Edge of the Falls (After the Fall) (11 page)

The heat vanishes. I’m being smothered. Rocks are closing in on me, and I’m soaked. The slither of snakes and fire-lizards, the familiar sting of acid. My hands are full of starrbriars, the sap making my fingers sticky. I can feel the tick of time, the whisper of the Mistress, like a drumbeat, a heartbeat:
more, more,
more, MORE.

I scream, and stone different from the dream appears around me, curving, arching walls, jagged and smooth and rough all at once. There is a flurry of noise, and for a disoriented moment, I am lost in confusion—is this another dream? I am so hot. Someone touches me and I whimper at the shocking cold.

“She needs antibiotics,” the voice is rough and insistent. It is unfamiliar. I have never heard it, and that, more than anything, convinces me I am awake.

I remember, in disoriented flashes—the bear, Outside, Arjun, Berg, an irritable crow—and gasp, my hand going to my side, to the screaming pain there.

My skin—where are my clothes?—is hot, puffy, tight.

Relief floods me—infection. I have blood infection, and am in the wilds of Outside. Berg will never be able to track me, not past the fight with the ban-wolves and the bear. I will never have to face his anger. I will die, and the choice will be made. I smile and collapse backwards.

A ban-wolf appears above me, a pale brown wolf with stern eyes.

I try to speak and my voice chokes in my throat. I swallow convulsively, and finally force out, “Will I die?”

His eyes hold mine and he seems to shrug. “We shall see.”

Somewhat displeased with this answer, I frown, and it teases a smile from him. There is nothing to say now, and no way to argue, and I surrender to the oblivion tugging me down.

**

I lose track of how many times I wake in the grip of dreams and fever, how many ban-wolves I see before they vanish to fetch one with brilliant green eyes.

Sometimes, she tries to get me to eat. Sometimes, I cooperate. She insists on burning incense, and it makes me sneeze, sending a white-hot blade of pain through me.

“Where is Arjun?” I ask, when I can breathe again.

The ban-wolf turns to me, amused. “Staying away until I tell him otherwise. You need rest, child.”

I shiver, and she clucks, tottering unsteadily to my side. “I need to change this. The infection is clearing up nicely, though.”

“I want to see him.”

“And you will. When you’re ready,” she says absently, without looking up from my side.

I quit asking—the worry makes me hurt. I want her to leave me alone, want to let the fever consume me—it would not be hard. So simple to lie back and let it race through my blood. She forces tea down my throat; an herbal tea that makes me gag at the taste, at once foreign and familiar. A smoky fire burns near me, and sometimes, the smoke makes me feel better—but it makes the dreams worse.

I miss Arjun. I miss Berg.

I want, desperately, to die.

**

Something has changed when I next wake up. The air is charged with tension. Several ban-wolves are around me, watching. The stern one—do
any
of them have names?—is not watching me. He’s looking at something he is holding near my side.

I scream as he moves, a quick slashing. Something stabs me. The ban-wolves are holding me down, and I scream again, furious in my betrayal. Something hot and thick is oozing from my side, from where the stern one stands. The infection: my easy answer, my slow death, is oozing from me in searing trickles, urged by gentle hands on my skin.

I feel the prick of a needle in my arm, so slight I would dismiss it—but the touch is familiar, and the golden eyes. “Arjun,” I whisper, amazed to see him.

His eyes skip down—where pain still sears—and back up to my face. Then icy heat floods my arm, and he turns away.

**

“Her fever broke.”

“Then why won’t she wake up?”

The voices are familiar and taunt me from the darkness. I am surprised by them and the realization that I have slept, not chased by dreams and fear, but real sleep. It is enough for me to force my eyes open. They feel gritty and I wonder how long I have slept.

I see two ban-wolves standing at my feet: the pale brown one and Arjun, arguing over me. There is something tight about Arjun’s eyes—fear? Is he afraid? The stern one flicks a glance at me, and his expression lightens, enough to alert Arjun. His golden gaze finds mine, emotion flickering in his gaze before he seems to shake himself and move toward me.

He sinks to crouch near my head, and I study him—his golden eyes are dull, and his hair is matted, filthy. “Where?” I croak, my voice breaking before I can finish the question.

“Shh. You’re safe,” he murmurs, and the other man seems to fade away, stepping into the shadows. Arjun shakes his head, a rueful smile on his oddly shaped mouth. “Why did you follow me?”

I am well enough to feel embarrassment, and look down. “I don’t know,” I say, tracing a pattern on the rough blanket covering me.

The pressure of his gaze on me is too heavy, and I need something to alleviate it. I reach for the rough cup next to my bed. Laughter fills Arjun’s eyes as I swallow boiling herbal tea. I choke, and the brown one with stern eyes reappears, plucks it from my hand and sets it aside, muttering.

“How do you feel?” he asks, eyes skimming me.

My side is still painful--tender skin stretched too tight. But the burning has eased; it doesn't feel like I will combust with fever. I touch it, under the blanket, exploring. Long tendrils of torn flesh, stitched together with surprising skill. A thin slash runs along my side, horizontal to the stitched cuts, and I glance up at Arjun and the other ban-wolf.

"What happened?" I ask, although I can piece it together.

Arjun's eyes darken, but it is the other wolf who answers. He is somehow reassuring and threatening and I lean toward Arjun. "The bear mauled you. The pack was on its way, and they distracted it while Arjun got you away—and even killed the bear itself—but not before damage was done."

I look up at Arjun, and he shrugs, as if defying an angry bear alone is nothing. The other wolf speaks again, "The bear has poisoned claws, from the poison plants—you know this?"

I shake my head and he makes a frown, as if displeased with my lack of survival skills. "We have some remedies—the incense we burned for you and the herbal tea Jade brews. But the wound turned septic." He frowns, and shrugs. “We drained it.”

That I do remember. The heat and relief, the pain and anger. I flush and look away, wondering if either knows how relieved I was to be so close to death. If they know that, even now, part of me wishes they had not fought so hard for me to survive.

There is a noise of protest, and it brings me from my morbid thoughts to the present. Arjun is growling, a soft rumble in his chest. The other ban-wolf snarls a word and Arjun jerks, as if slapped. I look between them, confused, as Arjun drops down, so his golden eyes are level with mine. "I'm not far," he promises before glaring at the other ban-wolf.

Before I can protest, he is gone, leaving me with the stern ban-wolf that reminds me too much of the Mistress.

"Why were you in the woods?" he asks and I blink.

This is not a safe question, something I know instinctively. He is not pleased with Arjun. I lift my chin, clutching my ragged dignity –difficult when you’re flat on your back and naked before a man whose name you don't even know.

"How is that any of your business?" I snap.

His brown eyes widen in surprise and he barks a laugh before he answers. "It is my business, little Citizen, because you are here on my good graces. You live at my whim, and with two of my wolves seriously injured and three dead defending you, I am not feeling very whimsical."

Pain lances me, and I make a noise, something between a cry and a sob, and his gaze snaps to me, considering. This pain is different than the steady throb in my side; it’s sharp and piercing and impossible to ignore. I can barely breath at the thought of ban-wolves—anyone—hurt because of me.

"I didn't know," I whisper, tears making him blur. "I am so sorry."

It is the wrong thing to say. His expression twists in disgust and anger, and he straightens, snarling. "Apologies mean nothing from City Dwellers. I ask again, what were you doing in my woods?"

It is the second time he has called me a Citizen. What has Arjun told him about me?
Anything
? I meet his gaze, ignoring everything I have ever heard about ban-wolves and dominance displays.

"I'm not a Citizen."

He frowns at me, his broad forehead furrowing. “What do you mean? Were you Stripped?”

I shake my head, and shriek as pain flares in my side. The ban-wolf makes a deep, dissatisfied noise in his throat, and turns to go. “We’ll speak again, Sabah. For now, rest.”

He goes down a curving tunnel of stone, and I can hear voices, guttural and soft, before a girl appears. She’s short—maybe shorter than I am—with generous curves and a mouth quirked in a smile. Her eyes are a bright silver gray, her hair, hanging in a long straight fall down her back, is a shade brighter, silver blonde. Small pointed ears are pricked eagerly as she walks toward me on delicate feet tipped with bone white claws. I gasp when I see her—more astounding than her unnatural beauty is her mere presence. Ban-wolves have been known to be female, but the rumors of them are few and far between and she is the second one I’ve seen. She laughs, a soft noise of amusement and I look down, embarrassed.

“I’m Gali. Rook said you might appreciate a bath,” she says, and her voice is gentle and lilting. It has the familiar guttural undertones I’ve come to expect in ban-wolf speech, but it’s softer, somehow.

“Is Rook the one who was just here?” I ask.

She nods, her small nose wrinkling, “Yes. He’s not in the best of moods—he’s been pissed ever since Arjun started spending so much time near the Shield.”

I flush and drop my gaze, but she catches it. A throaty laugh jerks my eyes back up. “Don’t worry, Sabah. I’m not too concerned about Rook’s anger and you shouldn’t be either—Arjun won’t let anything happen to you.” She smiles, and it seems sad. “He is very good at protecting what is his.”

**

I wrinkle my nose as Gali helps me into a clean shirt. I reek of sulfur and she laughs when she sees my sour face. “I know from experience. The sulfur pools help, Sabah.”

I drop onto my bed and glare. “Do they have to smell so bad?”

“Well,” she says dryly, “sulfur isn’t known for its appeal. But Jade knows what she’s doing; if she says the soaking will help, you should do what she says. You’ll feel better.”

I sigh, and the female ban-wolf laughs as she leaves me to rest.

Despite the smell, I do feel better after my horrible soak in the sulfur pool. I’m clean, under the stench, and that is enough to make me considerably happy. I even managed to walk halfway back on my own before my strength gave out. It worries me, how weak I am. I know the bear mauled my side--but how badly did the poison affect me? Why do my hands shake so badly and my legs give out with very little provocation? And the burning question--how long have I been here? There is no way to gauge how time passes. The cave is dark, no graylight trickles in, and my fever-sleep was so irregular, I can't even begin to guess how long I was in its grip. It could have been hours or weeks.

Berg will be devastated, and the longer I am here, the worse it will be. Mistress--what can she be thinking? I had no
intention
of vanishing after her unorthodox proposition, but... will she realize that? How long will the ban-wolves keep me here? That stops me for a moment: will Rook
let
me leave?

I am so absorbed in my silent ponderings, that I do not realize at first that someone has entered my cave. A whisper of noise catches my attention, and I glance around. And smile.

"You did that on purpose," I accuse. He shrugs, and sinks into the chair next to my bed.

"If I startle you, then you might tear your stitches," he answers. His eyes move over me, seeking something--reassurance, perhaps?

"Why did you follow me?" Arjun asks, looking at my side. His eyes skip to my face for a heartbeat before they are gone again.

I bite my lip. "I wanted to apologize." That startles him enough that he meets my eyes and I laugh, weakly. "I wasn't angry, not at you. I lashed out, though. I hated the idea that I could go away and never have explained that to you." Even now, the thought makes me nervous, panicky.

He is silent. For a long time, all I can hear is my heartbeat and his breathing. Finally, he whispers, so quietly I could almost pretend he hadn't spoken. "It matters, what I thought?"

For the first time, I am grateful for the barely-there light. It hides my blush. "Yes."

He exhales, the rush of air forming a word. My name. "Sabah."

The way he says my name is heartbreaking--so sad and despondent. I don't want to think about what he might say, much less hear it. I turn away, choking down a gasp as pain floods my side. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen."

"Don't," he murmurs, his voice edgy. "Don't apologize to me."

He sighs, and then the candle gutters out. I whimper in the darkness, and feel something—his hand, clutching mine. "I'm here," he says. "Don't be afraid."

How can I explain that dark caverns are a part of me, and my greatest fear? How to explain that I cannot stand the thought that he blames me for his friends’ deaths, and yet know he has every right to? That this scares me even more than black caves?

“Why did you save me, that day by the Falls?” I ask suddenly, with no warning—if he is allowed questions, I should be, too. And it is the one that has bothered me, perhaps, the most.

I’m surprised by his prompt answer—I had expected an evasion. “Because I could not stand the idea of not seeing you. Watching you. Seeing your life cut short—it was reprehensible. You are everything I wanted to be—a living slap in the face to the Commission and Princes. A Gutterling child who thrived Outside.”

A symbol? Is that all I am to him? I withdraw my hand and settle myself on my bed, patting my blankets in a lame attempt to appear busy, despite the darkness.