The Queen and the Cure (The Bird and the Sword Chronicles #2)(19)
“There!” To his far right a rocky protrusion jabbed the sky like the remains of an ancient temple. It was far enough off that it could be bigger than it seemed or prove completely insufficient. But Sasha was starting to tremble, and her eyes had strayed once more to the innocuous dark cloud in the distance.
His men were still unaware, and he roared instructions, pointing toward the ridge and demanding they follow him. They didn’t hesitate, veering to the right, pushing to keep up with him. He heard Jerick cry out and turned to see that the darkness at their backs had grown, spreading, gobbling up the sky.
“Sandstorm!” his men shouted, and the rest of their words were lost in the wind. They spurred their horses toward the stony shelf, flying across the sand, racing the tempest.
Beneath the jutting overhang, as wide as three horses end to end, and as tall as two men were high, was an enormous cavern. The depth was obscured by darkness, causing a moment’s hesitation, but they had no choice. The horses balked, but the growing roar at their backs urged them forward.
“Lead them in!” Kjell shouted and slid from his horse, pulling Sasha with him.
“Isak, we need light.”
The fire starter rubbed his palms together, spinning a flame between them, widening his hands as his orb grew, lighting the immediate recesses, and making the walls around them jump into instant relief. Kjell led the way, one hand on his horse’s mane, the other on his sword. He wasn’t especially fond of serpents, and he had little doubt there were snakes in the cave. Snakes and bats.
“Deeper!” Jerick yelled, and Kjell pressed still farther into the darkness.
“We’re all in Captain,” Jerick called a moment later, and they halted, one woman, two dozen men, and their mounts, bathed temporarily in the warm light of Isak’s blaze. Seconds later, Isak released the flame with an apology. The ball of fire was too hot for the people huddled around him, too flammable for the clothes he wore, and with no torch to light and no way to shelter the flame, he had to extinguish it.
“There was once a Spinner who could turn memories into stars the way Isak pulls fire from the air,” Sasha spoke into the gloom. “I will tell you the story when the storm passes. Don’t worry. It will pass.”
She was trying to comfort them, a lone woman among soldiers who were well accustomed to supreme discomfort and fear.
A rush of tenderness gripped Kjell, followed by a glimmer of fear. Her voice had sounded odd in the chamber, like she floated above them. He reached for her, suddenly afraid that he would lose her into the black space pressing around them. In the darkness, free from judgment and the awareness of his men, he tucked her body into his, wrapping his arms around her, returning the reassurance she so easily offered.
For a moment they could all hear each other—the chuff of the horses, the changing of positions, the rustle of clothes, the scrape of shoes upon the rocks. Then the storm brought deep night with it, a black so complete, no light shone from the mouth of the cave and all sound was swallowed up in its fury.
Kjell was rendered blind and deaf, but he could feel her heartbeat against his belly, her face pressed to his chest, and the weight of her hair spilling over his arms. Fingertips brushed his face, and for a moment he stood motionless as she traced his eyes and his nose, his lips and his ears, seeing him in the dark. He thought about her mouth and the way she’d looked at him when she saw the cave in her mind.
He could kiss her. He could taste her lips and swallow her sighs and wait out the tempest exploring her mouth.
The desire wailed within him like the squall around him, but he resisted, unwilling to do what was expected, even if it was what he wanted. Her hands fell to his shoulders and she stood unmoving in his arms, her cheek on his chest, and he spent the storm in equal parts agony and bliss.
The landscape had changed when they exited the cave, and for a moment, none of them spoke, but stretched their legs and tried to adjust to the light and disorientation. Somehow, even though they’d escaped the brunt of it, grit stuck to their skin and coated their brows and eyelashes, and Sasha shook out her hair and her scarf, beating her hands against her dress and shaking out her shoes.
Kjell found the highest point, little more than a mound of sand, and took out his spyglass, eager for Enoch and a bath. A haze hung in the air, obscuring the view in every direction. The sun was invisible, the light filtered and red. There was no horizon, no east, west, north or south. No matter the direction, the outlook was the same. Enoch would have to wait another day.
Eventually, Sasha joined him on the rise, bearing good news. “Some of the men are exploring. Isak made a torch out of horse hair and a strip of cloth. There’s water farther back in the cave! Not a lot, but enough to wash our faces and fill our flasks.”
“Then we’ll stay here tonight. We can camp in and around the cave. It does us no good to travel if we’re going in the wrong direction. We’ll just become more lost, and no one will find us out here.”
“We’re lost?” Sasha asked. She didn’t seem especially concerned.
“For the moment,” he replied, still futilely searching. He snapped his glass closed, and scrubbed at his skin. For a man who spent the majority of his time on horseback, he despised being filthy. Sasha handed him her scarf, and with a sigh, he accepted it. He’d pulled her close in the darkness, and he didn’t have the energy or desire to push her away again.