WastelandRogue (17 page)

“I knew coming in here wasn’t a good idea for you.” He
pulled her back.

“I have to find her.” She wiggled out of his hold but her
knees buckled.

He caught her by the arm and scooped her off her feet.
“Let’s get you out of here.”

“No, I can’t leave her.”

“I’ll look for her as soon as I get you far enough away from
this stuff.”

“But you don’t know what Shay looks like.” Rye kicked her
legs and thrashed her way out of his grip.

He snatched her by the wrist and jerked her back. “I’m
pretty good at faces. I’m sure I will see a resemblance to you.” He then
grabbed her low at the waist and legs and hoisted her onto his shoulder as if
she were a sack of loot.

“Put me down,” she demanded.

“When I have you far enough away to recover.”

She approved of his strong, muscular physique, however, it
wasn’t a comfortable ride with the ball of his shoulder pressed hard into her
queasy gut. Struggling did her no good. His strength overpowered her frail
condition.

She turned her attention to scouring the field for signs of
Shay. The tall allium stalks prevented her from seeing anything. They swayed
against a gentle breeze. The beauty lulled her into a false serenity until she
emerged from the dense patch and Sevrin dropped her on her feet.

“Don’t move from this spot,” he ordered, supporting her in
the cradle of his arms as he bent down and sat her on the ground.

She pushed to get up. Sevrin stood in her way. His hands on
hips and reprimanding glare backed her down.

“Fine, I won’t move.” She put a hand to her throbbing
forehead and then looked up at him while pointing to a specific spot on her chin.
“Shay has a scar here. Her hair is shorter and lighter blonde then mine. She
has dark-brown eyes, more like a
lamian
’
s
and she’s a hand length
shorter than me.” Rye tried getting up. “There are so many differences. You’ll
never be able to tell if you find her. I have to go myself.”

Sevrin squatted in front of her and fingered strands of her
hair. He looked over her face, taking his time as if they had forever. Then he
said, “If I find anyone at all with blonde hair, I’ll bring her here for you to
see. Dead or alive, all right?”

She nodded, thankful he understood her fear of him not
recognizing Shay and passing her by. She watched him start back for the allium.
“Sevrin, the allium. How can you go back into them?”

“I’m more human, remember?” He gave a wave and continued
striding across the dusty barren soil and then into the deadly flower patch.

While the stalks blocked her view of his lower half, they
didn’t prevent her from seeing him from the shoulders up. She watched as he
moved farther and farther into the tall green fronds. Lavender balls of flowers
swung aside when he swatted them. Then he was too far in for her to know his
whereabouts.

Time dragged. How long had it been?

One hundred percent better, Rye got up and wandered toward
the allium. Although her headache and queasy stomach were gone, she was still
hesitant. She searched the sea of lavender flowers for Sevrin. How far had he
gone to be out of sight? How far could she go before she collapsed again?

“Sevrin!” she yelled, hunting for a sign of movement in the
leaves. “Sevrin?”

She pushed through the stalks, aiming for the last place she
had searched before. As she recognized each dead body she had already checked,
she hurried on hoping to get farther into the field. At the start of the hill
rising, she exited the allium. No Sevrin.

She returned to the patch and headed to the west. Agitated
by the amount of allium juice on her hands, she paused and rubbed her palms
against her thighs. It didn’t help.

The poison had already taken new routes through her body.
She had trouble concentrating, forgetting what she was doing, where she was
going. Her pulse pounded in her head, making it nearly impossible to think.

Fears gathered in her thoughts—the paranoia. Had Sevrin
abandoned her, left her there to die? No, she refused to believe it. He had
insisted she stay out of the allium.

She wandered aimlessly, her senses mired by the poison—her
thoughts fraught with delusions.

The body she saw had all the right features, the hair,
the clothes, the size and even the bracelet on Shay’s wrist. Shay loved that
string of beads made from clay.

“Shay, do you hear me?” Rye stroked her sister’s hair
back from her face. “Shay, open your eyes. Everything’s going to be all right.”

Rye lifted up Shay’s hand. The string broke. The beads
scattered to the ground and she grabbed some, clutching them tightly so as not
to lose any.

Rye looked at them in her hand—seeds. The beads weren’t made
of clay. They were seed heads from the allium flowers. She dropped the crushed
pods oozing with poisonous sap and rubbed her palms against her pants. It
didn’t stop the burning tingle reddening her fingers.

She forced herself to ignore the pain and stared at the
lamian
female lying in front of her. It wasn’t Shay. She had to keep searching for her
sister…she had to find Sevrin.

Slowly, she rose to her feet and looked around. She shook
off her disorientation and stepped forward. The field was bigger than they had
imagined. Where was Sevrin? Had he met with one of the dreaded marauders?
Wouldn’t there have been a noise of some sort? She had to find him. Save him as
he had once saved her.

“Sevrin?” She rushed mindlessly through the allium, passing
more than a dozen
lamians
in various stages of decomposition.

A garbled cough stopped her.

“Shay?” she called, praying she had found her.

She spun in circles, listening intently. The silence seemed
to last forever as she continued to turn. Dizzy, she reached for the support of
anything and fell to the ground.

The sound came again and she scrambled onto her feet.

“Shay!” she screamed for a response as she stumbled forward.

Then she stopped as the cough resounded from somewhere
behind her. A moment of clarity seized her wayward thoughts.

“Sevrin? Sevrin, where are you?” She turned. She waited. She
cried.

When the harrowing echo of someone choking came again, she
ran toward the sound.

“Sevrin.” She dropped to her knees alongside him when she
found him. “You said you’re not affected by allium.”

“I’ve never been around the stuff to really know. What are
you doing here?”

“Saving you.” She grabbed him under the arms, trying to haul
him through the patch.

He weighed so much more than she could drag in her
condition.

“Get out of here, Rye,” he demanded in a hoarse voice.

“Not without you.” She pulled him to a sitting position but
fell down, knocking him back.

He turned, rolling her off him, and got to his hands and
knees. “Damn, I feel so dizzy and weak.”

“It’s what the allium does to kill you.” She struggled onto
her hands and knees and forced herself to her feet.

Sevrin had more trouble rising than she did. She summoned up
all the strength she could and helped him to his feet. Together they lurched
forward. When she tripped, he kept her upright.

“Aren’t we a pair?” A cough cut his laugh short.

With her arm around his back and his around her shoulders,
they continued their short-paced tromping through the poisonous air.
Eventually, the perimeter came into sight.

“I need to stop.” Sevrin tried to sit.

“We’re too close.” She forced him to keep moving.

They walked and stumbled until the allium sat far behind
them. She dropped to the ground first. Sevrin landed alongside her.

For a while, silence was enough. Time was their healer.
Exhausted, disappointed, worried, she lay on the ground staring up at the
clouds.

After a long time, Sevrin’s raspy breath brought her
emotional turmoil to a new level. What if he didn’t recover? It was her fault
for letting him look for Shay. More human than
lamian
didn’t take the
lamian
out of him. How had he thought allium wouldn’t affect him?

She held back a choked sob when he slid his hand over hers.

“I checked the entire field. She’s not there,” he said. “She
either left or was never here.”

Rye squeezed his fingers laced with hers. Ashamed for
doubting his intentions for her, she rolled to her side and kissed his cheek.
He gave her hope. With her trust in him renewed, she snuggled into his embrace
to await his full recovery.

Her mind didn’t remain idle. If her sister wasn’t in the
field, then where was she? Did she go home? Was she taken somewhere else and
killed? The worst part was not knowing if Shay was alive or dead.

Sevrin took a deep and steadying breath of relief. He had no
idea how harmful the allium could be to him. He had felt drained, lethargic,
and yet he had pushed on looking for Rye’s sister, not realizing he’d collapse.
The weakness to his muscles had come almost out of nowhere.

Rye, lying next to him long after she had healed, touched
him. Her boundless compassion seemed a stark contrast to her aggressive nature.
Back at the camp with the marauders, she killed with brutal detachment and
still, she had showed an astonishing concern for the little girl, Tari.

And then there was her unfaltering quest to find her sister.
It was a rare trait in anyone. She reminded him of his mother in the best ways,
strong, determined and dependable.

“We need to find some water and wash the allium from our
clothes,” he said as he sat up.

“At least the worst is over.” Rye got to her feet first.
“Touching what’s on our clothes will affect us less as the juice dries. It’s
not as toxic.”

She glanced down at him with concern in her eyes.

“What?” he asked, wanting to know her thoughts.

“You heal slowly.”

“I’ll be fine.” As he rose, he found his joints still ached.

Rye’s stare forced him to pretend he had recovered more than
he had.

While she was the toughest female he had ever met, she
deserved more to life than pain, heartache and hardship. The last thing he
wanted was to add to her worries.

“What about the dead?” She turned toward the field of
allium.

He patted his coat and pulled out a piece of flint. “We’ll
burn them.”

“The allium will come back,” she said in a sad, defeated
tone.

“Will they?” He knew nothing about the plants other than the
toxic nature of the juice.

“I think so.” She took the flint from him. “At least the
dead will have their peace. I’ll start the fire. You need more time to heal.”

“I’m all right.” He wasn’t used to anyone knowing him so
well in such a short time.

She turned her head and locks of blonde waves bounced over
her shoulder. Her brow rose. The smirk on her face changed into an infectious
smile. It seemed wrong to feel happiness during the dismal undertaking of
cleaning up death. It worked wonders at making him forget his stomach hurt and
his head felt as if someone pounded his skull from the inside.

He pulled the knife from its sheath in his boot and handed
it to her. Several strikes of the flint against the metal sparked the dry weeds
she had gathered at her feet. Then, using dried twigs braided together to form
a torch, they both trudged ahead and lit the allium on fire. They walked the
perimeter and set the whole field ablaze. The fire sucked the oxygen from the
air and the heat evaporated the poisonous moisture from the plants. Flames
danced across the ground as smoke unfurled into one continuous gray cloud.

He tossed his burnt stick into the field.

Rye tossed hers as they backed away. “This can be seen for
quite some distance. We should go.”

She had voiced what he had been thinking.

“Yeah,” he replied. He had already decided it was less
likely they’d run into anyone uphill.

“We definitely need a cleaning now.” Rye rubbed his cheek
and showed him the black soot that came off on her fingers.

“Come on.” He took her elbow to move on.

They stuck to the natural path. His stiff legs slowed him.
He wished his body healed faster. Occasionally, when Rye wasn’t paying
attention to him, he looked back to make sure they weren’t followed. He wasn’t
aware of whether she gave it much thought.

As evening neared, Rye asked, “How far do you think we’ll
need to go to find water? I can’t stand this heat much longer.”

“I don’t know. You want to stop until nightfall?” He offered
the suggestion not wanting to admit he was all for taking shelter until the sun
went down.

“No. We need to keep going.”

He stooped and picked a blade of grass. “At least our
surroundings are looking greener. Someplace up here rain collects.”

“You’re not used to this much plant life, are you?” She
touched his hand, stroking the hairs on the back in a gentle, tickling fashion.

“Not really.” He smiled, taking hold of her fingers. “But it
does make me think.”

“About?”

“Food. I’m hungry. I wonder if anything edible grows in this
area.” He glanced around, not really expecting to see something handy to munch
on.

“Food? Again?” Rye sighed.

“What do you mean, again? When did I get something to eat?”
Had he mentioned food that much?

“That prickly plant.”

“Two bites of pulp doesn’t make a meal.”

“What about when we were in Toddas’ camp all night? I saw
food in every one of those shacks. Didn’t you eat anything?” she asked.

“Too busy to think about it, I guess.”

“If you were really hungry, I’m sure you would have picked
up something. It just goes to show you don’t need food. Try thinking about
something more practical like what we’ll do if someone finds that steam-trekker
and comes looking for us.”

So she is giving thought to someone following.

“That’s tomorrow’s problem.” He continued walking.

They trudged along at an even pace. He stopped every so
often to catch his breath, surprised the allium had such a long-lasting effect.
On occasion, Rye trailed behind and sometimes she passed him. He saw her take a
few discreet extra-deep breaths too. When she looked caught, she exaggerated
her panting. It gave him the feeling she was trying to appease his ego by not
making him look so weak.

When she took a turn toward a valley, he stopped her.

“Go up,” he called to her.

She looked back. Without argument, she changed her direction
and hiked up the slope of the hill. At the top, she stopped and waited.

He reached her and looked where she did.

“Did you smell it or what?” she asked, staring at a
sparkling-clean pond.

“The farther downhill the rain washes, the dirtier the
water. I thought we could do without any more impurities.” He started down the
bank, taking her hand to help her over the rocky slope.

He took off his long coat, his boots, his shirt and watched
Rye take off her clothing in similar order. Only she stopped short of removing
her shirt. A sudden shyness in her behavior seemed out of character. They had
changed since their first meaning. As strangers they could pretend not to care
what the other thought.

“I guess I have enough off to start washing.” He bundled up
the clothing and carried it to the water.

“You can’t wash your pants while wearing them,” she stated.
“If anything has been dredged in an abundance of allium, it would be your
backside. You were lying in them.”

She unlaced her shirt and held it against her as she
unfastened her pants and worked on removing them. If trying to prove a point
gave her the gumption to focus on the chore they both needed, then he’d not lag
behind.

He removed his pants as Rye walked away. The view he had of
her lovely buttocks did nothing to stop his growing erection. While it was
important to clean themselves and their clothes of the allium residue, here he
stood ready to fuck with a cock harder than rock.

When she stepped from the bank into the water, he found
relief. She slipped and let out a deflating squeal of surprise. Her arms flew
up and her clothing fell into the water. He dropped his own garments and hopped
in, wading over to help gather hers. She surfaced and he handed her the shirt
he saved from sinking.

“Would you put them on the bank for me?” She pushed the wet
bundle back to him. “This is the first time in quite a while that I have deep
enough water to swim in.”

“Sounds like a good idea.” He took her clothing and piled
them next to his.

When he turned around, she had that lustful twinkle in her
beautiful eyes. He liked that look. It heated him from head to toe.

“You’re one sexy naked man,” she said as he waded back
toward her.

His cock jolted, jutting straight out above the surface of
the water. Rye lifted her arm and reached for his erection. She ran her finger
back and forward along his shaft and around the rim of his cock head.

“This is so fascinating.” She continued circling the flange
of his penis with one finger.

“It’s called circumcision,” he explained. “An ancient
religious practice of humans that’s managed to continue even though religion
hasn’t.”

“Some say being human is a religion.” Her continued stroking
tightened his insides.

“Another of my human flaws,” he commented jokingly.

“Nothing about you is flawed in my eyes, Sevrin.” She leaned
and kissed him gently on the mouth.

Then she dropped to her knees before him. His insides
sizzled with excitement.

She coiled her fingers around his cock near the base and
pumped her hand, squeezing and pulling on his shaft. He struggled to breathe as
the tension in his groin increased.

His gaze soon shifted from watching her fondling his cock to
her breasts bobbing in the water. The mesmerizing sight of her pale skin and
ring-pierced pink nipples kept him from looking anywhere else until she kissed
his cock head. He swung his focus toward her tongue gliding over the end of his
penis.

She pressed her lips to the indented tip of his cock head
and sucked. He inhaled a sharp breath and held it. Running his hand over his
head, he grasped his hair and closed his eyes as he concentrated on restraining
his orgasm. His swollen flesh twitched in her tight grip.

When she drew away, he looked back down at her. Opalescent
beads of moisture emerged from the slit on the tip of his cock. Then the dewy
beads shimmered on her tongue as she lapped them up.

Aroused by the sight, he shuddered. Her licks hit a
sensitive spot under the rim of his cock head. Any other time, his semen would
explode from him. The tight grip she had on his scrotum worked wonders at
constricting his vein and keeping him on the edge of no return. But the blood
he saw on her lips worked the greatest at withering his erection.