Ravyn's Flight (22 page)

If anything, Damon’s lips thinned further. “Yeah? And what are you going to do if I’m not back immediately? You can’t even stand up without leaning against me.”

Ravyn straightened. Of course, since she had to push off from him to do it, she doubted it underlined the point she was trying to make. “If I think you’re in trouble,” she told him, resolutely meeting his eyes, “I’ll crawl if I have to.”

“You would, too,” Damon said, his voice a grumble of irritation. He looked seriously pissed for a moment and then his lips quirked. “What the hell am I going to do with you?”

She figured it was a rhetorical question since he didn’t wait for an answer. As soon as he was out of sight, she made her way to the nearest tree. She didn’t dare sit, but as she rested against the trunk, the black dots stopped spinning around her head. It was going to be a rough day.

It didn’t take him long to return and Ravyn relaxed. The only thing troubling her now was how she’d make it to the Old City. One look at Damon and she decided to keep her concerns to herself. Exhaustion etched his face, leaving lines on either side of his mouth. Closing her eyes, she searched inside for a well of energy. She found a puddle. It would have to be enough.

He took her hand and squeezed it before starting out, and Ravyn wondered if she looked as scared as she felt. She stumbled along in his wake, unsure what pounded louder, her head or her heart. If only he hadn’t reclaimed the gun. She swallowed hard, trying to rid her throat of the lump lodged there. Damon moved cautiously, but showed no sign of anxiety.
It’s you, Ravyn. You’re a coward.
She wished they were invisible and pictured a cloak shrouding them from the killer. The image became so real to her, she thought she saw a veil shimmer around them.

Eventually, tiredness overcame worry and it took all her determination to put one foot in front of the other. Her focus narrowed to the man leading the way. As the sun beat down mercilessly, her headache worsened and she found herself lagging behind. Then Damon stopped short, knocking her out of her lethargy. He signaled and she went still. She could reach him in a few strides, but the safety he represented seemed far away. She watched him look around, gun ready, and tried to control her trembling. Coward, the voice in her head mocked again.

He swung the gun around and she bit back a gasp. Then the tension left his body and she could breathe again. Ravyn moved to his side and found what had caught his attention. Some rodent-type animal, a grahlen she thought, struggled to drag a plant frond to its nest. Its beady brown eyes gave them a glare before it continued. She leaned her head on Damon’s shoulder, following the animal’s progress until it disappeared from sight. Now that the terror had subsided, Ravyn felt even more drained.

“Come on,” Damon said. “I don’t like standing here.”

“Yeah,” she agreed and straightened. Ravyn watched the world sway before it righted itself.

The Old City loomed like some unattainable mirage on the horizon, close, but never within reach. It became more and more difficult for her to stay upright. Her head reeled and her vision narrowed, but she blinked it back into some kind of focus. Just when she doubted she could continue, Damon put his arm around her, giving her some much needed assistance. Time lost all meaning, and when he stopped, she gave him a puzzled look.

“We’re here, sweet pea.”

Ravyn stared at him dumbly. When his words registered, she turned her head and saw the massive gray gate. There had never been a more beautiful sight and she nearly wept with joy. Her body threatened to collapse and she was grateful when Damon leaned her against the wall. The sun-warmed stone pressed against her back, keeping her upright. She could hear him struggle with the latch, then grunt in satisfaction. He steered her inside.

Sanctuary.

Ravyn smiled. They’d finally made it home.

*** *** ***

Damon finished securing the last gate. He turned, stretching as he looked at the remarkably preserved city. He’d seen images, but nothing prepared him for the perfection of every detail. There should have been deterioration, but there wasn’t. He’d searched some of the buildings near the gates for supplies to set the traps, and everything, right down to the most delicate cloth, looked as if it had been produced that day. It was eerie.

Hauling Ravyn around yesterday had taken a toll, and he still ached and felt fatigued. Thank God she’d managed to walk today. Not fast, granted, and she’d needed help most of the way, but he honestly didn’t know if he could have carried her again. By the time they’d reached the gate, she’d been staggering. He didn’t know which of them was more grateful to have arrived. At least inside the walls, he could relax. It was quiet inside the city. Not so much as a breeze blew, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. If he didn’t know better, he would swear it was temperature controlled.

After pocketing the supplies he hadn’t used on the gates, Damon scanned the area where he’d left Ravyn. His brows pulled together in a worried frown when he didn’t see her. She’d barely been able to stand by the time they’d reached the final gate. The first thing on the agenda was to take care of her wound. He should have cleaned it yesterday, but he had been too concerned with getting them away from the area where he’d fired the pistol.

When he finally spotted her, his heart stopped. He reached her side almost before it resumed beating. While he’d worked, he’d checked on her. Each time he’d looked over, she’d been sitting up, apparently alert. If he caught her eye, she would smile at him. Now she lay prone, her head propped up on the pack. Her eyes didn’t open even when he knelt beside her.

Damon found himself oddly reluctant to touch her, afraid his hand would feel skin burning with fever. Afraid he’d failed again to keep someone in his care safe. How many times had the danger of infection been drilled into his head during survival training? Why hadn’t he cleaned the wound before sleeping last night? He’d done nothing but stop the bleeding.

“Ravyn.” He could hear the fear in his own voice.

Her face scrunched up and he said her name again, louder.

“What?” she said, testily. Her eyes remained shut.

Never before in his life had he been so grateful to be snarled at. Relief brought laughter and Ravyn’s eyes did open then, so she could add a glare to her scowl.

“You had me worried,” he confessed, sobering.

Her face softened. “I’m okay, just tired.”

She was more than tired. He could see the listlessness in her eyes, and under the mud, her skin was flushed. Damon did reach out then and lightly touch her forehead. If his hand trembled slightly, well, he was entitled after the scare she gave him. Her skin was warm. “You’re running a fever.”

“Low grade,” she agreed.

If his sweet pea wasn’t denying the fever and insisting she was fine, then she was worse off than he’d realized. He pushed some of her dirt-encrusted hair off her face. Don’t panic, he warned himself. She had enough energy left to be crabby, so she wasn’t at death’s door. Still, infection could be every bit as dangerous as the killer. “Think you can walk some more?”

“Of course,” she said, the answer coming automatically.

She must have made her family, especially her over-protective brother, insane with her never-say-die attitude, Damon thought. God knew she made him crazy at times. And somehow, even when he didn’t believe she could deliver, she managed to do whatever he asked of her. It amazed him how she pushed beyond her limitations. This time, however, it appeared her will wasn’t going to overcome her body’s weakness.

“Uh, Damon, will you help me up?”

“And you think you can walk?” he asked skeptically as he pulled her to her feet.

“I can walk,” she insisted even as she wrapped her arms around him and grasped his waist.

He snorted. The only thing keeping her from landing back on the ground was the grip she had on him. “You’re a trouper, but you can’t do everything.”

“It’s not like you’re asking me to capture an enemy platoon. All you want me to do is walk. I’ve been doing that for years.”

Damon saw her feeble attempt at humor for what it was. “Distraction isn’t going to work. You’re not inexhaustible, even if you stubbornly insist otherwise.”

Ravyn leaned back so she could look him in the eye. “Me? I’m not the one who insisted on lurching along for hours after getting hit in the head with a tree.”

“It was a branch.”

“Oh, well, that’s different then.”

Damon suppressed the desire to smile at her sarcasm. “Think you can stand on your own long enough for me to get our things?”

He knew better than to ask he realized belatedly. Her expression took on a mulish cast. “Of course,” they said simultaneously.

Ravyn made a face.

“What can I say? You’re too predictable, sweet pea.”

He could see she didn’t like that, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she loosened her hold on him and steadied herself before letting go. Damon didn’t waste any time grabbing his canteen and the pack. Ravyn’s eyes were practically crossed as she struggled to remain upright. As soon as he had the pack settled, he slipped an arm around her. Judging from the way she immediately swayed into him, his support came just in time. He debated scooping her up and throwing her over his shoulder again, but his body protested at the thought. When he factored in Ravyn’s reaction, he discarded the idea.

Their progress was necessarily slow, and though she continued to lean on him, her step never faltered. The sun hung low in the sky, the shadows beginning to lengthen. As they made their way through the city, Damon couldn’t help but laugh.

“What?” Ravyn asked and he was heartened by her interest. She couldn’t be too bad if her curiosity was engaged. He hoped.

“Just imagining the sight we must make. Both of us covered in dirt. You with your sleeve torn open, a camouflage bandage around your arm. Me with stitches in my head.”

She chuckled softly. “We must look pitiful.”

“The walking wounded,” Damon agreed.

The smooth path didn’t have so much as a crack or stray pebble to trip Ravyn up. The condition of their surroundings still stunned him. The environment was dust free. The areas of green, and they were plentiful, were perfectly manicured as if a team of gardeners had just finished work for the day. There was no sign that any kind of animal had made a home within the walls. It intrigued him. It was unnatural for an abandoned town to show no evidence of neglect. Despite everything abnormal about the place, Damon felt oddly at ease.

“You sense it too, don’t you?” Ravyn asked.

“Sense what?” He felt her shift so she could look at him, but he kept his attention on the scene around them.

“The energy of the Old City. It’s welcoming us.”

Damon remained silent. While he might trust and follow his instincts, he wasn’t fanciful enough to imbue something inanimate with human characteristics. And if he perhaps sensed acceptance at his presence, well, that was nothing more than imagination.

“For weeks after my first visit to the Old City, I dreamed of it every night.” Ravyn smothered a yawn. “I don’t remember much, except that I dreamed I lived here, that the people were gentle and kind. They had no knowledge of violence, no concept of war. It seemed like an Eden. Except there was some unseen threat and no one knew how to deal with it.”

Damon couldn’t imagine even dreaming about people unable to deal with a threat. One met menace with force or with stealth, whatever worked best to neutralize it.

“Which do you think is worse?” Ravyn asked, her tone thoughtful. “To be so used to peace that violence brings confusion, or to be so used to violence and war that it requires little thought on how to respond?”

“You picked a hell of a time to turn philosophical,” Damon commented. They were both beyond exhaustion. Ravyn admitted to running a low-grade fever and was weak enough that she needed his support. Not quite the setting for abstract discussion.

Ravyn’s shoulder moved in a shrug. “Sorry,” she apologized, “my thoughts are wandering.”

Intrigued despite his words, he gave the question some consideration as they moved through the city. “As a soldier, I can’t accept being unprepared to defend my home, but there is a temptation to living in such complete tranquility.”

The silence spun out around them, made even more obvious by the lack of wind. Perhaps being too perfect wasn’t so great. He missed the sound of birds calling, the feel of the breeze against his skin. The rhythm of nature was soothing to him. This absence of it felt artificial. And yet, the city was not enclosed. There was no bubble or dome covering them.

“Damon, do you think we’ll ever have that on Earth? Not an ignorance of upheaval, but an end to the incessant battles? An end to hate and murder and brutality?”

“No. Not in our lifetime.”

“Too bad,” Ravyn said in tacit agreement.

Damon continued to steer Ravyn along. He should settle them in a nearby building. Deep twilight had come upon them and he needed to tend her wound. They were far enough from the wall now, but something he couldn’t name compelled him to keep moving. It wasn’t right yet. Then they entered a square and he stopped, pulling Ravyn to a halt with him.

Off on the right, an enormous step pyramid towered high above the other buildings. From the maps he’d seen, he knew it was near the center of the city, but offset from the midpoint. It didn’t hold his interest long and Damon looked back at the plaza.

A large fountain sat in the center, empty of everything save a life-size stone lion. The carving was so detailed that every rippled muscle stood out. Its presence didn’t surprise him. He’d seen images of it, so he was aware it existed, but he swallowed hard. He knew exactly which way to go to reach the house he’d seen and he shouldn’t. The CAT team hadn’t mapped any farther than this into the Old City. Part of him hesitated at discovering whether his vision, for lack of a better term, had any validity. He wasn’t sure what outcome he dreaded more, that it was true or that it wasn’t.

Ravyn leaned more heavily into him and he started moving once again. The route felt familiar, as if he’d traveled it thousands of times. The hair on the back of his neck rose as he realized everything he saw matched his daydream exactly. They rounded a corner and there it stood. Damon stopped short in shock. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. His heart pounded, but in excitement, not fear. The building had been constructed with nearly pure white stone, and it looked more like some ancient Greek temple than a house.