Chapter Six
Ki woke to someone pawing at her face.
She screamed, the noise barely making it out of her sore and scratchy throat. With the precious little strength she had, she tried to fight them off.
“Ki, Ki, it’s me. Jackson. It’s Jackson.” He caught her hands and held them there. His fingers were soft around her wrists, barely brushing up against her bruised skin.
Mind still spinning, she shook her head, trying to dislodge the fog that surrounded her.
“We’re fine. We’re fine. Those soldiers are gone. We’re safe for now.”
She had lost consciousness too many times that day, and the effect of it was like a virus in her mind. She could hardly pay attention, but what little scrap of concentration she could grab, she used to focus in on his voice.
“We’re fine,” he tried to assure her again. “Just lie back. The effects of whatever they drugged you with will wane with time... hopefully.”
Despite the fact she had no idea whether she could trust him yet, she lay back down. Her body was simply too weak not to.
For the next several minutes she drifted in and out of a half-awake state. She heard him breathing, felt his body not far from hers, and eventually even noted the sensation of the sun warm against her cheeks.
It had to be day. So where had the night gone?
As her mind finally sharpened, she blinked her eyes open, a deep groan pressing through her throat.
“Don’t try to push yourself,” he warned, one of his hands pressing down lightly into her shoulder.
It was warm and despite the fact she knew who he was and what he’d done to her, it reassured her.
She almost wanted to bring up one of her own hands and lace her fingers through his, just to bask in the sense of that welcome reassurance.
She of course did not. Instead she lolled her head to the side to see him sitting a half-meter away, legs pulled up before him as he sat with his back pressed into a tree.
There was a gun by his feet, and she recognized it instantly as belonging to the Zeneethian scouts. In his hand he played with a white-backed device that sent a flickering blue glow over his face and hand as he played with it.
It too was Zeneethian. She had seen such devices before. The scientists that had held her captive for the past year always used them.
It made her shudder.
He looked up sharply. “I said don’t move. You’ve been through a lot.”
She waited for him to call her a Tarkan in a dismissive voice and tell her she’d deserved what she’d received. He did not. Instead his gaze darted back to the scanner in his hands and he continued to poke at it with a concentrated and thoughtful expression. “It’s incredible,” he muttered under his breath.
“You can use it?” she hazarded, watching him with as much attention as she could muster.
He shook his head after a pause, then he met her gaze, his expression keen. “But I’m working on it. I think I am beginning to understand this interface. It uses vectors to display incoming information. I’ve been able to change the radius of these scans using the controls,” his lips spread into a smile as he laughed, “I’ve even been able to scan inside things. I can see inside that tree. I can even see inside the leaves.”
There was a glow about him, an energy she had never seen. Wildly at odds with the usual anger he’d displayed, it buoyed her. Despite her best attempts to stop herself, she smiled along with him.
“I can even see inside you,” he brought the scanner around and waved it between them.
Now she recoiled, fighting against her lethargic limbs to bring up a hand to block him.
“It’s okay, it can’t hurt you... I think. No, I’m sure; those soldiers wouldn’t have used it on you unless it was safe. They’ve been prepared to go to extraordinary lengths to get you back alive.”
“Put that thing down,” she croaked.
“It looks like you’ve got heavy bruising to your left leg, around your middle, and over your feet,” he gulped as he spoke, his face flushing under the stubble radiating up his jaw.
Was that guilt at the bruises he’d helped to cause?
He shifted up, getting to his knees, still staring at the scanner.
She tried to hide behind her hand, even though it was painful to raise her arm.
“You show up as white, while everything else shows up as blue...” he trailed off as concentration crumpled his brow. Shifting towards her, still on his knees, his lips parted slowly. “It’s not you though... it’s something inside you.”
“What are you talking about?” alarm spiked through her, almost giving her enough energy to clamber to her feet.
“There’s something inside you. Some kind of device, no bigger than a fingernail, just under the skin of your left forearm. I think it’s releasing a radio signal. Something they’ve been using to track you. That’s how they found you at the farmhouse.”
“They saw the explosion,” she shook her head.
“No, they tracked you there. Just as they tracked you to the cabin. It’s the only explanation that makes any sense.”
She shivered back, her gaze drawing towards her left arm. Now she had no sleeves, she could see the flesh easily.
She didn’t want to believe him. Her whole escape plan had been predicated on the hope that by using the crystal she could get away from them. If they’d always been able to track her, it had been an empty and foolish hope.
Jackson finally lowered the scanner. His gaze shifted quickly to her arm then back to her face. For a man who usually bridled with anger, he looked hesitant and unsure. “We should remove it,” he hazarded.
She gave a quiet gasp, her breath shaking through it. “But—”
“If we don’t, they’ll continue to track us. If you ever want to get away, we have to remove it.”
She went to shake her head, but stopped. Instead she took a painful swallow, squeezing her eyes closed.
She brought her trembling fingers up and pushed them along her left forearm, looking for any hint of what he spoke of.
A device implanted within her arm that could let the Zeneethians track her. Years ago she would have thought such a tale wild and impossible. The last year had taught her how true it could be.
Wincing as she opened one eye, she nodded briefly.
He shifted forward. “It’s just under the skin, I promise.”
“Do you have a knife?”
He shook his head, expression so clearly filled with remorse it was as if he was a different man from the one who’d tied her to a chair. “I’ve found a sharp stone.” He produced a long, thin, sharp-edged rock from his pocket.
With unsteady hands, he brought it down to her arm. His skin was so pale he looked as though he was about to throw up.
How curious that the thought of dragging her barefoot through a hay field and lacerating her feet was nothing to this man, yet he now shook at the prospect of delivering another cut to her body.
Was he changing?
She wanted to stare up into his eyes to check, but with his face so close to hers, she felt too confronted, too exposed.
He lay the scanner beside him, staring at the picture on the screen as he grabbed her arm with the slightest, most tender of touches. Sucking his quivering lips in, he brought the rock down.
She tried to control her reaction, tried to block out the pain. A normal priestess could do it. Skilled in emotional suppression, this would have been child’s play.
She was no longer normal, and the past year had left its scars. Screwing up her face, she jerked her head to the side and tried not to scream. She felt the stone dig down, and couldn’t help but flinch against it.
Jackson tightened his grip, bracing her arm against his knee. “Nearly there,” he promised in a quaking voice.
With one more scrape he yanked the stone back. “Got it.”
She pulled her arm out of his grip and instantly closed her fingers around the wound. Though blood trickled easily through t
hem, she shifted to face him.
He was staring down at something in his hand. That look of deep concentration was back on his face, pulling down his lips and narrowing his eyes.
Gulping, he shook his head sharply. “Hold onto that wound. I’ll be back to tie it up. I just have to get rid of this first.”
“Jackson,” she tried to get to her feet to follow.
“I have to get rid of this. There’s a ravine a few meters to the west. I’ll throw it down there. It’s a pity to get rid of such incredible technology, but we need to get them off our tails.”
He turned and ran forward. Though his lope was uneven, he kept a healthy pace.
He would be injured, she realized as she leaned back, peeking down at the wound under her hand. Last night he must have fought the soldiers off all on his own.
Zeneethian scouts... how had he done it?
Before she could process that thought, he was back. Nodding at her, he leaned down beside her. “I’m going to rip off a section of your robe to tie the wound up. It shouldn’t bleed for long, but we need to keep it covered.”
Though her first reaction was to push him off, just as she’d done last night, she contained herself. At least he’d warned her this time.
Turning her head to the side, she did not watch as he used the same sharp stone to cut through the hem of her robe and pull off a long section of fabric.
She was aware that her move made him puff out a slight laugh. This time he did not follow it up with any insults though.
Maybe he really was changing.
Once he was done, he saw to her wound. He dabbed at it with some excess fabric, then produced some herbs from his pocket, crushed them, then packed them against the wound, wrapping them down with the long strip of her robe.
He was efficient, quick, and looked as if he’d done this multiple times before. She opened her mouth to say something, but stopped herself. Of course he’d done this before; he’d been in the war.
Resting back on his haunches, he took a deep breath, wiping his bloodied hands on his pants. “Those herbs are a natural analgesic, they also have antiseptic properties. You should be fine.”
Slowly she nodded.
A lot had just happened.
Jackson did not pause to catch back his breath though; he grabbed up the scanner and waved it in front of her again. Soon a satisfied smile spread his lips. He turned the scanner to his side, in the direction he’d gone to get rid of the device from her arm. “It’s worked,” he spoke through a laugh. “You’re no longer glowing white, which I assume is a real good thing. The scanner is locking onto the device all the way down that ravine instead. Let’s hope those boys in white make the same mistake.”
As he spoke, his accent became thicker. That twang that was so distinctive of the Ashkans deepened. It was almost as if he was letting himself go. As if he was finally dropping his guard around her.
“You strong enough to stand?” he nodded down at her, cheeks pushing up in a concerned smile.
Could she trust him? Would he turn on her again like he had last night when he’d been ready to force wine down her throat?
She watched him warily, and it was obvious he picked up on it. He stiffened, that smile drawing down slowly. “Look... I’m sorry about... everything.”
“I’m still a Tarkan,” she interrupted.
He nodded, not meeting her gaze. “I know,” he hesitantly looked up at her. “And I’m still an Ashkan. And those soldiers are still,” he ticked his head to the side, “whatever the hell they are.”
She still stared up at him cautiously.
“I fought in the last war,” he stood up, stepping back.
Feeling her cheeks pale, she readied for another volley. “I know that—”
“No. That’s not what I meant. Hear me out. I fought the Tarkans. I lost my fiancée to them.”
She felt cold as he spoke, and brought her hands before her, lacing her fingers tightly. “I’m not a soldier. I’m a priestess. I am not involved—”
“I said hear me out,” he interrupted again. “I have every reason to hate your people, and I do. But I’ve never had a reason not to... until now.”
She could have fallen over. If she hadn’t been seated, she would have stumbled. Feeling her face slacken with shock, she waited for him to take back what he’d just said.
“I know you’re not a soldier, Ki. I hope like hell you’re not a spy and this whole thing hasn’t been an act,” sighing heavily, he crossed his arms, “but I just don’t see how it could be an act. I’m a scientist now, not a soldier. I have to go on the facts as I see them, not what I’d like them to be.”
“Jackson, what do you mean?” she asked, her voice quiet and hopeful.
“That I’m going to trust you. For now. Don’t go selling me and my people out though, because—”
“You’ll drag me through a field and tie me to a chair?”
“I’m sorry about that. And no, I’m not going to tie you to any more chairs. I’m trying to hold out an olive branch here, but you’re not making it very easy.”
She raised an eyebrow, but stopped herself from snapping at his insult.
Something far too important was happening here. If it could be trusted, it appeared Jackson was softening to her.
She’d been almost entirely alone for the past year. The thought of having someone to rely on....
A tear pooled at her eye and trickled down her cheek. She hated herself for being this emotional, but she did not have the energy to fight it. Bringing her hand up, she clamped it over her eyes, hiding behind her crooked fingers.
“Ki,” he whispered, the surety gone from his voice, “why are you crying? Are you still in pain?”
“No. But you’ve given me an ultimatum, so it’s my turn to give you one.” She let her hand drop, not caring that her tears flowed freely and obviously. “If you make me trust you and you turn on me again....”
She couldn’t come up with a threat; she had no power to follow through with anything. All she could do was lock him in her watery gaze and try to make him understand how easily he could hurt her.
It was one of the most intense experiences of her life. Neither of them shared a word, but their expressions were enough.
Trust, or something like it, began to grow.
As the wind blew through the trees around her, bringing its biting chill along with it, she felt something shift. That tight energy of suspicion that had filled her gut since she’d fallen to earth yesterday morning began to loosen. It would take more, so much more, for her to fully trust this man. Yet for now she would try.