Page 237 of Because the Gods Left

Iryana raced after him.

Chapter Forty-Seven

The ground of the tunnel was smoothed dirt with sections of small pebbles and mud. Iryana’s boots struggled for traction as she followed her uncle, slipping and sliding but unwilling to slow down. Her hands caught on the wavering blue-ice walls to keep from falling.

Please be okay, she begged her grandmother.

Iryana skittered to a stop when she entered one of the chambers. There were so many people, but all their voices were muffled and distorted. She stared at her grandmother.

Vesima Kleesolda was propped up on a bed of pine boughs. Her face was sickly pale, twisted in pain. Her right leg was rotated strangely. It was wrong to see the First of their clan in such a state. She had always been so strong, so infallible.

Hadima was crouched at their grandmother’s side, Misha helping her dig through what little remained of her supplies.

Hadima gave an order, handing a jar to Tonhald. Then she kept digging, muttering frantically to herself. Tonhald tipped the liquid into the First’s mouth but she was having trouble swallowing it.

Iryana tried to calm her breathing. Her clan needed her to be strong. Her sister would fix this. There were plenty of water-forged healers that could help her.

She turned to her uncle, who had stopped beside her. “What happened?”

He dragged his fingers through his beard and started to explain, but it still sounded subdued. She had to focus to make his words make sense.

“—and then she fell and we couldn’t get her back up. She told us to leave her, but we couldn’t. So, we picked her up and managed to get her this far and find Hadima and the others.”

“What’s wrong?” She didn’t want to distract her sister.

“Her hip is broken, and maybe some other bones.” He grimaced. “But Hadima thinks… something was damaged inside. That she’s bleeding... inside.”

Iryana paled, dragging her gaze back to her grandmother who was breathing in shallow pants and blinking up at the ceiling.

“Hadima can fix it, right?” Her voice was shrill.

Her uncle hesitated. “I don’t know.”

She reminded herself to ignore the fear, to do what had to be done for her clan, but everything she was supposed to do slipped away as surely as rain through her fingers.

Iryana crossed the last few steps toward her grandmother, the crowd parting to let her through. She sank to her knees across from her frazzled sister.

Hadima met her gaze. All she saw there was fear and Iryana couldn’t stand it, so she looked at her grandmother instead.

“First?” she called softly, leaning over. When she didn’t answer right away, Iryana tried, “Grandmother?”

The First’s eyes slowly dipped to her. Iryana’s heart pounded.

“Iryana,” she rasped.

“I’m right here. You’re going to be okay,” Iryana promised, just as much for herself as for her grandmother.

“I’m trying,” Hadima gritted out, face flushed despite the cold.

Iryana tried blotting at the sweat on her grandmother’s forehead, but it didn’t do anything.

As if the gods were playing a cruel trick on her, the mark on her chest started to pulse. She ignored it.

She kept glancing at Hadima, waiting for her to find what she was looking for, or start grinding ingredients together. But Hadima just grew increasingly frenzied. Until she snapped.

“I don’t have anything I need!” Hadima cried with frustration, chucking the bottle squeezed tight in her fist at one of the cave walls. It shattered in a spray of glass and brown liquid. No one even flinched.

Hadima heaved in breath after breath, shoulders rocking up and down. Misha reached over to comfort her, but Hadima just shook her off. They all stared at Hadima, as if waiting for her to bring their world down around them. Then she turned and looked behind them.