The Cleansing (Book One: The Folara Chronicles)

035: Rion

Rion adjusted the spit he'd fashioned to cook his mounchick, the small creature that inhabited the lotica rooms and were tasty to eat. He'd started his smokeless fire, and wrapped Kara in his own cloak when her fever began to rage. He'd set her neck, her leg and her wrist, tended her bruises and scrapes and felt 'inside' using the newly acquired mind strength gleaned from his connection to her to ascertain her other injuries. Using the healing properties of the lotica and his own scant knowledge of herbs that grew just inside the mountain, he was able to make a broth which he managed to dribble down her throat, as she choked and gagged. He kept her sleeping, painlessly.

When he'd first woken after his exhausted slumber, he'd found himself responding well to his own meditative healing. He'd set about to secure their surroundings, the small lotica flower room, deep inside the mountain, unnoticed by those who kept its whereabouts on a grid as did Crevan, and he was sure now, searchers like Kara. The room was too small, barely the height of a man and not very wide, and nothing was in it. It had been searched so much now it was left alone and forgotten. Once secured with warning sensors, he'd found food for them, made her the broth and himself a meal.

Now he stared at her.

Her brow was creased with pain lines and he re-asserted the painless slumber he'd induced in her earlier. Being in her presence had somehow changed the way he perceived her in Zalez. She had innate dormant ability, a kind of sensory initiation he'd never felt before. But when it came to him, it felt like a mixture of both of them, some kind of hybrid Zalez, stronger than what he was used to. A strange feeling of curiosity and suspicion settled on him. Was he being enhanced by her latent ability? Was she somehow acquiring power from being in contact with him?

He carefully stroked the auburn tendrils that had fallen out of the tight braid he'd plaited for her. Her hair was softer than any he had ever felt, soft like water running through his fingers. His finger traced the contours of cheekbone and eyebrow. Kara winced in her sleep, and he lifted his finger for just one second, and then let it drop back to her skin.

Enemy?

No.

Not anymore. How could she be? He'd saved her life. He'd tasted of her keen, intensely honorable and determined mind. The weapon she unknowingly held over his head was not as sharp as a sword, yet it cut him truer than any sword ever could. The weapon she held was fascination.

Never in his life had he cared for another as intently as he did right now. All other thoughts had changed imperceptibly. His upbringing, his training-- all screamed in his face. But none of it mattered. Holding Kara, feeling her conviction, her loyalty, her obstinate overwhelming purpose-- these traits called to him as nothing in his life ever had.

He leaned over her, cradling her head almost against his shoulder, running his traitorous fingers absently through her hair as if he couldn't stop. He knew he wouldn't stop studying her. His heart had never stopped that tightened glorious feeling-- not once since he'd encountered her. 

He leaned closer. Now his lips parted, he closed his eyes feeling her warm breath fan against his face. He lowered his cheek-- felt the satiny rush of pleasure before he settled his skin next to hers. His own breath hummed out with difficulty. His palm rose to cup her cheek, twirl the curls in front of her delicate ear.

Deep instinct tightened once more all the way through his body, as he hovered so closely, imparting his essence.

Rion sat up abruptly, thrusting his palms savagely into his eyes and cursing himself for allowing these traitorous thoughts and actions. His eyes were bleary, full of sudden grit. Self-recriminations came at him fast and furious. If she were to regain consciousness this minute she would as soon plunge her dagger into his heart as discover that he had almost kissed her. Her horror would be justified. They were enemies, fervent single-minded enemies.

There could be nothing else.

Her customs were unfamiliar, her people lived a life he couldn't even imagine, and had been told was ripped away from his parents in the war. All he knew was exile. This woman led a life of privilege. Pampered and spoiled, she'd been handed every opportunity. 

Well-defined muscles attested to her prowess and skill. He'd seen her in action and knew she could fire an arrow and handle a heavy sword. He felt a strange stirring as he sat against the rock wall, watching her sleep. He knew other Foemen did take Searcher girls before throwing them into Auditorium, but Rion had never been one to do that.

Why keep her alive then?

The answer came immediately. He needed her. He would heal her. He would train her to fight him, a match of her wits and skills to his and then he'd return her to her people. He knew she was singularly focused on finding the Talisman. She would come back into the mountain, and then he would chase her, and let her go. He felt that stirring again as he thought about it.

That had to be the reason he wanted her, there couldn't be any other.

He examined her carefully for injuries, and also for any anomalies, things that were different about her than other females he knew. Besides having extremely fine muscles, she seemed perfectly normal to him. Smaller maybe, she had no fat at all to spare. Her clothes were the same as all of Galantyne's searcher teams, no special treatment for the daughter of the King.

Her shoes were a shame. Worn clear through. He picked one up again, examining its workmanship, it was good, but he could do better. He looked over at the mounchick's thick skin he'd almost discarded. A few more of those and some other materials... he looked around. He might have to venture out into the tunnels for a substance he knew of that could be used for the soles. He glanced over at Kara. Her hand had twitched, but she was bound with her neck completely surrounded. He'd already checked her bones a few hours ago and the lotica had healed them quite a bit.

He rested his palm on her bare stomach, and Kara drew in her breath sharply causing Rion to pull away, checking the bandage around her eyes for security. He had no desire to cause her any undue anxiety when she woke. 

He chuckled to himself. He was being an idiot, he knew it, he was admitting it right now. I am an idiot. There was no way to account for what he'd done. Realistically, when he didn't return to quarters, Crevan would look for him, possibly in the village taverns, and of course, in the Aerie where the Harpyiae had approached them. When those places didn't prove fruitful, he would check the log, and find that he had entered the mountain; it wouldn't be long till he traced the frequencies inside, and located him and the searcher girl. Wouldn't be long at all.

He wasn't sure how long he had till Galantyne figured out Kara hadn't come back. She wouldn't have come back regardless of his interest in her; it was likely she would have died without his help. He knew Galantyne would be expecting a meeting with Quildor in the larger lotica room, in exactly.... He glanced at his belt pack, ascertaining the time he'd been in the mountain and subtracting from the hours in the day. He estimated Galantyne's rage to begin hitting giant proportions in just short of four hours. He would have to be well on his way by then.

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