A Healer's War

Chapter 62 - The Third Date

Chapter 62: The Third Date

Rory stirred as his head throbbed. He drew in a ragged breath and groaned. Alive? He shifted his arms, wincing at the fresh pain that thankfully faded. His chains pulled taut, and as his sense re-knit, he felt a strange softness against his face. He opened his eyes to complete blackness, shifting again and feeling fine filaments tickling his arms and legs. There was nothing solid beneath his feet... or was it above him? He blinked, disoriented.

Something in his memory about avalanches told him to spit - a crude way of revealing gravity. Summoning what saliva he had, Rory spit, letting the drool dribble out of his mouth. The wetness ran down his right cheek towards his ear. He wasn't sure how that helped him yet, but at least he knew which way was down.

Taking stock, Rory gathered himself. He remembered lightning, fire, and... Khloe!

"Khloe?" Rory said, panicked. He couldn't see anything. "Khloe!" He stretched out his arms, but his chains held, and he winced as the cuffs bit into his raw wrists.

Muffled, tinny footfalls thumped against the metal above him. Rory clamped his mouth shut and sank down, cringing when his chains rattled. The footfalls stopped and for a grueling stretch of seconds, Rory waited with his heartbeat drumming in his ears.

Metal shrieked, and Rory flinched back, letting out a yelp. Two parallel lines pierced the truck's hull not two feet from his head, casting two thin shafts of silvery moonlight onto a pool of colorful feathers. Feathers? Was all he thought before a bloodied hand reached through one opening, gripped the thin strip of metal between the cuts, and jerked back. The steel compacted between the fingers, and the entire strip of metal pulled back in a scream. Moonlight flooded in, and somewhere outside, the mangled steel clattered against the pavement.

Rory jerked on his chains but couldn't move. He was a sitting duck as he gaped through the gap and the edge of the moon in a calm, cloudless sky. A face eclipsed the moon, peering down at him. "Rory Nash," Caroline said, relief clear in her voice. "I'm so glad you're alive."

"Caroline!" Rory's body sagged with relief. "You're here! What... what happened? I saw a storm was that-."

"That was Sunder," she replied. "There was a skirmish, and I was not as successful as I'd hoped to be. Dawson still holds Jacklyn, and we lost Sunder."

Her words dampened Rory's relief. "Oh, no. I'm so sorry."

"I like to think he got his wish," Caroline said with a sad smile.

Rory nodded and tried to move, but the feathers absorbed him like quicksand. "Did you—where did all these-?" His questions backed up again, clogging his tongue.

Caroline held up a metal feather in her other hand, the one Rory had pricked his finger on only a day before. "This Quill is a remarkable tool. We don't have time for how. I wasn't sure it would work."

"You weren't sure?" Rory said, aghast.

Caroline ignored him, lowering her head through the gash, and peered around. "Is Doctor Seeker here too?"

Khloe! "Yes! At least she was before the wreck," Rory said. "Khloe!"

A muffled whimper came from somewhere below him. He tried to reach for her.

Caroline placed a hand on either side of the gap, heaved, and the steel parted, creating an opening large enough for a body. Stunned by her strength, he watched her lean in, wearing her twin-bladed gauntlet and hanging upside down as the blade tip stretched toward him.

Rory flinched back. "What are you doing?"

The question drew a smile from Caroline. "Freeing you. Hold your wrists up and apart as high as you can towards me and stay very, very still."