Chapter 8:
Drake woke up hours later. His eyes fluttered open and then closed again before he managed to pry them open and keep them that way. He was parched, his lips so dry that they were stuck to his teeth. He was lightheaded and dizzy, and nausea rolled about in his gut. Weakness lay in every limb and muscle, making them lax and loose.
He cleared his throat. Instantly, Marik’s face appeared as he leaned over Drake. Marik asked, “How do you feel?”
“Like death warmed over.”
Marik said, “With good reason.”
“I guess.” He blinked away a foggy confusion that hit in a slow wave that threatened to take him down. “Who was that?”
Marik’s fingers went to Drake’s wrist and pressed. “Lornia. She is, as far as I can understand, the last of the Speakers.”
The Speakers. Drake’s head spun at that. “The Fed founders?”
“All dead. Time’s funny here, so she said. They lived long, though she could not say how long, but something happened. One of them, our revered Franchine, decided to do some kind of experiments on the animals here. Turned them into things like the one that attacked us, and worse from what she said. Most of the Speakers died as a result. As you can guess, she doesn’t seem to care for humans now.”
“I bet.” Drake closed his eyes. “Where are we? We were moving, I think.”
Marik’s fingers left his wrist. “We were. We’ve stopped to rest now. This place is folded or something, like the space around it. The further you go, the less you get anywhere; that is how it feels.”
Drake’s eyes flew open. The hall they were in had a rim of dripping mold on one wall, and he said, “There’s something wrong here.”
Marik nodded. His face held concern. “The place is blowing apart, she says. The machine is coming back to life. I don’t know what that means yet. She doesn’t speak any language I really know but a little broken human. I tried the language on the wall, but she didn’t answer. When I pointed to it, she shook her head and said her race hadn’t written it.”
“Then who did?”
Marik shifted. His hands raked through his hair. “The ones who were here before her race, I guess.”
“Before mine, yes.”
The low and throaty words came from his left. Drake startled and looked over to see her standing there. Marik stood, his face wary and his hands down at his side. Drake could not blame him for being so cautious. Neither of them had heard her come upon them and both of them were battle-hardened soldiers who should have heard the slightest sound.
Drake studied her, not bothering to be discreet about it. She was gorgeous. She had a look of youth to her, but there was an ages-old wisdom written in her eyes, a look that said a very old soul peered from those golden Orbs that fastened upon his face with such directness that he felt like his very soul was being weighed and judged.
He asked, “How long until the poison leaves my system?”
She smiled. The smile lit her face up like someone had switched on a blazing sun behind her skin. That smile caused his heart to beat faster and a feeling he could not recognize to rise up within his chest.
She said, “Soon. The medicines that your healers possess are wonderful. My race had many as well but that was long ago, and none are left now.”
Marik edged away, back toward the spot where the rest of the group rested. Lornia sat beside him, her long body settling onto the floor with a feline grace that made his prick stiffen and his body heat. He looked away fast.
She said, “You need food. I have this for you.”
Her hand extended and upon her slim and long palm sat a thing that looked like a cross between a nut and a loaf of bread. He stared at it. She said, “It’s good. The others have already eaten their fill of it, and none died.”
“That’s reassuring.” His humor surfaced. “But how long ago did they eat it?”
He lifted his eyes to her face as he spoke and he saw that smile flash out at him again. That feeling came back, tightening his chest and taking his breath. By all the gods, she was lovely, more beautiful than anything that he had ever seen in his entire life.
His body reacted yet again, and he had to shift a bit to keep the bulge growing below his trousers from being so obvious. That bulge grew more noticeable as her hand came toward his and their fingers met. Electric shocks raced down his skin and lust rose up, drowning out his rational mind for a split second.
Lornia took her hand away and moved it down. Her eyes, so large and luminous that they lit up her face as much as her smile had, dropped too. Did she know he was lusting after her?
He asked, “Do you know why we are here?”
She didn’t flinch. “You want the weapon.”
“We need the weapon.”
Her eyes met his again. “Really need it or is it just something that would make your fight easier?”
“No. It will not be easy even with it. The enemy we are up against outnumbers us in every way. We will likely all die even with the weapon. But if we can save lives with it, then we need to have it.”
She looked away then. Her throat worked. “You don’t even know what it is. I know you don’t because the others have already asked me what it is capable of, and if it even still exists.”
His fingers caught her wrist, her attention came back to his face. He asked, urgently. “Does it?”
“Yes.”
“We have to take it.” He regarded her face. “You’re alone here?”
“Are you sizing me up in case I fight you for it?”
His humor surfaced again. “I’ve seen you fight. I’d rather not be your enemy.” He sobered. “No, that’s not why I was asking. I was wondering what you will do if this place implodes or something. You can’t stay here. There’s no way you can stay here. You will have to go with us.”
Her breath was a small and thin sound. “I know that.”
He sensed her sorrow. He didn’t release her wrist. Her skin, that marvelous and slightly firm surface, held his attention as his fingertips pressed against the smooth and cool flesh of her wrist. He spoke gently. “This has been your home for a very long time, hasn’t it?”
She gulped. Her eyes shone but if it were tears that turned her golden eyes liquid, they did not fall. “Yes, too long. And it stopped being a home many years ago. I have always known I might have to leave one day. Yet I find myself torn, odd as that is. I am alone here and being in company—it’s…” Her hands came up and made an elegant gesture. His fingers dropped away from her wrist as she did so and he had the strong urge to take hold of that wrist again but didn’t.
He said, “You’re afraid.”
She nodded. “Of course. I don’t know much about contact. I have lost all that I loved and all the ones that I loved over the years, and I have grown both used to and resentful of the silence here. Eat.” She stood. Her hair swept across the floor and brought a faintly floral scent to his nostrils. “You will need to be stronger than you think. If you want the weapon, we have to get to the room where the machine lies, and beyond it as well. I have to gather things I will need before I depart, and Tralam is, indeed, crumbling more with each passing second.”
She walked away. Drake bit into the food she had handed him. It was a little salty and a little sweet—like the taste of a woman.
His eyes went back to Lornia. His desire stirred again, disconcerting him. What was he thinking? He was in Tralam, and it was about to fall down right on his head! He had a weapon to get and a universe to save, and all he could think of was to wonder if she tasted the same way the food she had offered him tasted.