Transformation Space - Marianne de Pierres [61]
Don’t think about it. Crawl. Crawl or die.
The first fingers of direct sunlight burned into his legs as he dragged his torso into the shade. He rolled onto his back and jack-knifed his knees into his stomach, then rolled again until his whole body was in shade.
He lay like that, slipping in and out of a consciousness, for a long time.
Concussion, he told himself when some clarity returned. He made an effort to sit up. This time his neck and back obeyed, and he managed to lean himself against the rock. The spring was within arm’s reach, so he leaned over and cupped a mouthful. It tasted tepid but clean. After several handfuls he felt a little revived.
Who had pushed him? The hands in his back had been decisive, and large. Not a woman’s hands, and not someone who’d had second thoughts.
Innis Mulravey. Had to be.
Anger burned in him. How dare the filthy ’esque attempt to murder him? I will have him exiled. No. Killed.
Cass Mulravey would resist, but on this he would not weaken.
Trin opened his eyes. What had he been thinking about? Where was—? He blinked. Water, rocks and blinding, scorching sunlight only just past his feet. His heart pounded and he sat upright.
Calming breaths helped him better observe his surroundings, to think. Leah was on the wane. He’d been asleep most of the day, and his throat felt raw and his skin dry. Dehydration.
He flopped over to the running water and submerged his face, taking deep gulps. Coming up for air, he repeated the action several times until his belly distended with water.
Within a short time be began to sweat profusely, and the robe tried to cool his overheated body. His heat tolerance was much greater now from the constant exposure, but nothing could stand the direct sunlight on Araldis. Nothing except the Saqr.
For the next few hours he stayed under the overhang and practised moving his limbs, testing them to see if he could walk. The numbness below his knee was still there, and would hamper his climbing ability. I need a crutch.
He looked out from his rock shelter. Immediately below him lay another band of rocks, but below that stood an odd cluster of stunted trees. He would crawl to them when it was dark and find something to lean on, then return to the spring and drink his fill before starting back to the caves.
He considered that plan. Would his leg slow him down too much? Would he be caught in the sun again? Perhaps he should wait for Juno Genarro and Djes to come for him? With their help, the trip back would be much easier. And they would come for him. He knew that. But how long until they did? And what trouble would Innis Mulravey have caused with his lie that the Principe had maybe perished?
Options and strategies stacked up in his mind as the day finally darkened and lost some heat. As Leah sank away, he made a decision. The trees not only offered the makings of a walking stick, but the possibility of edible roots. He was hungry now, the rumbling in his belly overtaking even the thumping in his temples and the shooting pain along the leg that wasn’t numb.
He fumbled for one of the two pods in his pocket and chewed a piece from it. Within a short time he felt the tingle of stimulant. Levering onto his hands and knees, keeping more weight on the uninjured knee, he crawled down with painstaking care. A slip this time would mean his end.
Without the moonlight, progress was slower than he’d anticipated. He reached the first few bushes just as Semantic cracked the horizon with a sliver of moonshine. Exhaustion forced him to rest a while before he could attempt to find a stick.
He lay, examining the trees, discerning their difference from those on their side of the mountain. These seemed more lush by comparison.
He reached up to a trunk and stripped a section of bark away. Sap leaked freely onto his palm. He sniffed it, tempted to