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Frankie is at his side in moments, getting to her knees beside him. I pace away and let her deal with him, raking my hands back through my hair as my fringe flares. I want to move on—I want to go back in time and ensure this didn’t happen.
I don’t want him to be hurt.
“Puta madre!” Frankie curses, shaking her head vigorously. “You’re still bleeding?”
“It bore through my scale,” Taraven says. “Took it clean off. I’m…takte!”
I look back at their mutual swearing to find him hiss out a breath as Frankie presses her hand over the wound. I’m still nervous about the enemy catching up to us, my heart pounding.
“Malix,come here,” Frankie commands. “I need you to put pressure on this while I find the medi-gel.”
“We should get inside,” I say. “It isn’t safe here.”
“We need to get him stable,” she argues.
“No,” Taraven cuts in. “Malix is right; we need to move.”
I scowl at Frankie as I duck to help Taraven to his feet again, looping one arm over my shoulders as she gets his other side. Together, we make our way toward the ruins, saying nothing.
Pillars rise up around us, growing taller as we head across the sand. Some are half-buried in white dunes, tilted haphazardly in a display of their strange architecture. It reminds me of the old city beneath Saga on Logos—vaulted angles and looming structures. There is even the remnants of a canal here, a trickle of water moving toward the temple.
“When they said ‘ancestral temple,’ I didn’t expect it to bethis,” Frankie says. “It’s huge—more like a city.”
“The…” Taraven sucks in a breath, wincing. “The ruins dot our system. We have one on every planet, but I thought they had already been studied. Shouldn’t be…anything here.”
“Stop talking,” Frankie says. “We need to get you sitting down.”
She exchanges a worried glance with me.
I just stare ahead.
We keep walking into the shadow of the ruins, then through a massive entrance. There had to have once been a door here, but now it’s fallen into crumbling rocks and metal, perhaps blasted through at some point long ago. I brace Taraven against my side as I reach for my pack, pulling out an algae bulb for Frankie’s benefit. I shake it a few times and it lights up green, illuminating our surroundings.
It looks…well, like an abandoned ruin. There’s nothing all that special about it, no corpses or runes or frightening creatures. Jokahn didn’t mention any natural perils, so I have to assume that we’re safe in that regard.
Right now, our biggest concern is Taraven.
She tilts her head and I follow her gaze to a tucked away alcove—a safe place to hide for a wounded animal. I try to shake off the thought as we lead Taraven that way, reminding myself that the Skoropi are meant to be near indestructible. Frankie gets him sitting down on the ground, leaning him against the wall as he winces.
Yes—he is still bleeding more than he should be. A steady trickle of red pumps out of the divot in his scales, spurting slightly in time with his pulse. Taraven looks horrible, his eyes squeezed shut, his full mouth pressed into a thin line.
Frankie pulls out her medical kit and finds a narrow light, then turns it on to shine it into the wound. Her brow furrows as she examines him, her breath leaving her in a short huff.
“There’s still something in there,” she says.
“The bolts,” Taraven says. “Something…Second House does…for maximum damage…”
“Part of the weapon dislodged once it was past your scales?” she asks.
“Yes,” Taraven nods. “Could be…could be poisoned.”
Frankie reaches out to take his hand, squeezing it tightly. “I’m going to save you,” she whispers, then turns to me. “Malix—can you hold this?”
I kneel beside her and take the light, keeping it trained on Taraven’s chest. I have never been squeamish, but I’m almost compelled to vomit. I can’t see him like this.
I can’t.
“Stay still,” she says, chastising me.
