Chapter 9 A Visit From Insects
Ransom woke in a hot sweat. No, it wasn’t him, but the heat radiating from Scarlett.
She was even worse this cycle, and he hadn’t thought this possible.
He rose and headed straight for his pack and his com-circle.
He thumbed in the code for Gryffnn and hit send, straining to hear a response.
Nothing but crackle. About to disconnect, he heard a distorted voice carry through the static and electronic noise.
He spoke fast, not bothering with polite niceties.
“It’s Ransom. I’m in trouble and need Ry’s help. Call the crew of the Indy and get them—” Halfway through the connection dropped. Frustrated, he made another attempt, but the link was even worse. He’d try again, higher in the mountains.
He added wood to the still-burning embers and checked on their water. They were running short. He’d need to restock this cycle.
Ransom prepared food and smiled at the sleepy Trolleris who scuttled over to join him by the fire.
Flynt cooed when Ransom handed him hot food.
At least his needs were easy to fix. Nourishment and protection, although the young fellow held hidden powers of his own because he’d cured Ransom’s headache with his humming.
Ransom suspected he was much older than they’d first thought, but he didn’t seem to offer a threat. Yet.
Next, Ransom checked on Scarlett. Her arm had swelled, the skin now tight and shiny.
Flynt pushed past him and placed his big nose next to the angry, puckered bite on Scarlett’s arm.
He cooed and glanced from Scarlett to Ransom.
He climbed onto Ransom’s knee and patted the hilt of Ransom’s knife before getting down and going close to Scarlett to point.
“I should lance it, huh?” Ransom frowned and decided Flynt was right. It couldn’t do any harm. Scarlett should shift to her feline again. A wave of guilt pummeled him. He should’ve woken her and insisted she transform instead of leaving her to sleep.
Ransom retreated to grab the medical supplies. He heated water and also his blade. When he approached this time, her eyes were open, but instead of her usual beautiful green, her irises were a milky white. He sucked in a sharp breath.
That wasn’t good.
“What’s wrong?” Scarlett whispered.
“Nothing,” he lied. “How do you feel?”
“Like I’ve been in the middle of a cat-fight with all my brothers and cousins picking on me at once.”
In other words, not her best.
Ransom wiped her sweaty face with a damp cloth. “Try shifting. You should’ve done that last blacklight.”
“I woke up during the night and tried.” She swallowed, and Ransom glimpsed her fear. “I couldn’t sense my feline.”
“Phrull,” Ransom said without thinking.
She winced.
“Can you eat? We should keep up your fluids.”
Flynt tapped his arm and smacked his clawed hand on Ransom’s knife hilt.
“Uh, maybe later for food. Flynt is suggesting I lance your wound. His instincts have been right so far, and he’s insistent. This is the second time he has proposed this action.”
“Go ahead,” Scarlett murmured. “I doubt I can hurt any worse.”
Ransom dampened his cloth and wiped her arm. He stood and walked to the fire again to reheat his blade. When he returned, Flynt cuddled against Scarlett’s head, doing his humming thing. As Flynt’s humming continued, the tension released from Scarlett’s limbs and torso.
Ransom sliced open Scarlett’s arm along the healed seam of the wound before he could second-guess himself.
She moaned, the anguished cry raising yet more guilt.
It was his fault she’d been here. He should’ve ignored the prince’s demands and traveled alone.
Ransom tossed aside the knife and held her injured arm immobile to prevent the fluids from flying over any of them.
The stench from the discharge forced him to breathe through his mouth.
It held the same stink that the larger Trolleris males carried.
Flynt made a chattering noise and gestured at the gray pus that oozed from the cut Ransom had made.
Flynt wrinkled his big nose, and Ransom took his meaning and agreed.
Contact with the stuff coming from Scarlett’s wound was a bad idea.
With contamination in mind, Ransom cleaned what he could of Scarlett’s arm before he doused it with an antiseptic spray.
He considered bandaging the injury but left it uncovered. If it attracted bugs, he’d reassess.
Concern fought with regrets as he peered at her pale face. Grata, she appeared small and vulnerable, and more than anything, he wished she was lashing him with snarky attitude.
“Scarlett.”
Her lashes flickered before she opened her eyes. Ransom frowned. Still that weird milky color. He didn’t comment because he hated to scare her. “Can you manage some soup? Maybe water too.”
“Yeah.”
“How is the arm now?”
“It’s not aching as badly. After I’ve eaten something, I might try to shift again.”
“Can you feel your feline?”
“No.”
Ransom hid his anxiety. Instead, he heated water and made Scarlett soup. He gave Flynt a mug too before he warmed a shrink-meal for himself.
With his meal in hand, Ransom sat on a rock near Scarlett and Flynt.
“I can’t face a trek today,” Scarlett said. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be silly. You need to rest. I figured we’d stay here for two cycles, although I must find a freshwater source. I’ll do that once you’re settled. Should I take Flynt with me, or are you okay monitoring him?”
“Leave him here,” Scarlett said.
Ransom nodded.
“How is your head after your latest run-in with the prince?”
“Not too bad,” Ransom said. “Surprisingly. I’m not sure what Flynt did with his humming, but my head isn’t aching and I have an appetite.”
After ensuring Scarlett and Flynt had everything they required, Ransom grabbed their empty water vessels and headed out of camp.
He climbed a small hill and stopped to get his bearings.
Still, nothing on the hand-drawn map matched, although Ransom was positive they were trekking in the right direction.
The junction of the two mountain ranges sat near the horizon, and he’d used that as their guide all along.
The glint of a stream gave him a destination, and he figured he’d reconnoiter while he sought water.
He scanned the horizon in all directions before turning to stare at the place where the two ranges met.
The prince informed him that a valley ran between, and it was a beautiful spot with trees and a lake.
None of that was visible. Instead, the ground steamed and mud pools bubbled.
A metallic odor drifted to him as he searched for a pathway across the dangerous, unstable ground.
He rocked on his heels, his hands fisting at the challenge.
An obstacle he doubted anyone could cross on foot.
You could fly. The thought popped into his head. It was true, his strength had returned, and even if he couldn’t fly again, a shift might help his mind and body heal.
Ransom set down the water vessels and stripped. Before he shifted, he tried his com-circle again. Nothing but more static.
He placed the com-circle in a pocket and stood back.
Once he centered his mind, he let the shift flow through him.
His transformation was quicker than it had been.
More natural and hope rose in him. Perhaps the combination of potions and Flynt, and less contact with the prince, had helped.
He flapped his arms and took a running jump.
To his horror, his mind was blank. Not one dragon instinct stepped up to propel his body off the ground.
Instead, he crashed on the hard layer of stones and rolled down an incline for a distance before he found his feet and clawed to an abrupt halt.
His heart thumped as he realized he’d stopped almost on the edge of a cliff.
Ransom picked himself up and stomped to his clothes. Thank the gods no one had witnessed that bit of foolery. Grata! What sort of dragon forgot how to fly?
Scarlett dozed after Ransom left. She woke abruptly, and panic roared through her when she recalled Flynt. She bolted upright, her gaze darting left and right scanning her surroundings.
“Flynt? Flynt! Where are you?”
“He is here,” a masculine voice said.
Whoa! A dozen aliens stood behind the speaker, their bodies resembling insects rather than a humanoid species.
Each bore skinny forest-green legs—at least six—and large leathery wings they kept tucked behind them.
Tiny black scales covered their torso, knitting together to produce armor-type protection.
They had one set of spindly forest-green arms. Two antennae swayed and tested the air above their heads, which were the most humanoid thing about them.
While their upright stance made them more human, if Scarlett had spotted them flying in formation, her mind would’ve identified them as insects.
Scarlett pushed to her feet and slid her hand under the heap of clothes for her blade. Where was it? She always placed it close to hand.
“We intend you no harm.” The man’s huge, golden-brown eyes glowed with an inner light. They were captivating and obviously offered more peripheral vision than her own. “Talon recognized our presence and came to find us. He asks me to pass on a message.”
“Talon?” Scarlett relaxed a fraction and stared while trying not to, but she suspected her gaping mouth still came across as rude. Best to confront the issue with honesty. “I apologize for staring,” she said. “What is your race and planet of origin?”
“This planet is our home, although long ago, the Maphra race imprisoned us and used us as slaves. They let their scientists experiment on us, although their trials did not turn out the way they expected.”
Flynt released rapid clicks and grunts. The insect-man lowered and raised his feelers.
“We are the Quito race. The experiments turned our youngsters into blood-eaters. They craved Maphra blood and passed on a disease that started killing the purple ones.”