Morning had come. Suvan was sleeping under the tarp, her head resting on the weeds. Last night I had pulled the arrow from her calf, and she didn't even let out a whimper. I knew I would have screamed like a baby. Afterward, I had bound the wound tightly with an extra rag from her knapsack. There was little I could do but hope that the Mutan arrow tip had not been poisoned. Without a word, she had fallen into a fitful sleep as I ran my hand gently along her back as if petting a cat.
I took this moment to reconnoiter where we were. With the sword in hand, I began following the edge of the thin stream. At one time it must have been a large river since the ancient sandy banks were still evident. In the middle of the water, I could see a hulk of a small sailboat half-buried in the stream bed. The shore on the other side had a row of ruined buildings, their empty windows staring at me with silent foreboding. It was quiet here, but I still felt as if I was being watched.
As I walked along the meandering bank of this depleted river, I saw that the path of the water was curving. Perhaps we were on a small island. After a few minutes, my suspicions turned out to be correct when I came back to the bridge that we had first crossed last night. I followed the path inwards and found Suvan where I had left her. She was still sleeping, and since the Mutans were still nowhere to be seen, I decided to take the time to investigate the interior.
Here the trees and weeds grew thicker, forming a natural wall against trespassers. A rabbit jumped out of the underbrush and ran out of sight, reminding me that I still hadn’t eaten this morning. I was getting tired of dried lizard, and the thought of fresh rabbit stew made my mouth water. Ignoring my rumbling stomach, I pressed on, forcing my way through a tangle of branches by using the sword to cut through the bramble.
A few dozen feet in there was a weather-stained concrete wall here, standing about twice my own height and ending on top with a flat roof which was thick with growing plants. The length of the wall went on for some twenty feet and was only broken by three small windows. Remarkably, the glass was still intact and glazed with grime. Peering inside, I couldn't see anything but darkness. Continuing onward, I slashed at the undergrowth. I followed the edge of the wall until I got to the corner. Here the entangled branches lessened and I was able to progress with less hindrance. I found another wall here with a wide metal door set into the wall. By some miracle, the door was still white even though there was no sign of paint. A hard rap with my knuckles revealed a hollow space behind the metal but I saw no obvious means of egress.
Frustrated, I continued my examination of this side of the building. Beyond the metal door, there was another corner. Once I went past this, I found a large attached concrete building with a series of unbroken but dirty windows, and a set of steps that led to a regular-sized door. This place looked like a home, but certainly unlike any house I had ever seen before. It was enormous at two-stories high and must have belonged to some wealthy man who was now long dead.
I felt like a trespasser to a tomb.
Not wanting to break the windows to gain entry, I climbed the stairs and tried the door. It was locked. This door was made of the same rust-free material as the other, but I put my shoulder hard into it. The hinges pulled easily away from the wooden frame, and the door fell inside with a crash, causing a plume of dust to rise from the floor. It was dim inside, but there was just enough light to see. I cautiously entered, feeling as if I should pay my respects to the dead.
The floor was covered with a thick inch of dust, while from the ceiling hung a thick tapestry of cobwebs. Hanging across the windows were the moth-holed remnants of curtains, the light from outside dimmed by years of dirt. There was also a sofa with legs that had collapsed to the floor and two chairs that faced a dusty gray panel attached to the wall. An opening, across from the front door, led to another room. Apart from the natural decay of time, the house still looked remarkably intact. With the concrete construction and closed egresses, the elements never had a chance to do their destructive work.
Deciding this was a good place to hole up until Suvan had a chance to heal, I returned to her. I found that she was awake, looking apprehensive from the sound of my footsteps until she saw it was me.
“I thought you left me,” she whispered weakly.
I looked fondly at her. “I couldn't do that to the girl who saved my life.”
“I have to apologize,” she said with a trace of embarrassment.
“For what?”
“I didn't think you could fight, but you fought those four Mutans and won.”
I shrugged. “It was nothing. Anyway, I had a little help from you. But we have to get you off of that ground so you can heal up. I found a house where we can stay.”
She looked perplexed. “A house? Here on the island?”
“It was hidden in the undergrowth. It's in remarkably good shape with an intact roof. It will be a good place for you to rest until you are ready to go on.”
“I have been to this island before to get water, but I never suspected there was a house here.”
“Neither has anyone else. Other than my hotel, I've never seen such an intact building of the Ancients. There is even furniture inside that we can use.”
Her eyes were alive with curiosity. “Take me there,” she demanded.
I gently picked Suvan up, cradling her in my arms. She rested her head against my shoulder, her breathing quick and shallow. I carefully carried her to the house, vainly trying to keep the branches from striking her. Inside, I spread the tarp on the ruined sofa and then placed her on top.
Suvan looked over the room, her eyes wide as she marveled at the artifacts. “In all my visits to the cities, I’ve never seen a home of the Ancients that was not looted or ruined. It’s a miracle that this has escaped notice for so long.”
“Perhaps the builder of this place made it that way on purpose. It is our good fortune that he did. I don’t think the Mutans even know of this place.”