Page 28 of Code Bound
“Funny isn’t the word I’d use,” I grumble, tucking the pocketknife into my pocket rather than my inventory. I want to be able to reach it faster. It’s not as nice as the one Dox had given me before, and certainly not as sharp, but at least it’s something.
The Secret Abyss isn’t much different from the Whispering Canopies, at least not yet. I assume that’ll change once we enter the caves. At least we’re not being chased by howler monkeys, but there are an unlimited number of bugs and critters we encounter. Most of the time, they just skitter off too fast for us to make out what it is. Some of them are so fast, the description window doesn’t even have time to pop up, so I live in slight fear of what horrible things we’re crossing paths with without even knowing.
The headache starts to get worse once we get closer to the far wall and see the openings of caves. I blink first, trying to clear the rising pain, but eventually, I start to squint and have to shade my eyes. It’s just so fucking bright here. While Dross is also bright, we’re shielded from the worst of it by the buildings and it’s a red-toned brightness. Here, even though the sun is clearly moving now that I’m thinking about it, the light that streams through the trees is bright white. I hadn’t realized just how strained my eyes were until the headache started relentlessly slamming against my skull.
We reach the other side and slip just inside the entrance of the cave. I sigh at the darkness of the tunnel, my headache easing minutely.
“This is going to be difficult to move around in the dark,” I say, taking a step closer and nearly tripping over a small purple bag. “Whoa!” I swing my arms to get my balance back and frown down at the bag. “What’s this?”
The bag is half buried in the dirt, clearly old by the looks of it. It appears to have been partially buried a long time ago, the material worn and practically useless. When I hover my hand over it, a small icon appears that says, “lootable.” I squat down and tug the bag open. The mud keeps me from opening it completely, so I yank on it until it rips from the soil, pieces of it staying behind. I upend the bag and dump everything out, figuring that would be faster than digging around in it and further tearing it. Four items fall onto the ground in front of me.
Locke squats down beside me and picks up one of the items, what looks like a small jar. His eyes squint as he reads the description of the item out loud.
“Healing Ointment: potion, weak. You got hurt, bozo. Spread this on the wound for some relief.” He sighs. “Why does it feel like that description is a direct attack on me?”
“Because it probably is,” I reply, picking up another item. It’s a cord with a small, silver medallion on it. There’s nothing inscribed on the medallion, but there’s a small yellow stone in the center of it.
Sunlight Medallion:token, weak
Are you afraid of the dark? Don’t panic! Just say, “light,” and this medallion will provide ample light up to ten meters. It can be recharged with the sun or by paying ten XP points. Effect lasts for one hour.
“Well, this is fucking handy,” I say, looping it over my head.
There’s another arrow—I have four now—and a scrap of cotton fabric. I tuck both into my inventory and check how full I’m getting. At some point, I’ll start having to drop things that are less important if I fill up.
“Let’s go,” I say, tapping my new medallion. “Light.” A soft yellow glow starts to emanate from the medallion and I grin. “See? Handy,” I tell Locke.
His brows rise and he leans in, studying the medallion. “Interesting magic.”
“Science,” Cipher corrects for the both of us. “Solar power was invented thousands of years ago by humanity. I only perfected the design.”
“Still magic,” Locke grumbles and steps into the cave first.
“We should use the potion on your bite,” I point out, holding out my hand for it. Locke hesitates, but passes the small jar into my hand and turns his back to me. He shrugs his shirt over his head and stands, waiting for me to apply the medicine, trusting me not to knife him once given the chance.
I don’t immediately move. At first, I simply notice just how muscled Locke is. Like most in Dross, there isn’t much fat on him. Fat is a luxury only afforded to those rich in resources, and for ninety-nine percent of Dross, that isn’t possible. So that doesn’t surprise me. But muscle is also difficult to build there due to the lack of ample protein. Locke is heavily muscled on his back, which tells me that he was a great Spine Jacker, a well-paid one that then used his strength for finding better resources. But still, that isn’t what makes me pause.
It's the scars.
Locke’s back is riddled with long pink scars crisscrossing his entire back. There are too many to count, each leaving behind a raised pink line. Some of the tattoos he has are interrupted by the scars, while others are fresher than the pink lines, covering bits of them up. All of the lines are different shades, telling me that some are newer than others.
“You going to put it on?” Locke asks. He clears his throat when I still hesitate. “Vesper?”
“Right,” I say, jerking my eyes off the scars and looking down at the jar. “Sorry.”
I unscrew the lid and dip some of the paste out. The large bite wound is on his right shoulder, just between where his neck and shoulder meet. It’s crusted with blood and bruised all around it, the bite itself is a bit moist where it’s starting to seep. Clearly, the wound has been hurting for a while, but he hasn’t complained once.
“This looks pretty deep,” I say, wiping some of the paste around the top of the bite wound. He flinches, but doesn’t pull away. “You haven’t said anything about it hurting.”
“What good does it do to make it your problem, too?” he asks. He doesn’t flinch again as I put more paste on, as if he’s steeled himself against the pain.
“We’re a team,” I remind him. “You should let me know when you’re hurting.”
I finish putting it on and close the lid.
Locke turns to look me in the eyes and I get a look at all the tattoos across his skin. “Are we?” he asks, watching me carefully. “A team?”
I shrug. “I think so. We’re watching each other’s backs. That’s what teams do.”
