While Fennik went to search for surviving horses, Liyana examined the bite marks that covered Korbyn’s body. He’d been torn all over, despite her best efforts.
Trying to be gentle, she pulled the fabric of his clothes away from the wounds. Some of them oozed blood. Some were coated in mucus and pus from the worms that she’d sliced away. She wondered if she dare use water to wash them out. She wondered if she dare not use water to wash them out.
Fennik crawled into the tent. “How is he?”
“Bad,” Liyana said. She didn’t look at Fennik. “He can’t heal himself if he’s not conscious.” She dug the healing herbs out of her pack.
“He drove the worms away, didn’t he?”
That was so obvious she didn’t bother to reply. She located cloths and bandages, and she pressed a clean cloth to a wound on his calf to slow the bleeding.
Fennik tucked a wadded robe underneath Korbyn’s leg. “We need to keep the blood from seeping into the ground. It’s moisture too.”
She’d rather keep the blood inside Korbyn’s body entirely, never mind where it went afterward. She felt as if her heart was beating uncomfortably hard inside her rib cage. Liyana tied a bandage around his arm. Her hands shook.
“How can I help?” Fennik asked.
Liyana bit her lip. If he’d helped when she’d asked before . . . She refused to meet his eyes. If she did, she thought she might lose her self-control, and that wouldn’t help Korbyn. “More bandages,” she said.
He fetched more.
She wrapped his wounds as best she could, using damp cloths to clean the worst bites, and then smothering the dampness in dry cloths. Fennik took extra wads of cloths outside to care for the horses. He returned after a while.
“How many horses did you find?” she asked. She still couldn’t bring herself to look at him.
“Two,” Fennik said. “One is unridable. The other has only superficial wounds and will live, with care. But there’s no sign of the four that ran across the flats.”
She nodded. He didn’t have to say that that was bad. Wounded and without water, those horses wouldn’t last long. “What about our water supplies?”
He hesitated. “A day’s worth left, if we ration.”
Korbyn had slept for three days with the Horse Clan. She didn’t know how long he’d be out after this level of magic. He’d once said summoning water where none existed was immensely difficult. “We could strap him to the good horse and walk to the Silk Clan.”
“In the sun and walking . . . the water wouldn’t last a day.” Fennik slumped down beside her. “I said we shouldn’t cross the salt flats. He thinks he’s invincible.”
“Does it feel good to be proven right?” Liyana blinked back the tears that sprang into her eyes. She couldn’t afford to lose the moisture. “Korbyn had said three days to cross the flats. So we have to be close to the Silk Clan. Take the last horse and whatever water you need and find help.”
“You cannot ask me to leave you alone—”
“I won’t be alone,” Liyana said. “He’ll wake. And I’m not asking.”
“Come with me,” Fennik said. “If we leave all the supplies except for the water, the horse can carry us both. We can make it to the Silk Clan and send help back for Korbyn.”
She shook her head. The idea of leaving him felt as repugnant as the flesh of the salt worms. She’d failed to protect him against the worms; she didn’t intend to fail him again.
“He’ll be all right,” Fennik said. “As soon as he wakes, he’ll heal himself.”
She focused on Korbyn’s face. It was twisted in pain. Every second Fennik wasted arguing was a second longer until they had help. Without thinking, she wrapped her hand around Korbyn’s hand. “You’ll be faster if you ride alone,” she told Fennik.
“But you—”
“Stop!” For the first time since the worms, Liyana looked him directly in the eyes. “Stop arguing. Stop needing to be right. Stop trying to prove you’re better than he is. Take the horse and find help.”
Fennik fell silent for a moment. “Bayla chose him over Sendar too.”
“I’m not Bayla and you’re not Sendar. And if he dies, then neither of us ever will be. Go!” Liyana bent over Korbyn.
She heard Fennik leave the tent. She heard him murmur to the horses, and then the sound of a horse being saddled. And then he rode away over the hard salt.
Alone, she listened to Korbyn’s harsh and fast breathing.
She felt his forehead for signs of a fever. His skin was slippery with sweat. Don’t you die on me, she thought at him. Fingers shaking, she checked her stock of medicinal leaves. She’d used up half her supply already, and the remaining stash was a pathetic handful of dried weeds. She’d have to be more sparing in the future, if there was a future. Liyana banished that thought.
After a while, she ducked out of the tent to tend to the last horse. She was a roan mare, though it was difficult to tell beneath the salt, dried blood, and pus. Liyana remembered that Fennik had named her Plum after her fondness for date plums. Gently Liyana peeled back the bandages Fennik had applied to check on the wounds. Most seemed clean, and none oozed. She secured the bandages again. Plum was in better shape than Korbyn. Patting the horse’s neck, Liyana looked out across the salt flats. She saw no one and nothing. All was still.
Carefully she offered the horse a few sips of water. She drained the dish gratefully and whinnied for more. Liyana poured her a handful of horse-meal pellets instead.
Returning to the tent, she checked her own wounds, and then lay down beside Korbyn. She closed her eyes but her muscles stayed tense, waiting to feel the earth shake again. Eventually she slept.
She woke to the sound of a horse whickering. Poking her head out the tent flap, she asked, “Plum, what is it?” In the distance, she spotted a cloud of salt dust. In its center was a horse, walking toward them. “Fennik!” She waved. But as the horse drew closer, she saw it wasn’t the same horse—this horse was black and white, and it had no rider. Korbyn had named this horse Windfire.
The horse swayed as she walked, but she didn’t slow. She trudged toward them step by painful step. After nearly an hour, Windfire reached them, and her legs folded underneath her. Plum nuzzled the other mare’s neck.
“Good to see you,” Liyana said as she lifted off the saddle and the supply packs. She poured the horse-meal pellets and (very carefully) a small amount of water, and then she examined Windfire’s wounds. She saw only superficial cuts, which had ceased bleeding and dried in the hot air. The horse should recover—assuming we don’t all die, Liyana thought.
She spent the rest of the day alternating between Korbyn and the horses. She tried not to think about how little water remained or to count the hours since Fennik had left. She listened to Korbyn’s shallow breathing, and she tried not to think at all. As night fell, Liyana remained outside the tent with the horses and watched the stars spread across the sky. She located the goat constellation (Bayla’s stars) above the forbidden mountains and then the raven constellation near the eastern horizon.
“Beautiful, aren’t they?” a voice said behind her.
She twisted around to see Korbyn emerge from the tent. He plopped down beside her and proceeded to strip off his bandages. The skin underneath was healed. Liyana touched the smooth skin, and then all of a sudden her cheeks were wet.
Kneeling, he cupped her face in his hands and caught her tears in his palms. “Don’t bring back our writhing friends,” he said gently.
She stared into his eyes and gulped hard once, twice, until she no longer felt as if she were splintering. He was alive! Her skin shivered where he touched it. “Whatever you did worked,” she said evenly. “They left.”
“I summoned water elsewhere.” He studied her. “Let me fix you.”
She wanted to object—he’d only just recovered—but before she could frame a reply, he’d rolled up her sleeves. Concentrating, he focused on her. In a few minutes, the bite sealed shut. He repeated this for the other bite marks. Everywhere he touched tingled, and it took all her strength not to scream, You’re alive! She told herself that it was relief on behalf of her goddess. When he finished, she touched her healed skin and then his. His skin felt warm and smooth, and her fingers lingered.