18. Firion

Chapter 18

Firion

S and wasn’t forgiving. My feet sunk into the shifting grains, filling my boots as I struggled to keep going. The steep incline of the dune slowed our momentum, and I tugged Talia forward with every ounce of strength I had, keeping her from slipping back down. Her small hand remained locked in mine. I could let go, but something inside me shouted if I did so, I could lose her in this desolate stretch of desert. The sun beat down on us, heating our bodies quickly, and making our shadows slither out from us in long waves. Such a stark and lonely place, but it could be our salvation.

Talia's breaths came in ragged gasps, each exhale winded and strained already. She was doing her best to keep up with my long strides. I wanted to tell her to slow down, that I’d pace myself to her. But we didn't have that luxury. We had to put as much distance between us and the mine as we could.

The alarm still blared in my ears, a grating sound that made adrenaline surge through my veins. Yet the further away we got, the more it faded, the harsh cry giving way to the sighing wind blowing across the desert. Our footsteps became the only sound, a muffled rhythm swallowed by the world around us.

Finally, we crested a larger dune, my legs burning from the effort it took to reach the top. I glanced sideways just in time to see Talia stumble forward, and I caught her before she fell, putting my arm around her back to hold her steady.

We paused to catch our breath, our hearts pounding against our ribs. She kept swaying, and I worried she'd topple over if I didn’t support her. She was exhausted, drained already. So was I. But we couldn’t afford to rest for long.

I forced my lungs to pull in the dry air, willing my breathing to slow. The sand below our feet felt endless, stretching out in all directions with no sign of civilization in sight. A Zuldruxian clan lived somewhere in the desert, though they moved in a migratory pattern from one oasis to another. They could be close or far from our location, and there was no way to send them a signal, to beg for help.

At least no one appeared to be following us . . . yet.

My stone knife felt too small, much too inadequate in my hand. I clenched the hilt tighter. I needed more than this. If we were caught, they’d kill me right away or take me back to the mine. The fates only knew what they might do to Talia, but they’d be foolish to put us together again. I’d heard stories of the way Veerenad punished their own people. The guards would show us no mercy, and the mere thought of it sent fear bolting through my veins.

“Here,” Talia whispered, handing me one of the flasks. Her hand shook, but she managed to unscrew the cap and hold it out to me.

“You drink first.”

Without protest, she tipped the flask back and swallowed a few small, controlled sips. I admired this woman so much. She’d worked hard at the mine and held her chin up and her spine tight. She hadn’t broken down, though I’d admire her just as much if she had. Crying and raging brought relief, and we were often stronger once the storm had passed. And now she measured what she drank, knowing we’d have to ration everything.

Sweat soaked both of us already, and the wind wicked it off us fast, sucking it away. We didn’t dare risk losing much.

She swiped the back of her hand across her forehead and shielded her eyes as she looked around. “I wish I was wearing sunglasses when the robocops grabbed me. And carrying a spare pair for you.”

I didn’t know what they were, but the name implied something that might help with the sun. Which was relentless, and slowly moving overhead from our right, telling me we were heading south. I was grateful we wouldn’t have to change course and work our way around the compound to aim in a different direction.

We needed to find a secure location to hide until dark, when we could travel without being seen. It was cooler at night, too, and we’d hold onto our precious fluid longer.

When she handed it to me, I pressed the flask to my lips and drank, the water cool against my dry throat, offering only a touch of relief from the sweltering heat.

I helped her return it to her pack.

“I’ll carry that,” I said, sliding it off her back and hooking it over my shoulder.

“No, I want to do my share.”

“Let me take it for a while.” I hated seeing the exhaustion on her face, knowing that we’d just begun a long, tiring journey and that it would only get worse. “I’ll give it back to you in a bit.”

“I’ll carry yours then too.”

Never.

A pull of the knife strap, a secure sheathing later, and my hand was free to take her pack. As much as I longed for more weapons, more ways to protect her, we had nothing but what we carried. It would have to do.

The wind swirled around us, sending tiny grains of sand skittering across the landscape and abrading our exposed skin. If only they’d kept clothing in the closet back in the processing area. I wanted a shirt or anything I could use to cover Talia’s face that was already burned scarlet from the sun.

As we started down the hill, I scanned for anything that could serve as cover, but the desert stretched out bland and endless in every direction. I had to resist the urge to run blindly. Running wouldn’t save us. Strategy would .

A faint sound tugged at the edges of my ears, barely discernible through the rustling, buffeting wind. I strained to listen, my heart pounding too loud in my ears, but then it came again, distant shuffles that jarred across my bones. They were after us. I didn't dare tell Talia, not when the thought of them closing in nearly paralyzed me.

I tugged on her hand, guiding her in a slight detour to the right. Our pursuers wouldn’t know which direction we’d taken, and the wind was sweeping away our footsteps almost as quickly as we left them. If we were lucky, they wouldn’t give the search party more than a few males. But luck was a fragile thing in the desert.

It was hot out here. The sand would drag on them as much as it did on us. They’d hate having to come after us. They might quickly give up, go back, and tell those in control that they couldn’t find us.

Talia shot me a steely look that held as much determination as fear.

We kept going, and the sounds of pursuit faded again.

By the time we stopped to catch our breath again, this time in the hollow between two hills, the sun had crept low in the sky. Shadows from sparse vegetation dragged themselves across the landscape.

The Veerenad city lay somewhere to the north, but heading south would take us to my people. Staying alive long enough to reach them was our first priority. It would take days, and we didn’t have enough supplies for a journey that long in this heat .

The horizon stretched forever, an unbroken line of sand dunes and desolation under the blazing sun. Talia's steps faltered, her weariness showing in the droop of her shoulders and the way she sucked in a breath and let it ease out, as if it took almost too much effort to pull the next in. I hated seeing her so tired, but there wasn’t anything I could do but give her encouragement and hold onto her pack. I’d carry her if I thought I could keep going much longer myself, but I worried I’d soon drop if I did something like that. The sand would blow over us, covering us, and we’d never be seen again.

We’d been walking for hours, each step a battle against the sand that tugged us back. This place was showing us no mercy.

How could my fellow Zuldruxians make their home here? I couldn’t understand, and perhaps, I never would. They might find my clan’s way of living on an island floating above the sea just as surprising.

I was about to suggest we settle for a rest in the shade of the next hill when something caught my eye out in the distance. A faint shimmer. A trick of light, or maybe . . . I shielded my face and squinted. An oasis? My pulse quickened, and hope soared through my veins. I wouldn’t mention it to Talia, not until I was sure. I didn’t want to share that fragile bit of hope only to see it flounder when I realized it was only a mirage.

Talia must’ve caught on that something was exciting me, and she sent a look of fear my way.

“I don’t hear any sign of them, do you?” I croaked, my voice drier than the world around us. When had we last taken water? And when had we stopped sweating—a bad sign in the desert.

She shook her head.

We stopped and sat in the sparse shade cast by a thorny shrub that towered above us at least two times the height of a Zuldruxian male. I pulled out the nearly empty flask from her pack. “Drink.”

While she did, I grabbed another, noting there was only one left in her pack. I was carrying four, but we were woefully short on supplies for a trek like this. We could go longer without food, though that would take its toll on us too. But without frequent water, we’d die soon.

After she’d emptied the flask, I returned it to her pack and had her drink half of the next, finishing it off myself once she was through.

We chewed on dried meat that could do with some spices, but I wasn’t complaining.

Somewhat renewed, we kept walking, placing one foot in front of the other.

Whatever I’d seen remained far in the distance, but the image hadn’t wavered. It could be an oasis; I felt more certain of it by the minute.

I kept my eyes on that distant glint, and my stride lengthened. Talia stumbled before falling back into step with me, which made me tighten my steps. I paced myself to her and noted how she lagged. The sweltering air around us seemed to close in on every side, the dunes mocking our progress with their endless rise and fall.

“We’re almost there,” I said, gripping her hand tight in mine, trying to send her as much warmth and encouragement as I could. “You can do it.”

Her eyes met mine with a weariness that shredded my heart, but when she saw the fierce light of determination in my gaze, she nodded and pushed forward. Sand shifted underfoot as we moved, and the dull thud of my pulse echoed in my ears.

The shimmer grew more defined the closer we got to it. It wasn’t a trick of the light or my mind.

It was real, and we’d make it to this place together.

When she staggered, I swept her up in my arms and held her against my chest. She was tired enough not to protest my carrying her. Her head drooped against my chest, and she sighed, her eyes sliding closed.

I crested another dune, and there it was, a gleaming, wondrous thing in front of us.

The upper leaves of lush lavender trees swayed in the breeze, their dark fronds contrasting sharply with the dull sand. A good-sized pool of water glimmered in the center, its surface reflecting the deepening, dusky sky. Relief surged through me like a tidal wave, nearly bringing me to my knees. I tightened my hold on my mate and glanced down at her, worried about what I might find.

If she was unconscious, would I be able to rouse her? Heat and exhaustion could kill a person, and my mate was much more fragile than me.

“Firion,” she whispered, her voice drier than a husk as she took in the paradise ahead. “Is this real?”

Smiling down at her, I nodded, my relief making the words catch in my throat. “Yes, precious one. It’s real.” Later, I could tell her about the wandering Browze Clan. Now was for refreshing ourselves, sleeping, and a chance to make a plan.

My words seemed to reignite something deep inside Talia. She struggled in my arms. “Put me down. I’m going to . . . walk there under my own speed.”

Again, pride filled me for my tiny mate. Like back at the mine, she held a core of determination that no one and nothing would ever break.

She would see this through or die trying.

Holding hands, we started down the hill, both of us giving in to a last burst of energy. The cool shadows of the oasis called us closer, promising rest, safety, and a chance to renew. Sand sprayed up behind us as we slipped and slid our way over the shifting grains, our exhaustion forgotten in the rush of excitement about what waited.

We slowed when we reached the first cluster of trees and walked among them with our heads tilted back and big grins on our faces. Like the forest where the Celedar Clan had made their home, it was cooler among the vegetation. Soothing air whispered across my skin in welcome.

When we reached the edge of the water, Talia dropped to her knees, dipping her hands into the pool. “Can we drink it?” she asked as she splashed her face and ran her wet hand across her neck and upper chest. “Please tell me we can drink it.”

“We can. ”

The water rippled around her fingers, and she leaned forward, sucking it down greedily. After studying the area and seeing no movement, I did the same. I’d never tasted anything better than the crisp, cool liquid. It slaked the dryness in my throat, and for the first time since we’d escaped the mine, I felt my tension slide away.

It was going to be alright. We were going to make it.

When we couldn’t drink anymore, I moved around behind her, running my fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp. She moaned and leaned back into my touch, and I continued, rubbing down her back and easing around her shoulders. I didn’t stop there, and massaged her lower back. If she wasn’t kneeling, I’d work on her legs. Later.

Tipping her head back, she looked up at me, her eyes bright with disbelief. “We’re safe.”

For now.

“Yes.” I turned her and pulled her into my arms. “We’ll sleep here tonight and lounge in the shade tomorrow. We can start out again tomorrow night.”

“Do we dare stay here that long?”

“We’ll keep our movements as hidden as possible.” I couldn’t tell her they wouldn’t find us here. They’d seek out the oases, knowing we’d do the same.

But without this much-needed rest, she’d die. I knew this in my heart, and she was all that mattered.

“We can find a good place to hide. Mask our tracks near the pool. If they come, we’ll make sure they don’t find us. ”

Safety felt almost too good to be true, but I’d suck it down and hold it close, because this wasn’t over yet.

Our journey across the desert had just begun.

Talia eased out of my arms and got to her feet. Her fingers teased on the hem of her tunic.

“Can we swim?”

I couldn’t imagine anything more refreshing. “We should.” We could wash off the sweat. Rinse our clothing and lay them out to dry. Then sleep with more comfort. “I’ll . . .” Should I turn away?

“Join me,” she said. “This can be like the baths we secretly took back in our cell . . . only better.”

No matter how exhausted a male might be, a few parts kept working. My cock surged, butting against the front of my pants. “You’re tired.”

Her smile rose. “Not that tired.” She ran a fingertip down the front of my tunic. “Unless you’d rather wait.”

Nothing and no one was going to keep me away from this woman, my precious mate.