Page 17 of Season of Naga: Volume 2
Vessan-Kar feels impossibly distant. I picture its glowing keh'shali tunnels, sacred chambers carved with our ancient histories, and palace spires like predator fangs reaching toward the cavern ceiling. The youngest learn to swim in luminous pools before they can slither. My people do not know what betrayal comes for them from within and without. I have failed them.Failed to expose the worms, to reach the Sovereign, and failed a warrior's most basic duty. To die with purpose.
The shed darkens around me as night deepens, or perhaps my vision is failing. I cannot be certain anymore. My tongue flicks out weakly, sampling the air from habit rather than intent. The fragrance of night-blooming flowers mingles with my blood. So unlike Vessan-Kar’s familiar mineral tang. I will die amid foreign scents, under a sky I barely glimpsed after centuries below, far from the toxic clouds spawned by the humans' weapon.
A sound penetrates my haze. Faint at first, like a pebble striking water far below. Then again, more distinct. Knocking. A voice, soft but insistent.
"Lurok."
My eyes flutter open, though I do not remember closing them. The voice comes again, on the opposite side of the door.
"Lurok. It's me. Serin."
The human female. I should respond, but my voice feels trapped in my throat, crushed beneath the weight of pain and encroaching darkness.
"Please," her voice wavers, "please answer. It's Serin. Please... please be alright."
The genuine concern in her tone reaches through my fog. Strange that a human would fear for a naga's life. Stranger still that I find comfort in it.
With effort, I drag myself toward the door. My tail scrapes timber, loud in the cramped shed. The heavy soil sack blocks my path. Every movement costs pain and precious strength. My good arm trembles as I pull forward. Blood seeps from reopened wounds. I bite back a hiss as my weight shifts, straining my dislocated shoulder.
"I am here,” I manage to rasp, the words barely audible even to my own ears.
It takes three attempts to move the soil sack enough to create an opening. My claws scramble against the rough burlap, leaving tears in the fabric as fine soil spills onto the floor. Finally, I hook my good arm around it and pull with the last reserves of my strength. It topples sideways, clearing just enough space for the door to open.
I collapse against the wall, chest heaving, vision swimming with black spots. The door creaks open, and Serin slips inside. Her face is pale, eyes wide with urgency. She kneels beside me without hesitation.
"We have to go tonight," she whispers, her breath clouding in the cool night air. "My father plans to collapse the tunnels of Vessan-Kar in five days."
Her words land like a physical blow. Only five days remain until my people are destroyed, crushed beneath the earth, and our mountain refuge. Time slips away with my remaining breath.
"Then we must leave now to warn them," I say, pushing myself straighter despite the agony that blooms fresh across my core. The movement sends a wave of dizziness through me. Internal bleeding, almost certainly. The spread of bruising across my abdomen confirms what I suspected.
Serin's eyes track the movement, concern flashing across her features. "You're worse than before," she says. "Your coloring has paled.”
I wave away her concern with my good hand. "I will keep until we reach Vessan-Kar."
It is a lie, and perhaps she knows it, but neither of us acknowledges the truth. A sense of hopelessness flares—some wounds cannot be bandaged with herbs and clean cloth. Yet resolve hardens within me: some damage runs too deep, but I will not die here, not before I deliver this warning.
I draw a ragged breath and force words through my pain. "The tunnel I came through is not far from here. Once we reach the collapse, we will have to find a way around." My voice sounds stronger than I feel, a warrior's instinct to mask weakness even as darkness threatens the edges of my vision.
“No. I have a better idea.” Her shoulders straighten with new resolve. "We can use the forgotten tunnel beneath my family's house.”
"You are certain it leads to Vessan-Kar?" I cannot help the skepticism that edges my tone.
"Positive,” she says. "It's our best chance. Your tunnel is collapsed, and we can't risk being caught by the Crownward Guard in the signal towers if we try to travel aboveground.”
I weigh our scant options: a wounded naga and a human woman crossing enemy ground. The odds are dire, but I will not linger here awaiting death while my people remain unwarned of annihilation.
"Agreed,” I say firmly, reaching a decision. "We take your tunnel."
"Are you sure you can travel?”She eyes my injuries doubtfully.
I push aside the screaming protest of my body, focusing instead on the need that transcends physical limitation.
"I can make it," I tell her, my voice deepening with determination.
She offers me support, wrapping a slim arm around my back. Pride dictates I refuse her help, but weakness wins out.
Her frame seems impossibly small beside my massive coils, yet she braces herself with surprising strength as I heave upward. Pain explodes through me and, for a moment, the shed dissolves into white light and searing agony. I lock my jaw against the scream building in my throat.
