19. Chapter 19
The first thing I noticed as I awoke was that my breaths came easier, the weight of the snow that threatened to crack my chest in two now mercifully absent.
The second thing I noticed, was that I no longer felt the chill of the cold in my bones, but a dry heat wrapping my entire body in a tight embrace.
It was a relief to not fight against the cold for a moment, to feel the heat sink into my body. I hadn't been this warm since Malik and I left Sorrel, as the campfires we made never came close to the stifling heat of so many bodies stuffed in a hall.
But with the relief of the warmth came the acknowledgement of my body and everything it had just gone through.
As I came to, I became aware that every part of me was heavy, as if someone had pumped lead into my veins.
I felt as if I could sleep forever, just lying here in the warmth, cocooned inside what I hoped was a safe haven after so much strife.
"Lyra."
Something warm caressed my face as I climbed my way back to consciousness. The last thing I remembered was the darkness from underneath the snow, the cold pressing in as I struggled to take a breath, and the desperation of not knowing if Malik had made it out on the other side of the avalanche.
Any semblance of peace I may have felt disappeared at the thought of Malik, the fear of him being gone, lost to the snow, reigniting in an instant.
"Lyra, I'm here."
I blinked, my eyes dry and heavy, and found Malik sitting in a chair next to the bed, his eyes trained on me as I came to. My breath caught in my throat at the sight of him—alive and uninjured, right in front of me.
He moved from his chair down onto the ground, kneeling so he was eye level with me, his eyes flitting back and forth between mine as he moved the hair out of my face.
A tender smile painted his face as I blinked the rest of the sleep out of my eyes and focused on him, taking him in. He looked exhausted, dark circles casting a shadow under his eyes, the smile on his mouth not quite reaching them.
I wondered how long I was unconscious for, how long he had been there watching over me. All I knew was that seeing him there, watching me with such care in his eyes, was too much in that moment.
I drew in a shaky breath, doing my best to not let my emotions take over.
But nothing got past Malik. He saw the inner war I was fighting, the emotions I was trying my hardest to press down, and moved to lace his hand through my hair once more, anchoring my eyes to his. "Lyra, it's okay. We're okay."
"I thought you were dead," I said softly, masking the tears that threatened to spill over.
"I thought the same for you." His voice tightened as he continued to run his hand through my hair, massaging my scalp in the way that always calmed me when we were younger.
I closed my eyes, willing my breaths to slow and my nerves to calm. So many thoughts had run through my head in those moments I was buried under the snow, but never once did I think what would happen if we were to survive.
Looking around, I saw we were in a tent of some sort, and an opulent one at that. A few chairs were scattered about the room, tapestries and cloth maps lining the walls. A tent of someone of great importance, someone of high-ranking status.
"Where are we?"
"We're in my camp with my father and I's men from Uscal. They found us buried under the snow when doing their rounds after the avalanche and brought us back here."
I didn’t know what to react to first—that I was in the middle of a camp of men who very well might want my family dead if word of our fathers’ fight had reached them, or the fact that they had saved me.
I shifted in the cot I currently lay in, causing the blanket to fall from my arm, and saw that I was in clothes I did not recognize.
It made sense that they would change me out of my soaked clothes, but still, a blush began to rise on my face at the idea of Malik and his men seeing me in such a vulnerable state.
“Don’t worry,” Malik said, noting my observations. “One of the few women here in the camp changed you, and I demanded my men all leave while she did so.”
I nodded, thankful for Malik advocating for me during such a vulnerable moment, even when he himself was indisposed.
I worked to sit up, a sharp twinge in my arm making the movement difficult. My whole body felt as if it had been centuries since it moved, my muscles aching as they worked to support me.
"Here," Malik said, sliding his arms under my legs and behind my back, moving me into a sitting position.
My hair fell loose around my face as I sat up, tangled and unwashed from our travels. Malik tucked a strand behind my ear, taking stock of me now that I was sitting. I'm sure I looked feral, as I was desperate for a bath, days of grime caked on my body.
"Let me call for someone to look at you."
It didn't take long for the doctor to enter the tent.
He was a short, stout man who was no doubt around my father's age.
He greeted Malik with the warm familiarity of a pat on the back, something I knew most men would not do with someone above their station if it was not warranted.
Malik quickly returned the gesture before turning towards me.
"This is Beric. I've known him for a long time, ever since my family arrived at Uscal. He was always the one who helped when there was an injury or sickness."
Beric nodded at me silently and began his examination without a word, poking and prodding my body, extracting grimaces from me in response. Malik watched closely from the other side of the tent, pacing back and forth as his eyes traced where Beric examined my shoulder and arm with bare hands.
I hissed as he hit a sensitive spot on my shoulder, my body tensing at what felt like the pain of a thousand hot needles searing into my skin at the same time.
The pain radiated down to the core of my bones and all the way to the tips of my fingers, causing a whimper to escape me.
Malik turn on his heel at the sound and rushed over, his eyes scanning over me with panic.
Beric pulled down the collar of my shirt to reveal my bruised shoulder, the tender flesh purple and blue. The discoloration traveled to the front of my chest, taking up a space as large as the width of Malik's hand.
It was sickening to look at, the skin so discolored that one might think a disease of the blood had taken root.
"From the impact when the snow made you all slide down the mountainside. You are lucky you did not suffer worse injuries."
Beric's unsaid words hung in the air—true, even if I didn't want to believe them. I had brushed death and had been spared once again by the cloaked voice which followed us throughout our journey.
You are part of a much bigger destiny, it had said. Words I had never heard the Mother say, yet ones I could not shake.
"For now, you need rest more than anything," Beric continued. "Use this salve for the bruising and have the tent attendants bring in snow if the swelling becomes too much."
"Thank you," Malik said to Beric.
"Any time, son. And you rest too. You're still recovering."
Malik nodded and together we watched Beric leave the tent as a slew of questions raged in my mind. Did the news of our fathers’ fighting reach this camp? Who was this doctor, and did he know who I was? Did the whole camp now know I was here, in Malik’s tent, unaccompanied?
"Does he know who I am?" I asked as I kept my eyes trained on the flaps of the tent.
"No, no one in the camp does," Malik answered. "Beric might have his suspicions just because of how much time he spent with my mother, but I have told no one."
I looked back at Malik. "What are we going to do when they realize who I am?"
"They won't recognize you," he said. "These men know of you but have never seen you. When they asked who you were, I just said you were a companion."
"So they don't know that we ran away from Sorrel together?"
Malik shook his head. "Word has not reached this camp yet. I made sure of it the moment my men brought us here. You are safe."
I relaxed at his words, but a new worry took the forefront of my mind.
"Your companion?" I asked, weary of what that implied.
"I could only do so much in the moment. I had to say something or they would have left you out in the snow to die and only have rescued me."
Even amidst his own peril, Malik looked out for me. I was alive, and grateful, and curious as to how Malik was fine when I was not.
"How are you okay?" I asked, the fog in my mind thinning.
"I was in similar shape but conscious when they found us," he said, studying me as if I would break at any moment. "I wasn't too far from you and was with my men when they pulled you from the snow."
I nodded, grateful that Malik had not suffered as much as I had, that he was lucid enough when we were found to save us both.
"How long has it been?"
Malik was quiet for a beat before he answered.
"Two days."
Two more days of travel lost. Two days that the mainland men had now had to outpace us. Before, we were a safe distance ahead of them, and now. . .
I rubbed my fingers at my temple, a newfound pounding in my head making its way to the forefront.
There was too much to contend with, too much to worry and think about, my injuries and fatigue just more on top of it all.
"We will still make it to Rida, Lyra," Malik said, reassuring me.
"I know we will. It's just now the mainland men are no doubt right behind us. And Yllsora. . .it's. . ." I trailed off, not knowing how to put it into words.
"It's gotten worse here, Lyra. I can see that now," Malik said, reading my distress.
I nodded. "Now you can see why I am so desperate to get to Rida. The Shroud was only the beginning, and now something much darker creeps towards her, and it's affecting everything. We can't stay here long—"