Outlanders

Chapter 35: Recovery

Qasikay stumbled through the forest, led along by Caldus. Sweat rolled down her forehead, and her dress chafed painfully against her burns, but she did not complain. So soon after the hellish din of the battle, the lonely forest felt wrong. She looked around for an ambush, but none came.

"What will happen to me now?" she murmured.

"It's your choice," said Caldus.

She looked numbly off into the distance. "But what should I choose?"

"We'll worry about that later. For now, just focus on staying alive."

The two fell silent.

"There's a fire ahead," said Qasikay.

"You noticed that too," Caldus mumbled, softening her footsteps. "That means people. We'll talk to them, but be ready to run if they're hostile."

Smooth as a cat, Caldus led Qasikay up to the edge of the clearing, then scanned the ragged, well-armed band that sat around it. When she recognized their leader, she gave a start. "Astrapi?"

The band jumped to their feet, then looked around, half of them drawing their weapons. Their leader dirty and scraped, and the blue dye in his hair was faded, but he was unmistakable.

"Astrapi, it's me," whispered Caldus, stepping slowly into the clearing.

Qasikay followed her.

"Caldus?" said Astrapi. "Qasikay! You're alright!"

"No, I am not," said Qasikay. "But I am alive."

Astrapi's face fell. "What's wrong?"

Qasikay hung her head.

Astrapi sat down on a log, patted the space next to him and said, "Want to talk about it?"

Forcing a deep breath, Qasikay sat down next to him. "Yes. Please."

* * *

Leif swam in a miasma of pain, agony pulsing from his wound with every heartbeat. He felt strong arms carry him into the stifling air of the city, then lay him on a bed. Bandages tightened around his chest. Zoltána's voice, high and strained with worry, broke through the fog with whispered reassurances. He could smell Zoltána, Vladimir, Ellis and Eva.

For several hours, that was his world. Then he fell asleep. When he awoke, he looked around, seeing nondescript walls and a dirt floor. Then he saw Zoltána.

"Leif," she cooed, "you're alright. The wound is healing. You're going to make it."

Zoltána's lips were pursed and quivering, and her eyes were reddened and wide. With a warm smile, Leif realized that she had been crying.

"What's going to happen now?" he breathed.

"I don't know. But you're going to make it. You're alive." She leaned down and planted a kiss on his cheek.

"I love you, Zoltána," he said.

"I love you too, Leif."

The two sat still for a few minutes.

"Dear... I think I can stand now."

Zoltána stepped back, and with great care, Leif sat up. Then he stood, wobbling on his twice-jointed legs. "I'm alive..." he said. He looked out the window. "Would you like to go on a walk?"

Zoltána and took his arm.

Out the door, where the blistering sun filtered through swirls of airborne dust, traffic stamped through the streets, carrying supplies into the town, garbage out, and hauling the dead off to burial. In the flow of humanity, Leif spotted a familiar face.

"Vlad!" called Leif, wishing he could wave without aggravating his wound. "Look! I'm standing again!"

Vladimir ducked out of the crowd. "Leif. Are you alright?"

"I'm alive and healing."

"Thank goodness... there's something Ellis said I should tell you. Remember what I told you about Soul Siphon? About how it singles out one force in the donor's soul and draws from it? And that force can by anything that motivates the donor. With you-"

"You channeled love, didn't you?"

Vladimir stared at him, taken aback. "Yes. Yes I did."

* * *

Qasikay looked at her image in the water.

"I think it looks nice," said Astrapi.

"What do you think?" asked Caldus.

Qasikay did not know what to think. The reflection showed a completely different woman. The woman in the water wore her hair loose and cut short. Her cheeks, now exposed, framed her piercingly sad eyes. Over a simple, dirty black shirt, she wore a heavy brown jacket with sleeves that swallowed her hands. Instead of a dress, she now wore a pair of workers' pants, with patches sewn onto the knees and with stitches keeping the leg cuffs from fraying. Heavy leather boots had replaced her sandals. A green and orange ribbon around her lower leg was the only nod to her heritage.

She shrugged. "It looks... practical."

"But do you like it?" said Caldus.

"I would like it if it were on someone else. I still can't bear looking so... foreign. But I understand why I couldn't keep my dress. Not after everything I've done." Qasikay looked up into the distant sky. "I should go now."

"Want me to come with?" asked Astrapi.

Qasikay stopped. She thought about having a companion on her journey. She thought about having a second pair of hands to help her. She thought about having a sympathetic ear to listen to her stories. She thought about having someone to hold at night.

But then she looked at Astrapi, and all she could think of was what she had wasted. She thought of their friendship, which she had betrayed, and of his assistance, which she had repaid with war.

"No," she said at last. "Thank you. But I need to be alone."

"I understand. Be at peace, Qasikay."

"Iwill. At last." With a fragile smile, she turned around and marched out ofthe grotto and into the world outside.