In the Lorr Desert
Doren POV
It was not easy, even with Valla lending him her uncanny strength. The storm was dying out but it was still vicious, the flying detritus of the wrecked desert like ammunition from a giant's slingshot. Doren focused only on holding his crafting now. His aether was completely undepleted thanks to Valla but his mind was cracking slowly under the strain. His eyes went dim as the storm finally began to die, and a branch from a formerly dried-out shrub slipped under the canopy of their weakening shield and hit him before he could move or even register it's arrival. Valla had been blocking such detritus before but her strength was clearly fading too, her aether flickering concerningly as it streamed along the crafting he had cast. As the branch clipped him on the temple, he fell sideways against the ground and heard her cry out. He managed to hold the casting, the world fading but his own aether lines still clear in his Sight. Valla was leaning over him, shielding his body and redirecting aether to his wound. He tried to protest, but realized he couldn't speak. Instead, he tugged at her through the now shared Working of the shield, trying to redirect her back to the protective covering. Doren knew he was perhaps more badly wounded than he could currently assess, but healing him at the expense of their shield would do no good. So he held onto consciousness, barely, losing focus on what Valla was doing and just maintaining the shield. Seconds and eons and maybe minutes passed until he heard Valla shout in an aether-tinged voice to stop. Trusting her completely, he let go. And then there was nothing.
When he woke, he was on a thin blanket, the sun blinding his weak, still sleep-laden eyes, and the air heavy but mostly still and free of dust. As he spent all his will on opening his eyes, he realized suddenly that it was blisteringly hot. Rude of her not to have cooled their camp. He started at the thought, struggling to remember who he was thinking of, his mind disturbingly blank. He couldn’t remember where they were, who the other part of ‘they’ was, or what camp they were in. An errant thought that he really didn’t need to lose his memory now too – who else had lost their memory though? – flickered through his mind. Before he could panic, his training set in, and he calmed, taking breaths through roughened lungs and feeling his heartrate slow again. First things first, he thought, listening, hearing only quiet breathing near him, and the softest breeze rustling what might be fabric. Then he set about opening his eyes, calm now, no longer rushing. It was afternoon, in the desert – he remembered now – the sand and rocks around them were red-brown but wet from the storm, with puddles of murky water every few feet. Sitting up, muscles and lungs screaming, he turned around, looking for Valla. At first, he didn't see her and felt panic rise up in his chest again until he looked behind the pack he was leaning against and saw her sleeping – or unconscious – her hand outstretched towards him, breathing slowly and steadily. Her hand was reaching towards where his head had been on the pack, he realized, where a rather sizable patch of blood was on the leather. He touched his forehead gingerly, feeling for the wound, and was pleasantly surprised to find only a scabbed-over cut and not much bruising. Traces of scarlet power threaded through the cut. Magical stitches? Again, strange workings. Humans who influenced aether could only encourage skin to heal, pushing the body to move faster and recover better. He knew of no one who could use pure power to stitch skin back together much as mundane healers did with thread.
Ignoring his lingering headache, he moved over to check Valla’s pulse. It was strong and steady, but when he checked her eyes she was unmoving and insensate. It looked like a mild case of aether depletion. Doren glanced upwards and scanned briefly with his Sight to the looming storm as it moved away from them. He shivered. They should by all rights be dead. Storms like this were not unheard of, but they were rare. This entire journey had been filled with the exceptional and bizarre. When Doren had left the order’s outpost in Gopil, dazed and hollow, he had wandered among the jungles from place to place in the Allied Cities, but after a half a year, he had found himself moving back across the mountains towards Carram. It had been almost two decades since he was last in his childhood home, and he knew there was nothing waiting for him there. But in the end, with his heart adrift and his mind a mess, his feet had led him back. As he had started his pilgrimage back home, moving slowly, mired in memories, he had wandered in roughly the direction of Carram, picking his path at random. And he had found himself here with Valla now, facing stranger and wilder things than he had ever encountered in his time as a Promised – even though being part of the Order of the Promise was hardly an ordinary calling.
Disoriented after looking at the storm, Doren sat back on his heels. They were not safe yet. The storm had passed, but the desert was still as unforgiving as ever. There was not much hope for them to find a caravan anymore, as anyone else on the Paving without a significant regiment of aether users would have been doomed to destruction. But they could look for survivors.
He looked back down at Valla. She was still breathing steadily, and certainly needed rest. He could try and provide aether again but he knew with her aura collared it would more likely hurt her than help her. Instead, he set about making her comfortable, laying out a sleeping roll and healing the new cuts and bruises the storm had left her with, carefully giving her sips of water from one of their flasks. Then he settled himself down on the other sleeping roll next to her and took a deep breath, centering himself. He cast out his senses, Looking for signs of life around them.
Suddenly, he Saw a monkey, its small flare of light bright against a landscape of dark shadows and swirling wind. Startled, he lost his grip on his Sight, seeing only the physical landscape again, the sky bruised and sickly green and the wet desert earth a glossy red mud. A monkey? Shaking off his surprise at the incongruousness of its appearance, Doren Looked again, seeing the monkey moving slowly through the rocks about a league and a half away, up the Paving, in the direction of the storm. It was small and its aura was weak as though it were injured, but it was clearly a monkey.
Resisting the urge to shake Valla awake, Doren observed the creature, scanning further out but seeing no other signs of life. Monkeys were not endemic to the desert or any of the neighboring biomes and could not survive the conditions of the Paving alone. If it was here, that meant there were also people somewhere. It was a little odd that neither he nor Valla had noticed a caravan nearby, although neither of them had scanned much more than a league ahead as the storm had moved closer, focusing more on the disaster bearing down on them than on the path ahead. As Doren Looked, searching for any people he might have missed, straining his Sight to look further than he normally could, Valla stirred next to him.
“Where…” she murmured, turning her head towards Doren and opening her eyes.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, his attention still on the path ahead.
She took a moment to answer. “Could be worse. Are you – is your head alright?”
For a moment, Doren was somewhat pleased at her concern, but he quickly shook the feeling off. “Fine. Thank you. I’m not sure how we survived. You - ” he stopped himself before saying something about her power, how odd it was. He found he wasn’t ready to start that particular conversation yet, and regardless, if she had been honest about her memory loss, she might not even know what she was or why her power was so strange. They had more immediate concerns. He opened his mouth to explain what he was doing, but she beat him to it – perhaps trying to change the subject.
“I didn’t see any caravans nearby before the storm hit. The Paving was empty except for us for leagues.”
“I didn’t either, but there might be some within a half-day’s travel still. We should look.”
Valla started to speak but must have Looked as well, cutting herself off mid-question. “Which way should we – oh. Is that?”
“Yes. It’s a monkey.” Doren answered flatly.
After a pause, Valla sighed. “Let’s go get the monkey, then.”
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