34. Chapter 34
By noon on the second day, forceful winds caused the dunes to roil under their feet as though some great beast burrowed beneath the sands.
Through gritted teeth, Vaelin had led them into a nearby series of sand caves, begrudgingly admitting they would need to wait for the winds to let up before they could press on — even he could not hold back the gale force winds of the desert.
The sand caves themselves were not without risk, he’d explained to Isla, their precarious sand shelves often cause for sudden cave-ins.
But even that potential was better than being swallowed by the dunes.
Isla trudged behind the others as they moved through the mouth of the cave, Vaelin warning them to stay close to the entrance in case of a sudden cave-in.
Isla swallowed the bile that threatened to climb up her throat as she imagined what it might feel like to be buried beneath the weight of the sands, something so light becoming so impossibly heavy.
She pulled the sweaty scarf from her face, letting it hang around her neck as she dropped her pack on the ground. She closed her eyes, relishing the feel of the breeze on her hot, itchy skin. Beside her, Evric grunted as he sank into a seated position, running a hand through his sweat-soaked hair.
“Gods I hate the fucking sands,” he grumbled.
“Everyone take a drink - a small one,” Vaelin ordered, then turned to Aurelia. “Are you okay to alleviate some of our fatigue?”
Aurelia nodded, and moved towards Isla, holding out her hand palm up.
Isla grasped it gratefully and watched the warm, healing light cover her hand like a glove.
It was still startling, still incredible to take in.
Her muscles relaxed a fraction and she closed her eyes, rolling her neck to the side and sighing in relief.
When she opened her eyes, Aurelia was staring at her, a knowing look on her face, eyebrows raised expectantly.
Isla blinked. “What?”
Aurelia tipped her head subtly toward where Vaelin exchanged barbs with Evric, a teasing smile on her lips.
“Shut up,” Isla muttered, but she couldn’t help the answering curve of her own lips. Aurelia laughed, moving to heal the others.
Isla turned to the wall of the cave, running her hand gingerly along it, careful not to apply more than a whisper of pressure.
The caves marked the first time Isla had been struck by something beautiful since setting foot in the desert realm.
Her lips parted in awe as her gaze tracked the infinite lines of sand upward.
She turned in a circle, arms held slightly apart from her body for balance, her head tilted upward as she marvelled at the layers upon layers of sand, hardened and stacked by centuries of untold pressure and wind.
It felt almost like standing on the inside of a hollowed-out, golden mountain, the cave stretching upward.
There was no symmetry, all random angles and errant jagged plateaus that seemed to grow off of inner walls, an eternity of sand sculpted by the wind into unlikely shapes.
In some places, signs of the cave’s fragility showed, with openings forming in the walls and the upper curve that served as a roof, allowing waterfalls of shifting sands to pour inside.
The unrelenting sun shone through the gaps, casting the inside of the cave in a golden glow, and causing the sand to sparkle.
She stretched out her open hand to the closest sandfall, a soft huff of wonder leaving her as she watched the glittering sand pile up in the palm of her hand, dancing in the light of the sun's rays.
A distant voice threaded its way through the cave, and Isla looked up at the sound.
She glanced at where the others stood, Aurelia now healing Evric, Vaelin watching the mouth of the cave, their steadfast sentry.
The voice beckoned again and Isla’s forehead creased as she turned toward the sound.
Was there someone else here, lost in the labyrinth of these caves?
A knot of apprehension tightened in her chest. Again, the voice seemed to drift along the wind, anxious and thready.
Isla let the sand slip from her hand, a flicker of familiarity seeming to lodge itself in her mind.
She moved deeper into the cave, as if pulled by some unseen force.
“Isla.”
She halted, jerking at Vaelin’s voice, as though he’d pulled her from some spell. She turned to face him as he made his way to where she now stood in the middle of the cave. Her confusion deepened — when had she moved so far away from the others?
Vaelin frowned at her. “I told you to stay near the entrance.”
“I heard a voice,” Isla murmured. “It sounded… familiar.”
His brow knitted and moved closer, his arm brushing hers.
Her skin tingling in response to the contact.
His eyes scanned the cave as he tilted his chin slightly, listening, and she drank in his profile.
Days spent under the sun’s unforgiving rays had darkened everyone’s skin, though Vaelin’s seemed to have soaked in the rays eagerly, leaving him with a dark, burnished tan that was almost brown, much darker than when they’d first met.
Isla scratched idly at her own arm, where her fair skin had become red and itchy in response to the sun’s relentless assault.
Her eyes skated over his cheekbones and over the full beard he now wore.
It matched the dark shade of his hair that fell in loose waves to his shoulders.
Her fingers twitched at her side as though they ached to run through it.
She blinked as he met her eyes and shook his head. “I hear nothing. Likely just the wind. The curved walls in here can send it singing in odd ways.”
Isla nodded, accepting his assessment. She turned, following him back toward the mouth of the cave, glancing back over her shoulder as though drawn to its depths, unable to explain the unease that had settled beneath her skin.
As the hour ticked by, Vaelin felt the tension in his body spool tighter. He watched the sun move on the horizon, imagining that it was sinking faster than it should. This was not going as planned.
He ground his teeth, thinking about how he’d planned for them to rest the night at the border before wading into the sands.
Give them a chance to steel themselves, restate the plan, outline the dangers, mitigations.
Instead, they’d been forced to do the complete opposite, running headlong into the desert on fumes, weak, and already hungry.
There had been no time to rest, to physically or mentally prepare — not with the threat of a shadow wolf on their heels.
A Godsdamned shadow wolf. He’d had his suspicions that day they’d come upon the vicious claw marks in the forests outside Brackenford, suspicions that had bloomed into near-certainty following the attack outside the village.
Still, he hadn't allowed himself to truly believe it until he’d seen the beast slink out of the shadows with his own two eyes, blood and liquid ink dripping from its maw.
He shook his head abruptly, banishing the memory. Not useful. Not now.
Blood and grime still coated them all from that fight, now mixed with a rough, gritty layer of sand.
They were all filthy, exhausted, dehydrated, and hungry, given the mediocre supplies he’d been able to scavenge from the wreckage of the Market.
Another unexpected obstacle. He exhaled in frustration.
Evric knew things weren’t going to plan, but he knew better than to say as much out loud.
Aurelia was weak from relieving their fatigue each night, whether or not she would admit it.
Even she was finding this crossing more difficult than she’d anticipated.
And Isla… Vaelin felt each of Isla’s ragged exhales as they traversed the sands like a punch to his chest. The sand squalls were kicking up much more frequently than he'd seen in the past, and the shifting dunes - while not exactly a surprise - were an unwelcome addition. And they were more long-lived than he’d like. More delays they could not afford.
He eyed the cave’s entrance, watching the sands swirl in the howling wind.
His magic leapt in response and he flexed a hand at his side.
The wind had showed no signs of letting up and though he did not relish the idea of spending the night in these caves, it was a much better alternative to traversing the open sands in the black of the desert night, blind and frozen.
“Fine,” he muttered aloud.
He turned back to the others to announce that they’d make camp here tonight when he froze.
Aurelia chuckled at something Evric said where they sat with their backs against the sandstone — alone.
Isla wasn't with them. His eyes sliced across the expanse of the caves, panic crawling up his throat.
There. She was at the far end of the cave, running her hand along the wall.
His panic turned to frustration that seemed to pierce his skin like a needle — hadn't he told her they needed to stay near the entrance?
He growled, marching after her, ignoring the teasing smirks Evric and Aurelia exchanged.
Vaelin called out, but she seemed not to hear him.
His brow furrowed, the frustration transforming into worry, his pulse skipping.
He increased his pace as she moved deeper into the cave, her slight figure disappearing around a bend.
He rounded the corner just in time to see her reaching, as if transfixed, for a plant that grew out of the cave wall.
It was a deep, bottle green at the root and stem, with bright, silver veins painted across its wide, pointed leaves.
In the space of a single breath, he'd locked his hand around her wrist and pulled her roughly backward. She lost her balance, falling against his chest, and he instinctively looped his other arm around her waist.
“Don’t touch that.” Vaelin’s voice rumbled through his chest, his pulse racing in his throat. “It’s widow’s lace. One touch will paralyze you within five minutes, and kill you in ten.”
“I— I didn’t know,” she stammered, her voice strained and breathless.
“I know,” he said, the familiar scent of sage threading through the air, distracting him. “That’s why I…” He trailed off as she turned to look at him over her shoulder.
He was suddenly hyperaware of all the places their bodies touched.
Her back was flush against his chest, his hand splayed across her stomach, the other other wrapped around her small wrist, where he felt her pulse hammering.
The memory of her threading her fingers with his the night before slammed into him, along with every other time he’d found an excuse to touch her - steadying her elbow, brushing his arm against hers, pressing his hand to her lower back. The flood. The bridge.
That Godsdamned bridge. When she’d pulled away, he had thought that had been her saying no, or at the very least, not now.
Not when they were facing some incomprehensible calamity with untold consequences.
It had been hell to let her go then, to keep his distance from her the next twenty-four hours, trusting that Evric would keep her safe.
But he had managed it, through gritted teeth and sheer willpower.
But then the wolf had attacked. And the thought that he would look anywhere but at her, be anywhere but at her side, protecting her, had been folly.
He had felt his flimsy walls come crashing down the moment his eyes had locked on hers, only to find there that same intensity and emotion from the bridge.
He’d hardly looked away since. But still, he’d kept a modicum of distance between them, giving her space and the opportunity to pull away again, if that was what she wanted. But then she had reached for him.
An unsteady exhale left him as her eyes traced his face. The desert sun seemed to beat through the walls, painting her skin with a golden glow. Even covered in days of dried blood, sweat, and sand, he was confident he’d never seen anything more beautiful.
He loosened his grip on her wrist and brushed his thumb across the back of her hand, feeling a shiver run through her. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked quietly.
“No,” she said, just as quietly, her eyes watching his thumb trace a vein that ran along her hand and over her wrist. His eyes roved over her face, her eyelashes, the bridge of her nose, her lips.
“The wind’s died down,” Evric’s voice startled them both as it carried through the cavern from the mouth of the cave. “We need to move.”
Vaelin’s jaw tightened. Evric was right. Vaelin knew he was right.
Smoothly, Isla twisted, gently easing her way out of his grip. “Let’s go,” she said.
She led the way back through the cave, and he followed her, confident that he always would.