Storms (Sharani Series Book 2) (19 page)

The sun was beginning to vanish behind the far Forbiddence wall by the time they reached the cave Farah had mentioned earlier. Talyshan and Nabil landed on a narrow ledge that jutted out in front of the cave like a small platform with irritated shrieks. Gavin craned his neck to look up toward the top of the wall, but couldn’t see where it ended.

He’d never been this close to the Forbiddence, few ever were, though it was always there, in the back of people’s minds. The Forbiddence itself was so different from the rest of the Sharani Desert. A darker, almost black rock that reached for the sky, the tip was lost from view, even from where they stood a hundred spans from the desert floor. It was thought to be a sheer, impassable expanse, though they’d also said that about the Oasis walls. Gavin had proven that particular belief false.

But this? Gavin shook his head as Farah dismounted and scurried into the cave. This wasn’t even in the same realm as the Oasis walls. These really
were
impassible.

Gavin unhooked and slid from the saddle, landing more gracefully this time. He stood upright and patted Nabil as he walked passed. Nabil shuffled away from his touch.

Though Gavin and Farah hadn’t spotted any signs of Kaiden or any other signs of life during their flight, Gavin felt like he’d accomplished a lot already. The stress and cares that had been piling on him were only a peripheral concern now. He’d come to terms with his own failure while on Nabil’s back and, though it had only been a few short hours since he’d first mounted the aevian, felt a deep, powerful connection with the animal.

Nabil and Talyshan hissed and shuffled awkwardly near him. Gavin stepped to one side, careful to avoid the pair.

“Is there something in there?” Gavin asked, glancing out over the sands just to make sure there wasn’t anything behind them. “The aevians are acting odd.”

“It’s the Forbiddence,” Farah said. “They don’t like it very much. It’s one of the reasons we’re here. Khari figured Kaiden would go to the one place the aevians don’t like going.”

Gavin frowned and looked up at the walls again. It was kind of . . . forbidding.

“You coming?” Farah called to him. Her voice echoed oddly as she entered the cave.

Gavin entered the cave and, for a moment, saw nothing. He blinked a few times as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, and just then, Farah succeeded in lighting the lantern and the sudden light blinded him.

“A little warning next time,” Gavin said as his eyes watered.

Farah shook her head, light from the lantern glinting off the two small earrings on the upper part of her left ear.

“Sorry, water boy.” She placed the glass hood over the flame and the light increased noticeably.

The lantern light illuminated the area immediately around them, and what Gavin had originally taken to be a shallow cave resolved into a cavernous chamber large enough to house a score of people comfortably. The chamber was nearly thirty feet deep and just as tall, and there were a couple of alcoves cut into the rock in which blankets were resting, and several stone benches and ceramic containers resting throughout the room. It was clearly a place where the patrols frequently visited.

“This is what you call a small cave?” Gavin asked.

Farah smiled at him, then whistled a soft series of sharp notes. The aevians bustled into the room and headed to one side of the cavern, the awkward way they walked a stark contrast to the stunning grace with which they flew. Gavin walked deeper into the cave to let them pass. Farah set the lantern on one of the stone benches and walked over to take the saddle off Talyshan.

Gavin felt the fool for not thinking about it, but covered his embarrassment by hurrying over to Nabil to do the same. Thankfully, he remembered what straps came loose and which stayed where they were. He was a little surprised to realize how much he didn’t want to continue embarrassing himself in front of Farah. Once free, Gavin laid the saddle out on one of the benches, as he’d seen Farah do with Talyshan’s. He gave it one last pat to clear off some dust, then turned around.

Farah was in the process of stripping out of her clothes. Her robes and harness already lay in a neat pile next to the saddle on the stone bench. She stood, back to him, clad only in a thin, sleeveless undershirt and a pair of skin-tight leggings that cut off above the knee. There was a tattoo of some sort of flower on her right shoulder blade.

Gavin realized he was staring and quickly turned away. His grandmother had often slept in her underclothes on the hotter nights, like this one, but this was different. Farah must have noticed his awkward discomfort because she laughed softly.

“You’re a strange man, Gavin,” Farah said. “You can turn around now. I’m covered.”

Gavin turned back around, ready to close his eyes if necessary. Farah was already under the blanket in one of the alcoves, covered up to the neck despite the heat. Her waterskin rested under her head as an improvised pillow.

It wasn’t as if he didn’t enjoy what he’d seen, far from it, but he’d been raised to give women the respect they deserved. That flew in the face of what Gavin knew about how the Rahuli thought about women, but it was how Gavin himself had been raised. And, though Gavin could barely admit it, even to himself, he wanted Farah to respect him as much as he was starting to respect and care for her.

“You do realize that all the Roterralar women sleep in clothes like this, right?” Farah asked, grinning. “It’s not as if I’m getting ready to take a bath or anything. I’m getting ready to
sleep
.”

Bath?
Gavin had never had an actual bath before, not intentionally at least. He felt his cheeks redden at the thought.

“Outcasts don’t have those luxuries,” Gavin said, glancing over at her.

She was watching him, an odd expression on her face. Gavin had to work hard not to fidget under the scrutiny.

“You’re so strange,” she said after a long, awkward silence. “There’s no need to set a watch. Get some sleep. We’ll head out at first light.” She turned over, leaving her back facing him.

Gavin ran a hand through his dusty hair and made himself ready for bed as well. He kept his robes on—he’d slept in worse—and used the blanket in an alcove a little ways away from Farah as a pillow. It was a long time before he drifted off to sleep.

He came awake some indeterminate time later. For a brief moment, he hovered in the momentary delirium of partial alertness, then his mind caught up with the rest of him and he tried to figure out what had caused him to wake up. The soft patter of rain sounded just outside the cave’s entrance, droplets hitting the stone with the crackling sound of cooking meat. There was no thunder, though, so the noise, though uncommon, wouldn’t normally have been enough to wake him.

A soft sound broke through the noise of rain. Gavin sat up slightly, listening. It came again, and this time Gavin was able to determine it was coming from
inside
the cave rather than out of it. For a moment, he thought it must be one of the aevians, then realized it was coming from the direction of Farah’s alcove.

“What in the sands?” Gavin whispered.

He walked over, stepping carefully in the darkness. The lamp had gone out earlier, so the only light was a faint glow from the moon and stars shining down through the rainclouds. It gave him just enough light to be jumpy about the darker, shifting shadows inside the nearly black omnipresence. As he got closer, he could pick out the shape of the sounds—words. Farah was muttering and crying out in her sleep.

“No,” she mumbled, clearly still within the grips of slumber. “No, don’t die. I’m here, I’m here, mother. You can’t die. No, not now.”

Gavin froze, hand half outstretched toward her.
Mother?
Khari had said that Farah’s family had died in the battle of the Oasis, killed by the genesauri while Farah was fighting. Was she reliving that experience again, only in nightmare? Gavin didn’t know which was worse, experiencing the pain as it happened, fresh and raw, or reliving it, the open wound festering.

He reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder and shook gently.

“No!” Farah muttered more loudly. “No, I can’t leave her. No!”

Were those sobs?

“Farah,” Gavin said in an urgent whisper.

The woman jumped beneath his hand, startling awake. She scrambled back in the alcove, but hit the wall. There was the sound of metal against rock and suddenly Gavin felt a faint prick beneath his chin. He swallowed hard.

“Farah,” he whispered, careful not to move his lips too much and risk pushing the blade at his neck any deeper. “It’s me. You were crying in your sleep.”

The prick beneath his chin vanished, but the woman didn’t speak. A small sound escaped her instead. More sobs, more controlled this time, but still the echo of a broken soul.

Gavin stepped back and felt his way over to the lamp, removed the cover, and flicked the striker until one of the sparks caught and the lamp sputtered to life. He turned the knob and left the flame low, then replaced the hood and walked back over to Farah.

The young woman was huddled in the alcove, legs tucked up against her chin, blanket pulled up to her neck, forehead against her knees. Her body shook slightly as she cried. Gavin didn’t know what else to do, so he climbed into the alcove and awkwardly put his hand on her shoulder, head bent at an odd angle to fit within the alcove. She flinched at the touch, but did not pull away.

“I watched my parents fall from the Oasis walls when I was nine year old,” Gavin said softly. “The Sidena clan chief had goaded them into it, though it had long been their plan . . .”

The sobs slowed as Gavin told of his parent’s death, of how he had watched and then had to learn how to live with only his grandmother to guide him. He talked of his grandmother, Elvira, and told about how she’d rallied the outcasts into the group of performers they’d become. He spoke, not knowing what else to do and feeling that it was the right thing. He told her about Elvira’s death and the pain, despair, and overwhelming sense of being alone that had threatened to consume him. He told her about climbing the Oasis walls, about nearly dying there, and his eventual arrival at the top. The sobs slackened at some point while he spoke, but he talked on, arm fully around her shoulders now and her head resting against his. He spoke of finding the greatsword and the events leading up to the Oasis. He talked until he had nothing else to say, and only then did he notice that Farah had fallen back to sleep. He smiled a small, soft smile to himself and drifted back to sleep as well.

“It’s real,” Samsin breathed, supporting Nikanor as they looked down over the edge of the sheer cliff. Nikanor’s breathing was haggard, though Samsin was sure only part of it was from the pain of Nikanor’s wounds and their labored journey up the steep mountain slopes.