She had eyes the color the sky turned at twilight.
They were a rich indigo, velvet and deadened in the dank of the stone corridor. Caelum stood over her, caught off guard by the sweep of her hand against the ankle of his boot. It had halted his progress through the damp mining hall, wading as he was though a collection of the weak and the dying. This felt like an all too familiar hour of his life. Larik was directly behind him and crouched beside a prone slave, tilting the contents of a glass vial Caelum had given him into her mouth. The eagle kelvic also happened to be brushing the back of Caelum's leg with his arm and he had not moved much farther from Caelum either since dismounting in the yard of Rattling Chains. The close confines literally forced Caelum to focus the divine magic of ranuri on Larik rather than on the chaotic and varied mixture of needs and desires thrown out at him by the very air of Haev Provedan's sordid little kingdom.
Grim determination had bit deep into Caelum on the ride back to the old Forivec Mine. Kavala had turned him back, swinging him like a compass needle toward the bitter, little hell he had run from the day previous. He had watched her with low, heavy eyes return to him in the Sanctuary yard with Larik and horses and for a little while he had despised the friendship that lay thick between them, trapping his feet in a sudden mire. It was an old thought, undeserving of them both, and it belonged largely to the man who had lost his soul on a sunset in Ravok years ago. That man's soul had been prepped by his bright goddess for just that surgical removal, sullied and brutalized until he had run, and run, and run without once looking back to glimpse the sun who threw his shadow so long ahead.
He had only ever wanted to stand in the sunlight, to be day's lover while Leth slept and the planet lazily revolved. After a long series of lifetimes, he finally earned his place, but it was only to be kicked back down to the crumbling earth mere centuries later. Since then the only thing he had wanted with any consistency was to go home.
That was why Elise's desire sprung through him like summer, flushing up from the soles of his feet to burst through the blood of him. It created conflagration in his chest and coupled it next with familiar longing. He dropped hastily into a crouch and closed his hand about her wrist before it could tumble away. His fingers curved, seeking a pulse, an answer to the question his heart was suddenly drumming -- could she be saved? Would she live?
"Caelum?" Larik used his name like a beacon, close to his ear.
Dark lashes flickered and he found that she was looking at him now, focusing through Dira's feverish veil on the lines of his face and the tales they told. They had a lot of talking to do.
She smiled, and Caelum turned to Larik to say, "Her."
The Denusk son squinted down at the slave, dubious. After all, they had already been an hour among the small colllection of Provedan's weakest slave stock. There were seven of them and Caelum had been moving among them decisive only in the medical treatment he gave them.
Three slaves Caelum had dosed with death, pouring mercy into their mouths so that they could slip out of the skin of this life while sleeping and ease into the next. He had been too long here to still imagine Rak'keli and Dira embattled. Such idealist opinions were better left for the young and naive.
"You're certain?" Larik prodded the physician.
"As the setting sun," Caelum shot out of the side of his mouth, wrinkling his nose at the eagle before with a roll of his shoulders he shrugged right out of his jacket. He felt Larik's hands, helping him lift the leather and cloth, warmed by his body. "We're leaving now," Caelum told the slave. She was burning up with fever and curled around the last hope of her life. He understood she did not hear him, but maybe later, far flung years from now, she might look back and recall. "We're leaving and you are not coming back."
With utmost care, the slave was bundled into his Caelum's winter coat while Larik finished the distribution of the healer's orders in regards to the others. When the ethaefal rolled to his feet in an elegant line, the slave cradled against his chest, Larik was there with a hand at his elbow and it was firm.
"Remember, now we leave," the eagle hissed.
Caelum blinked slow and slumberous at those, in leaving, they were leaving behind.
"Leaving, leaving, leaving," Larik chanted almost singsong and Caelum's shoulders tightened with the pulse of the kelvic's desire. Desire to leave, to go, to get out, to get him safe, to go home, to see the sky.
To be in the sun.
A smile, private and so old it was almost new again, spread over his mouth and the three of them together left the dark of Rattling Chains and stepped back out into the light of day.
"Provedan hasn't approved your selection --" Decath called out, strides lengthening to catch up with them from where he had loitered amid the tent city.
"He's right there," Caelum muttered at the slaver, inclining his head to where the Head Slaver slouch dead eyed and smiling by their horses. "Haev," he named him. "I'm taking this one. It's owed and we both know it."
Larik stepped around, strong arms lifting the slave out of Caelum's arms so that the ethaefal could mount his horse in a single, swinging motion of long practice. He was fluid as the wind sweeping through the grasses and once he was settled he reached right back down for his slave. His fingers curled to Larik, a beckon, but his eyes were for Provedan who stills slouched there, and still smiled.
The slaver cast Caelum's human burden an assessing glance. "That one? Fine. She'll be dead soon, you realize."
"No, she won't," Larik muttered, flicking his eyes to the man who bore him almost no recollection. Slavers like Provedan did not recall vivid and interesting details about their stock. Not person details. The eagle mounted, more interested in riding than flying while still within sight of Rattling Chains, and Provedan returned his regard to Caelum.
"Her name was Janice," Provedan said.
Caelum's stomach knotted. The corpse, the key, the open armed darkness drawing him in. He blinked. "What's her name?" He returned, hard and quick, indicating the slave lost in fevered dreams bundled against his chest.
"Elise." Provedan smirked and stepped away.
Their horses were off like arrows, equally as eager to depart this place; and, this time, Caelum wasn't leaving a life behind so much as he was racing towards the saving of that in his arms. By the time they reached the Sanctuary gate, Elise was unconscious. At least she was in the sun. |