Deepwater's Daughter

Chapter 24

A sharp pain in Ysara's right forearm dragged her, gasping, back to consciousness. She rolled over, pulling her broken wrist free from beneath herself and collided with a heap of ragged clothing and dirty fur lying beside her in the mud.

"Rasha!" Ysara cried.

The fox woman moaned, and her ears twitched, but Ysara could rouse her no further. She lay in a crumpled heap, dimly illuminated by the faint reddish light from the opening of the pit far above.

Ysara groaned through clenched teeth as she tucked her injured arm to her chest and tried to make sense of her surroundings.

The air at the bottom of the pit stank of dead things and moldy water, and a faint breeze whispered through the multitude of honeycombed tunnels that gaped like dripping mouths in the stained walls of the shaft.

Ysara's bag hung, tangled behind her, and she managed to straighten it out one-handed, with some difficulty. The open flap of the holster on her bandolier tickled the underside of her chin, and she took a moment to close it again and straighten the gun belt as she scanned the pit floor, searching for the dropped weapon.

A faint gleam of brass caught her eye near the wall of the shaft, but, even as she tried to crawl toward it, the pistol sank out of sight beneath the watery mud that surrounded the central mound of muck.

A distant cry of rage echoed from the chamber far above.

"Xsatca!" Ysara shouted, "We're down here!"

More cries answered, unintelligible shouts and then the clatter of bone against rock.

Ysara looked up to see a warrior's club tumbling down the shaft from above. It caromed off the wall, spinning wildly as it fell.

Ysara screamed and threw her body across Rasha to shield her unconscious friend.

The fallen club thudded into the mud, inches from Ysara's shoulder, and she stared, wide-eyed at the poison-coated teeth that lined one edge of the jaw bone. She gave an angry upward glance and then thumbed open Rasha's eyes.

The fox woman's pupils had dilated so wide that her eyes appeared nearly black. Rasha's lips moved slightly as she whispered something too faint to make out.

"Rasha, I'm here!" Ysara said, "You're going to be all right."

Rasha whimpered softly, and her eyes rolled back, bloodshot and fluttering at unseen horrors.

Ysara bit her lip as she did her best to hold her satchel with her broken arm while she worked open the toggle with her left hand. Alcohol fumes stung her eyes as she pulled back the flap.

"Oh, no!" she moaned when she saw the jumble of broken glass and spilled reagents within.

She looked at Rasha. The fox woman lay in the mud, panting short, wheezing breaths, and her fingers spasmed continuously at her sides. If she were to have any chance of survival, she needed help now!

Ysara quickly stripped off the unneeded gun belt and cast it aside before ducking free of her satchel strap and laying the bag on a small mound of filth beside her.

Ysara gave a worried whine as she fished around in the sticky mess at the bottom of her satchel. She moved her fingers, ever so cautiously, through the shards of broken glass. With the kinds of elixirs she carried in there, one cut could easily rob her of her senses, or worse.

Ysara's heart leapt with hope as her fingers closed around a short glass phial with a triangular wooden stopper. She pulled the dripping container out and checked its seal before sighing in relief. She wiped most of the goop off on her jacket and then slipped it into her pocket just long enough to retrieve the sterile cloth from the outer pocket of her satchel.