18. Miner’s Rot

We enter familiar territory just as the eastern sky begins to lighten. Thankfully, we didn't meet anything on our trek through the woods except a few grouse and a trio of skittish does.

"It's not far to the beach—" Lukas begins, only to be cut off by a nearby yell.

And not just one, several. It sounds like a call-to-arms—a war cry.

"Was that Patches?" I demand, grabbing Lukas's arm.

He's already taking off at a run, heading toward the chaos. I'm on his heels, summoning my magic and praying dawn will come quickly.

The noise is coming from the camp near the mine.

We break through the trees and find our men engaged with at least a dozen mole trolls, maybe more. I throw a firebolt, hitting a monster directly in the chest. The impact throws him. He lands on his back, squealing, and then pushes to his feet and takes off into the dusky woods.

Lukas is already in the fray, sword drawn.

I throw more firebolts, working my way toward Wilder. "You shouldn't be fighting!"

The mercenary looks half-dead, even in the bare light. He grabs me by the shoulder, whirling me out of the way, and lunges forward, plunging his blade into a monster right behind me.

Returning the favor, I throw a spell at a mole troll reaching for him.

"Thanks," I breathe.

He draws in a ragged breath, glancing over his shoulder at the monster twitching on the ground. "You too."

Already, our men are winning.

I throw several more firebolts, hoping to scare away the stragglers.

The last of the creatures faces Lukas. The monster is low in a crouch, baring its teeth. It leaps forward, letting out an awful screech. Lukas sidesteps the attack, coming around the mole troll from behind as it stumbles, sinking his blade into its skeletal back.

I find myself watching Lukas, transfixed.

He yanks the blade free and looks around to make sure it's the last of them, his face lined with regret. And then, sensing my reaction, he turns, and our eyes meet across the camp.

I'm almost embarrassed. But it's not the carnage or the blood that draws me to the man. It's his skill, his prowess…and the solemn, regretful look on his face. His complete lack of bloodlust.

He walks to me, sword hanging at his side, and wraps his free arm around my shoulders. "Are you all right?"

Swallowing, I nod.

Holding me firmly, he kisses my temple, still breathing hard.

"That was fun." Wilder leans down to wipe his blade clean on the grass, looking like he's going to pass out when he straightens. It takes him several attempts to sheathe his sword. "Nothing like a before-sunrise fight to start your day."

"You look like death." Lukas frowns at our lead mercenary.

Wilder's answering chuckle becomes a cough. "I feel like death."

A blue smudge on his neck catches my attention. Fear grips my stomach as I step forward and firmly grasp his jacket collar, yanking it aside to get a better look. "How long have you had this?"

"Had what?" he asks, startled.

"This bruise-like mark."

He turns his neck to peer down, but obviously, he can't see it. "What mark?"

I turn back to Lukas. "I know what this is."

"The sickness?"

Nodding, I swallow hard. "We need to get him and Gregory to the ship's mage on the Sea Rose."

"What is it?"

"Miner's Rot. It's not common, but it's…" I can't finish the sentence.

"What's the survival rate?" Lukas demands.

"If the Sea Rose's ship's mage has the tincture, they'll be fine."

"And if she doesn't?"

I swallow, looking back at Wilder, who appears appropriately concerned. "Now that the bruises are forming? Without medicine?" I have to look away. "The odds aren't great."

"How long do we have to get them to a real healer?" Lukas demands as Wilder lowers himself to the ground. "Will they make it to Shalada?"

"I don't know," I whisper.

The men stare at me, dumbfounded.

Lukas finally lets out a heavy exhale. "Can you make something?"

"I've helped Father make the cure before. So maybe… If I can remember the formula. If I can find the ingredients."

"Let's get them to the ship," Lukas says.

Patches joins us, only hearing the last part of the conversation, probably concerned by our grim expressions. "The dinghies are gone."

"They're coming for us," Lukas says. "Tiago and the boys took Flink to the Serpent. They're supposed to return at dawn."

"Go to the mess tent," I say to Wilder. "Lie down for a while."

Nodding, he does as I command.

I watch him go, a chill sinking into my bones that has nothing to do with the cold morning air. I listen numbly as Lukas explains the situation to Patches.

The news hits the massive, capable mercenary like a bludgeon.

"Where are Davyn and Felicity?" I ask Patches suddenly, realizing they're not with the group. "They should be out of the cavern by now."

Lukas frowns, realizing I'm right. He glances at the sky. It's lighter now, sunrise imminent. It shouldn't have taken them any longer to walk through the bluewood than it did us to walk around the monolith.

"We haven't seen them," Patches says heavily. "We barely got out of the cavern ourselves, though. We'd just made it up the lift when the first group of monsters attacked. Then there was a brief respite, just long enough for us to get here, and then more of them came swarming out of the mine."

"Why?" I ask Lukas. "Why now?"

He shakes his head, his eyes worried. "I don't know. The only thing I can think?—"

"The dragon," I interrupt abruptly. "They must have sensed she escaped the cave."

And if the mole trolls aren't distracted by the dragon, then…

I clench my eyes shut, realizing what we've done. Felicity and Davyn are alone—trapped. Or worse.

Lukas takes me by the shoulders. "Soleil."

I shake my head, refusing to listen to what I know he's going to say.

"I have to find them," he says anyway.

I clutch his hands. "Lukas, no."

"You're going to return to the ship, all right?" He squeezes my shoulders. "You're going to make the concoction and save Gregory and Wilder."

Something hysterical bubbles up in me. "You can't go in alone. I don't even know that I can make the concoction."

And it's the truth, though I desperately wish it wasn't. I draw in a ragged breath, my argument with my father haunting me. Never in my life have I wished I'd become an alchemist more than right now.

Lukas clears his throat, choking back a cough.

My stomach plummets. Horrified, I breathe, "Lukas. Are you sick?"

"I'm fine."

Ignoring his protests, I press my palm to his forehead. Is he warm? I can't tell.

He can't have the sickness. He can't.

"I'm all right," he insists, bringing my hand to his lips. "I mean it. I'm a little tired, and my throat has been dry, but I'm not sick." He gives me a cheeky grin. "You counted my moles, remember? Did you see any bruises?"

My chin begins to quiver as I desperately attempt to quell my panic.

"You said you'd trust me," he says softly.

"With my heart—not your life."

"I'll be back before dark," he swears. "Make sure there's a dinghy waiting for me, all right?"

I shake my head, my eyes stinging. "You're not going."

He leans in like he's going to kiss me and then pauses. Hesitant.

Hesitant because he's not certain he isn't sick.

"You can't go," I say again, clinging to his arms. "Please, don't go."

Pulling me in for a tight hug, he clutches the back of my neck and whispers, "I'll be back, Sunshine. I promise."

I watchas a dinghy slides through the morning fog, heading toward the beach.

Patches and Dax went with Lukas. Three men against how many monsters? Fifty? A hundred?

Patches swore he would protect my family, and in return, he asked me to save his.

The weight of the responsibility is crippling. I'm not a healer. I'm not an alchemist. I'm not even a real mage.

But I can't let my fears infect me. I must focus on my task, as impossible as it seems.

Tiago is with the ship's boys again this morning. Jorgin and Brantley tie the dinghy to the dock, waving hello. I walk down to meet them.

"Did you save the dragon?" Jorgin asks, looking like he wishes he could have gone with us.

"We did."

Tiago scans the beach, where the group is waiting. "Where's Lukas?"

"He went into the cavern to look for Davyn."

Something in my tone must tell him something is wrong. He studies me, nodding slowly.

"Two of our men are sick," I say, knowing my tone is cold. But it's the only way I can remain composed. "May we take them to the Sea Rose so your ship's mage can look at them?"

"Of course," he answers. "Who went with Lukas?"

"Two of our mercenaries."

He thinks about it for a moment, his frown deepening. "Lukas isn't a mage, is he?"

"No…"

"Are either of the mercenaries mages?"

I narrow my eyes, wondering what he's getting at. "No."

"How will they work the lift that leads into the lower level? The one you told me about yesterday?"

I mutter a curse, feeling a strong urge to throw something. "They can't get to the lower levels."

"No."

I rub my hands over my face, wondering if this mission could go any more awry.

"How long ago did they leave?" he asks.

"Ten minutes, maybe."

"I'll go with them."

I lower my hands. "Really? Why?"

He laughs, already heading toward the beach. "I can't let everyone else have all the fun, can I?"

"Thank you," I call after him.

He lifts his hand, acknowledging my gratitude, and heads up the beach.

The ship boys watch me, worried. Jorgin asks, "How may we assist you, Miss Eldemyer?"

"Please help Wilder and Gregory into the boat."

The boys look at the pair of men, unsure. Brantley cautiously asks, "Are they…"

"They're not contagious, no. The illness is passed through cave dust. You must breathe it in, and not everyone who's exposed will contract the sickness."

Slowly, they nod and then assist the men.

I find a seat in the boat, sternly telling myself I will keep it together. I saw Lukas fight—he's skilled. As are Patches and Dax. I have no idea if Tiago is a decent mage, but adding numbers to the group cannot hurt.

And we can't leave Davyn and Felicity for dead. Just the thought guts me.

Well, maybe Felicity.

But not Davyn.

Wilder sits next to me with a heavy sigh, perspiration shining on his pale face. The boat sways as the boys help Gregory into the dinghy next. A few others join us—enough to fill the boat—and then we're on our way.

"Rumor has it you're going to save our lives," Wilder says, his tone flippant for a man near death. "Dragonslayer. Mage. Alchemist. Is there anything you cannot do, Miss Eldemyer?"

He's scared.

I'm scared, too.

"The Sea Rose's ship's mage will treat your illness," I say, though I know my words lack conviction.

My father made the concoction often thanks to the network of silver mines in the mountains. He grew the ingredients in his garden—had them on hand.

But why would a ship's mage have a cure for a cavern disease?

I stare at a starfish clinging to the wet rock of a small island as we pass it, memories plaguing me.

Sensing my mood, Wilder says, "Lukas is going to be fine."

"You can't know that."

The mercenary slouches next to the edge of the boat, his breathing labored. "How many times have we been in and out of that wretched cave?"

"That was before we stole the mole trolls' captured prey."

"He fought by my side before we escaped into the dragon's pit. He's proficient with a blade. If he was looking for a new career, he'd make a fine mercenary."

I know Wilder's right. And it's not like Lukas kept himself out of harm's way all those years we were apart. But logic doesn't soothe the worry in my heart.

We fall silent.

"I think this might be my last job," Wilder says after several quiet minutes.

I look at him sharply, determination rising in my chest. "This most certainly will not be your last job. You're going to be fine."

He smiles wanly. "I know that. I meant it's going to be my last job by choice. I've saved enough—I want to open my bookshop."

"Oh." My fight leaves me, and I nod for him to continue.

"While you were getting yourself kidnapped, I bought a place in Kervis Elevra."

"Busy afternoon."

"It's on a happy street, where people grow flowers in window boxes. There's a tea shop next door." He chuckles weakly. "The woman who owns it is about our age. She has an illegal munchkin dragon—I saw it in the upper window." He pauses, his eyes going distant. "I want to find out why she chose it instead of a cat."

"You're young, you're healthy, and you're strong. You're going to get over this, Wilder."

"I know." He gives me a cocky look that's edged with doubt. Then he closes his eyes and lays his head back on the hard wood rail. "Tell me when we get there, all right?"

We continue the rest of the trip to the Sea Rose in silence.