The Silver Seamripper by T. J. Carroll

Author:T. J. Carroll [Carroll, T. J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9798398145939
Amazon: B0CGMBYWLR
Publisher: Independently published
Published: 2023-08-27T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 26

Sevlin left immediately to retrieve the rest of his weapons and supplies. His horse would be turned loose, with the hope that it would find its way back to civilization. Dashi could admit, to herself if not to Sevlin, that having him along was a relief. She’d dreamt of the taiga as she slept on the rocky shore: fingers made of mist and rats with putrid breath. The idea of traveling alone, injured and without weapons, would play in her nightmares for months to come. A breeze blew crossways from the river and Dashi shivered.

Sevlin’s absence gave her a moment of privacy and slowly, almost reluctantly, Dashi folded back her sleeve. At her first glimpse of the wound, a relieved breath escaped. The swelling had gone down some—her forearm no longer strained against the fabric—and, to her practiced eye, the cut left by the Yassari’s thorn had scabbed over nicely. Still, her arm throbbed, and not just from the cut itself. Gritting her teeth, Dashi tugged the sleeve up further, revealing the angry flesh, piece by piece. Her skin was a patchwork of shiny burns, the result of her handiwork with the lantern. Lines of green and black stretched from beneath the burns, winding and forking as they reached up toward her elbow. The plant. It’s still alive, was her first thought. It took her a moment to understand that the lines were still, not writhing and growing like they had been when the plant lived. She turned her arm, eyes tracing the disturbing sight. The lines followed her blood vessels, though she couldn’t discern a pattern in the black and green marbling. She pressed a finger against a particularly thick line. She’d expected a needle of pain, but it felt deadened.

She’d seen a wound turn septic before—a man she’d known in the leather circle had died from it—but this looked different. Maybe it was specific to the Yassari plant? They would have their very own brand of sepsis, Dashi thought bitterly. Wound salve, applied early and often, was a reliable cure for sepsis, and Dashi felt her worry drain away. Yet another reason to be glad Sevlin had found her when he did; he would have wound salve. Smoothing her sleeve down, she stepped up onto the boat’s gunwale, doing what she always did to assuage boredom and tension: moving. Her feet slid along the thin strip of wood, eyes forward, chin level. Look at what’s ahead, not at what might pull you down.

The boat shifted, settling under Sevlin’s weight.

“Weapons?” She spun to face him, still balanced on the side of the boat.

“Hello to you, too.” He wore his sword and carried a crossbow in his left hand. “I couldn’t take an extra crossbow from my delegation, not when they have so far to go to reach safety. But I do have this for you.”

He handed Dashi what was in his right hand: a sword, nearly as small and light as her own. Dashi pulled it from its scabbard, testing its heft against what she was used to.

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