Chapter 5
Chapter Five
All right, Ziamee was procrastinating. She’d spent the day doing chores instead of planning a trip east. She was being silly, but alone, if something happened, she could die or be stranded.
The possibility of getting herself or Seba killed was high.
No, she had a right to be cautious. She needed to prepare for the unknown.
Food, water, warmth, and her trusty fish-skinning dagger?
Would that be enough? And maybe leave a note with Oz in case Padya returned?
With the refilled bucket between her legs, she sat on a boulder to fix an unraveled braid. She’d lost count of how many braids she had. They were too unruly, but tying her hair up this way kept it from being a nuisance. She’d get around to hacking at it soon enough.
The setting sun glimmered off the surface of the lake. Peace saturated the air, the scents of chagla blossoms and fresh ceaza adding to the moment. And a strange hum? She raised her gaze and studied the horizon. Could it be another kind of avar?
She angled her head. No, the sound was mechanical. And it wasn’t coming from the Haile. She leaped to her feet when a black shape shot across the sky. A blink confirmed she wasn’t imagining things when it circled the lake and headed toward her position. Excitement exploded in her chest.
We are rescued!
But her instincts whispered, Why now; who are they; what do they want? And worse, she was alone—vulnerable.
Cursing, she stared at her bare feet, then at the hovering ship.
Had it seen her? Did it know she was there?
Wiggling her toes, she started to unwrap the strips of leather that made up her boots, preparing to put them on.
The ropes holding them together splayed outward.
She had no other footwear; leather soles with ribbons tied around her calves were her improvisation.
Abandoning covering her feet when it was too time-consuming to put her boots on, she padded barefoot toward the tiny spaceship now hovering above her.
It dropped.
With dagger in hand, she bolted toward it, certain they’d mistaken the clearing for a safe landing spot.
And inadvertently delivered themselves to the Sandpits of Baisadha.
She scrambled past her traps to peer over a boulder.
There, clear as day, was an honest-to-Elorach ship.
Her father wouldn’t believe her. Holding her breath, she waited for the box to sink into the sands.
If that didn’t kill whoever these intruders were, her traps would.
They’d come for a reason, and since no one had for so long, that only proved their arrival wasn’t a good thing. Assume everything wanted to kill her. Padya had taught her that.
The door opened to a male. The dying sunlight caught the telltale blue of Durn skin. When no one else emerged, she had to assume he was an assassin—because no one traveled alone. He strolled down the ramp and across the sand without incident.
She frowned. How was that poss—
The ship tilted on a whining groan and, with a gurgle, began to submerge.
He didn’t scramble to save it—simply left the clearing.
And stepped into her trap.
The noose tightened around his ankle, and up he went, the sling dangling him upside-down and swinging him wildly.
She laughed, patting her chest in applause. Her usual catches were food. His weight would test her craftmanship, the strength of her knots, and homespun ropes.
He had white hair like her, but he wore black pants, a sleeveless tunic, and chunky boots. Too soon, he drew a weapon…
“Fool,” she rasped.
With one wild swing, his odd-shaped phaser tumbled from his fingers. He tried to stop the pendulum, but each touch of the ground catapulted him into another spin. When he stilled, she waited to make sure he didn’t launch himself again or draw another weapon.
His strange cursing in a deep voice sank into her like Seba’s purring did. A hot sensation settled lower. She frowned at the addictiveness of it.
This change, his arrival, spelled trouble.
She didn’t have a weapon. Padya had the phaser. Wherever he was, he’d need it. For the first time in a while, her hands itched with the urge to hold something, anything; even a club would do. All she had was her fish-skinning dagger. She gazed at the mangled hilt and overly sharpened blade.
“Do not move,” she snapped, tightening her grip on the knife as she approached the trap.
He didn’t listen, twisting to face her and sending the net into another whirl. She hissed, sheathed the dagger, and grabbed the woven rope. It took all her strength to wrestle him to a stop. Her thigh burned from the exertion.
“Do as I say.” She met his gaze and scowled at his lovely long-lashed eyes.
“Set me free,” he drawled. His accent was thick as if he never spoke Durn. How odd for a Durn.
“Why should I?” she asked. “I do not trust you, stranger.”
He glared at her, scattering her heartbeat.
She glowered back, not appreciating what he invoked in her. “You are without a ship now.”
“I see that.” He pinched his lips, and she couldn’t shake the sense that he’d been about to say more.
“Why are you here?” she demanded, stepping away to fold her arms across her chest.
His hair flowed free, unbraided. His garments were of good quality.
She resisted the urge to glance at her patched tunic.
Fabric of any sort was scarce. She snorted at that.
They had yet to find a plant that didn’t make them break out in a rash.
Instead, they’d learned how to craft paper—various forms of it.
She sniffed and shuffled back, liking his clean yet spicy scent more than she should. Despite her bath, she probably stank of ceaza and Seba’s blood. At best, she’d smell of the lake.
“I will cut myself out, then,” he threatened, his gaze fixed on her.
Sadness and frustration gritted her teeth, for it had taken her ages to make the net and set the trap. Regardless, slicing through the rope with his dagger would keep him busy for a while.
She circled him, picked up his heavy weapon, and lobbed it into the lake. It sank with a satisfying ‘glop.’ She returned to him and spun him slowly, sliding her hand between the net and parts of him as she searched for another weapon.
He smirked, humor twinkling his eyes and pursing a soft-looking mouth.
Heat burned across her cheeks under his steady gaze.
“I mean you no harm,” he drawled.
“So you say.” She was aware she was alone. Although, had Padya been here, she doubted he’d fare well against this male. Muscles rippled along his arms when he moved. And the weight of him strained the chagla’s bough, almost to breaking point.
She couldn’t hold him. Not only would the trap fail, but there were hungry creatures out here—worse, an ucdeas or two if they’d made it down from the cliff.
She couldn’t be sure they hadn’t. But from this location, she had to worry about the buvarre.
As blind as he’d been strolling across the sinking sands, then into her trap, she wouldn’t put it past him to snare himself in the creatures’ webs. He’d be safer with her.
When I might not be safe with him.
She could lock him in the head. He couldn’t get up to mischief in there since the power had been diverted to Oz’s memory banks. Thankfully, the solar shields, which failed to protect them, now helped keep Oz alive.
She gazed at the lake where she’d tossed the stranger’s block-shaped phaser. Regret pinged across her mind. Unfamiliar with the weapon, using it might have gotten her killed.
“What are you thinking?” His eyes warmed, his expression softened, and he shifted, no doubt uncomfortable with one leg under him and the other extended in a high kick.
“To leave you like this…” She grimaced. “Buvarre will eat you, for sure. Seba would think you a nighttime snack.” She pointed her dagger in the direction of her home. “I still don’t trust you.”
Which left guarding him. A night under the stars didn’t sound so bad. Except there’d be no fire, and the hard ground would stiffen her leg, making it pulse with pain. She wouldn’t be able to sleep for fear she’d be eaten. Still, of the choices she had…
“While you deliberate, may I ask how a Durn landed here?”
“May I ask the same?” She arched a brow.
“You saw my kuta sink.” He nudged his chin at the sandpits.
He knew damn well what she was asking. “Why are you here?” she snapped.
His eyes narrowed. “I am beginning not to like you, female.”
“Well, the thought is mutual. I should let Seba have you.” She swiveled on a heel and stomped off, collecting her fish, and discarded boots with the intention of leaving him there.
Although, she kept her attention on him. Despite touching parts of his body, she hadn’t found a dagger. If he had another weapon, he’d use it to free himself. Rather let the fool show her where he kept it.
The net began to sway. She stopped but stomped her feet like she was walking away, all while watching him squirm. He reached for his boot, almost tearing through the net.
“No,” she gasped when a gleam of silver confirmed he had a dagger. She lunged to stop him, but with one slice, he tumbled free, landing on the ground in a cloud of dust.
Her net—now useless—hung deflated.
“Oh, for Elorach’s sake, you’ve destroyed it.” She marched to him even as he stood and straightened his garments. A fine layer of sand coated him despite his efforts. “It took me ages to make it.” She pointed at the sandpits. “Leave before you ruin something else.”
He sheathed his dagger in his boot and smiled at her.
An explosion of warmth hit her, snatching her breath. Who was he, and why did a flash of his white teeth affect her so?
“My name is Illan Tur-Lekbez.” He scanned the area. “I am responding to a beacon.”