Fated Blades (Kinsmen #3)(29)

He would have preferred something with four walls and a door, but it would have to do. At least the stranglers had braided themselves over the other entrance. It would cut down on wind.

Ramona dropped her bag and her rifle onto the stone floor. The rain had plastered her hair to head and face. She looked pale, her lips nearly white, and her blue eyes seemed huge and dark.

She hugged herself, shivering.

He had to get her warm.

Matias walked to the altar. About a meter and a half across, it was the same stone as the floor but polished to near glossy smoothness. He circled it, looking at the rim. There it was, a small sphere of stone embedded in the edge.

“I’ll be back.”

He turned and strode back out into the rain, half slid, half stomped his way to the nearest strangler column as thick as his leg, and knocked on it with his fist. Hollow. Perfect. He slashed with his seco. The trunk remained upright, held up by the fronds and vines above. He grabbed it and pulled. Wood snapped, and the hollow strangler broke free and fell, flinging mud into the air.

He grabbed it, strained, and pulled the severed tree toward the entrance. Ramona ran out of the temple and grabbed the other side, and they hauled it up the ramp and inside.

Ramona wiped rainwater from her face. “Brilliant plan. Except it’s wet and we have no way to burn it.”

“Oh ye of little faith. Do you know how to lay out a fire?”

She snorted at him.

Together, they cut the strangler into logs and arranged them in the altar basin, forming a rough pyramid with the small pieces in the center and larger logs outside.

Ramona stepped back and looked at him expectantly. “I’m waiting for a miracle.”

He dug in his bag, pulled out a small knife, and cut his arm.

“What are you doing?” She actually sounded concerned.

He held his arm over the sphere and squeezed the cut. A few drops of blood fell onto the stone. He crouched and pushed the bloodied sphere with his thumb, trying to twist it in its niche. It resisted. He pushed harder. The stone ball turned, carrying his blood with it.

Something clicked beneath the altar. A jade-green flame sprang from a hidden vent in the center of the basin and licked the strangler logs, and they ignited into a warm orange blaze.

Ramona stared at him. “How?”

“It’s a nephrytine flame with a trigger that reacts to human DNA and hemoglobin. It only lasts for about five minutes or so, but that’s all we need. Fire is a rare part of nature. Water runs freely, available to all, but to harness fire, a sacrifice is required. Technological progress begins with fire, and if one isn’t careful, one can bleed the planet dry to keep the fire burning.”

“How do you even know this?”

“My grandfather showed it to me when I was young. He liked learning odd things. Look at the smoke.”

She tilted her head, watching the thin column of smoke touch the ceiling of the temple and melt into it. “Is it being absorbed?”

He nodded. “The builders didn’t believe in wasting the energy. The dome stays at roughly the same temperature year around.”

“Fascinating.” She pulled a med kit from her bag. “Give me your arm.”

“It’s a scratch.”

“And we’re in the wilderness. It needs to be sterilized and sealed, otherwise it will get infected. And after I finish with your arm, we’re going to look at your leg.”

He gave her an outraged look. “My leg is fine.”

“Uh-huh. So you’re limping for fun?”

“I said—”

She reached for his left knee, and he jerked away and almost fell over.

“You’re being ridiculous,” she told him. “If your knee goes, I can’t carry you all the way to civilization. You are too large and too heavy. Give me your arm, and don’t make me repeat myself.”

He held his arm out and let her fuss over it.





CHAPTER 7


The rain kept pouring, unrelenting. Ramona watched it soak the forest steeped in night shadows. Here and there, bioluminescent moss and lichens glowed with faint silver and lemon yellow, tracing the bigger tree limbs. The soothing white noise of dripping water mixed with the crackling of logs in the fire. In this forest filled with rain and darkness, their temple was a dry oasis of warmth and light.

A couple of meters away, Matias slept on the ground under a thermal blanket. She’d rolled hers up and stuck it between the small of her back and the wall. Now she leaned against it, using the cushion to support her aching back. Her whole body felt like one giant bruise.

They had gone out into the rain again as soon as she sealed the cut on his arm and harvested some evaner limbs, slicing them into logs. Strangler burned hot and fast, great for an intense flash of heat but not good for sustaining fire. And they needed to keep it going, or they would have to cut themselves every time it went out.

They changed into dry clothes—she into a light exercise suit, loose shirt, and pants made of warm but breathable fabric, and he into a terrain combat suit that fit his powerful body like a glove. She had done her best not to stare.

They pooled their resources. Matias had managed to grab the crash kit from the aerial on his way out. It gave them two purifier bottles, two days of rations, thermal blankets, portable charger, first aid kit, and field wipes, for which she was eternally grateful.