The Haunted Way (Champions of the Crystal Book 5)

Chapter 3.2

Sabrina glanced anxiously out of the tiny portal, watching the swirling, pinkish clouds of the upper atmosphere of Pharo rush toward them at heart-stopping speed. She was beginning to seriously worry that the pod's maneuvering jets were malfunctioning and would not fire to slow them down as they approached the ground. As the idea gained credibility, she knew she had to try to bring Ford to a more alert state, but she wasn't sure how. He was in the grip of what looked like a high fever, his color high, his skin damp, and his unconscious movements restless.

Connections formed in her mind, and she pushed them away. She had no information about the effect of Pharon crystal on a Miahn, particularly such a sensitive one; it did no good to speculate about cellular breakdowns, irreversible damage, and their current distance from a specialized medical facility. Tirqwin survived. So will Ford, she told herself firmly.

Tirqwin didn't go down to the planet, her pessimistic side reminded her.

Shut up and let me think! she screamed at it.

"Ford?" she said softly, trying not to startle him. "Ford. It's me, Sabrina. I need to talk to you. Wake up, please." She bit her lip and tried to steady her voice. "Please."

He gave a faint moan, but she couldn't tell if it was meant as a response. She reached out and brushed damp strands of hair back from his face, her fingertips briefly resting on his temple.

A shout of pain and shock shot out of her as she yanked her hand back to clutch at her own head. She had a moment of panic as her vision blurred; then the pain faded, leaving her to stare at Ford, aghast. "Oh my God," she said, her voice breaking. "Is that...was that you?"

His voice was thin and dry, like wind through parched grass. "Sabrina." It was more of a sigh than a word, but she understood him. His hands twitched, then lifted from where they'd drifted helplessly since she strapped him in.

"Oh, thank God, Ford," Sabrina said, reaching out to grasp his searching hands. "Are you better? What can I do?"

He tugged at her hands, and she realized in horror that he was trying to lift them to his face again. "Ford, no. That...that really hurt," she said, squelching an inappropriate bubble of hysterical laughter at the understatement. "Please..."

His hands drifted in the weightlessness, then began dropping toward his seat. Sabrina suddenly understood that the planet's gravity was affecting them and knew she was running out of time. She swallowed hard, twice, then reached out and framed his face with her hands, glad he couldn't see how they shook.

This time the pain was more of a distant ache, as if something were holding it away from her so she wouldn't be engulfed. She couldn't feel Ford's mind, though. Then it suddenly occurred to her to wonder why she expected to. She wasn't a telepath, even a touch telepath. Their previous connections had been established by Ford.

She released his face gently and scooped up his hands, bringing his fingers to press against her own temples. She set her jaw against the expected onslaught of pain, so intent on protecting herself that it took her a moment to realize she was resisting the link she was trying to achieve. With a deep breath, she remembered her training on Allyria and slowly, hesitantly, opened her mind.

It had been two years since she'd felt Ford's mental presence, and that occasion was largely missing from her memory—a side effect of the mental block Malvarak had planted and that Ford had managed to break through. And his touch on Stanos had been so faint that she had been convinced at the time it was only her imagination. This was unlike either of those times.

She felt him seeping into her consciousness, pervasive but not invasive, rich yet light, as if she were a deep, thick carpet and he were a pot of honey spilled onto her. The process was irresistible once begun, holding the promise of unity, of safety, of loneliness forever banished. She let her thoughts drift alongside his, not quite touching, content.