Sanctuary

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

S he landed on the body of a decapitated elk. The force of her fall pushed blood from its neck, splashing her face and mouth. Petra tried to scream and retch but there was no air in her lungs. The revulsion in her body rammed forward into her throat with such force that she swallowed her own vomit.

Whirling around to see who had struck her, she looked straight into the eyes of her assailant. His face was blistered and bleeding. His eyes were swollen and filled with grit.

Seething, he held the weapon over his head. He could have shot her. He could have killed her but the tongue hanging from between his lips spoke why he didn’t.

A corpse does not react to being penetrated.

She stumbled over the elk. More of its bones broke and more blood spewed forth. Her body was failing. Her throat and chest burned. Her mouth was ash and her limbs felt like water. All she could do was kick and flail.

She was about to be struck senseless. The cannon was coming down with all the man’s might.

Rand, help!

Petra rolled. The weapon slammed into the elk’s hip. He raised it again but this time it had no chance to deliver another blow for a white light flashed. Her Ensign felt as if it exhaled throughout her body.

Suddenly, she was able to cry out and screamed her husband’s name aloud.

Rand stood behind the Bessarabiah soldier. In one fell stroke, he sliced the man medially. The torso fell to one side; the hips and legs crumbled.

Rand looked larger and taller than he had ever been. He seemed to look at Petra, but his eyes were blackened and opaque. His hair was longer and every muscle on his body bulged. Around him was a radiance though he was covered in blood. Other men rushed at him and all of them were cloven in half with one swing of his sword.

This was the power of a Sacrifice.

Two men attacked him. He skewered one and lifted the corpse above his head, still pinioned by the blade, and flung it at the other man. Another ran forward, screaming like a banshee. Rand decapitated him and then grabbed the body. Lifting it above himself, he flung it like a projectile at the enemy soldiers.

Petra was grabbed by him and clasped to his chest.

“Rand!”

The black eyes stared straight ahead, and he ran faster than a man should be able.

“Loom!” he thundered.

His voice was sonorous, like a silver trumpet’s call, splitting gray clouds to reveal the sun.

The animal, devoid of saddle and reins, came up from behind them. Without slowing, without breaking stride, Rand tossed her across the furry back, and then jumped up behind. One arm went around her waist like a vice. With the other, he held onto the mount’s mane, and they fled the ambush.

***

L OOM RODE AT A PUNISHING pace. Petra had no idea what direction they were headed, and Rand was unreachable. In fact, were it not for the iron arm around her waist, it did not seem like Rand was anything other than physically present. He did not appear to direct Loom, and he never turned his attention to her. Twice Petra tried struggling against his grip, but it did not shake him in the slightest.

It was frightening.

Although she had seen little of his warrior side, she knew this was not the same man who had slashed a councilman’s knee on the day of their union.

A mere two days ago.

Yes, that man had moved without warning. Still, she knew those eyes. She knew that face. Turning over her shoulder, he did not look the same. Now a caricature loomed above her. He was not the man she could banter with, nor the one who had seen her at her worst.

Petra wanted to be with the man who bent his face near hers and kissed her cheek. The man who tore himself away from her because duty called. The man who sat next to her at dinner and listened to her opinion of things in his world she knew nothing of.

She wanted to be with the man she loved.

It had come to that. It would have come to that without the Antediluvian. He would have gone on this march, and she would have missed him from afar. When he returned, she’d have kept her happiness close and been content with caring for him from the space rank and class put between them. And there would be peace.

However, she couldn’t claim that contentedness now.

Even if all the intimacy between them stemmed from the Ensign, she knew she loved him. And what was more, she suspected he loved her in return. A man could kiss a woman like she was made of marble, but the way Rand grabbed her—with protection, with pride. Timidity between them spoke loudly trying not to admit to the palpitation tugging at both of them.

She might never tell him. He might cling to his Shivalry vows and refrain from ever letting her know. This must be her peace now.

They rode for a long time. Her arms and legs cramped, and her bottom felt raw. With his arm around her like a barrier she had bounced against for hours, Petra was positive her stomach was bruised, too.

Until Rand suddenly yanked the reins and Loom reared up, there was no indication the ancient power relinquished its hold. Yet, when the animal brayed, and her head snapped back into his chest, Rand gagged and fell.

Steam radiated from his body. Stomach on the frozen ground, he clawed and crawled, as if there was desperate reason to make space. Face dragging through the ice, he coughed and sputtered.

Petra leapt off Loom, but her body was not prepared, and she crumbled to her hands and knees. The cold ground siphoned her attempts to stand, and she crawled after him, teeth clattering.

Around the ankle she grabbed him, but he did not stop. She pulled at his shoulders, but he was numb to her touch.

“Rand, stop !”

Her words locked his extremities.

“Please!” he panted. “Leave me...be.”

“Be still, then! Rest. Don’t crawl like an animal.”

“Release me, Petra!”

“I—I release you...but not to crawl away. You did it! We’re safe!”

An exhale like a mourning moan heaved from him, and, with an effort, he rolled onto his back. Dark hair sprawled, snow collecting in it, his gaze was above the clouds. Tears streamed from the corners of his eyes.

At last, these were the eyes she recognized. Petra leaned forward, taking his face between her hands. His tears were hot and stung her chilled skin. Yet, she would have given both her hands in an offering of thanks to see the clear burgundy color, maroon in the night and crimson in the sun.

“We’re safe,” she whispered. “I’m safe.”

He took her hands and pushed them over his eyes. “And what of my men?” he choked. “What of...” His tears gushed. “The men I left to save you? What’s happened to them? I left them!”

“They knew what happened! They knew the touch of eternity—”

“Did they know it when they saw me turn from the fight and flee towards you!? Sacrifice overcame me and I was blinded. It clogged my ears, and I was deaf to all but the sound of you. Your scream and your breath. Everything around me turned shapeless gray. Only your figure was made of light and color. The only thing I knew was you. Nothing, nothing else mattered.”

“I stayed still as long as I could. I wanted to let you fight. I didn’t want to divide you!”

“There is no division when Sacrifice takes full power. I’d have come for you, no matter what. The realm of the dead would not have stopped me. But were the only men I cut down those of Bessarabiah? Can you tell me that my blade was guided to slay only the enemy, when everything around me looked the same? Can you tell me that?” he shouted.

“I...did not see you until you were right there.”

His sobbing melted the snow on the ground and scorched her heart. Guilt. Pain. Sorrow. Heavier than she had ever known. Onto his chest, Petra dropped her head and they wept together.

“Forgive me,” she murmured.

“Forgive me,” he prayed to those who could no longer hear.

***

I T WAS NOT UNTIL LOOM neared, chuffing, and bumping Rand with his snout, that both the woman and man got to their feet. Fatigue slumped his shoulders and stature. She felt like a weed bedraggled by a storm.

Rand lifted her onto the animal’s back. “We need to find cover and rest.”

He rubbed the furry neck and walked onward. Loom kept even with his shoulder while Petra held onto the elk’s mane to keep her seat.

The terrain had not significantly changed. However, they had ridden further into the hills and there were now outcrops of stout trees that grew in clusters. Despite it being winter, the barren branches grew into one another, creating a thatched covering.

Rand chose a copse littered with upturned rocks and debris. Petra guessed the bric-a-brac would help with their shelter. She should be glad not to feel the wind so keenly. Every inch of her skin burned, and her eyes felt like they were on fire.

Within the thicket, she dismounted. Rand set to work, using his sword to cut into the hardened ground.

“How can I help?”

“Just stay close to Loom.”

“I want to help.”

“Your knuckles are bleeding, Petra. The skin beneath your nails is blue.”

“As if I don’t know. You take your vow gravely. I take mine with just as much sincerity.”

He scoffed. “What vow?”

“To be your wife.”

His motions slowed. “Overturn the rocks nearest the trees and dig. False roots grow close to the surface to prevent vermin from attacking the main roots. They’re edible.”

She nodded and moved further inward. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Rand motion at Loom. The animal moved, coming to stand between her and the direction of the wind.

Petra had to use her bodyweight to get the rocks to move. Cupping her hands, one over the other, she stabbed her fingers into the ground and pulled dirt aside. It was slow work.

She noted how Rand had moved from digging a long ditch to splitting dense branches from the trees. These he stabbed into the dirt over the trench and leaned them towards one another, creating an A-frame. Perspiration froze at his hairline like a frosted crown. His breath was steam in the frigid air and she had a difficult time ignoring the rhythm of his heavy breathing.

By the time she gathered half a dozen slender roots, Rand had made a fire and beckoned her near. Loom seemed content to gnaw at the sticks his master had discarded and lapped at the snow on the ground.

Rand unfastened the outer cloak he had been wearing when they were attacked and swung it around her.

“Here,” he said, then taking a handful of snow and holding it near the fire, “drink.”

She touched her lips to his hand and sipped the melting ice. His skin was hot and cold, wet and calloused. The feel tugged a timid pleasure from the bottom of her stomach which was far out of place in the moment. Petra tried to push it down by taking snow in her hands and hovering close to the flames.

“You’ll burn yourself,” he said.

“Melted wax hurts more than sparks off a fire.”

He squinted, looking closer at her hands. “Does it hurt more than those scorch marks?”

“I don’t think that’s a fair comparison.”

“Oh?” A ghost of a smile floated across his mouth. “Will you tell me you’d prefer fire?”

Petra lifted her hands. “I’ll tell you to drink instead.”

Beneath hers, he placed his own and bent near. The pressure of his mouth tugged something the cold had not yet frozen, and she moved to gather more snow.

Rand shook his head. “You need to eat.” He passed the stems to her. “Chew fast, before you taste how bitter they are.”

Of the six, she convinced him to eat two and they moved to settle in the shelter. Their fire was at one end, leaving the opposite end open for them to climb in. With the path of the wind, it would neither blow directly onto them nor push smoke from the fire at them.

Furthermore, Petra saw the wisdom of the trench, below ground-level where the loam was warmer though she did not understand why Rand had dug it so wide.

Until he called for Loom. Obviously, the elk had done this before. Docile, he backed into the shelter, keeping his antlers outside, and folded his legs beneath himself. Neatly huddled, her husband motioned she climb in next.

“How many times have you slept with your mount?” she teased.

“More than I care to admit, but I have never been cold.”

Loom’s winter coat was dense and the warmth from the animal’s body was immediately palpable. The promise of the barest comfort zapped her body of its adrenaline. Instantly, her limbs felt like weights, and she had never been so tired in all her life.

Rand moved in behind her.

“Take, take your cloak,” she mumbled, her lips feeling heavy and her jaw slackening.

“I want you warm.”

“I...will be. Please, Rand.”

She tugged at it, but her hand was pushed away, and moved back to the protection of Loom’s fur. However, she felt the cloak pull away only to be draped over her again with Rand beneath, too.

“Sleep,” he whispered.