‘That is fine,’ said Queen Aglaranna. She motioned for Gorandis and said, ‘Take him to rest and eat and we shall meet again tomorrow.’ To Gulamendis she said, ‘Rest and be well, for we have ample time to discuss so many things.’
The Demon Master nodded, bowed and allowed himself to be led away by his woodland guide. He wished that the Queen had spoken the truth, for it would mean they had made a clean escape from Andcardia and that the way between the worlds was closed off forever. But in the pit of his stomach he feared it was not so, and that the days before a danger of horrific proportions arrived at this idyllic place were quickly diminishing.
CHAPTER TWELVE - Survival
All she felt was pain.
Something vaguely urged Sandreena to do something, but she couldn’t quite grasp what it might be. She could barely breathe and pain kept surfacing to cut her like a hot blade. In the distance, someone groaned.
*
A pain behind her eyes roused her and she thought she felt hands behind her head, lifting it. They were strong but gentle. Water touched her lips.
*
Thirsty. Her throat was parched and her eyes felt as if sand had been packed behind their lids. She tried to open them, but found the effort to be more than she could manage. A voice murmured softly, ‘Ah, I think you’ll live.’
Again, a firm but gentle hand lifted her head as water touched her lips. She drank deeply and then the pain returned.
*
A groan escaped her lips as she again tried to open her eyes, and at last managed to. Her vision swam, images came in and out of focus as she tried to recognize the light and dark shapes before her.
‘Slowly,’ said a soft, male voice.
Sandreena sipped as more water was brought to her lips. It tasted metallic and she realized it was the flavour of dried blood, most likely her own. She tried to move, and the pain hit her again.
She almost wept from it. There was no part of her that didn’t hurt; it was worse than anything she could remember, and she had endured her fair share of wounds. She blinked, feeling a wet cloth cross her face, gently wiping her eyes.
Shapes began to resolve into recognizable images and she saw she was in a dimly lit cave. A single flame, from a floating wick in a bowl of oil, cast yellow highlights over an otherwise grey and black environment. She still could not make out the features of the figure hovering over her, for the flame lay behind him.
Almost whispering, he said, ‘Maybe you’ll live.’
‘What happened?’ she tried to say, but the words were little more than a sigh.
‘I’ll pretend I understand you,’ he said, moving to a blanket on the floor of the cave, next to the flame. She could see him, though the vision in her left eye was still blurry. Closing it slightly made it easier to see.
He looked ancient, yet there was an old ironwood quality to his touch that told her this man was still strong despite his age.
His features were craggy; he had a sharp nose and deep-set eyes under a heavy brow; his jutting jaw was covered in a grey beard. There was nothing appealing about him, yet she could imagine when he was young he might have had a certain presence. Some women found that more appealing than a handsome face.
His hands worked quickly as he spoke. ‘Someone wanted you very dead.’ He paused as he considered what to add next to the bowl of water before him. ‘You were stabbed several times, stripped naked, then thrown from the cliffs.’
Sandreena could barely move. Her body was heavily bandaged with what felt like lumpy cloth rags. She reeked of something alien and barely had the strength to speak. ‘Who . . . are you?’
‘Me?’ asked the old man, smiling. ‘I keep to myself. The people around here don’t like strangers.’
‘So I have . . . discovered,’ she said, letting her head fall back and her eyes close. ‘I . . .’
‘You need to rest,’ he said. ‘I fished you out three days ago. Didn’t know if you’d make it.’ With a chuckle, he said, ‘You are a mess, girl.’
As she felt herself drift off, she whispered, ‘You’re not the first to say that.’
*