once again praying that the oasis isn’t too far away. By all accounts, we should reach it tomorrow.

Then he hands me a piece of jerky and a salted biscuit. Not much, but it will have to do. I sit on a nearby rock, forcing myself to eat slowly. To chew slowly before I swallow, sure to make the most of the small ration since it will have to last until this evening.

Then, I take a drink from the skin, corking it carefully once I am done.

The fae looks well-rested; his eyes are clear. I look down at my crumpled chemise and then at his clothing. I’m not sure how he looks so together. Even his hair looks brushed and gleams in the morning light like he just washed it, which isn’t possible. Maybe it is a fae thing. I’m not sure why, but it irritates me.

Once again, we had an uneventful night. So far, we haven’t seen anything untoward. I know that could change at any moment and that we can’t get lulled into becoming complacent.

We can’t.

“Is the camel okay?” I ask. “Doesn’t she need food or water?” I haven’t seen the creature get either since we left.

The fae shakes his head. “Camels can go long periods without food or water. She can replenish her reserves when we get to the oasis. You don’t need to worry.”

I rub the beast’s neck. She swishes her tail in agitation and bellows. Camels can be quite grumpy. I must say, I don’t blame her. I feel the same way. It’s already hot, and sweat is forming on my brow. It’s going to be a long day.

“We should head out,” he says, taking her reins.

I don’t even try to offer to walk. I know he won’t let me.

He doesn’t offer to help me mount because he knows I won’t accept it. We’re learning to navigate our new normal.

I have no idea what I will do once I am truly free. Just like when I was in the salt mines, I plan on taking it one day at a time. For now, that means making it to our next water break when the sun is directly above us in the sky.

My body rocks in time with the camel. Taylor…the fae takes long strides, moving quickly and quietly. I note how his eyes continually scan the path ahead, lifting every so often to check the skies above as well.

I try to stay vigilant, too.

It takes an age. Every ten steps feels like one. It’s like we aren’t getting anywhere. It’s probably an illusion with very few reference points.

I would be lost out here. I might even end up going around and around in circles. It makes me wonder how the others are doing.

Taylor stops and puts a hand over his eyes to block the sun. He’s looking at something.

“What is it?”

He doesn’t answer right away. He just keeps glaring out into the desert. The air above the sand is wavy and blurred from the heat.

“There’s dust being kicked up,” he says. “Something is headed this way.”

“What kind of something? Surely not a wurm?” My voice sounds a touch shrill.

“No, not a wurm. They travel underground and only surface at night. It isn’t huge. It’s…it’s…I think it might be a camel.” His voice is tinged with shock.

“A…a camel?” I repeat like an idiot.

“Yes…it’s a camel. I can’t tell if someone is on it or not. I…I don’t think so.”

“That would be terrible. Is it one of the three camels we took? If so, that would mean… It would mean that…” I stop there. This camel was more than likely ridden by Cyrano or by Lona and Tom.

If that’s the case, then they would be in serious trouble or worse.

It doesn’t take long before I see the dust cloud. I still can’t quite make out what’s causing it. The fae have better senses than we do; this includes their vision.

“There is no rider,” he says.

I make a sobbing noise. This is bad. So bad.

It takes a little while longer before I can make out the form of the beast as it runs toward us. It is moving at speed, and there is, indeed, no one on its back.

Why?

Where are they?

What happened?

I watch as the lone camel gallops closer, kicking up clouds of sand in its wake. Taylor steps forward, keeping his hand on the rein of my camel. The beast grunts, becoming restless beneath me.

“It’s alright, girl,” he says, and she instantly calms. He has a way with animals. Another of the very many things I didn’t know about him.

I don’t know him at all.

The approaching camel answers with a loud bellow of its own. As it draws nearer, I notice that there are marks on its rump, gashes that ooze red against the beige of its pelt.

I gasp. “It’s wounded.” My heart sinks at the sight.

The fae nods, his expression grave. “It doesn’t look too bad.”

I hope he is right. It looks pretty bad to me.

The camel gets closer and closer but doesn’t seem to be slowing down. For a moment, I think it might run straight past us, but it doesn’t. At the last second, the injured beast skids to a halt right in front of us. It lets out a groan, its eyes wild with fear and confusion.

The fae slowly approaches, still holding the lead rope of our camel. I note that he keeps a watchful eye on our surroundings.

“Okay, boy. That’s it.” He takes the reins. “You’re fine now. You’re safe,” he tells the creature.

The camel snorts. He’s breathing heavily. Sweat streaks his flanks.

“What happened?” I ask, knowing it’s a stupid question since the camel can’t talk.

“I don’t know.” His eyes track the beast. “Thankfully, the wounds are superficial. It was probably a flying lizard. The claw marks are on the top of his rump, which indicate that the attack came from above.”

He’s right.

“This isn’t the same camel as Lona and Tom’s.” It doesn’t look the same to me, but I’m not sure.

He shakes his head. “It’s Cyrano’s beast.”

“Oh, no.” I feel my eyes well with tears. “Does that mean…?” I can’t say the words.

He shrugs. “I don’t know. We should probably assume the worst.”

I make a sobbing noise and cover my mouth with my hand. I somehow manage to hold back my tears. It’s not like I was close friends with Cyrano, but I knew him. I would hate it if he were hurt or dead.

“We are going in the same direction the camel took, so perhaps there will be clues along the way,” he says as he starts to walk, leading the beast.

“Aren’t you going to ride?”

“I want to give the poor creature a chance to catch his breath. Perhaps after our next break, you can ride the injured one. You weigh less than I do, which would make it less taxing for him to carry you.” He strokes the camel’s neck, his eyes on the wounds. They are scabbing over. I agree; they don’t look too bad. I also agree that the animal looks tired after its ordeal.

“Poor thing,” I say as Taylor starts walking, leading both camels as he walks between them.

I wince at the incorrect name. It’s in moments like this that he reminds me of my friend. Of Taylor, the human.

He’s not, though.

He’s one of them.

The fae wreck homes. They wreck lives. They tear apart families. They kill and plunder. They have zero regard for us humans. I can’t get soft toward this fae.

I can still hear the screams of my mother…of my sister. I can still see the lifeless body of my father. I think I saw his chest move just before I was knocked out. I’m pretty sure I did. I want so badly to believe that he was still alive, but I might never know.

That is the reality. I might never know where they ended up. If they are alive or dead. These questions could haunt me forever.

They probably will, and all because of his kind.

I look down at the fae leading the camels. I take a good hard look at his hair, at his pointy ears.

Taylor is gone. He never truly existed. This fae is called Damon.

I turn my attention to our surroundings. I look up into the sky. All seems fine, but it isn’t. The wound on this camel’s rump attests to that. The fact that Cyrano is missing is even more reason to believe it.

We’re not safe. Not even close. And yet, I know deep down inside that this fae is my only real hope of making it out alive. I don’t have to trust him or like him, but I do need to stick with him. I really don’t have a choice.

Damon

I hate how Kyrie looks at me now that I have been transformed. Through narrowed eyes, and they’re filled with such distrust. The tone she uses with me is clipped, and that’s if she speaks to me at all. I wish she would let me explain, but what would I tell her? How would I even begin to make her understand?

It’s impossible.

I doubt she would believe a word. I struggle to believe it myself and I lived through it.

I can’t say I blame her for hating me. I thought I was a human up until not so long ago. I hated the fae just as much as she does. I still do, even though I’m one myself.

We weren’t always like this.

I hate what we have become.

We’ve been corrupted by her…by Snow. I’m not sure of exactly how she’s doing it, only that she is.

The fae used to live by a code of honor. That code is long gone. It’s dead and buried. We bicker and fight among our own. The different species of fae hate each other. We always lived side by side with humans. We lived in understanding and with respect for one another. Now, we use them.

Gone is the code.

Gone is the honor, and gone is the respect, with only hate in its place. My heart feels heavy.

I sigh and walk on. I need to make it out of this desert if I am to fix this. I need to make things right with Kyrie. If anything were to happen to her…

My gaze keeps moving to the sky above. To the potential threat. I’m sure it was a lizard bird who took Cyrano and injured the camel. The injury is consistent with an attack from above. We have been lucky that we haven’t been attacked yet.

Yet.

I know it’s coming; it’s just a matter of when.

“Stop!” Kyrie yells.

“What is it?” I ask, my gaze darting across the sky. I don’t see anything.

“There.” She points, and I follow the direction of her finger.

I see him immediately. Since the potential threat was from above, I wasn’t paying as much attention to the sand, especially at ground level.

“What is that?” Kyrie asks. “Is it a…? I think it’s a person. More than one.” Kyrie sounds unsure. She strains her eyes, using a hand to shade them from the sun.

I do the same. “It is a person, and they’re lying on the sand.”

“Is it…is it Cyrano? Or the other two? I don’t see movement.”

In one bounding leap, I mount the injured camel. “We need to ride. I do think it’s Cyrano; at least, that makes the most sense. That thing next to him is the body of a lizard bird. I think he fought it off and is injured.”

“Or dead. He could be dead.” I see her throat work.

I nod. “We need to get there quickly. Hold on to the pommel.” I point to the raised front end of her saddle. “Don’t fall off.” Then I kick my own beast into a fast lope, knowing that Kyrie’s camel will follow.

It does. She gives a yelp. I hope she does what I asked and is holding the saddle horn.

Cyrano might still be alive. If so, time is of the essence. I urge my beast into a faster lope, praying that we are not too late. I glance back. Kyrie leans forward, urging her camel to go faster as well. Her hands are tight on the reins, and there is a look of sheer determination on her face.

As we draw closer, I can see Cyrano’s unmoving form more clearly. The lizard bird’s corpse lies at his side, a testament to the struggle that must have taken place. The creature is bigger than I thought it would be. There is a bloody rock on the ground beside the bird, which has a great dent in its head.

My gaze moves to Cyrano’s pale face.

Kyrie gasps. “Oh, no! It’s worse than I thought. Is he…is…?” Her voice is shrill.

I think I see his chest rise and fall, but his breathing is shallow. I dismount and kneel by Cyrano’s side, assessing his injuries.

Kyrie dismounts, too, landing on her feet. She takes the reins of the other camel. “And? Kakara’s cat, but there is a lot of blood. He’s covered in it, and his shirt is ripped. It doesn’t look good.”

I run my hands over his broken body. He has deep gashes in his chest and on one of his thighs.

“He’s alive,” I tell Kyrie, who looks stricken. “But he’s lost a lot of blood. If we can keep him alive long enough to reach the oasis, I might be able to help him once we get there. His biggest risk right now is succumbing to blood loss, but soon it will be the risk of infection.”

“How do we keep him alive? We don’t have any herbs or tinctures.”

I turn and assess Kyrie. I’m hesitant to tell her what my plans are because they will highlight how I have changed. I am who I am. I need to be proud.

“Magic,” I tell her as I hold my hands over the wound. I close my eyes. Perhaps if I could access even a fraction of my power, I might be able to give him enough strength to survive. I have to try.

“What are you doing?”

“I need to help the flesh knit. I don’t have much power out here, but I have to try, or I fear he will die before we make it there.” I breathe out slowly, trying to find a thread of power. I dip into my well, and I reach deeper and deeper.

I groan, feeling sweat bead on my brow, and I groan again in pure frustration because I come up empty. I can feel my magic, but I can’t access it. Not out here in the desert. I’m an icefae. We use water, ice, and snow to find our powers. Just as the bloodfae use blood to access theirs.

“Isn’t it working?”

I shake my head, my chin dropping to my chest for a moment. “If only we had a little more water. I could use it to bring up my magic.” I look up at the last skin attached to our camel.

The skins on Cyrano’s beast were all but drained. We only have one left, with three of us needing water. I can’t go there.

“I wish we had something to bind the wounds. Anything to get the bleeding to stop.”

The blood is slowly dripping from the wounds onto the sand below.

“You’re right.” Kyrie frowns. “If we don’t do something, and fast, he is going to die before our eyes. We need something to close the wound.” She says the last softly to herself. Kyrie narrows her eyes in thought. “I saw something in the pack earlier that might help.” She walks over to the camel and pulls the pack free from the saddlebag. Then she starts rummaging through it and pulls out a small leather pouch. She smiles, holding it up. It’s so good to see her do something other than frown or scowl at me, so I’m momentarily taken aback. Then, I pull myself out of it.

“What is it?” I smile back.

She opens the pouch and takes out a needle and thread, holding it up so that I can see.

“That will work,” I say.

“I guess something like this would come in handy out here.”

“Most definitely,” I tell her, still smiling. “You’re a genius.”

Kyrie sits and spends a few minutes trying to thread the needle.

“I would offer to help, but my fingers are big and clumsy.”

“I’ll do it,” she says. “There!” She jumps to her feet.

“I have to admit that I’m not much of a seamstress, and I’ve never had to stitch a wound before. We have healers at the— We normally use healers for such things, but I will try.” I’ve always relied on the healers at the castle.

Kyrie looks at me like I just grew a second head. “I will do it. I’ve stitched many a wound. The closest healer lived half a day’s ride away from our farm. Humans don’t have the luxuries you fae do.” She snorts.

Then she gets down on her knees next to Cyrano and begins to stitch the wound. I marvel at how steady her hands are. Using care, she pierces his skin with the needle, pulling the torn flesh together as she works. She’s quick and neat. Better than many healers I’ve encountered.

“Must you hover over my shoulder?” She gives me a look.

I move back. “I didn’t mean to crowd you. It is a pleasure to watch you work, Ky.”

Moving quickly, she sews the two deep gashes on his chest and then three more on his upper thigh. It works to stop the last of the bleeding. Blood coats her fingers by the time she has finished the last stitch, which she ties off. Sitting back on her heels, she wipes her brow with the back of her hand.

“He looks like he’s breathing easier, but I hate how pale he is,” she says, looking up at me. Worry is evident in her eyes.

“You’ve done all you can.”

I hand her a piece of cloth, which she accepts with a nod, wiping as much of the gore off as she can.

“You did a great job.”

Her cheeks turn rosy, but she looks away, irritation flashing in her eyes.

“He needs water,” I say as I walk to the camel.

Before I get there, Kyrie jumps to her feet and quickly retrieves a waterskin, kneeling back down by Cyrano’s side. “I’ve got it.” She gently lifts his head and coaxes him to drink small sips of water.

He doesn’t open his eyes or acknowledge us in any way, but he does swallow a few mouthfuls, which is positive.

“We must go.” I look around us. The smell of blood might draw more predators. “We need to find rock before nightfall, especially with him reeking of blood. It’ll draw all the creatures of the night, including the wurms.”

Kyrie’s eyes go wide, and she noticeably shivers, nodding once.

“I’m going to ask the camel to get down on her knees. I will need you to help me get Cyrano into the saddle. We can tie him in place.” I frown. “I have to warn you that it’s touch and go on whether he will make it.”

“I think you’re right. Thank you for helping him.” She almost looks relieved, like maybe she expected me to leave him behind because I’m a fae now.

“Helping him is the right thing to do.”

I fetch the camel and start to coax her to go down onto her haunches. Once the camel is settled on the ground, Kyrie helps me to lift Cyrano into the saddle. It isn’t easy, but we manage to secure him in place, tying him firmly so he won’t fall off during our journey.

Kyrie mounts Cyrano’s camel, who is looking much improved after the break, and I lead the animals.

When I look up, Kyrie is looking down at the dead lizard bird. “It’s much bigger than I thought it would be. I mean, I’ve seen them before, but not up close.”

“They’re pretty scary creatures.”

“I’d say. They’re called by various names, lizard bird, desert bird…there’s also flying lizard but none of those are accurate. This thing is huge and grotesque. A killer.”

“That’s for sure.”

It is very much a mix between a lizard and a bird, only much, much bigger than either species. It has the gleaming scales and long tail of a lizard but the delicate wings and feathers of a bird. Its head is mostly scales, with eyes that could belong on either creature.

It’s the giant, blood-soaked talons and sharp, curved beak that truly draw my attention. Cyrano is lucky he survived the encounter. He’s lucky it was only one. They sometimes hunt in groups of two or three. He’s just plain lucky.

I hope he makes it to the oasis. I hope we all make it.

“How long do we have to find rock?” Kyrie asks, looking up at the sky.

“We have time.” But not nearly as much as I’d like. I pick up the pace, searching but not seeing anything. We won’t make the night without rock. Not with the scent of blood in the air.