Page 83 of Swords of Soul and Shadow
Zeke had always been the one who could diagnose conditions like that; Jove had just made a good practice patient. Still, he’d picked some things up through experience. Pain lanced up his side with every breath—a bruised or cracked rib—and he was pretty sure he’d done something to a few of his fingers. He didn’t have the courage to lift up his hand and inspect them.
He’d rather delay seeing them bent at gnarled, unnatural angles.
He was still alive. His mother wouldn’t lose another child, yet. That was what mattered for now.
At least, he hoped she hadn’t lost another child. But who in the stars could say where Kase was?
“Will you help me sit up?” Jove tried to shove himself up using his only working arm, but the strain of his muscles pulling at all his broken parts made his eyes tear up.
His mother cupped his face with one hand. “You need to stay still, baby. Moving might make things worse.”
Pre-fatherhood Jove would’ve balked at the endearment, but with Samuel still missing, he didn’t bother correcting her. He understood too well. If they all survived this, he’d never let Samuel leave the house until he was at least forty-five.
And if he was honest, even at Jove’s very mature age of nearly twenty-six…for a moment, it was nice to be taken care of by his mother.
“We have to find a way out of here,” he groaned. “Can’t do that lying down.”
She folded her hands in her lap. “I’m sure they’ll send someone to fetch us soon.” She looked around the cavern. Jove couldn’t see where the other light was coming from. It was odd. But a new wave of pain set his leg twitching, forcing him to close his eyes against it. After a moment, the wave dissipated.
She was right. He couldn’t move another inch. Not until some of the pain subsided.
“I know a few cave plants and mosses that might help your pain and speed your healing if I can find them,” his mother said from somewhere above him.
Jove’s eyes popped open. “But your ankle—”
“—Will feel better once I put someprunella vulgarison it.” She smoothed his hair once more. “Don’t worry about me.”
Prunella what?
Jove gave in. He wasn’t in any state to argue, let alone stop her from going and finding whatever she needed. Had he not been in so much pain, he might’ve insisted he do the foraging—but then again, Jove had never cared much about plant life. He’d probably pick something lethal by accident.
He couldn’t see her anymore. Every now and then, he’d hear a small grumble, but he couldn’t quite make out what she was saying.
The longer he lay there staring up at the hole, his pain pulsing with the beat of his heart, he couldn’t help but wonder how he’d even gotten here in the first place.
How far he had fallen…literally. He’d somehow been promoted to High Guardsman not even a year ago, and now he found himself in a cavern deep within the planet, unable to move without vomiting or nearly blacking out, letting his mother fuss over him and wander around a potentially hazardous space alone.
He couldn’t see well enough to tell what lay around him…and on second thought, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know. He and his mother couldn’t be the only ones down here. She’d mentioned multiple cave-ins.
Though it hadn’tfeltlike a cave-in. In the moments leading up to the accident, he recalled the ground beneath him flying up into the sky, like a rug ripped out from under him by some vengeful beast. How that was even possible, Jove didn’t know.
Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe his mind was going after everything he’d been through in the last twenty-four hours. Maybe he’d finally leapt off the brink into insanity.
He didn’tfeelinsane, though. His mind was sound, and he felt very much the pain his body was in. Granted, he didn’t think people with unstable minds thought they were unstable. But what other explanation was there?
Chunks of the planet didn’t just soar into the sky.
“Oh, dear!” his mother exclaimed in a panic, interrupting his thoughts. Jove tried to turn his head in her direction, but the pain nearly made him black out. He heard a scuffling sound, still far away. “Here, I’ll give you some of this. It’ll stop the bleeding and—”
Another raspy, low voice replied, “Just…the dust…my pouch…sprinkle it on my face and chest.”
The accent. Yalven. A man, Jove was sure, though he still didn’t quite trust his ears…or any of his senses, really. But he sounded so much like Saldr, if younger.
Someone else was down here, after all.
A few heartbeats later, the Yalv began to sing softly. Jove couldn’t even begin to translate the words. He knew enough to read some of the more modern dialect, but the spoken word was something else entirely.
A brilliant glow lit the chamber as the man’s song died off. Jove closed his eyes against the light, but that only made his head spin harder.
