Dusk and Ash (In Progress)

Chapter 10

Durmhain's head bounced against the wood beneath him. Birds chirped all around him, but their songs sounded shrill. The scent of loamy earth and flowers filled the air, but it felt saccharine, verging on vile. Though Durmhain could feel sunlight on his face, he could not open his eyes. Some kind of crust sealed them shut. In the darkness, he groaned, his body numb with a prickling sensation throughout. A heavy weight covered him and held him to the coarse wooden boards that were chafing his back.

"Alive, Durmhain?" Mak'do asked from nearby.

"W-w...," Durmhain tried to respond, but his throat felt as if he had swallowed all the sand in the Gulbathi desert.

"Here," Ysli said. "Drink."

She had lifted what felt like a waterskin to his lips and Durmhain could hear metal clink at her wrists. The sweet liquid that poured into his mouth was filled with some kind of slimy pulp, but it felt refreshing. He drank it down until he began to cough. Then, Ysli poured some of the liquid into her palm, set the waterskin aside, and began washing away the crust coating Durmhain's eyelids.

When she finally succeeded in peeling the film away, Durmhain flinched away from the blinding sunlight. As his eyes adjusted, he saw that the three of them were inside a prison wagon, and that the great weight on top of him was no more than a heavy woolen blanket. Ysli and Mak'do sat next to him on opposite sides, staring down at him with grim faces, each manacled to the steel bars they leaned against. Clean bandages covered most of their bodies and Ysli's left arm was held up in a sling. Through the space between the bars, a vibrant landscape passed by, full of lush trees opening to a field on his left where the sun warmed his skin. The cart jostled him slightly as it bumped over small stones in the dirt road they traveled on. Even the slightest motion made Durmhain stiffen with nausea.

"Where... are we?" he asked, unwilling to turn his head. Keeping his vision fixed on a knot in the wooden plank above him lessened the debilitating queasiness some.

"Dunno," Ysli replied. She looked up to survey the open field across from her. "Never been this far south before."

"I guess the Rivennon Provence," Mak'do said. "It safest way to Ictharis from Skyvaln."

Ysli snorted. "And how would you know this?"

"Same way I come through trading."

When Mak'do did not speak further, Durmhain asked. "Are... we...?"

"Prisoners?" Ysli suggested, lifting the manacle on her good hand demonstrably. "It would seem that way. I only woke once we were already in here. But they've been giving us food and the uldwena brew. Their medic is well versed in native Skyvaln herbs, for a southerner."

"But... we... helped...-"

"I thought I told you," Ysli chuckled, her voice becoming caustic. "Elmiari are no better than the Nithians."

"They not kill us," Mak'do said. "Gives hope."

"Because of him," Ysli said, pointing at Durmhain. "I'm sure they would have just as easily killed us if they hadn't known we were with him."

"How did they?" Durmhain wondered. He had to fight to keep his eyes open, as closing them left him alone with a sea of pain threatening to drown him. He started counting in his head to keep himself awake.

One... twooo.....

"Thim'hal bring Elmiari commander," Mak'do explained. "Commander recognize you."

"But he doesn't trust us because of the marks we bear," Ysli said, tapping her chest. "They think we're Husks, spies, or assassins. Doubt I could fight off a bear cub right now."