Two-Thirds Blue

Chapter Fourteen: Smoke and Ash

Dusk opened his eyes. A searing headache gripped him for several moments until it steadily waned. Above him, he saw an unfamiliar stone ceiling that flickered with the orange glow of a lantern. Then again, it could have been an entirely familiar stone ceiling, and he would never have known the difference. There was not much variety to be had when it came to the topic of stone ceilings. Was he at the Resistance?

He decided to consider more immediate matters, taking a moment to assess his physical state. He was lying on his back with a blanket over him, which was welcome, considering the slight chill in the air. His head, resting on a pillow, had settled down and was in the process of easing into painlessness. The rest of his body had no soreness or stiffness he could detect. He seemed to be healthy.

His mind suddenly showed him an image of a battlefield. Rozkod and branik were everywhere, blotting out his vision and carpeting the ground. For a moment he wondered why he'd imagined that particular scene, and then he realized it was a memory. A recent one.

It started coming back. He and Onyx had left the Resistance in search of Rade, Syk, and Eclipse. They'd arrived at a rozkod camp in an abandoned village. Gozack. The branik. And then–

He sat bolt upright and pulled up his shirt. Three thick scars marred the right side of his chest. The skin around them was red and irritated as though he'd been burned. The sight of the wounds triggered his memory of the battle. The branik had practically crushed him underfoot. He remembered feeling like he was suffocating, the taste of blood, and that horrible cold. Like he was dying. But after that, nothing. His memory went blank. What had happened after the branik took him down? How had he been healed from what was surely a fatal wound? There was no way he could have survived that.

"So you're awake."

He jumped in surprise and twisted around to see who had spoken. A rozkod sat languidly in a chair behind him. He jumped again and began to clamber to his feet until he realized who it was.

"Oh. Gozack. Hi." He sat back down. "Sorry, you're just... Well..."

"A rozkod."

"I was going to say 'startling,' but yeah."

"You need not soften your words when speaking to me. It won't bother me."

"You sure?"

"Quite."

Dusk tried to read Gozack's expression, but he had none. He decided to take the chance. "I've watched rozkod kill people my whole life. And I've been training to kill you since I was about ten." He paused and rethought his words. "Not you specifically. Rozkod."

Gozack nodded. "I understand. It's rational."

"So, quick question."

"Yes?"

Dusk pulled up his shirt again and pointed at the scars. "What happened?"

Gozack's brow creased. It was an uncommon insight into his thoughts. "You don't remember?"

"I remember the fight. The branik attacked me. But after that, I don't know. I must have blacked out or something." He shook his head. "It should have killed me. How am I alive?"

"I don't know," Gozack said. "No one does."

"What are you talking about?" Disturbed, he rubbed his eyes and looked around. He was in a small room with stone walls, the blocks cracked and mossy with age, roots protruding from between them. A lantern flickered in a rusty bracket on the wall. To his left was a doorway, a flap of cloth concealing whatever lay beyond.

"Where are we?"

"An old temple under a hill. Syk and Rade said you've been here before."

Now he remembered. The ruins. Back from when the world made sense. "And where are the others? Is everyone okay?"