A deep breath and it was back to the rock formation, to Fairfax’s defense, should the armored chariots prove unwilling to be diverted. The armored chariots, however, were gone, speeding toward the beacons, the second of which was also an enormous phoenix, flame-colored and warlike.
They were no ordinary beacons, yet he had produced them without even thinking.
He pushed back inside the tensile dome and fell to his knees. “I am beginning to think I do not want to know who I am, or who you are, if this is the sort of danger that keeps chasing us.”
She slept on, unconscious of their peril. He rested his palm against her hair for a minute, glad for her safety.
But there was never any rest for the weary. “Time to go on the run again, Sleeping Beauty.”
She seemed to be moving. Lightly and easily, like a raft carried downstream by a wide, calm river. Or she could be floating on clouds, as one sometimes did in dreams.
Every time she stopped, she was given water. At some of those occasions, she tried to wake up; other times she did not even possess the will for the attempt, drinking while she slept on.
When she finally broke through again to consciousness, they seemed to be in a cave of some sort, dark, warm, and stuffy. She could not see him, but she could hear him beside her, his breaths deep and slow.
She said a silent prayer for his well-being before heavy slumber towed her under again.
The next time she woke up, she was in the same space, and it was bright enough for her to see that she was alone. The two waterskins were both there. The one next to her had a mouthful of water; the other, not even a drop. Her eyes half-closed, she willed water from underground rivers and oasis lakes—or even moisture that clung to the underside of rocks—to flow to her. Several minutes passed before the first drop materialized. She filled his waterskin three-quarters full before she became too exhausted, barely managing to cap the waterskin before it fell from her hand.
The same dream came to her again, of floating sweetly down a tranquil river. She traveled the length of the Nile, or so it seemed, before she realized that she actually was floating, but on air, thanks to a levitating spell.
It was dawn. Half of the sky had turned a fish-belly shade of translucence. To her left, at the very top of a mountainous dune, the sand was already the color of molten gold. Had they been on the move all night?
When she’d first treated him, she had applied a liberal amount of topical analgesic. But its effect would have worn off quite a while ago, he would not have been able to reach every part of the wound by himself, and the granules would only be halfway effective without the topical remedy calming the wound at the source.
So he had to be in quite a bit of pain—from time to time he sucked in a breath, as if through clenched teeth. But he walked silently and steadily, pulling her along.
She looked behind. Not a boot print to be seen anywhere—he had taken care to erase all traces of his trek.
“You are awake,” he said, turning toward her.
Dirt smudged his face. His eyes were sunken, his voice raspy, his lips badly cracked. She felt a shock of something that was not gratitude alone—something that almost approached tenderness.
“Give me the waterskins now—I don’t know how long I can stay awake.”
He pressed the waterskins into her hand.
“How long have I been sleeping?”
“This is the second morning since we met.”
So not yet forty-eight hours since they found themselves in the Sahara.
“Is the coast clear?” They were not in Atlantean custody—that was always something worth celebrating.
“No,” he said. “They are looking for us.”
“Is that why we are abroad only at night?”
“They search at night too. Last night there were riders on pegasi.”
“Did they get close?”
“Not too close. I found some incendiaries in your bag before we started and set them to go off at various times. The riders were mostly circling about those spots.”
“I can’t believe I slept through it all.”
“The panacea will keep you asleep as long as you are on the verge of dying.”
Given that she was already feeling sleepy again, that was a sobering thought. The water globule had grown big enough, and she directed a stream to fill the waterskins.
He stopped. “I had better put us down for the day. We will be too visible in daylight.”
She capped the waterskins. “Did you find a cave yesterday?”
“No, I used your tent. Pitched it in the shadow of a sand dune, but it still got hot in the afternoon, when the sun came around. Today I plan to move it at noon.”
He formed the tent into the shape of a half tube and maneuvered her inside.
“I can cover the tent with sand,” she said as he sealed the opening of the tent.
“No, you should not exert yourself any more than necessary. Remember that you were dealt a near-fatal blow less than forty-eight hours ago.”
“I’ll just see what I can do before I fall asleep again.”
The Perilous Sea (The Elemental Trilogy #2)
Sherry Thomas's books
- A Study in Scarlet Women (Lady Sherlock #1)
- Claiming the Duchess (Fitzhugh Trilogy 0.5)
- Delicious (The Marsdens #1)
- Private Arrangements (The London Trilogy #2)
- Ravishing the Heiress (Fitzhugh Trilogy #2)
- The Bride of Larkspear: A Fitzhugh Trilogy Erotic Novella (Fitzhugh Trilogy #3.5)
- The Burning Sky (The Elemental Trilogy #1)
- The One In My Heart