Chapter 3 A Silent Desert #2
She stepped back, staring, instinct warring against reason, wondering whether to trust him or to run.
Still, where would she go in this godforsaken and uninhabited landscape?
Sheba hesitated, caught between impulse and necessity, her gaze sweeping the land as she weighed her options.
The wind scoured the beach in long, empty breaths.
It dragged fingers of sand over the dunes and bending sparse grasses on the higher knolls until they whispered against one another.
Far overhead, massive gull-like birds wheeled and cried, their calls echoing across the open sky with a haunting echo.
Beyond the rise and fall of desert mounds and scrub, there were no roads, no lights, no structures to anchor the eye.
Only raw land stretched long and narrow along the coast, abruptly severed by soaring clifftops and mountains unbroken all the way to the horizon.
No sign of other human life either, nor any promise of shelter.
Even if she twisted away from him and fled, there was nowhere to hide in this uninhabited sprawl of wind and stone.
His gaze held hers, as if he were following the calculation behind her eyes; then he shifted without a word and loped toward the wreckage.
There was no salvaging it.
Its engines lay torn open, its core fractured, with components scattered along the beach. He reached inside the broken hull, retrieved something, and returned.
She stared, stunned, as he retrieved her commtab.
He woke it with a flick of his thumb and scrolled through its interface before handing it to her.
The display glowed with a map, her destination marked clearly against the terrain: The Lattaya Medical Centre.
Her throat tightened.
‘We’re not even close,’ she whispered.
It appeared to be five hours on foot, at least for her, over unfamiliar ground.
‘Damn.’
That’s when he turned back to the skimmer and began unloading her bags.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked, hurrying after him.
He lifted a hand to stay her.
His intoxicating smoky musk washed over her again, grounding and disorienting in equal measure as she stood, almost helpless, the effects of her head bump ratcheting.
She blinked as a migraine set in.
His eyes sliced to her as if sensing her growing distress.
They then went to her med kit.
The message was clear.
She moved to it and retrieved her pain pills, then eyed him as she chugged them down with the water bulb he handed to her.
Questions flooded her mind. Who was he? Was he a local?
She doubted it because he didn’t fit the descriptions of Tansinians she was aware of.
He carried an air of familiarity with the modern world, yet somehow he also seemed imbued with the ancient, from his leather gear to his wild hair.
Did he ever talk aloud, she wondered even as he packed reserve rations into her small backpack and pressed it into her hands.
It appeared he preferred silence as he gathered the rest of her clothes, medical supplies, boots, her kit, and rolled them into an emergency tent tarpaulin.
He scavenged it from the hold, securing it with practiced efficiency.
Her eyes widened as he hoisted the massive bundle onto his back without strain.
He tipped his chin toward the rising hills and started walking.
Panic flared, then receded as reality settled.
Fokk, she had no choice.
She followed him, grateful the pain meds were starting to kick in.
They left the dunes behind and began to climb.
The land shifted beneath their feet, sand giving way to scrub, then stone.
He moved close to her, looming tall and monolithic, matching her slow speed.
He remained silent, offering a calloused hand whenever the terrain demanded it.
He hoisted her over boulders and guided her across narrow streams that sliced cold through the dark rock.
As the brush thickened and the trees rose into a dense, interlocking canopy, the path angled steeply toward the distant hills.
She kept pace through sheer, stubborn will, relying on the quiet confidence of her physical conditioning.
She and her sister Selene had always pushed their limits while living on Dunia, exploring the planet’s mountains and rugged seascapes, hiking, swimming, and surfing the wild southern oceans.
Her nursing shifts sustained her on her feet for twelve-hour cycles, and she still favored a trek home over the sterile hum of a maglev ride.
Consequently, her lungs remained strong and her legs conditioned.
Still, this climb pulled deep into her reserves.
Sweat slicked her spine, soaking into the fabric of her shirt.
Despite the meds, a rhythmic throbbing ignited behind her temples.
Her attention drifted in and out as the concussion pressed against her consciousness, and a migraine bloomed with agonizing rapidity.
At one point, her boot slid on a moss-slicked stone.
That’s when her unexpected guide twisted, moving with lightning speed to catch her before she hit the granite.
In the proximity of his arms once more, her breath hitched.
Beneath the thin linen of his leather tunic, his skin began to pulse with a rhythmic luminescence.
His glowing glyphs, which had entranced her from the moment she met him, crawled across his forearms like molten gold, casting a spectral light against the dim forest floor.
She stared at the symbols, her mind fracturing with silent, frantic questions.
The utter gravitas of his presence appeared to warp the air around him, a heavy, tectonic power radiating from his core.
Who was this man who seemed to carry the potency of the sun in his veins?
The sheer scale of his aura made it seem as if it were carved from the foundations of a forgotten spell-working world.
She opened her mouth to speak, to demand the truth of his identity, but her energy waned. The darkness at the edge of her vision surged.
With a twist of his lush lips, he lifted her without ceremony, arms closing around her as if she weighed nothing.
Her perception narrowed again.
She found herself staring into his eyes, close enough to see the wild storms shift within them.
Her heart, traitor that it was, kicked hard.
When it settled, the pull of sleep dragged at the edges of her unconsciousness. She couldn’t hold on any longer.
She had to trust him.
She had no other choice.
His mouth twitched, the barest acknowledgment, as if he caught the thought.
He touched her forehead with two fingers.
Her body slumped, eyes shuttered, and darkness took her at once.
Sheba surfaced, blinking, into a canopy of canvas and filtered light, her breath hitching as awareness stitched itself back into place.
The air carried the distinct odor of rubber gloves, tubing, and sterile dressings.
A clear IV line tugged at her wrist, fluid trickling through the drip.
She shifted her head, which lay in a mound of pillows. Her gaze drifted to her legs extended on the hover bed that held her body in suspension.
Beyond the bed railing, a holo display of sensors tracked her pulse and respiration.
A medic was peering at them, recording the results on a slate in their hands.
The woman met her gaze with calm precision.
Her dark hair was drawn back into a neat tie.
Her skin was a light gold, and her brown eyes were piercing and keen; her stance balanced between authority and care.
‘Welcome, Nurse Munene, to the Lattaya Medical Center,’ she said. ‘My name is Dr. Linh Arakawa. I’m one of your new colleagues. You’ve sustained a significant head impact, but your recovery curve is exceptional. Your vitals are stabilizing, and I should discharge you within hours.’
She glanced at the slate, then back to Sheba.
‘We also tracked your skimmer’s descent during a perimeter sweep. A team of local villagers has been dispatched to retrieve the remains. Did you know what caused your crash?’
Sheba struggled to remember, then shook her head. ‘It happened all so fast.’
The doctor nodded in understanding. ‘De nada, the most important thing is that you’re safe.’
‘How did I get here?’ Sheba asked, the words hoarse and raw, her memory still fuzzy.
The doctor’s mouth curved up.
‘You appeared in our emergency ward. One moment, the triage floor was empty. Next, you materialized in one of the beds we left out. Unconscious. No craft. No escort. Just you and a pile of your clothes and gear wrapped up in a tent on the tiles beside you.’
She studied Sheba’s face. ‘Do you have any idea who might have brought you in?’
Sheba drew a careful breath as recall slid into place, tightening her chest.
‘A man,’ she muttered. ‘He pulled me from the wreckage and carried me.’
Linh lifted a brow. ‘Long, dark hair,’ she murmured, ‘muscles for days, glowing eyes, and a presence that unsettles?’
Sheba nodded once.
A knowing smile touched Linh’s mouth. ‘Then you’ve met Idan. He patrols the high ridges and deserts around here. A sigma, if you believe in labels. A guardian, beloved by the locals. We think he’s some meta, Lattaya’s self-appointed sentinel.’
The name Idan struck Sheba with a jolt.
Her pulse kicked up, the increased heart rate spiking on the monitors.
She sank back into the hover bed, the canvas ceiling drifting above her, every nerve alive with a surge of feeling she could not explain.
Her gaze slid toward the plex window of the medical tent, where the Lattaya Hills gorge opened in a sweep of stone, shadow, and light.
Despite the migraine pounding her head, wonder unfurled through her chest, quiet and immense, as if some buried part of her was awakening after eons in the dark.