Chapter 11 #3
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 fine streaks 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.
When I 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."
His pupils dilate sharply, vertical slits widening into dark pools.
The muscles in his jaw tighten, and for a heartbeat, he goes utterly still, the stillness of a predator assessing his prey that makes my pulse quicken.
Then something shifts in his expression, the hard lines softening almost imperceptibly.
We have lost many good naga," he says finally, his voice low and rough with emotion, he clearly struggles to contain.
"Families. Hatchlings. My sister, Lysara, was barely past her first shedding when the war spilled into our cavern, and she was run through on a human sword.
" He looks away, then back to me with surprising intensity.
"But I accept your apology on behalf of your kind, Serin Valen. You are... not like the others."
"My older brother, Kade, was killed in the Sundering as well," I whisper.
"I am sorry for the people you have lost," Lurok says, inclining his head.
"Thank you, but my brother wasn't an innocent like your sister. He died fighting in the war." I twist the frayed edge of my sleeve between my fingers. "For all I know, you could have been the one who killed him, or him the one who killed someone you loved."
Lurok's eyes grow wide, pupils narrowing to slits against their icy backdrop.
"War is war," I continue, meeting his gaze unflinchingly, "and it devours the guilty and innocent alike, turning us all into both victims and executioners.”
Lurok's silver-scaled chest rises with a deep breath. His pupils widen slightly as he studies me. "You show wisdom beyond your years, little human.”
"Or perhaps I’m just rambling,” I counter.
"Perhaps," he acknowledges, gathering the food wrappings and returning them to the pack. "Either way, you continue to surprise me, Serin Valen."
The way he says my name makes my heart skip a beat. I watch as he secures the pack across his torso and retrieves the heartglass, its glow strengthening at his touch as though responding to some unspoken command.
"Ready?" he asks, extending his hand to help me to my feet.
I take it without hesitation, my smaller hand disappearing into his massive one. "Ready."