Praise for The Mask of Tamirella

Eric Hoffer Award Finalist

Indie Excellence Book Award Finalist

Hollywood Book Festival Honorable Mention

“Perhaps Dana was writing for the teenage audience, but she manages to capture us all in her timeless novel The Mask of Tamirella. She writes about life in a post-apocalyptic world that is a clear and present danger in today's society…a very good read.”

~ Barbara Patterson, KFHX Radio, Mornings with Barb

“The magic of this tale lies in the straightforward narrative and the authentic, witty dialogue...enchanting, informative...a wonderful adventure story.”

~ WriteWords

“Dana Davis is an incredibly talented writer. Davis does exceptionally well creating a strong sense of place for her novel...a quick read that packs a great deal of action and excitement for young adult readers.”

~ Bards and Sages

Other tween/teen books by Dana Davis:

Breach of Worlds

Quest for Freedom

The Mask of Tamirella

Dana Davis

Copyright 2006 by Dana Davis

All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher and/or author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, incidents, organizations and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

PUBLISHING HISTORY

iUniverse edition published 2006

SynergEbooks edition published 2010

Kindle Direct edition published 2014

Cover art by Laura Redman

Printed in the U.S.A.

For my husband, Darryl,

who never doubts my abilities.

Acknowledgments

Special thanks to my parents and siblings: Maurice, Diane, Jamie and Dawn.

I would also like to thank the following for their encouragement and support

in the production of this book:

Sheila Finch

Suzanne Greenberg and the CSULB English Department

Marilyn McGrath

Tara Kirkland-Rainey and Rob Rainey

Chapter 1

The Getaway

Something moved in the darkness ahead and Caitlanna froze. Several curses rested on her lips but she kept silent. Had she been discovered? The movement grew closer and her heart pounded in her ears. Dizziness threatened and she pressed one dirty hand against the cave wall to steady herself. If she extinguished her clay lamp, could she see well enough to get away from an attacker? Would he turn her in before he raped her? Probably not. Her father’s sword rested against her back and she shifted it, the heaviness reassuring her. She had let the others believe she knew how to use it.

When a ratmouse scrambled past her with a noisy piece of something glimmering from its teeth, she let out a relieved snicker, and wondered whether she could keep her composure much longer. She ignored the pile of useless jewels and reached a shaky hand into the crevice. Her heart thudded against her ribs.

Concentrate. Don’t drop it. You can do this.

She pushed sweat and stray hairs from her brow with the single swipe of her arm and withdrew the treasure from its tiny tomb. Lamp light reflected on the face looking back at her. The Mask of Tamirella. It was here, just as her father had suspected. She forced her hand steady as she clasped the famed artifact and drew it from its time-rotted box.

Caitlanna cradled the find as a new mother would hold her infant. So small was the Mask, barely as large as her hand, and the pale features as delicate as a young child’s. She fingered the ancient, brittle material and wondered at such craftsmanship. Tears flooded her eyes, blurring her vision. She blinked hard and wished that her father had lived to see this. He’d searched his entire life for the Mask only to meet his premature death in a cave-in.

The others from Cait’s excavation group had gone to camp for the night and she was alone, grateful that the threat of rain had forced them to make camp on elevated ground some distance from this site. No one would hear her, she hoped. If they found her out, they might let her go because she wasn’t yet a full-grown, but she would be beaten for stealing, of that much she was certain. She might not be full-grown but men noticed her developed body, slim as she was. And, as further punishment, every man here would probably take pleasure with her before they released her. The Shore Sanction didn’t have the best reputation. She fought a shiver and reassured herself that she was alone.

Fear of the cursed artifact tempered many local archaeologists into remaining far away from this entire area, but Caitlanna didn’t buy into all that curse stuff. Mutants, dagbeasts, illness, hunger, those existed. Curses were fables of the ignorant. Her father had taught her well and this find would bring a good price, not to mention a possible promotion from striker status to finder.

Carefully, she wrapped her treasure in a ragcloth and placed it in a wooden box that had been padded with straw. Her fingers traced the carved initials in the top of the box, FHM, her father and first primary caregiver, Finder Hendrake Mullen.

“I found the Mask,” Cait uttered in the damp quiet of the cave. Her father’s image popped into her mind, almost void of features now. She fought a sigh that she’d forgotten what he looked like. Her tunic clung to her sweaty body and she adjusted it before taking up the clay, fat-burning lamp. A noise outside caught her ears and her heart sprinted. She waited a moment, shielding the lamp light from the cave entrance, but no one came inside.

Once her heart calmed, she headed out into the hot, stagnant night with the lamp in one hand and the box under her arm. She took in a long breath of sea air. It smelled of rain. The rise and fall of waves met her ears. Graypony drank from the makeshift trough just outside. He whinnied once, as though to scold her for sneaking up on him. When she smoothed his rump, he turned back to his water.

The full moon glimmered off the sea and gave off enough light to make out the landscape. Caitlanna scanned the shadows for danger. No one seemed to be around and she relaxed. Thankfully, no one had noticed she was missing from her blankets.

Why would they? Unless one of the men decided to take her for his pleasure and found her tent vacant. She hastened her movements.

A smile touched her lips as she placed her father’s box in the large saddlebag. She extinguished the lamp, secured it in an empty saddlebag compartment and mounted. With one last look at the cave, she urged Graypony over the next hill, toward the cliffs.

“Let them think I died out here.” She dropped her headscarf over the cliff and into the deadly sea below, tossed a spare saddlebag next and watched the shadows as it knocked rock and debris loose, before catching on a branch somewhere below. The chasm was deep and the jagged rocks would discourage a search. A human body could easily be swept away by the angry sea or torn apart by the giant fish that had survived into Caitlanna’s time. “Looks good, Cait, my dear.” She felt much better now that she was on her horse. She flipped her frazzled braid behind her back as she scanned the night sky. Menacing clouds formed in the west, obscuring the stars, and she knew the rain would wash away her tracks before dawn.

She squeezed her legs into the horse’s sides and rode in the opposite direction of the camp. The eastern sky was clear and welcoming. Graypony carried her toward a twinkling mass of stars near the horizon. Now that most of the danger was over, Cait fought to keep the laughter from escaping her lips as she galloped into the night.

Two hours passed before she felt safe enough to stop and rest. She’d beaten the rain and wanted a protected place to make camp. After a few moments of searching the map, her father’s map, and the only one that existed for this neutral area between the sanctions, she located the hidden cave between the borders of Shore Sanction and her own Mountain Sanction.

Stories she’d heard as a child told of ancestors who lived in these caves after The Great War. They had powerful weapons that destroyed nearly all of the people on her world. That was ancient history and Caitlanna wanted what others wanted, artifacts from that lost civilization. Some artifacts, like The Mask of Tamirella, brought a handsome profit. Her hand rested briefly on the saddlebag before she dismounted. And I found it.

The shadowy mass across the basin seemed to leer at her. She’d deliberately kept her distance from the mutant forests. Mutant tales had been part of her world since she could remember. Tales of how mutants killed healthies like Caitlanna and sacrificed the body parts to their gods, hoping to rid themselves of deformity and disease. They never ventured beyond their forests, though, and that gave her some comfort. She’d heard no dagbeast howls, either. The ancients smiled on her tonight, perhaps guided her on this quest.

She secured Graypony to one of the few trees near the cave then gathered kindling and lit a small fire. With her saddlebag and blanket, she bedded down just inside and cursed herself for jumping at every little sound, until sleep finally took her.

In her dream, her father squatted alongside her on her first dig, and she held up the beads and pottery shards she found. “You’ve done well,” Hendrake said.

Caitlanna smiled. When she realized she could no longer make out his features, she jolted awake, tears running down her face. Graypony’s presence calmed her and she finally slept again, this time without dreams.

When dawn came, she fed Graypony, ate a quick mornmeal and headed farther into to the mountains, grateful the dagbeasts stayed away.

No one else traveled the mountain trail today, which didn’t surprise her since the next dig hadn’t been decided on, and she was appreciative not to have to explain her stolen Shore Sanction clothing in an attempt to convince her own people she belonged here. Her heart skipped as she approached the final trail toward sub-sanction M3.

Although every full-grown watched over children, Hendrake’s sister had been Caitlanna’s primary caregiver since the man’s death two years ago. The woman would undoubtedly be livid, and Caitlanna didn’t look forward to the punishment she would get for running away. One hand slipped behind her to feel the saddlebag. The profit and promotion from The Mask of Tamirella would be well worth whatever punishment Marjordan would mete out. At least, she hoped that would be the case.

Caitlanna was young, just sixteen, but her training had been intense under her father’s guidance. Her skills were as good as any finder but her age kept her at striker status. That burned in her gut like an under ripe apple. She wanted to locate and remove artifacts for profit, not just do the manual digging labor while someone else took the credit and most of the earnings. She didn’t intend to wait three more years for her finder title. The ancient ones had smiled on her so far.

Smoke from the chimney fires told her that she was almost home. Each wooden structure, built in imitation of the ancestor houses, was large enough for two primaries and several children. She urged Graypony over the last climb, where homes and gardens monopolized the immense clearing. Her eyes darted around for her primary but she didn’t see the woman. A new kind of fear settled in her gut and she wondered whether coming home was such a good idea.

Oh, don’t be stupid, Cait. P-Marj would never hurt you. Well, not permanently anyway. She forced a smile as she slowed Graypony to a walk.

A male figure in leather tunic and leggings made his way toward her from a nearby house. A straw hat sat cockeyed on his head and she recognized Quinpatrik. The man had become full-grown and received finder status just a winter ago. He wore his shoulder-length hair down today, its color a couple of shades lighter than Caitlanna’s.

Thankful that he was the one to greet her, she offered a huge smile. “Ho, Quin,” she said, forcing her voice steady.

“Cait! Where have you been? Marjordan is going to have your hide, girl.” There was no humor on his face. If Quinpatrik had lost his smile, then she was in more trouble than anticipated. He took Graypony’s reins then pulled Cait from the saddle and she landed hard on her feet. “What’re you doing in those Shore Sanction clothes?” he said in a dangerous voice. “Someone could’ve taken a sword to you by mistake.” He pulled her toward her home with one hand and led Graypony with the other.

“I found it, Quin.” Cait tried very much to detain him. Even with punishment lurking ahead, she had to admit, she liked Quin’s touch. They’d known each other since childhood but she was closer to full-grown status, only three years now. Quin was already nineteen and still saw her as a child. But perhaps she could change his mind over the next three years. Nothing that would get him into trouble, of course. Just subtle reminders that she wasn’t as much of a child as he thought.

He gave her a sideways glance. “Found what?”

“The Mask of Tamirella. I found it. Where my father suspected it might be.” According to her father’s journals, he’d supposed the Mask lay in one of several places. Shore Sanction had been the closest area, though one of the more dangerous, that Caitlanna could have searched.

Quinpatrik stopped. “So that’s what you’ve been up to?” His blue eyes evaluated her.

“Yes.“

“It’s Cait!” one of the younger children cried from a nearby garden.

“I hope for your sake your find will appease Marjordan and the others.” The harshness had gone from Quinpatrik’s voice, and Cait was certain she heard respect from him now. Or, at the very least, curiosity.

It’s a start.

She hoped Marjordan would react much the same way. Her primary, the M3 healer, had a nasty temper when crossed. Caitlanna’s heart sprinted as Marjordan stepped from the house. Those long legs brought her to them in only a few strides.

“Ho, P-Marj,” Cait said in an attempt to sway the woman’s anger. “I’m good for wear.” It took all her reserve not to cringe at that phrase because her primary would certainly wear her down with numerous and nasty chores. Probably for the rest of her life.

Marjordan grabbed her and hugged her close then roughly forced her at arm’s length. Dark eyes ran up and down her Shore Sanction clothing. “What do you think you were doing going out there alone?” Those dark eyes flashed and she didn’t give Caitlanna any time to respond. “Inside!” she ordered. One hand clamped onto Cait’s arm and dragged her toward the doorway.

She tried to pull away to retrieve the Mask from her saddlebag but her primary was too strong, and she had no choice but to obey the incensed woman.

Once inside, Marjordan took the sword and sheath and forced Caitlanna into a chair. “Don’t move,” she threatened. The woman disappeared into the kitchen, her mud-colored braid whipping behind her.

Cait stayed put and glanced out the window. Quinpatrik unsaddled her horse and placed her belongings just inside the open doorway. He gave her an “I told you so” look and pushed his sandy hair behind his ears before ducking outside again.

Marjordan entered with a steaming bowl of meat stew and forced it into Caitlanna’s hands. “Eat,” she ordered. “Quin!”

“Yes, Healer?” the man said as he approached the open door. His straw hat hung down his back now.

“Get word to the search teams and tell them Cait’s here. Take Warrior Whit with you.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Then he was gone.

Cait watched the exchange but quickly ate when her primary gave her a hardened glare. Several curious young children had gathered at the doorway and she hid a smile.

Marjordan turned on them. “You children get home. Move!”

The little ones scurried away and the healer closed the door behind them. One hand flipped her braid behind her back in annoyance. Dark circles stood out beneath her eyes and her cheekbones seemed more prominent than Cait remembered. Various white streaks stood out in her dark hair. Her tunic and leggings had dirt stains on the front, and Cait knew the woman had been harvesting herbs. Marjordan spent more time gathering when she was worried about something. Guilt knotted in Cait’s stomach but she forced down the remainder of the stew.

Afterward, Marjordan took her into the kitchen, eyed her clothing, then stripped her down and inspected the bruises and scratches on her legs and arms before forcing her into a warm bath.

Cait suffered the ministrations and assured Marjordan that no man had touched her sexually. She would argue and challenge the woman as her primary but when Marjordan performed healer duties, no one crossed her. Healers endured more training than any others to earn their titles and they were well respected. Even if someone had the audacity to object to a healer’s care, that person would quickly be subdued by others. Young children were the only ones excused from protesting a healer’s services. Marjordan simply administered herbs to calm them.

Caitlanna was only three years from full-grown but she felt like a small child right now, and guilt of what she’d done settled in her gut like an iron weight. “P-Marj?” She winced as the woman scrubbed her filthy hair.

“What?” Marjordan’s voice was unforgiving.

“I found The Mask of Tamirella.” She wanted to assure her primary that she knew what she was doing. “I read my father’s journals and followed a hunch. Like he taught me. Everyone was sleeping when I went back to the site. No one knows I found it so no one will miss it. The others didn’t even know for sure whether the Mask was in that cave. It’s in my saddlebag.” Despite her situation now, she chuckled. “They’ll probably be searching those caverns for the rest of the year.”

Marjordan’s fingers pulled at Cait’s wet hair and yanked her head around. “You went to the Shore Sanction alone and joined in a dig?”

“Yes, ma’am. I was careful, though. I took those clothes to fit in. Then I checked where all the others were from and told them I was from S9.”

She grinned. S9 was the roughest of the Shore Sanction areas. No one asked too many questions of those who lived there. Now that she thought about it, that’s probably what saved her from any men who might have decided to take advantage of her youthful body. That and the large sword she’d kept strapped to her back. Pride welled up in her for all her planning now that the danger was over.

“They accepted me, P-Marj, and I escaped with the Mask before anyone knew I was gone.” Marjordan’s fingers tightened around her hair but she ignored the pain. “I threw a scarf and saddlebag off the cliffs to make it look like I fell. They won’t search there, either. Too dangerous. They’ll figure Graypony ran off after my ‘accident’. The rain washed away my tracks, I’m sure of that. So they won’t be able to follow me even if they figure out what I’ve done.” She stiffly awaited the woman’s response.

Marjordan’s grip loosened and tender hands rinsed Cait’s hair in silence. Her primary had never been without words and the silence made her nervous.

“That was stupid.” Marjordan sounded more irritated than angry. One callused hand offered a clump of soap. “This is Hendrake’s fault. He taught you too quickly. I’m just grateful you didn’t get yourself raped or killed.”

“Then,” Caitlanna said carefully, “you’re not going to punish me?” Her primary knew very well the value of the Mask and the danger in stealing such a find. Especially from the Shore Sanction.

“It isn’t up to me. You placed the entire sanction at risk with this foolish stunt. The Elders will decide your punishment. I just hope they’ll be lenient when you give them the treasure. Provided it is the true Mask.”

Of course she had the real Mask. She wasn’t worried about that. But she hadn’t thought of the Elders. They could forbid her from ever becoming a finder. She could be at striker status the rest of her life. Or worse, the Elders could ban her from digs altogether. Anger at her own carelessness rose and she cursed.

“That won’t help,” Marjordan said calmly. “The Elders will be fair. You’re young and that’s in your favor.” But she didn’t sound as though she believed that.

Chapter 2

The Elders’ Ruling

Caitlanna trembled as she awaited the Elders’ decision. The rough wooden chair became more uncomfortable the longer she sat and she shifted her weight several times, keenly aware of the ticking, keyclock atop the stone table. Keyclocks were common and easy to repair if found with most of their parts intact. Every sub-sanction had at least one. Cait glanced around at the two warriors standing near the old, stone ruins of the Elder sub-sanction. She was grateful this was a private sentencing but shifted in her chair again and tugged at her leggings.

“Be still,” her primary warned.

“Striker Caitlanna Mullen,” the ruling Elder said as she stood behind the stone table. Cait’s heart caught in her throat. “You’ve placed M3 and the entire Mountain Sanction at risk of a retaliation raid with your actions. You disguised yourself and joined a foreign dig in Shore territory, leaving us in a precarious situation. Had you been found out, you might have been killed, thus forcing us into battle.” The Elder took in a deep breath and Caitlanna held hers. “But you were not caught,” the old woman continued. “And you’ve brought to us The Mask of Tamirella. A valuable find that has pleased us.”

Cait let out her breath and waited for her punishment, unable to stop her legs from trembling as she sat in the uncomfortable seat.

“You are young, still a striker, yet you’ve managed to do a finder’s job.” The Elder pursed her thin lips. “You and your primary will stand for sentencing.”

Marjordan stood, took Caitlanna’s arm, and pulled her to her feet. If not for the woman’s support, Cait thought her legs might fold beneath her.

The Elder’s eyes fell on Marjordan. “Healer Marjordan Mullen. Your charge has broken numerous laws and you will be held accountable. However, due to the unusual circumstances, we have decided on an offer that would not be made to any but a healer. This girl obviously has some talent and her small stature will be valuable to the excavation in the Southern Mountains. The terrain is harsh and there are mutant forests surrounding the site, but the archaeologists there are in need of a healer, especially one of your talent.

Once Caitlanna realized they were offering a job and not punishment, it was all she could do to keep from squealing with joy.

“You may choose three others from your sub-sanction to accompany you. I suggest one or two warriors. A map will be provided and the purpose of this dig will be explained upon arrival, if you accept. Also, the charges against the girl will be dropped, and she’ll be allowed to gain finder status, provided the excavation is successful.” The Elder placed weathered hands on the table and leaned toward Marjordan. “We’ll take favor on you and provide your sub-sanction with supplies for the next two years if you accept these terms.”

Cait’s mind raced. The Elders had knowledge of things no one else did. They always provided what they promised. Two years was a long time, and she knew Marjordan wouldn’t pass up an opportunity like this, a chance to keep her people fed and clothed for such a length of time. Well-fed people meant healthier people, She knew that much about healing. Marjordan took in an audible breath, and Cait waited impatiently for her primary’s decision.

“We accept the job at the terms you’ve dictated, Elders,” Marjordan said. “As a healer, I cannot in good conscience refuse such an offer.”

“Very well, Healer Marjordan Mullen. You have two days to choose your group and take care of any business before you leave for the Southern Mountains. A rider will deliver a map and guide you as far as Lost River.” She turned to the other Elders seated at the table and waited for their nods. “This decision is final and this sentencing is closed. A warrior will escort you back to M3. Dismissed.” She then banged a large, polished rock once onto the stone table and sat.

Caitlanna let out a relieved breath then turned a smiling face to her primary, but Marjordan frowned and crossed to the horses.

“Some punishment,” Cait chimed as she sprinted after the woman. She could hardly believe her good fortune. The ancients were smiling on her for sure. “We get to go on a dig. Sounds like an important one, too. I knew the Elders would be pleased with the Mask.”

Marjordan turned on her. “You foolish girl.” Fire lit her eyes. “The dig is the punishment. Do you have any idea what lies beyond Lost River? If we survive the trek through the mutant’s territory, we’ll have Rotted City to worry about, not to mention numerous dagbeasts.” She mounted her horse.

Caitlanna had no idea. Her father had never talked about anything past Lost River. He’d simply told her that area wasn’t profitable. She never thought to question him. But she knew the horrific tales of Rotted City. “Then why did you agree?” She climbed into her saddle.

“I’m a healer, Cait. I go where I’m needed. I’d be foolish to refuse such an offer from the Elders. And M3 is close to M2. They can spare one of their healers for a while.” She shifted her weight. “I also promised my brother I’d take care of you.”

Guilt began to gnaw at Caitlanna’s stomach again, a familiar ache since her return, as she took in her primary’s words. It was her fault the woman would have to face the dangers ahead of them now. She lowered her eyes in obedience and swallowed back the sour taste than had risen in her throat. “I’m sorry, P-Marj.”

“I know you are. You’re impatient, Cait, just as your father was. You’re also young and impetuous. Lessons are hard and you’ll do well to learn them quickly.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She kicked Graypony into motion when her primary followed the warrior toward home. The ancients weren’t smiling on her after all.

The two rode silently on the way to M3 and the warrior turned back at the border of the sub-sanction clearing. Caitlanna had a sour stomach by the time they arrived at the house. She was determined to keep her mouth shut, though. Marjordan didn’t need to worry about anything else.

Quinpatrik tended the horses while Cait cleaned up and helped her primary start dinner.

“All done,” he said nearly an hour later, as he peered in from the open window to the kitchen.

“Thank you, Quin,” Marjordan said. “Stay for nighmeal. We have some things to discuss.”

“Sure. I’ll go wash up.” He disappeared.

Quinpatrik never turned down a meal. He had no primary, as he was already a full-grown last winter when his mother died from the lung fever. He lived in his mother’s house but spent most of his time assisting others in M3.

Caitlanna stirred the harerabbit stew over the kitchen fireplace and winced at the pain in her stomach. She had hoped the queasiness would’ve gone away by nighmeal. As bile crept up, she swallowed hard and stretched to take her mind from it.

“Cait?” Marjordan eyed her. “You feeling all right?” Caitlanna nodded without speaking and swallowed again. The woman was at her side immediately and took her hand from the large wooden spoon. “Don’t lie to me, girl.” Marjordan studied her face before pulling her out the kitchen door and onto the rough grass.

Cait couldn’t keep her stomach steady any longer and vomited. “I’m sorry,” she said through tears as her primary supported her.

“Don’t you be sorry. I should have realized.” Marjordan placed a hand on Caitlanna’s forehead. “You’re body’s reacting to everything that’s gone on lately.” Her voice was tender, that of a healer. “Can you make it back inside?”

“Mm-hm.” She spit and stood upright. “I feel better now. But I’m not hungry.”

“I’ll fix you some gingertea. That should settle your stomach. Then you’re going straight to bed. We can figure things out in the morning.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She allowed her primary to help her inside and into a chair in the main room, where she sat with eyes closed.

Quinpatrik entered through the front door. “Are you sick?”

“She’ll be fine, Quin,” Marjordan said before Cait could answer. “Drink this, slowly.” She gave Caitlanna a cup of steaming tea. “Just worry stomach.”

“Oh,” he said in an understanding voice. “Finder’s stomach.”

Marjordan chuckled. “Yes. Finder’s stomach.” She stroked Caitlanna’s hair. “Use the kindling bucket if you need to. We’ll be in the kitchen.”

Cait nodded and Quinpatrik squeezed her shoulder as he passed. She could hear the soft murmurs of their voices from her chair and knew her primary was offering him a part in the dig. She also knew he would accept. After she downed the tea, her stomach felt better and she leaned back, closing her eyes.

“Come on, Cait,” Marjordan said softly, waking her. “Let’s get you to bed.”

She didn’t argue and allowed the woman to lead her to her room and put her to bed. The sun was still up but she fell asleep almost immediately. Frightening images filled her dreams that night and she woke several times during before dawn.

Chapter 3

Lost River

The sun crept lower in the sky as the guide stopped Marjordan’s group and dismounted his horse. “We’ll camp here for the night. Then you’re on your own.” He looked across Lost River and frowned.

Cait and the others slipped off their mounts and stretched from the long ride. It had taken them nearly three days to reach Lost River. Marjordan had offered jobs to Finder Quinpatrik, who accepted immediately, and two M3 warriors, Whithelen and Ianandy. The latter also had experience as a tracker. Caitlanna had known them all since she could remember.

After the horses were unsaddled and fed, the group had their nighmeal of salted sheepmeat, fruits and tubers. Each passing day brought more heat than the previous one. Summer had arrived and the Southern Mountains received more sunny days than Caitlanna’s home. Despite the warm weather, the group sat around the fire for safety.

Cait chewed on a tuber and studied the forest just the other side of Lost River. Part of her hoped to see a mutant. She always stayed far from the forests and had never had a glimpse of one. Perhaps they would see one without being noticed. That way she could satisfy her curiosity and not become a sacrifice.

What imaginary thinking, you dumb girl, she chided herself.

“Cait,” Quinpatrik nudged her.

She had the feeling he’d said her name at least twice. “Huh?” Her straw hat slipped forward and she adjusted it.

“If you plan on becoming a finder, you’d better learn to follow a map.” He nodded toward the guide.

She already knew how to read a map—her father had taught her—but she got Quin’s message and focused on the guide’s instructions. Her stomach tightened when he mentioned the mutants and she glanced to the forest several times.

By the time they bedded down for the night, she was exhausted and had little trouble getting to sleep. Her primary slept near her by the fire and she took comfort in the woman’s presence.

The next morning brought more sunshine and slightly cooler weather than the previous day, but she knew the sun would heat things up quickly, despite the liberal shade the trees provided. The group sat around the sweltering fire and ate mornmeal together. The guide that had led them to Lost River looked uncomfortable and left soon after he’d eaten.

“This map shows a shallow area of the river,” Ianandy said. “We should have little trouble crossing.” The warrior’s tanned face showed light stubble. His cropped hair was so light that it appeared white against his tanned skin, making it difficult to distinguish the slight gray above his ears. The scar along the curve of his strong chin seemed to dance when he spoke. He was older than Marjordan, and the lines around his mouth and eyes deepened whenever he squinted or smiled.

“What about the mutants?” Warrior Whithelen said. She wore her black hair cropped, as did all warriors in the Mountain Sanction. Her skin, the color of a rich, dark tea, glistened with sweat. Whithelen also had a scar, but hers snaked across her right shoulder and disappeared underneath her leather tunic.

Cait remembered when Marjordan stitched that injury. It was just after Whit had received her warrior status and participated in what the healer referred to as a “foolish skirmish” with some of the warriors from M4. The warrior had caught a blade in the shoulder, leaving an injury that needed stitches. Marjordan had scolded the younger woman each time her needle and thread pierced the raw wound. Whithelen had winced a lot but never let out a cry of pain, which had amazed Cait.

“There’s no way around the forest.” Ianandy eyed the other warrior and rubbed at his head. “We’ll have to be careful and stay in clearings at night. Everyone will need to participate in watches.” Gray eyes found Caitlanna before moving on to Marjordan. “It should take about two days to get through the forest and another day to Rotted City. There’s a cave the other side of the city where we’ll spend the night. The dig site is about half a day’s travel beyond that.” He must have noticed Cait’s worry because he focused on her again. “Mutants usually stay away from groups. Just make sure nobody gets separated.”

He didn’t have to add anything to that last statement. Cait had no intention of getting caught by mutants and sacrificed to their gods. Her hand reached to her back and she fingered her father’s sword. Normally, she wouldn’t carry one until her nineteenth birthday, when she would be a full-grown. But since the Elders were giving her the chance to attain finder status, Marjordan allowed her to wear the weapon and told Ianandy to begin her training. She would never be a warrior, but all full-growns learned to fight in case they were needed in battle.

Her eyes found her primary. The woman shifted her own sword as she listened to the warrior’s words. Suddenly, Cait feared for her. She knew Marjordan could fight extremely well. She’d seen the woman spar with Ian and Whit. But a healer’s main purpose was to mend wounds, not cause them. Though Marjordan was quick to slap someone down for disobedience, she would risk her own life to save another. That was part of the healer’s creed. Cait realized Ian was speaking to her.

“Let’s run a few practices before we set out,” the warrior said.

“Sure.” She got to her feet and tossed her hat on the ground behind her. Her bootlaces were loose and she retied them before drawing her sword.

The two sparred while the others packed up the horses. She found it difficult at first to balance the weight of the sword and make a productive swing. Her muscles were sore and shaky. She’d only been training a couple of days now and felt extremely awkward. Ian seemed so agile and quick. He used his weapon as though it were an extension of his arm, and Cait envied that talent.

“You have to block the way I showed you yesterday, Cait,” he told her. “Otherwise—“ He took a quick swing and stopped his blade a finger’s length from her neck.

She flinched. “I’m trying,” she finally said in frustration.

“Not good enough.” The warrior’s voice held no sympathy. “You want to be a finder. You must learn to defend yourself.”

“I know, I know.”

“Good. Then concentrate. Or we’ll use wooden sticks like in children’s play.”

Anything but that, Caitlanna thought.

He raised his sword again and brought it down toward her. This time she brought her own up in a block. The blades met with a crash of metal that shook her entire body and sent pain through her hands, where she already had several blisters.

“Ow,” she muttered. The stabbing pain told her that at least one blister on each hand had burst.

Ianandy ignored her protests and lunged, sword extended toward her belly. Cait was quick this time and swiped the advancing sword to the side with her own. She moved out of the way in case he decided to bring his weapon around toward her again. But he didn’t.

“Good,” he praised. “That’s enough for now.”

She nodded. Her arms trembled from the weight of her father’s sword.

Ian took the weapon from her and slipped it into the sheath on her back as though it weighed nothing. He grinned and rubbed at his cropped hair. “You’ll get used to it.” He squeezed her shoulder. “Mount up.”

“Yes, sir.” She scooped up her hat and headed toward Graypony.

Marjordan held the reins out for her. “Ian’s a good teacher. You’d do well to learn everything he can show you.”

“I plan to.” She spoke with more irritation than she meant to and gave the woman an apologetic look as she took the reins. The leather scraped against her blisters and she sucked in a quick breath at the pain.

“Let me see.” Marjordan took Cait’s hat, hooked it on the horn of her saddle, then took her hands from the reins and flipped them palms up. “Stay put.” She turned to rummage through her saddlebag. “Give me a minute, Ian.”

“Yes, Healer.” The warrior smiled at Cait.

She stood with her hands out while her primary gently rubbed salve onto the blisters and bandaged them in clean strips of cloth. Soothing.

“That should protect you from infection,” Marjordan informed her. “Once calluses form, you won’t have to worry about blisters. Until then, try to keep those hands clean and dry.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Cait plucked her hat from her saddle horn, climbed onto Graypony’s back and followed the others.

It didn’t take long to find the shallow crossing in Lost River and get to the other bank. They were soon in the mutant forest and Caitlanna found herself twitching at every sound. A snake slithered from underneath rock and away from the travelers. Luckily, the creature was far enough away not to spook the horses. Graypony huffed and Cait patted his neck. Then she focused to stay calm as they rode on.

The trees grew thicker as they advanced further into the forest. Sunlight danced through the swaying branches above and created eerie shadows on the ground. On several occasions, Cait was certain someone hid behind a nearby tree but each time she looked, nothing. Her frayed nerves finally settled a bit and she began to relax. In fact, she became drowsy as they traveled past the monotonous landscape and shifted her weight to keep from falling asleep in the saddle.

Suddenly, Ianandy held up a hand to stop the group then put a finger to his lips to promote silence. Cait watched as the warrior scanned the nearby trees. A rustle off to the right startled her.

The two warriors drew their weapons immediately.

A small child, a girl, stepped from behind a trunk. The little one looked no older than three years and held a flower in her small, dirty hand. That’s when Cait noticed the child had only one arm. She had never seen a mutant, since they were usually abandoned to the forests at birth or soon after. From the stories she’d heard, she expected them to be fierce looking, but other than a missing limb, this girl looked much like any other child.

The mutant child grinned and held the flower out toward Cait. She smiled back and prepared to climb from her saddle.

“Stay put, Caitlanna,” Marjordan said in a low voice. The woman sat her horse with sword in hand.

Cait reached back for her own sword when another mutant, this one a woman with half of her face the color of blueberries, stepped from the trees. The woman’s eyes flew open when she saw the group. She immediately darted for the child, snatched her up in her arms and fled.

Ian and Whit quickly dismounted and surveyed the area.

“All clear,” Ianandy finally announced.

“She was afraid.” Cait remembered the terror in the woman’s eyes. She sheathed her weapon.

“What?” Quinpatrik said. He’d been quiet lately, and Cait guessed that he was nervous, too. Those brown eyes seemed alert and he frowned at her.

“That woman—that mutant. She was afraid of us.”

“We had her outnumbered,” Ian explained, mounting his horse. “I told you mutants stay away from groups. They like to take easy captives.”

Cait nodded but something inside her urged for more explanation. She decided to keep her mouth shut, though. Warriors were in charge during travels and they were well trained about mutants and other dangers.

“We’d better keep moving.” Marjordan sheathed her sword. “I don’t want to use up healing herbs if I don’t have to.”

“Right.” Ian said, but he kept his weapon drawn as he urged his horse onward.

“Come on, Cait,” Marjordan said, breaking into her thoughts.

“Yes, ma’am.” She kicked Graypony into motion and followed the others, but not without glancing back several times.

Chapter 4

Danger from the Darkness

The next day they made their way out of the mutant forest just after noonmeal. Caitlanna was disappointed not to see any more mutants and she wondered what kind of life the little girl with one arm had.

They stopped early that evening atop a flat hill and the dark area that was Rotted City loomed in the distance. No one knew much about the ancient people who once inhabited the place, or any of the great city ruins that dotted the world, except that they must’ve lived in a wondrous and terrible time. Cait had heard tales of Rotted City. Nothing grew there, not even a blade of grass. The soil was dead, had been for many centuries. The ruins were infested with an ancient disease, and the tiniest sliver could cause illness if it pierced the skin. Legends said that weapons from The Great War had landed directly on the place and cursed it forever. And the only way to get to the Southern Mountains was through Rotted City. Water prevented passage to the west and the eastern ridge blocked the other side.

An arm encircled Cait’s shoulders.

“I’ve never been there, either.” Marjordan fanned herself with her hat. “There’s something quite mysterious about a place where nothing thrives.”

Caitlanna nodded, wrapped arms around the woman’s middle, then laid her head on Marjordan’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry I caused all this. But I’m glad the mutants let us through the forest without killing us.”

Marjordan stopped fanning and rubbed Cait’s arm. “I know you regret your actions.” She chuckled.

Cait lifted her head and gave her primary an inquisitive stare. “What is it, P-Marj? I haven’t driven you mad, have I?” She smiled.

The tall woman laughed. “Not yet, girl.” Her dark eyes focused on the distant city. “I was just thinking how this is turning out to be quite an adventure. Sub-sanction healers don’t get to travel that often, you know. Our patients get nervous when we’re not within shouting distance.”

“Then you forgive me?”

“Of course I do,” Marjordan said, as though Cait had gone mad. “You’re my blood, girl. I may get angry with your foolishness sometimes, but you’ll never drive me away. I thought you knew that by now.”

“I guess I did. Just nice to hear it.” She listened to the woman’s breathing for a moment and watched as the sun created pink clouds in the west. “I miss him.”

“I know. I miss him, too.”

Ianandy called them for nighmeal.

“I miss his cooking, too,” Marjordan added as she steered Cait toward the campfire.

Cait laughed, knowing that her father had been the best cook in their sub-sanction. Marjordan wasn’t bad but the woman didn’t come close to her brother’s talent with food. “Who’s cooking tonight?” she asked, when she realized her primary was usually at the fire, not watching sunsets from a hill.

Marjordan grimaced. “Whithelen offered.”

“And you let her?” She knew the warrior found cooking a challenge. Whithelen could deftly swing a sword but her meals usually lacked something important—taste.

Marjordan chuckled as they approached the others. She leaned toward Cait. “I thought it only polite. Besides, I have plenty of herbs for stomach pains.” The two laughed.

“That’ll be enough of that,” Whit scolded. One dark hand shook a wooden spoon at the two. “I’ll have you know I’ve taken lessons from Jilpatsy.”

Jilpatsy was now the best cook in sub-sanction M3, but Cait had doubts about any of the woman’s talent rubbing off on Whit.

The warrior pulled her broad, muscular shoulders back. Sweat glistened on her dark skin. “She says I’ve improved.”

“You could go no other way,” Quinpatrik said. A smile twitched near the corner of his mouth and his eyes lit.

“You’d better watch your manners, Finder Quin, or I’ll make you eat twice as much as everyone else.” Whit’s plump lips spread into a grin.

“Yes, ma’am.” He chuckled and helped dish the food.

The group bedded down just after sunset. Cait lay awake for a while, listening to Ian snore and observing Whit as the warrior paced back and forth on watch. Her blisters stung slightly from holding reins all day, and she opened her hands to expose her palms to the air until sleep took her.

Someone shook her shoulder and she awoke to see Marjordan leaning over her.

“Get up quietly,” the woman said.

It was still dark and Cait’s heart sprinted at the worry on her primary’s face. “What is it, P-Marj?” she said. Then she heard it. A low growl, somewhere in the darkness. “Dagbeasts,” she said, answering her own question.

“Yes. Move quietly and take your sword.”

She did as her primary instructed and unsheathed the sword that lay next to her, before pushing to her feet. She saw Quin put more wood on the fire—it looked as though it had gone out. He cursed softly when one of the logs rolled off and threw sparks at his face.

Another growl pulled Cait’s focus out into the darkness. She could make out shadows of what looked like four dagbeasts at the bottom of the hill. One looked quite small.

“They’re keeping their distance, so far,” Whithelen informed in a low voice. She held her sword in one hand and touched the knife sheathed near her belt with the other.

Cait imagined the beasts’ sharp teeth and wild eyes and shivered. Ancients once owned ancestors of these creatures as pets, until The Great War turned them out into the wild. Dagbeasts were extremely vicious pack animals and no one in Cait’s time had tamed them. A few had tried in the past but were ripped to shreds for their efforts. Three dagbeasts advanced. Caitlanna and the others held weapons, ready to fight.

“Stay behind me,” Ianandy told her. “Don’t use your sword unless you have to.” He kept his blade extended toward the animals.

She didn’t answer. Her ears rang with fright as she tried desperately to steady the heavy weapon in her hands. Her bladder felt as though it might burst and she feared that her legs wouldn’t hold her weight much longer. Keep your mind on the dagbeasts. She concentrated on the shadowy creatures. They paced at the bottom of the hill, as though deciding whether to charge the camp. Hairs on Cait’s arms stood on end and her heart pumped in her ears.

Suddenly, there was a howl in the distance and the dagbeasts dashed away. Cait let out a long, breathy sigh as her legs gave out from under her. She crouched, waiting for her strength to return.

Marjordan flew to her side and checked her over.

“I’m fine, P-Marj,” she told the woman. “Just the jitteries.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, ma’am.” She allowed her primary to help her up. Her legs held this time. The woman relieved her of the weighty sword, for which she was grateful. “What did they want?” She glanced nervously out into the dark and then to Ianandy.

“Probably searching for a meal,” Ian said with irritation, but he wasn’t looking her direction. His gaze was on Quin. He advanced on the younger man and struck him across the face with the back of his hand. Quin stumbled.

Cait started after him but Marjordan held her fast. “Leave it.”

“You ever do something that stupid again,” Ian said fiercely, “and dagbeasts will be the least of your worries.”

Quin pushed to a crouch next to the growing fire, youthful features dancing in the firelight. “Yes, Warrior.” His eyes dropped in obedience, followed by his head, and sandy hair obscured his face.

“I’ll take watch until morning,” Ian said in a disgusted tone. He stormed to the edge of the hill and stared out into the darkness.

“What happened?” Cait uttered.

“Quin fell asleep,” Marjordan told her.

“Oh.” That was all she needed to know.

Falling asleep on watch was worthy of a beating. Quin was lucky to get off so easily. He might hold the respected title of a finder on digs but during travels, where danger lurked, warriors ruled. Healers could override a warrior on travels but they only did so when there was very good reason. This was not one of those times.

She glanced at the finder, who now sat with his head on his knees.

“Get back to bed,” Marjordan told her. “We still have a couple hours until sunup.”

She nodded and headed to her blankets, realizing she’d forgotten about her blisters in all the excitement. She lay for a while, afraid to close her eyes, but Ianandy’s presence calmed her and she finally slept.

The others were up when she awoke at dawn. Her gritty eyes found Marjordan, Whithelen, and Quinpatrik. The three crouched nearby, packing the saddlebags. Memories of the previous night returned and Cait cocked her head toward the grassy area below the hill. There were no dagbeasts anywhere, just grass, shrubs, a few trees and numerous insects.

“Morn, sleepy.” Marjordan stretched and rubbed at her back.

“Morn.” Cait let out a vicious yawn. She noticed the older warrior was missing. “Where’s Ian?”

“Taking care of personal business.” Marjordan made her way over with some tubers, bread and cheese. “You’d better get a move on if you want to eat before we ride out.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She quickly rolled her blankets and took the offered food.

“You still have water?”

“Yes.” She took a bite of the cheese.

“Good. Eat. Then you can take care of your own business before you ready your horse. I’m afraid there’s no time for a bath today.” She offered an apologetic look. “But Whit brought some wash water from the lake.” Her head cocked toward a small bucket near the doused fire.  “At least you can freshen up.”

“That’ll be fine, P-Marj.” Cait squinted up at the woman. “You’ll give yourself stomach pains worrying about me all the time. I’m a smart girl, most of the day.” She grinned.

Marjordan chuckled and flipped her long braid behind her back. “Just don’t get too smart with me, girl. I can still make your life miserable.” Her dark eyes glistened.

“I don’t think I’ll test that theory.” She shoved a large piece of bread into her mouth and wrinkled her nose at her primary.

“If you two don’t quit flapping your jowls,” Ian said as he started up the hill, “we’ll never get out of here.”

Marjordan turned on him then smirked. “You may be in charge while we travel, Warrior. But I suggest you remember who sews you up.” Both hands went to her hips.

He winced. “Yes, Healer.” He lowered his eyes but there was a tiny grin on his lips.

It wasn’t long before Cait was ready to go, and Marjordan wrapped her blistered hands. She pulled her hat on, tightened the strap on her horse’s saddle, and secured her saddlebag before mounting. The weight of her father’s sword on her back offered comfort as she looked out toward the dark area that was Rotted City.

“Ready?” Ian said, and he waited for the others to respond. “Good. I’ll ride the lead and Whit will watch our rears. Keep your eyes and ears sharp. Dagbeasts could still be in the area and we’ve no idea what other dangers await at Rotted City.” He narrowed eyes on Quinpatrik, who had been subdued all morning. “Understood?”

“Yes, Warrior.” Quin shifted his weight in his saddle.

Ianandy nodded and his eyes lingered on the younger man before he started down the hill trail.

Caitlanna’s stomach clenched as she steered her horse behind the others, toward the dreaded city.

Chapter 5

Rotted City

Cait followed between her primary and Quinpatrik. She wanted to talk to the finder, get close to him, but knew Ian wouldn’t have that. The warrior hadn’t given any sign that Quin was forgiven, yet, so Cait would just have to be patient. She twisted in her saddle and looked back, giving her lifelong friend a brief, sympathetic smile.

He nodded to her, letting her know that he planned to stay alert. Then he motioned her to turn around.

She focused on her primary’s horse as she rode. The mount’s black hair appeared deep blue in the sunlight. Marjordan looked regal in the saddle despite the dust on her tunic and leggings. Cait knew the woman longed for a bath, as healers seemed to have an affinity for cleanliness. Her thoughts drifted here and there as they followed the trail.

****

The sun was nearly overhead by the time Rotted City came into view as more than a black enigma on the landscape. Cait studied the dark outlines and wondered what they would find there. Then she decided it wise not to let her imagination get the better of her nerves.

A tiny insect landed on her grimy arm and she watched it for a moment, until the thing pierced her flesh in search of a meal. “Ow.” She swatted the little winged invader.

Marjordan quickly turned and studied her. “Cait?”

“Just a skeeto. I killed it.”

Her primary’s eyes narrowed. “How about saving your outbursts for real danger.” By the expression on her face, the woman spoke as a healer now, not to be crossed.

“Yes, ma’am. Sorry.”

Marjordan turned her attention back to her horse and urged the animal next to Ian’s. There wasn’t much of a trail now and Cait glanced around. The lake to her right shimmered in the sunlight, causing her to squint. The eastern ridge to her left blocked much of the airflow and she suddenly felt hot and sticky. She pressed her feet into the stirrups and pushed her legs straight for a moment. Stretching felt good.

Ian pointed to something in the distance. He spoke softly to Marjordan and the healer nodded. Whit trotted her horse to the front and conferred with the two for a moment. Cait obviously hadn’t been invited to join but she strained to hear the conversation. She caught a couple of disjointed words from the soft voices, not enough to figure out what they discussed.

Her eyes shifted to Quinpatrik. His sandy hair was matted to his temples with sweat as he stared at the water. He seemed distant but his posture gave the impression of pure alertness. Cait scratched at the grit on her sweating arm. The water beckoned and she wondered if they would have time for a plunge.

“We’ll stop near those two tree stumps for noonmeal,” Ian announced, jolting Cait from her bathing thoughts. The warrior rubbed at his head. His scalp was red beneath his cropped hair.

“I think you’re getting sunburned, Ian,” Marjordan said. “You should wrap that head of yours.”

“Yes, Healer. Before we ride again.”

That seemed to satisfy the woman and she nodded.

Cait grinned.  Warriors never seemed to take care of their health. Ian considered sunburns as unimportant as bruised elbows.

The group followed him a ways to the stumps. Trees around the clearing gave enough shade for all to sit comfortably while eating a late noonmeal. The horses drank the nearby water and munched on grasses.

Cait finished her bread and stretched her neck from side to side. That’s when she noticed a large boulder atop the ridge above. One side was completely blackened, as though it had been scorched, making the other side stand out in the bright sunlight. Her eyes found two other boulders with similar traits.

“P-Marj?” She kept her gaze on the rocks above. “Look.”

The woman moved to her side and sat, craning her neck. “Mmm, good eye, Cait. Looks like we’re close to Rotted City’s entrance. Those are some of the markers the guide described.”

“Yes,” Ian said. “Probably not more than an hour ride, now. He pulled a small, windy-watch from his waist pouch and tapped the cracked glass before studying the fragile hands beneath. Only a few were ever found with the glass still intact. Each sub-sanction had one or two. “We should get on our way. They’ll be expecting us at the site tomorrow and it’ll probably take a couple of hours to get through Rotted City. We definitely don’t want to get stuck there after dark.” He put the windy-watch back and rubbed at his sunburned head before covering it with his scarf.

“Ian?” Cait glanced nervously at the outlines of the city. “What’ll we find there?”

He took in a long breath then pursed his lips before speaking. “Most of it was destroyed centuries ago and travelers say the jagged remains are poisonous. They can transfer the ancient illness by piercing the skin. But you know the tales, Cait. We definitely want to see where we’re going through that place.”

She nodded when he confirmed the stories she’d heard all her life. “Will the horses be okay?”

“There’s an uncluttered travelers’ route and, since there haven’t been any major storms this far out this season, it should still be clear. Just follow carefully and keep your mind on what’s around you. Don’t touch anything.” He moved off to confer with Whithelen.

His words made Cait’s hairs stand on end and again she regretted her actions. Getting the Mask had been the only thing on her mind. Her father had searched all his life and she was determined to finish what he started. Hendrake had a great instinct for finding things and had somehow suspected that the artifact lay in one of those caves. Caitlanna hoped she would be as skilled as her father someday. So far, all she felt she’d been was a great disappointment.

It was her fault they were here, traveling toward Rotted City, chancing disease, dagbeasts and mutants. She had endangered everyone with her foolishness. Her eyes filled with tears and she wiped angrily at them as she crossed to Graypony and busied herself. She smoothed the animal’s silvery hair, checked the saddle, then pulled her hat down a bit, in hopes that no one would notice her tears.

“Cait?” Marjordan said from behind her.

“I’m nearly ready.” She forced her voice steady.

“Look at me, girl.”

She turned but kept her head down. Marjordan removed her hat then pinched her chin and forced her to look up. It took all of her will not to burst into tears as the woman studied her.

“You’ve learned a hard lesson. Don’t let the past fog your mind. What’s done is done and we need to concentrate on the now.” She raised a dark brow. “Do you understand me, girl? Don’t let one mistake turn into many.” Cait tried to look away as tears streamed down her hot cheeks, but Marjordan tightened her grip. “I said, do you understand?” Her eyes hardened.

She swallowed back her tears. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” Marjordan wiped Cait’s wet face as though she were a young child. “Now, get on your horse and prepare to stay alert.”

She obeyed. She had no desire to make more trouble.

****

Ian had been right about how long it would take to reach Rotted City. The sun had moved approximately one hour in the sky by the time they arrived. Caitlanna didn’t need a keyclock or windy-watch to tell time with the sun.

The ground beneath Graypony’s steps was charred, burnt so deeply that nothing grew, not even a weed. An eerie quiet surrounded the devastated city. As her eyes scanned the remains ahead, Cait saw jagged, blackened ruins that were once great buildings. In vain, she tried to picture a beautiful city where ancestors strolled along smooth roads and rode in great metal beasts. And flew!  Oh, to fly, soar across the blue sky. She could only imagine what that felt like. But there was too much devastation here and all her mind created was a city of dying people, ill with the weapon sickness that plagued the ancient world.

A chunk of rusted metal lay near some of the crumbled ruins and she wondered if it once belonged to a famed metal beast. She’d heard the legends of great machines that moved at fantastic speeds, faster than horses or dagbeasts. Stories so old no one knew where they originated or if they were entirely true. Complete machines were said to exist, buried underground somewhere. No archaeologists, finders or strikers, had found them, though. Only pieces of ancient metal had been recovered and many of those by scavengers of long ago. Cait knew this piece would’ve been taken had it not been here in Rotted City.

She smiled as she envisioned herself locating an entire metal beast on a dig somewhere. The Elders would surely be devoted to her for the rest of her life. A find like that would bring prosperity to Marjordan and every person in M3, perhaps to the entire Mountain Sanction.

Ian’s dominant voice brought her mind back to the trail. “Go carefully.”

She was cautious to keep Graypony on the travelers’ route, watching for debris and jutting rock as she followed her primary through the ruins. Even a healer of Marjordan’s status couldn’t fight the ancient sickness.

The clicking of horses’ hooves created an eerie echo on the ancient rock or stone or whatever it was and Cait shivered. A distant howl caught her ears and she glanced toward the hills behind.

“Eyes forward,” Whithelen said sharply.

“Yes, Warrior.” Cait snapped her head around. Her blistered hands began to tingle with sleep but she didn’t dare loosen her grip on the reins. The horses must have sensed tension in the riders because they huffed and bobbed their heads almost constantly.

She crooned to Graypony, “Calm down, boy. Everything’s all right.”

The horse calmed and followed obediently behind Marjordan’s mare. Cait tried to relax and shifted her weight in the saddle, careful to keep eyes on her surroundings. Sometimes she would doze while riding but not here.

The group traveled for a long while. Monotonous ruins passed, one after another, charred beyond recognition, and Cait’s muscles grew sore from the tension that stiffened every part of her body. The ruins seemed to go on forever and she found this place unnerving. She pushed up in her saddle and glanced ahead of the group, trying to see an end to the blackened city.

“Cait!” Whithelen yelled from behind. “Your horse!”

But she didn’t get her eyes back quick enough. Graypony stepped on a blackened stone and fumbled briefly for his balance. Cait cursed, pulled the reins to stop him and climbed from the saddle, wary of her surroundings.

Marjordan had already dismounted. “What’re you doing?” She made her way to the horse and inspected his foot.

Ian stepped to the healer. “How is he?”

Marjordan let out a sigh. “He didn’t break the skin. I think he’ll be fine.”

Ian focused eyes on Caitlanna. “If he shows any sign of illness, I’ll put him down.”

“What were you doing?” Marjordan’s stance was such that Cait knew to answer truthfully.

“I was just—“

“Just what?” Ian narrowed eyes on her.

“I only took my eyes from the trail for a second.”

He stiffened and his jaw muscles rippled. Right now, he seemed taller than usual.

Cait swallowed hard and lowered her eyes in obedience.

“Keep in mind she’s still a child, Ian.” Marjordan spoke as a primary this time.

In one swift movement, Ian grabbed Cait firmly by both arms and shook her. “That was stupid, girl.” His eyes blazed. “You may have cost that poor beast his life.”

She lowered her gaze again and braced herself for a slap she richly deserved but it never came. Ian simply released her and strode back to his horse. She knew there would be no sympathy from the others. She wouldn’t even try for any. They were here because of her.

No, I won’t pity myself. I don’t deserve pity. This is my fault and I’ll take my chastisement like a woman.

Marjordan climbed back onto her mare without a word.

Cait quietly mounted her horse and followed. She fought the tears that threatened her vision and swallowed several times. Now, though, she kept her eyes on the travelers’ route. Only the route. Please be all right, Graypony. Please.

Chapter 6

Urges

It seemed an eternity before the group came to the end of Rotted City. Once on the barren ground, away from the ruins, Caitlanna relaxed a bit but her eyes scanned the blackened dirt for debris and rocks. The silence around her kept her alert. A bird’s song caught her ears and she fought the urge to dig her heels into Graypony’s sides and race toward the cheerful creature. They had only heard distant birds while in the ruins and the sound gave her hope that this ordeal was nearly over.

“We’ll stop once we get across that hill,” Ian announced as he halted the group. “The cave should be there. According to the map, it’s large enough for the horses, too. Should keep us safe from any dagbeasts.” He shifted in his saddle.

“Ian?” Marjordan said. “Will there be time for weapon training before dark?”

The warrior glanced at Cait, and she lowered her eyes. He hadn’t forgiven her, yet. “We should have a couple of hours.”

That seemed to please the healer.

Ian urged his horse on and the others followed silently behind.

They traveled toward the hill as the sun crept lower in the sky. Once on the other side of the mound, Cait breathed a sigh of relief. Ian located the cave with little trouble and they made camp. A nearby lake provided fresh water and the horses drank greedily.

As she sat by the water washing tubers, Cait studied Graypony. He seemed fine. No sign of weapon illness. Then she realized she had no idea how long such an ancient sickness would take to cause symptoms. Graypony was a gift from her father. She had raised him from a colt. How could she have been so stupid?

Marjordan sat next to her. “He looks healthy.”

She nodded and eyed Ianandy. The warrior was now speaking to Quin but he hadn’t said a word to her since the incident at Rotted City.

“I’m sorry, P-Marj.” She seemed to be saying that a lot lately. “I’ve been stupid, just like Ian said.”

Marjordan took the tubers from her. “You’ve done some stupid things. That’s true. But you’re a smart girl, Cait. You’re also growing up. Only three years away from being a full-grown. You’re supposed to make mistakes, and I’m supposed to see that you learn from them.”

“Believe me, I have learned.” And she meant that.

“Then that’s all I can hope for. All any of us can wish for ourselves.”

She fought tears and glanced at Graypony. “I’ll never forgive myself if he dies.”

“Yes, you will. Eventually.” Marjordan pulled her closer. “But I don’t think you have to worry about that. The rock didn’t pierce his skin and he’s showing no sign of illness. I believe he’ll be fine.”

“I hope you’re right, P-Marj.”

“Ho, girl,” Ian said from behind them.

Cait jumped at his voice and snapped her head around to face him. “Yes, Warrior?”

“Get your sword. You need practice.” He gave her a stern look. Then his tanned face softened into a smile and familiar lines appeared around his eyes and lips.

Her heart suddenly felt light and she grinned back. She’d been forgiven.

Marjordan nudged her. “Better not disobey a warrior, girl. We’re still on the road, remember?” A smirk warmed her face.

“Yes, ma’am.” She jumped to her feet and went to find her sword.

Ian sparred with her until nighmeal and she seemed to have a better grasp of the moves he was teaching, despite her sore palms and aching muscles. After eating, the women bathed in the lake. There was enough light for the men to wash afterward.

Cait sat by the fire combing the damp, sun-lightened ends of her brown hair and looked toward the lake. Quinpatrik stood in waste-high water, scrubbing his bare chest. He didn’t seem to notice her. His muscles rippled with every movement and suddenly she felt hot. Her heart raced and she forced her eyes away from the lake. Marjordan and Whit sat nearby and she glanced at the two women. They were focused on each other as they chatted softly.

Her gaze drifted back to the lake. Quin was in up to his shoulders now, squeezing excess water from his hair. She had always liked him as a friend, had known him since childhood, but now that full-grown status grew closer for her, her mind often turned to mating. She’d never been kissed by a man in the exciting way. Sanction rules didn’t allow such behavior among children, even those of Caitlanna’s age. Of course, that didn’t stop girls and boys from trying. But bed relations between full-growns and children were strictly forbidden and harshly punished. Cait fought a sigh at that as she watched Quin’s muscular arms and back glistening in the water. When Marjordan stood, Cait brought her eyes to the comb in her hands.

“You men come out of that water before the light is completely gone!” Marjordan called toward the lake.

“Yes, Healer!” the two called back in unison.

Cait glanced up at her primary. Heat filled her face as the woman’s dark eyes studied her.

“You’re not a full-grown, yet, girl. You and Quin had better remember that.”

“P-Marj!” she protested. But Marjordan had seen her watching. Probably caught the lust in her eyes. She glanced at Whit but the warrior was busy at the cave entrance.

Marjordan crouched. “Your feelings are natural, Cait, but my job is to see you don’t act on them until you’re full-grown. I am your primary.” The woman took that job very seriously. Cait started to protest again but Marjordan stopped her with an upraised hand. “I know we had this talk a few years ago but the feelings become stronger the older you get. And I will make sure men keep their distance until your nineteenth birthday. I’ll have a talk with Quin if there’s a need.” She arched a brow.

“Please, don’t, P-Marj. There’s no need,” Caitlanna assured her. She couldn’t imagine her humiliation if Quin found out she had been watching him bathe, lusting after his body, wondering what he was like as a lover.

“Are you sure? Better to endure a bit of embarrassment today than to be caring for an infant months from now.”

Heat filled her face again. “I won’t have sex, P-Marj. I was just looking,” she said almost inaudibly.

Marjordan smiled warmly. “Yes, you were.” She stood. “I’ll trust your judgment. For now.”

“I’ll use it wisely.” Cait lowered her eyes in obedience.

“Good.”

She was conscious to keep her gaze away from Quin the rest of the evening until they bedded down. Marjordan placed her blankets in a way that put some distance between Cait and Quin’s sleeping areas. The finder seemed not to notice anything out of the ordinary but Cait got the message quite clearly. She might not be full-grown but she was no child. Anger at her primary rose and she fought it down quickly. The last thing she wanted was to bring that kind of attention to herself.

The horses had been led to the far end of the cave, and the fire just outside the entrance would keep dagbeasts at bay. The group settled in for the night with Caitlanna taking first watch. She knew she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep for a while anyway, so she offered. Ianandy had seemed pleased.

As she sat near the entrance and watched the crackling fire, she listened to the night. Ian snored slightly. One of the horses huffed. Insects buzzed and chirruped outside in the grasses and brush. Though the night brought cooler air than the day, the fire kept things quite warm where Cait sat and she loosened the laces of her tunic. Her hands were toughening, but she still had a couple of ripe blisters and she opened her palms to the air. Somewhere in the distance, a dagbeast howled. Suddenly, she was grateful for this cave and the fire that would keep her safe.

She glanced behind and studied the shadowy horses. Graypony still showed no signs of the ancient illness. Perhaps he would survive after all. She pushed the guilt back and her eyes fell on Quinpatrik’s form. The finder slept peacefully, and she watched his chest rise and fall with each breath, wondering what it would be like to take him as a mate.

Her quick eyes focused on Marjordan but the woman was asleep. She studied her primary a moment, knowing that the woman’s mate had been killed in a battle when Cait was just a small child. He’d been a warrior like Ian and Whit. Marjordan had never chosen another. She seemed content to live in her brother’s house and help care for Cait, whose mother, Gracejan, had died from infection soon after childbirth. She had been a finder like Hendrake and the two were on a dig when Cait was born nearly a month early.

Evidently, Grace had been a very persuasive woman and had convinced Marjordan that she would be fine. Since the two were as close as blood sisters, Marjordan gave in and stayed behind to tend to her other patients. Caitlanna Mullen was born two days before her parents were to return home. The dig healer couldn’t stop the infection and Grace was dead by the time word reached Marjordan.

Cait suspected her primary felt guilt for a long time, perhaps still, for not being there. Since that time, Marjordan took absolutely no risks with her patients. She held the reputation as the toughest healer in the entire Mountain Sanction.

The fire popped and Cait focused on her duties again, peering at the nearby woodpile. The waning moon crept toward the horizon and she kept her gaze on it for a time. Her father had taught her to calculate the stars when she was a young child but the moon was much easier to see, especially with a fire next to her. Rarely did she need a keyclock.

When her watch was up, she put another log on the fire and quietly awakened Whithelen. The warrior nudged her toward her blankets and she fell asleep to thoughts of Quin and the forbidden feelings she had for him.

Chapter 7

The Dig Site

The group reached the Southern Mountains by late afternoon the next day. Trees to the north, a lake to the south and sparse grassy areas made up the place. Blue skies overhead made the sun glare off the water. Cait could see the cave opening from here and she longed to get to work. A warrior from the site met them as they rode closer. Ian halted the group, while he and Whit rode to greet the man. They spoke for a moment before Ian motioned the others to follow.

Cait urged Graypony to the campsite. She’d expected a large group but saw only two people, both females, sitting near a fire just outside the cave. One looked to be a striker about her age. The group dismounted and the warriors took the horses to where five others stood grazing on nearby grasses. Five horses meant five people. A small group for such an important dig. Two pack mules as tall as the horses stood nearby, their long ears flicking insects.

“Which of you is the healer?” A woman took long strides toward Cait’s group. Her blonde hair hung in a long, frazzled braid down her back. Brown eyes peered from under a worn straw hat. Her dirty tunic and leggings had several tears around the elbows and knees.

Cait’s primary stepped forward to greet the woman. “I’m Healer Marjordan.”

“I’m Finder Jenellen. Sorry to put you to work so soon but our healer was killed in a cave-in rescue and we have an injured striker.” Jenellen stood only as tall as the healer’s nose but her countenance was that of a leader.

Marjordan nodded and called Ian. The man sprinted at her beckon. “I need my medicines.”

“Yes, Healer.” He trotted toward the horses.

“Take me to the patient,” she said to Jenellen.

“This way.” The finder turned and started toward a tree, where a makeshift tent had been set up using blankets.

“Come with me, Cait,” Marjordan added.

She obediently followed her primary. When they reached the tent, a boy about her age lay on blankets on the ground. Someone had splinted his leg and tied his left arm up in a sling. A gash along his forehead had been stitched. His shoulder length, tawny hair was matted to his head and his face glistened with sweat.

“Healer?” Ian held Marjordan’s medicine bag out for her.

“Thank you.”

“Let me know if you need any help.”

Marjordan nodded and the warrior left. She slipped her sword from her back and placed it on the ground just outside the tent then hung her straw hat on a tree limb. Cait did the same and knelt with her primary beside the boy.

“What happened?” Marjordan rummaged through her bag.

“He was caught in the cave-in.” Jenellen knelt on the other side of the prone patient. “His leg is broken and I think his arm is sprained. I cleaned out the head wound and stitched it as best I could.”

Marjordan inspected the splint and the cut. “You did a fine job. You should’ve become a healer.”

“Well, that’s not really for me. My father was a healer and I assisted him sometimes.”

Suddenly, the boy moaned and stirred, rolling his head side to side. Marjordan placed a brief hand on his moving forehead and then checked his pulse. “I need to see his eyes.”

The finder nodded, scooted to the boy’s lolling head, and held it still.

Marjordan pulled his eyelids up and concentrated for a moment. “What’s his name?”

“Samcoty.”

“Any other injuries?” Her deft hands probed the boy’s body.

“Not that I could find.”

“Cait, boil some water for me. And have someone bring fresh rags.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She left her sword and hurried toward the fire. “The healer needs water boiled,” she said to the girl sitting on a stool.

The girl twirled the end of her light brown braid between her fingers. “Already started.” One hand motioned to a metal rack over the flames that held a dented metal pot. When she stood, she was slightly taller than Cait.

“The healer will need washing water, too.”

The girl retrieved a bucket. “Come with me?” Cait followed her to a small lake. “I’m Natjulie from M37,” she said as she bent down to fill the bucket. “I’m a striker.” Her sun-streaked hair caught the light as she moved. She wore no hat and her small nose had the beginnings of a nasty sunburn. Marjordan wouldn’t like that.

“I’m Caitlanna. M3.” She wasn’t sure just how much these people knew about the Elders’ ruling so she decided not to give up too much information. M37 was much closer to this dig than M3, and farther south, which meant they didn’t have to travel through Rotted City to get here, so she doubted these people were here as punishment.

“You’re the one who found the other Mask, right?” Natjulie stood with the dripping bucket and turned to Caitlanna. Her brown eyes were flecked with green.

“You know about that?” Cait tried to keep the amazement from her voice. News about her find had traveled quickly.

“Paulucas, he’s my brother and primary.” She motioned to a man standing with the two warriors. Cait took hold of the bucket handle and the two girls carried it between them toward camp. “Lucas is the one who rode to the Elders and told them about the cave-in.”

Cait studied the man. He looked familiar. His cropped hair was the same color brown as Natjulie’s braid. He looked tall and had the muscular build of a warrior. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d seen him before.

“They sent him back after your sentencing and said you were coming to help us. He’s a finder and a warrior.” Natjulie offered a prideful look.

“Wow. That’s rare.” And it was rare for anyone to hold two titles. Then she remembered seeing Paulucas. He was the other warrior she’d noticed at her sentencing. Part of her was embarrassed that these strangers knew so much about her. She remembered something else. “Wait.” She stopped the girl with a hand on her arm. “Did you say earlier, that I’d found the other Mask?” The sun must have addled her brain not to catch that sooner.

“You didn’t know?”

“Know what? There’s only one Mask of Tamirella.” The girl must’ve been talking of some other artifact.

“Actually, there are others.” After reaching camp, the two placed the bucket on the ground, and Natjulie sat on a stool. “An archaeologist from M112 found one.”

“That can’t be.” Cait wondered why the Elders hadn’t mentioned that at her sentencing. Her father had searched a very long time for the Mask—there had been only one that he knew of. Her heart raced as she soaked in the news. She sat and focused on the girl.

“That’s what we thought, too. But there’s supposed to be one in this cave and the Elders want us to find it. Too many people believe the Mask is cursed and renders its finders with dangerous luck. Lucas, Sam and I were the only ones from our sub-sanction to take the Elder’s offer. They said it’s a rich site. We don’t believe in the curse but we knew this dig was dangerous.” Natjulie’s eyes fell on the tent then moved to the left. “Healer Adelbonni was killed.”

Cait glanced the direction of Natjulie’s gaze. Movement near some trees caught her eyes and she saw the warriors inspecting a mound of stones, a grave. She turned her attention back to the girl, whose clothes had more dirt than dust. “Were you in the cave-in?”

“No.” Natjulie motioned to the makeshift tent. “We take turns because the dig area is still too small for more than a single person.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “I hope your healer can mend Sam. He has a fever, and I heard Finder Jenellen say that his wound could get infected out here. She knows a little about medicines but she’s not a healer.”

Cait nodded. People on digs worked so closely together that they often became like family. Her heart went out to this girl. “My primary’s one of the best healers.”

“Then I’m sure Sam will be fine.” A smile touched the girl’s lips but Cait could tell it was forced.

“Caitlanna!” Marjordan called in an impatient voice. “Where is that water!”

“Coming, P-Marj!” She turned an expectant face to the other girl. “I don’t suppose you can boil water faster than that.”

The girl shrugged and gave her an apologetic smile. “It’s almost done. But if it’ll help, I’ll let her be mad at me.”

Cait chuckled. “She’s not angry. Just impatient. Trust me, you’d know if she was angry.”

Natjulie glanced at the tent. “Not to be crossed, huh?”

“I wouldn’t advise it.”

The two girls laughed softly, and Cait guessed it was probably the first time Natjulie had relaxed since the cave-in.

After a moment, the girl peered into the pot. “Bubbles. It should be hot enough, now.”

“I’ll take it.” Cait retrieved a worn towel from a nearby rock and wrapped it around the pot, lifting it from the rack. “Rags,” she said, suddenly remembering what else Marjordan had asked for.

“I’ll get some. Go ahead.” Natjulie started toward the others, who were now tending the horses and mules.

“Thanks.” She made her way to the tent, careful not to spill the water. “P-Marj?”

“Put it there,” Marjordan pointed to a small wooden crate.

She set the pot on the crate next to a cup and two metal spoons. The towel didn’t seem like much protection once she’d carried the water to the tent, and she was relieved to have the hot thing out of her hands.

“Here are the rags, Healer,” Natjulie said. “We’ll have to wash the others if you need more.”

Marjordan stood and took the small pile from the girl. “This will be fine for now but I’ll need more tomorrow.”

“How is he?” Natjulie stared past her to Samcoty.

The healer studied the girl. “His injuries are fairly minor. It’s the fever we have to worry about. The longer he has it, the more stress it puts on his body.”

At that moment, Natjulie broke into tears and Marjordan pulled her into an embrace. She led the girl to a stool and helped her down. Then she pulled another stool over and sat next to her.

Jenellen held a cup and crossed to the pot of water. She scooped the hot liquid into the cup and carried it to Marjordan. “I’ll stay with her, Healer.” After she gave the cup to Marjordan, she took her place next to the sobbing girl.

Cait felt a bit awkward watching Natjulie cry so she focused on the injured boy. He was quiet now.

“I need your help, Cait,” Marjordan said. “Get some fever herb from my stash.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She rummaged through her primary’s bag until she found the dried, yellow herb.

Marjordan crumbled some into the cup of water and stirred it with a beat up metal spoon. “Prop his head on your lap and hold his mouth open.”

Cait did as she was told. His body felt hot even through her leggings. She watched as her primary dipped the spoon into the medicine, allowed it to cool, then slowly spooned the liquid into her patient. He swallowed most of it, though some ran out the sides of his mouth.

After the third spoonful, he opened dull, gray eyes and stared up into Caitlanna’s face. “Nat?”

The girl immediately came to his side and sniffed back tears. “I’m here, Sam.” She took his hand.

When he closed his eyes again, Nat gave Marjordan a startled look.

“He’s fine,” the healer assured her. “His body’s still fighting the fever but he knows you’re here.” She covered the girl’s hand briefly with her own. “That’s a good sign.” She smiled.

Natjulie nodded and gave the healer a tiny smile. She wiped at her wet face with the back of her arm, spreading more dirt on her nose and cheeks.

“Healer?” Jenellen said. “If you don’t need me anymore, I should start nighmeal.”

“Of course. I think everyone is calm now.”

The finder left.

“Help with nighmeal, Cait.” Marjordan gave her a tired look. “Sam needs to sleep. There’s not much else to be done except wait.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Cait stood and glanced at Natjulie.

“I’d like to stay.” The girl took the end of her braid in her fingers. Then she looked at the healer. “If that’s all right.”

Marjordan nodded. “That’s fine.”

As she made her way to the fire, Caitlanna noticed that the others had dispersed. Whit was at the fire with Jenellen. The men walked toward the lake and she watched Quin’s back as he disappeared behind some tall shrubbery.

Whit cleared her throat, and Cait gave the warrior a startled look. “You think you can keep your mind here long enough to help with nighmeal?”

“I was just, well, I—“ But she couldn’t think of anything to say to the woman. She just stood there trying desperately to force the heat from her face.

“Yes.” Whithelen’s black eyes glistened. “I know exactly what you were doing. I was sixteen just a few years ago, remember?” Cait nodded. The warrior stepped to her and placed an arm around her shoulders. “Quin won’t violate Marjordan’s trust. Or sanction laws.”

That put her more at ease to talk about her feelings. “What if he doesn’t wait for me, Whit? I’ve got three years before I’m full-grown.”

“Well, if he loves you, he’ll wait.”

“And if he finds someone else?”

“Would you want a man who doesn’t want you back?”

Cait glanced at the lake. “I guess not.”

“I’ve known you since you were born, Caitlanna Mullen. And I’ve always felt very sisterly toward you. I’ll be watching you and Quin so don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

She started to protest Whithelen’s protective nature, but the warning look made her decide against it. Part of her wondered if Marjordan had discussed the situation with the warrior. She couldn’t chance any disrespectful behavior getting back to her primary, not about this. And she didn’t want to get Quin in trouble. Sanction laws were very strict about relations between full-growns and those younger. Cait would escape severe punishment but not Quin. He could be beaten and exiled, which could lead to death since other sanctions didn’t accept full-grown offenders. Unless the outcast could find a group to admit him, dagbeasts, harsh weather, starvation or mutants would take him.

“I’ll be careful,” Caitlanna finally said.

The warrior relaxed. “You’ll make a very fine full-grown.” Whit patted her on the back a couple of times then turned to the fire.

Cait forced her attention on nighmeal. She and the other women took their baths in the lake after the men returned to watch Samcoty and the cooking food. After the group ate, Cait sat near the fire combing her hair and listened to instructions about the next day’s dig. Her eyes occasionally fell on Quin but he didn’t seem to notice. Marjordan and Whithelen, on the other hand, did.

Chapter 8

Strikers and Finders

Caitlanna’s first shift came and she stood anxiously inside the cave, waiting for her orders. Dirt and rock made up the area with rough walls that had seen centuries pass. What were once tunnels to some other part of the cave, had been victims of cave-ins probably from an era long before Cait’s birth. The entire group could easily fit in this area, though. Natjulie backed out of the tunnel that had been dug through one of the ancient cave-ins then stepped to the ground and stretched. The tortoise shell hat sat crookedly on her head and her face had streaks of sweaty dirt. She held a burnt-out lamp in one hand, and the bag over her shoulder sagged slightly with the weight of treasures.

Finder Jenellen took the bag, passed it to Nat’s brother and said, “Striker Caitlanna, take the protective hat. You’ll go in next and continue widening the site and collect any artifacts.”

Cait heard these instructions the previous night but she allowed the finder to repeat them without protest.

“Hopefully,” Jen continued, “we can widen it enough over the next couple days to get at least two workers in at one time.” She placed her hands on Cait’s shoulders. She was younger than Marjordan, but lines around her eyes and mouth revealed a lot of time spent in the sun. “Be extra careful in there. We don’t want anyone else caught in a cave-in. As you can see, this site has had many over the past centuries. Keep to the marked areas and if you feel any earth movement whatsoever, you get your backside out of there immediately. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Finder.”

“I mean this, Cait. I know all about your disregard for rules when you found the other Mask. We all do. And I will not have stupidity on my dig.”

“I promise, Finder. I don’t want to get caught in a cave-in any more than anyone else, here.” She didn’t intend to sound arrogant but it came out that way and Jenellen’s face hardened. This woman was definitely a seasoned finder, and Cait could already tell she would take no disrespect from her strikers.

Jen tightened her grip on Cait’s shoulders and leaned in. “I’ll let that slide because this is your first day with me. But if I hear that tone from you again, your face will sting.”

She lowered her eyes. “Yes, Finder.”

“Good.” Jen took the used lamp from Natjulie’s dusty hand and told her, “Go get something to eat and then rest.” The other girl left the cave. “Now’s your chance to prove your talent, Striker Caitlanna. I’ll be monitoring from here. Good luck.”

Cait hooked an empty bag over her shoulder, checked her tool belt and secured a water canteen onto it. She tied the tortoise shell hat on, checking it for a secure fit, then scooped up a burning clay lamp before crawling into the shaft. Several curved, metal plates, braced with thick beams, had been installed to secure the tunnel against another cave-in. Her lamp reflected off the shiny material, illuminating her way. She could see the flickering light at the dig area and crept toward it. The area wasn’t far but the cramped tunnel made it seem that way. She winced when her hand scraped across a sharp rock and chided herself for not putting on her gloves first.

Then she was out of the tunnel and in the less confined area of the dig site. There was just enough room for her to turn around without touching the walls. She could breathe easily and suspected an air duct. These caves were famous for them, since they’d been used for centuries after The Great War as living areas.

To her left, she could see the remains of the latest cave-in that had collapsed the other shaft and killed the previous healer. Thick wood planks had been lodged against the walls and low ceiling for support. Crossbars, nailed to the planks, added security. Caitlanna’s heart thudded against her ribs.

Stay calm, she told herself. She had never dug in such a dangerous place and the thought of suffocating under tons of rock nearly caused a panic in her. The Shore Sanction had been a different kind of threat. She wouldn’t have been killed there.

She pushed those thoughts away and focused on the markers to her right. Four brightly painted rocks guided her eyes to the place where Natjulie had been digging. Three clay lamps flickered shadows on the walls. A large pick lay nearby. The area was roomy enough for her to stand but she was the shortest of the group. She realized now why the Elders thought her size would be valuable to this dig. Even Nat would have to crouch in here.

“Striker?” Jenellen’s voice rang softly through the tunnel, jolting Cait from her thoughts.

The finder’s voice traveled extremely well despite the surrounding dirt, and she suspected the angle of the tunnel had something to do with that. “Sorry, Finder. Just getting my bearings,” she called back, careful not to speak too loudly for fear of bringing down rock. She knew the place was more stable than that or no one would be able to dig but she felt better keeping her voice low. She placed her lamp near the others.

“Don’t take too long.”

“Yes, Finder.” She took in a breath, slipped her bag off and placed it on a nearby rock, along with the water canteen. Then she donned her gloves and retrieved her trowel, pick, and brush from her belt. Her hands were steady as they cradled the familiar tools and she was suddenly at ease. She envisioned Hendrake at her side and went to work, cautiously digging and brushing through the dirt. Her goal was to make progress through the debris without damaging any artifacts, something she’d learned years ago from her skillful father.

As she worked, she relaxed her mind and focused on the pleasure of her trade. She worked deftly with experience beyond her years. The dusty smell of the cave reminded her of numerous digs she had been on with her father, and she smiled as pleasant memories flooded her mind.

“That’s very good, Lanna,” he had told her on her first dig. He was the only one ever to call her by that name.

She was apprentice age, ten, and felt proud assisting him. Of course, her father had taught her many things about modern archaeology long before that first dig. Sanction law forbade anyone younger than ten on a true dig so Hendrake had created a false site behind their home. He buried some of Caitlanna’s scarves and buttons along with animal bones and apple seeds, taught her what to look for, and how to uncover items without damaging them. By age twelve, she had attained striker status, the youngest age allowed and a year earlier than most.

A tiny object caught her deft eyes and she pulled her thoughts to the present. As she gently brushed the dirt away, a colored bead stood out against the monotonous dirt surrounding it. She carefully removed her find and placed it on a nearby ragcloth.

****

At noonmeal, Jenellen called her out. Cait surveyed her work. She had recovered several pottery shards, six colored beads, and one metal tip of an ancient writing tool. This was a rich site, indeed. She’d never uncovered so much in such a short time. No evidence of the Mask, though. Not yet. She stood and stretched, rubbing at her sore neck.

Her progress through the debris had been slow and the dirt thick, but she’d widened the area at least a hands’ length. Using the large pick for the upper debris area helped speed up the process. There were no artifacts in that area, just years and years of dirt. But she had to be careful near the floor. This had been home to some ancient family or group of families from what she could tell, and that meant treasures, valuable treasures. She hoped she would find the Mask, if it existed. The thought of more than one seemed like a foreign idea to her. Part of her wondered if it was just a cruel joke. Punishment from the Elders. That thought vanished when her stomach rumbled.

“Striker?” Jenellen’s voice called down the tunnel.

Caitlanna jumped at the sudden noise. “Yes, Finder. I’m coming.” Sadly, her shift was over. After holstering her tools, she extinguished the dig lamps to save the animal fat and reluctantly retrieved her bag and half-empty canteen. Her back near her left shoulder felt a bit irritated but she ignored it. Her personal lamp was burning the last of its fat, and she scooped it up before backing out through the tunnel, until she stood in the open area of the cave.

“How’re you doing?” Jen was crouched on the floor, inspecting tools, and hadn’t even looked up.

Cait smiled at the finder’s obvious obsession with artifacts. “Good. I found several items but no Mask yet.” She offered her bag.

The finder stood and grinned. “You expected to recover it so soon?” She took the bag and placed it next to the tools.

“No.” Caitlanna chuckled. Her father had taught her better than that. “I’d like to continue after noonmeal.”

“You need to rest. Paulucas will take that shift.” Jen nodded to Nat’s brother, who was rotating a large harerabbit over the fire just outside the cave.

“But I’m the right size,” Cait protested as she eyed the man. He was even taller than Marjordan. Cait had gotten her small stature from her mother. “I can do it faster.”

“You’ll work alternating shifts.” Jenellen’s tone left no room for argument. She took the tortoise shell hat from Cait’s head, retrieved a full lamp, and started into the tunnel for the inspection.

“Yes, Finder.” Cait didn’t know whether the woman heard her. She took in a deep breath of the hot, fresh air as she walked outside to remove her gloves and striker belt. The sun nearly blinded her after being in the dim light of the cave, so she plucked her straw hat from a nearby rock and put it on.

Whithelen made her way to the fire with several pieces of wood. “Good shift?” She placed the wood on the fire.

“It’s a rich site. But I hope to have more luck my next shift.”

“If anyone can find that Mask, you can, Cait.” The warrior leaned toward her. “Hendrake would be proud of you, despite the risks you’ve taken lately.”

That comment gave lightness to Caitlanna’s heart. Her father would have been proud. He hadn’t always stuck to the rules, either, when a rich find was at stake, but he had always been careful, and she planned to follow his example. “Thanks, Whit.”

The woman winked and started back toward the mounts.

“Looks good in there, Striker.” Jenellen stepped from the cave but her eyes were on the bag in her hands. “We might have a foot cleared by my shift.”

“Thank you, Finder.”

“I give praise where it’s due.” The woman sat on a stool and began sifting through the bag of artifacts.

Natjulie sprinted toward them from the tent. “Sam’s fever broke,” she said through a frenzied smile.

Cait grinned back at her. “That’s great. I told you my primary was one of the best healers.”

The girl squealed and tapped Cait’s arm a couple of times. “How’d the dig go?” She obviously tried to focus her thoughts.

Cait chuckled. “Good. Found a few more artifacts.” She placed her belt on a nearby rock.

“Oh, good.”

Nat seemed unusually chipper and Caitlanna laughed again.

“What?” the girl protested.

“Nothing. I mean, you’re so different from yesterday.”

“I know. I’m just glad Sam’s getting better.”

Cait glanced at Nat’s brother but he was focused on the cooking harerabbit. She leaned toward the other girl. “You like Sam. In a sexual way.”

Nat’s eyes widened slightly then her face reddened. “Is it that obvious?”

“Yes. To me anyway.” The two giggled.

“What’s going on?” Marjordan came from the direction of the tent. Her face looked drawn but content.

Caitlanna knew that look. The patient would recover.

“These two children are discussing boys,” Jen said, eyeing them with a bit of humor. Her attention went immediately back to the artifacts.

“Oh, I see. Well, as long as they only discuss the topic.”

“P-Marj,” Cait protested. She glanced around for Quinpatrik but he was out of earshot.

However, Paulucas stepped from the fire. “Don’t worry, Healer,” he said. “My sister knows what I’ll do to any boy who gets too close to her.” Nat’s face hardened but she kept her mouth shut. “I’ll be glad to look out for your charge, as well.”

“That would be very nice, Paul.” Marjordan gave Cait a look that dared her to object. She waited a moment.

Cait glared at her but held her tongue. She knew better than to challenge her primary when she’d just come from a worrisome healing. Marjordan’s temper was always short, and Cait would be slapped down in an instant. Besides, she had no intention of embarrassing herself in front of her newly acquired friends.

Nat must have thought the same because she simply gave her brother a sour look and twirled her hair as he wandered toward the horses. Then she flipped her braid defiantly in his direction and stomped to the fire.

When her primary narrowed eyes on her, Cait decided to change the subject, hoping to distract the woman. “So, Sam will recover?” Her instincts paid off and Marjordan took the bait.

“Yes, he will.” Marjordan glanced back at the tent. “His fever’s down and there’s no infection.”

“Good.” She reached back to rub at the irritation near her left shoulder blade, twisting her body.

“Cait, your tunic is torn.” Marjordan moved her around to inspect her back. “You’ve hurt yourself. Wait here while I get my bag.”

“You need water?” Jenellen said.

“Thank you.” The healer crossed to the tent, while Jen snatched up a bowl and headed for the lake.

Cait turned to Natjulie, who had a worried look on her face. “Is it that bad?” She remembered scraping up against the rocks in the cave but hadn’t thought anything of it.

The other girl stepped to her. “Nah. Looks pretty minor.”

“Good.” She was afraid she’d get pulled from her next shift and she silently cursed.

She knew better than to haphazardly lean against walls on a dig but she’d been distracted. The Mask called to her, pulled at her to find it, something her father had warned her about. He had called the urge Finder’s Fever, and it could become an obsession. Cait had seen Finder’s Fever in her father several times. She felt the Fever stirring in her even now. She wanted to get back in the cave, even with the risk of cave-ins and further injuries.

“Sit down over here,” Marjordan said as she returned and pulled Cait to a stool. “Take off your tunic.”

She sat facing the cave and began unlacing the front of her tunic. Her primary would keep the men away but she still felt self-conscious. And she didn’t dare disobey a healer!  Especially her own primary. She secretly wondered what Quinpatrik would think of her small breasts. Would he think they were too small and childlike? Or would Cait’s body attract him the way one lifemate attracts another. She glanced back when someone walked up.

“Jen,” Marjordan said, taking the bowl of water. “Would you?” Her eyes flickered toward the men at the horses.

“I’ll take care of them.” She disappeared.

“Jenellen will keep the men away, Cait. Off with it.” She pulled the tunic off and began washing the injury.

Caitlanna winced and, by the sting, knew her primary was using a hock-heal mixture. The medicine, a healer’s good friend, was versatile and used for a variety of external and internal wounds. She sucked in a breath at the pain and pulled her shoulder forward, away from the irritation.

“I know this burns but you need to sit still.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She concentrated on the tear in her tunic. There was dried blood surrounding the ripped cloth, and she cursed under her breath. Then another thought made her pulse quicken. “I won’t need stitches, will I?” Though she trusted Natjulie’s earlier opinion, the girl was no healer.

“No. You’ve just a few scratches but I want to bandage you. I don’t want to chance infection.”

She feared what her primary would say next and held her breath.

“I want you to stay out of the dust for the rest of today,” Marjordan told her. “We’ll see how this looks tomorrow. If there’s no infection, you can continue digging.”

A scream of frustration started deep inside and Cait gritted her teeth against it. Then a sigh made its way out of her mouth and she dropped her shoulders in defeat.

“Arms up.” Marjordan ignored her posture.

Something cool pressed against her wound. Her primary wrapped a long cloth around her chest, just above her exposed breasts, to secure the bandage.

“You’re done, Cait. Wash carefully at the lake and I’ll bring you a fresh tunic.” Marjordan took the bloodied clothing. “Don’t get the bandage wet.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Cait, with Nat shielding her, she made her way to the lake and tried to quell the frustration that built with every step.

Chapter 9

Dig Days

The next two days were uneventful. Cait’s scratches were healing nicely and she took her shifts, careful to keep away from jutting rocks and debris. She didn’t intend to miss any more dig time. The need to find the Mask deepened within her as each shift came and went.

Though the finders took credit for all of the artifacts found, they shared profits with the strikers, warriors and healers on the dig. Paulucas would be paid twice for his rare services as both finder and warrior. The Elders had decreed that finder payment for this Mask would be equally divided between the three finders, no matter who discovered it. And if Cait could excavate it, she would automatically gain finder status, not to mention a handsome cut of whatever the Mask brought.

The area had been widened enough for two people, which sped up digging, and she was grateful for Finder’s Fever. Quin’s presence couldn’t distract her now, though they often worked shifts together. Jenellen seemed impressed with her work and praised her after each inspection of the site, which also lifted her spirits.

Between shifts, she busied herself with weapon training. Her father’s sword felt better in her hands each time she practiced, and her roughening palms kept more blisters from forming. Her attacks and blocks improved but she wondered if she would ever be as good as a warrior. She also wondered whether she would be able to kill a person if the need arose. Of course, that wouldn’t matter if she became a renowned finder. With enough wealth, she could hire the most talented warriors to protect her and her sub-sanction. She smiled at that thought.

“Ow!” she cried when Ianandy slapped her arm. She gave him a sour look as one hand adjusted her straw hat.

“That could’ve been my sword, Cait,” he reprimanded. “Then you’d have no arm to complain about.”

Immediately, her mind flashed to the little mutant girl in the forest. Babies born without limbs were abandoned to the forests but she’d never heard what happened to people who lost body parts later in life. Many in her sub-sanction had scars and wounds from various accidents or small battles, but no one had lost a limb that she knew about. She eyed the warrior.

“If I lost an arm, would I be given to the mutants?” She also wondered if they would sacrifice her to their gods for a chance at being healthy.

“Of course not, girl,” Ian said. “You weren’t born a mutant, Cait. Slicing off your arm wouldn’t change the fact that you’re a healthy.”

She lowered her sword. “But what about healthies who get the disfigurement disease? They’re always sent away.” The disease usually struck within a family and the victims lost use of their limbs as their bodies twisted with the onset of adolescence. She knew this, though she had never witnessed it.

“That’s because they’re not really healthies. They’re born mutants but their bodies keep the disease hidden. Sometimes for years. Eventually, the disease shows itself and they must live with their own kind.” He pointed his sword at her. “Are we going to flap our jowls all day or do you want to prepare for finder status?”

“Sorry, Warrior.” Cait still had questions but she pushed them away for a later time.

“Protect yourself, Striker.” Ian forced her to continue practicing until noonmeal.

****

As they sat near the cave entrance, Caitlanna watched the two male warriors assist Samcoty to a stool. The boy’s fever had never returned but his appetite had, and he hadn’t missed a meal in two days. He continued wearing the splint on his right leg, which Marjordan told him would stay there for the next few weeks, and the sling supported his sprained arm. Somehow, he’d convinced the healer to let him sit with the others for meals. The fact that he wasn’t allowed to dig seemed to bother him more than any of his injuries, and he attempted to sway Marjordan to let him go into the cave.

“I’ve already told you,” Cait’s primary was saying as she held a stool steady for the boy. “You’re not going to dig until those injuries are completely mended. If you continue to bring up digging, I’ll have Ian strap your mouth shut.” She sat on another stool and flipped her long, dark braid behind her back. Sam’s eyes went wide and he stared in disbelief at her. She raised an expectant brow at him. “Is there something you need clarified?” The irritation in her voice was clear.

Caitlanna knew her primary would make good on that threat. She wanted to warn Sam to keep his mouth shut but this was not her business.

“No, Healer. I understand completely.” Sam blinked his eyes hard several times, a nervous habit that Cait had noticed in him.

“Wise boy.” Marjordan took some offered cheese, fruit and salted meat from Whithelen and began to eat.

Cait could tell that Ian, Quin, and Whit held back laughter. She had known the three her entire life. Paulucas kept a stoic expression, so she didn’t know whether he was amused, and Finder Jenellen seemed not to notice anything except the artifacts she was cataloging. However, the stricken look on Nat’s face caught Cait’s attention. The girl looked as though she were about to leap to Sam’s side and cradle him like a wounded child. Instead, she took the boy a plate of food.

“Thank you, Nat.” He blinked a couple of times and began eating.

His appetite must have calmed the girl because she smiled, crossed back to Whit, and took up a plate for herself.

Jen was the only one without food and, after a few moments, Marjordan pointed that fact out. “Finder, you need to eat.”

“Later.” The finder didn’t look up. All her concentration was on the artifacts. Her braid was frazzled and dusty from the cave, and there were still holes in her tunic and leggings. They had been there ever since Caitlanna’s first day here. Obviously, the woman hadn’t bothered to mend them.

That’s when Cait realized Jen had a severe case of Finder’s Fever. Hendrake had given in to the obsession more than a few times in his life. During his preoccupation with finding the Mask, he had worked long hours, sometimes forgoing nourishment.

“No one is going to starve while I am dig healer,” Marjordan carried a plate of food to the finder.

Jenellen eyed her a moment. Then, with annoyance, she took the offered meal, placed it on the ground next to her and continued studying the artifacts.

Marjordan’s hands went to her hips. “You can eat now or have me feed you.” She glared at the woman crouched near her feet.

The finder squinted up then sighed. “Yes, Healer.” One hand snatched up the plate and she rocked onto her backside to eat.

Marjordan stepped back to her own meal with a satisfied look in her eyes. “You’d better concentrate on your own plate.”

Cait realized she was staring at Jen and heat rose to her cheeks at the reprimand. “Yes, ma’am.” She ate heartily, knowing that her shift was right after noonmeal. Urges to get into the cave were strong within her and she didn’t want to give Marjordan reason to detain her.

Quin seemed eager to work and he ate quickly, too. He would be monitoring the cave while two strikers dug. Cait wondered if Finder’s Fever had taken hold of him, too.

She swatted at insects as the tiny creatures tried to share her meal. “Shoo. That’s mine, you little cretins.”

“Now, that’s what I like to see.” Marjordan smiled. “A healthy appetite like that will keep you strong.”

Cait grinned and her mind cried out in satisfaction. Taking large portions of food had benefited her. Just for eating hearty, Marjordan might allow her to work an extra shift this week, something Hendrake had taught her about his sister and many other healers.

“Eat well, Lanna,” her father had told her warmly. “And never let them hear you cough, even from the dust.”

She silently thanked her father for his advice and continued with her meal.

After she and the others had finished, they made their way into the cave. Cait entered the tunnel first with Nat right behind her. When they reached the dig area, the two began working. Quin stayed near the cave entrance, cataloguing artifacts.

“Cait?” Nat said after a time of silent working.

“Mmm?” She forced herself to concentrate on the girl’s words. She preferred to work without chit-chat but found that many others enjoyed conversation during a dig. Besides, Natjulie didn’t have the promise of finder status from the Elders. The girl would be a striker for at least three more years, until she reached full-grown. This dig couldn’t mean as much to her as it did to Cait.

“You like Quin, don’t you?”

“What? Shh.” She snapped a look over her shoulder at the tunnel. “He’s in the cave, Nat.”

“I know.” The girl leaned toward her. “He can’t hear us. I wasn’t talking that loudly, even for this place.”

“Well, I just don’t want him to know, yet.”

“Then you do like him?”

In fact, she loved him. “Yes. What’s your point?” Frustration rose in her at such personal questions. Her feelings about Quin were private. At least, she liked to think so.

“He’s a full-grown.”

She didn’t say anything. She simply waited.

“He’s forbidden to take you as a mate until you’re full-grown, too.”

“Nat—“ This time she allowed anger to touch her voice.

“I just want to know how you do it.” The girl said quickly. “How do you keep from wrapping your arms around him and—well, you know?” She twirled her braid between fingers.

A forceful breath escaped Caitlanna’s lungs and pushed noisily out her lips. “He would get into a lot of trouble if we did anything. You know that.” Her hands paused over a small find. “Besides, I don’t know for sure he likes me that way. He’s not the kind of man to pursue anyone younger than nineteen.”

The girl nodded and got a pained look on her face that startled Cait. “What’s wrong. Nat?”

“I love Sam, Cait. And we’d always accepted we’d be together once we we’re full-grown. But after what happened in the cave-in...I don’t want to wait five more years to be with him.”

“Five? I thought you were my age?”

“I’m fourteen. I thought you knew. I just turned fourteen before I came on this dig with Lucas.” The girl only used her brother’s primary name, P-Paul, when she wanted something from him. Most times, she simply called him Lucas.

Cait eyed the younger girl and was surprised at her sudden protective feelings. “You’re not planning to do anything stupid, are you? Since you’re both too young, you’d both be punished.” She said this even though she knew they’d receive punishment from their primaries, not from the sub-sanction collective like a full-grown would. Then she thought of something else. “Nat? Who is Sam’s primary?” The boy had never brought it up, and Cait had been so engrossed in the dig that she hadn’t even been curious. Until now.

Natjulie gave her another pained look.

“You mean—“ She couldn’t even finish her sentence.

The girl nodded. “Sam’s parents were both warriors and were killed in a raid four years ago. My parents took him in. Then they died during the great landslide that buried half our sub-sanction.” A thoughtful look crossed her face. “That was nearly two years ago. Anyway, Lucas became primary to both of us.”

Cait stared in disbelief at the girl.

“Well, say something,” Nat prompted.

“Don’t do it,” was what came out. “Your primary could send Sam to another family in another sub-sanction.”

Her mind drifted to the image of a crying girl in M3. The girl had been caught with a boy in the common stables. They were both seventeen and the girl was lucky not to get pregnant. The boy’s primary sent him to M5, a nearby sub-sanction, until his nineteenth birthday. The two were mated in the knot-tying ceremony as full-growns, but Cait remembered the girl’s grief during their separation and her humiliation when she and her lover were paraded through town as the boy was escorted out. She didn’t want to see that happen to Natjulie.

“But I love him,” Nat protested.

“If you love him, wait for him.” She could hardly believe those words came from her own lips. Whit had told her something very similar just days ago. She decided to tell Nat about the unfortunate couple from her sub-sanction.

Her partner was transfixed during the story then her face went ashen. “I couldn’t live without him, Cait,” Nat said near tears.

“Then don’t. You can be around him everyday as long as you don’t break your trust with Paulucas.”

The girl nodded and turned back to her work.

Cait wasn’t sure whether she’d gotten through to her, but she hoped. She turned back to her own digging, where she retrieved occasional artifacts and placed them gently on the nearby cloth. Her advice to Natjulie raced through her mind. She loved Quin and had wondered many times what it would be like to take him as a mate, but now she had a new perspective, thanks to Natjulie. And Finder’s Fever!  Her heart raced at the memory of Quinpatrik bathing in the lake and she fervently delved into her work, hoping to push those dangerous feelings away.

The two strikers continued silently for the rest of their shift, for which she was grateful.

When night came, she bedded down near Marjordan but her thoughts were on Nat and Sam. She silently wished them luck in controlling their urges to mate. Then she turned that wish on herself and longed to be alone so she could relieve some of her own frustration.

Chapter 10

A Great Find

The group labored another two days, recovering artifacts and widening the dig site. Caitlanna and Natjulie were on shift again. By the time they had made the little room large enough for two people to work side by side, a surprise presented itself, and Cait was the one to find it.

She had trouble catching her breath and must have said, “Oh,” at least a dozen times, as a rush of stale air met her nostrils.

“What is it?” Natjulie said. “Cait?”

But she was busy trying to get the hole large enough to push her head and lamp through. She ignored the bruising rocks that fell onto her back and ignored her partner as well. Until the girl tried to pull her from her work. “Stop that,” she said with more than annoyance.

“You’re bleeding. There might be more rocks up there.”

She jerked away and kept digging.

“I’m getting Jenellen.” Natjulie headed out the tunnel before Cait could stop her.

“Nat? Nat!” But her calls were too late. The girl was out of sight.

She turned back to the hole she’d created and peered into the next room. Darkness met her eyes, and she frantically widened the hole before one of the finders could get through the tunnel and stop her. Her work paid off almost immediately and a large opening appeared in the packed and hardened dirt. She took up the lamp, pushed it into the opening, then poked her head inside. Air left her lungs as the remains of ancient bedding and other items came into view, and she wriggled a little farther. She had no idea how long this part of the cave had been sealed off, but from the stale air inside, it had been a very long time. Her heart raced with excitement.

Suddenly, strong hands grabbed her waist, causing her to jump involuntarily.

“Get your backside out of there, now,” Jenellen tugged at Cait’s waist.

In her excitement, she realized that she’d pushed her body into the hole up to her middle. “Finder Jenellen, it’s another room. A living area. There are—well—a lot of artifacts in here.” She had trouble containing her excitement.

“I don’t care if there’s a stack of valuable metal tools as high as your head. You’re injured and I order you to come out.”

Cait realized her mistake. Finder’s Fever had taken a strong hold on her. She slowly backed out of the hole. When she pulled the lamp out and turned to Jenellen, the woman had a furious look on her face. “I’m sorry, Finder. I couldn’t leave this.” She motioned to the hole.

Jenellen narrowed eyes on her and she braced for a well-deserved slap.

“Let me see,” the finder said in a distracted tone, and she took the lamp. She was already stooping under the low ceiling and pushed her arm and head through the hole. “Striker, you’ve found an entire slew of treasures here.” She backed out and turned to Cait. Her brown eyes were bright in the dancing light of the lamps, and Nat had left hers behind in her haste, which lightened the place even more. “Good work. But don’t disobey me again. Understand?”

Cait nodded in amazement. Jenellen was experiencing Finder’s Fever more than she had assumed. She grinned, knowing that she wouldn’t be punished. At least, not by the finder. Her primary was another problem.

“You need to let Marjordan take a look at your back, Striker,” Jenellen said in an official tone. Then she smirked. “I’ll see if I can persuade her to let you continue with me into this room. If the weather holds, we can get through and begin cataloguing tonight.”

“Thank you, Finder,” Cait squealed. She must have sounded like a small child but she didn’t care. “P-Marj is pretty stubborn, though. What if you can’t convince her?”

Jenellen turned to the hole for a moment. “Then, I’ll just have to wait for you. After all, you were the first to open the wall.” She raised a sun-bleached brow and gave the clay lamp back. “I can be pretty stubborn myself.”

A wide grin spread across Cait’s dry and cracked lips but she ignored the stinging.

“Let’s get you outside.” The finder blew out the large lamps.  She nudged Cait toward the tunnel and scooped up Nat’s lamp.

Marjordan stood at the cave entrance with her hands on her hips. “Come with me,” she said as the two stepped from the cave. She grabbed Cait’s arm and pulled her toward the tent.

Cait squinted against the brightness but managed to give Jenellen a quick look and mouthed the words, “Help me.”

The finder sprinted after them. “Healer?” She shaded her eyes. “I need this striker to help with the next shift.”

At first, it seemed that Marjordan wasn’t going to respond. “Sit.” Cait lowered her backside onto a stool in the shade of the blanket tent. Then the healer turned to Jenellen. “You wait over there.” A long arm pointed toward the fire where Natjulie now sat. “I’ll let you know my decision after I examine her.”

Jenellen wasted no time following orders. “Yes, Healer.” She left without looking back.

“You know the routine, Cait.” Marjordan rummaged through her medicine bag.

“Yes, ma’am.” She removed her tunic and winced as her primary washed her back. “Where’s Sam?” She tried to take her mind from her stinging injuries.

“The men took him to the lake for a bath.” Marjordan stepped in front of her and grinned. “He was getting a bit ripe.”

She chuckled.

“You’re scratched up pretty good, girl. Just what were you doing in there?”

That sent her into a wave of excitement and she blurted out everything she’d seen in the ancient room.

Her primary stood patiently listening with a slight expression of amusement on her face. “I see,” Marjordan said when she finished her description. Dark eyes focused on her face, weighing her.

She squirmed under her primary’s scrutiny and felt as though she’d been thrown back in time to her young childhood. Except for the white streaks in her hair and the lines around her eyes and mouth, Marjordan looked very much as she always had. At least in Cait’s eyes.

Marjordan bandaged the slight injuries and stepped outside the tent of blankets. “Jenellen, come here.”

The finder sprinted to the tent. “Yes, Healer?”

“I’ll allow Cait to take next shift with you, after noonmeal, but I will hold you responsible if she comes to me with more injuries.”

“Yes, Healer. I’ll keep close watch over her.”

“You’d better.” At first, Cait thought her primary spoke in jest. But Marjordan’s voice kept a strong tone, letting them both know that she was serious. The healer then retrieved a clean tunic that had been drying on a nearby branch and offered it to Cait. “You had better do exactly as Finder Jenellen tells you or a few scratches will be the least of your worries. Am I making myself clear?”

“Yes, ma’am.” She slipped on the fresh clothing.

“If I hear you’ve gone against her orders in there,” one arm gestured toward the cave, “you’ll be on cooking duty for the next couple of days.”

Cait’s heart raced at her primary’s threat and she knew her self-control was going to be tested. The thought of missing two days of digging sent chills through her thin body. Even as she listened to the woman’s lecture, her mind returned to the newly discovered room and the treasures it held. Marjordan leaned over her, waiting for acknowledgment. “I understand, P-Marj,” she said in an effort to placate the woman. “I’ll obey Finder Jenellen.”

“See that you do.”

There was a commotion at the fire, and she saw that the men were back from the lake. Natjulie was obviously filling them in on recent events. Cait, Marjordan, and Jenellen made their way to the fire.

The men had decided to do some fishing while they were at the lake, and Quinpatrik held up a large troutfish. “The really big one got away.” He offered a look of mourning. Then his lips spread into a wide grin.

“You’re such a liar, Quin,” Cait said as she inspected the fish in his hand. Her mind flashed to their childhood and the mutual teasing.

“Is that anyway to talk to a full-grown, girl.” He grinned again, and she stomped her foot at him. “Who wants the honors?” He said as he held the fish a bit higher. Whithelen stepped forward and he immediately pulled the fish away from her. “I think we’d all like someone who can make him edible.” He wrinkled his nose at the warrior.

Whit’s hands went to her hips and she started to retort.

“I haven’t cooked anything in a while.” Marjordan placed a hand on Whit’s arm.

The warrior gave her a nod. “Well, you are a better cook than I am.”

“My horse is a better cook than you, Warrior Whit,” Paulucas added. He wasn’t much for jests and the group looked at him in astonishment. “What? I’m only telling the truth.”

“I’ll give you truth, Warrior. Or is it Finder today?”

Cait studied the two and realized their attraction. Where had she been that she didn’t see this relationship heating up over the last few days? Finder’s Fever must have been stronger than she realized. She glanced at Nat, who smiled stupidly at her brother.

At that moment, Paulucas advanced on Whit. “Care to find out?”

“Enough of that,” Marjordan scolded. “Not in front of the children. If you two need time alone, the lake is free.”

Cait took exception to her primary’s condescending tone about her but she knew better than to say anything. Instead, she focused on the couple, waiting for their response.

“Go on.” Marjordan shooed them toward the water.

The two looked at her in astonishment before breaking into a full run toward the lake.

Marjordan stood smack in Cait’s view and she had to crane her neck to see around the woman.

“Just what are you two looking at?” the healer said. “Go gather more wood for the fire.”

She was about to protest but Nat grabbed her by the arm and pulled her toward the large woodpile that the warriors had created.

The pile had been replenished and Cait stooped to retrieve several fallen logs. “You’re awfully eager to get firewood.”

“Well, I want my brother to take a mate and I like Whithelen. She seems to calm him. Strange for a warrior, don’t you think?” Nat gathered small cuts of wood.

“Not for her. Whit’s always had a soft side. Not that she isn’t a fierce warrior in a fight. She’s good with a sword. But she is observant of people. I think she must’ve learned those skills from P-Marj. That woman doesn’t miss much.” In Cait’s sub-sanction, as in many others, healers had a lot of influence on the children. After all, they brought them into the world, gave regular exams and treated their ailments.

“So I’ve noticed.” Nat adjusted the wood stacked in her arms. “Your primary is very tough on her patients.”

“P-Marj does everything in her power to make sure her patients recover, whether they like it or not.” She smirked at the girl.

Nat snickered. “I’ll make sure I never get sick around her.”

“Good idea. So,” she leaned in toward her new friend, “how’s it going with Sam?”

The girl took in a deep breath and glanced at Sam, who sat by the fire with his splinted leg propped on a rock. “I told him that story. The one about the underage couple in your sub-sanction.”

Cait nodded and retrieved one last piece of wood, making sure her arms were full.

“He didn’t like the idea of living with another family for five years. So, we’re going to try really hard not to do anything stupid. It’s been pretty easy since his injuries. He hasn’t been alone very much, especially with Healer Marjordan around.”

“I’m sure your brother would be more than happy to break Sam’s other leg if it will keep you two apart.” Cait smiled at her own wit.

A tiny laugh came from Natjulie. “Don’t give him any ideas.”

The two walked back to camp and stacked the wood near the fire. Then Cait added a couple of smaller logs to the flames.

“You girls sit and rest until noonmeal,” Marjordan told them. “Jen tells me everyone will be allowed a peek into the new room as the digging progresses.”

Nat sat on the ground next to Samcoty’s stool.

Cait took a seat on a flat rock and looked around for the finder but she was gone. “Where is Jen?”

“She and Quin are inspecting the site. I think they’re deciding on the next order of shifts.”

Cait felt a pang of jealousy. She had located the room, and Jenellen was making plans around her find. And the woman was with Quin. She eyed the cave.

“Here,” Marjordan said, jolting her attention back to the fire. The woman held out a bowl of water and some tubers. “Wash these.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She forced her attentions on meal chores.

Her primary gave similar tasks to Nat and Sam then turned back to her own work of cleaning the fish. A messy job that Cait was more than pleased to avoid. Her thoughts turned to Quinpatrik bathing in the lake again and she hid her face from her primary. Perhaps she should confess her feelings to him. Then they could make plans for their future.

You don’t even know if he likes you that way. So stop those stupid thoughts.

She caught a laugh now and then and looked toward the lake but couldn’t see where Whit and Paulucas had gotten off to. She fought a sigh. This was going to be a very long dig if she couldn’t control her desires.

Chapter 11

The Room of Antiquities

Cait joined Jen and Quin in their efforts to expand the opening to the newly discovered room. They braced the area with rough, wooden planks and picked carefully through the dirt. Since Cait was the smallest of the group, she was allowed to wriggle through the opening as soon as it was large enough. Quinpatrik handed her a lamp once she was on the other side.

The room flickered with shadows as she stepped tentatively on the dirt floor. She’d been right about the living quarters. There were several, intact pottery items, as well as many shards. Material and fiber scraps covered one area near the far wall, and she guessed that to be the sleeping area. A clay lamp with a curved handle sat on a nearby rock, as though someone had simply set it there and gone out for the daily hunt. She was surprised how similar the ancient lamp was to her own. If not for the centuries separating her from these people, she could’ve sworn that whoever lived here would return any moment.

“What do you see?” Jenellen said with impatience.

She had her body halfway through the opening. “This was definitely someone’s home, Finder.” Something brushed against her foot and she yelped.

“Cait?” Jen said in a near panicked voice.

She held the lamp out in front of her to illuminate the room more and saw a small creature scurry into a hole and disappear. “Sorry.” She tried to slow her rapid heartbeat. “Ratmouse.” She heard curses and knew the woman worried about damaged artifacts from the furry creatures. “It looks like whoever lived here abandoned this place in a hurry. Most of the items are in positions of usage.”

Cait had learned to tell a lot about people’s last moments at a site from her father. The man had called that detective work. She knew the term was archaic, but he had liked using words from the old languages now and then. Caitlanna’s thoughts lingered on the archaic tongue then turned to the Elders. The Elders were still deciphering the ancient mountain diaries, the only ones that existed in pieces large enough to read. So far, all they had decoded were a few syllables. The diaries were said to be complicated with older languages and full of unknown words.

Cait didn’t think she would have the patience for deciphering work, but then she wasn’t old. Perhaps in several decades, she would tire of the digs and opt for a seat on the Council, if she lived that long, but she doubted it.

“This is unbelievable, Jen.” A shiver took her when her fingers touched a beaded necklace that lay on one of the cloths. It looked small enough for a child and, except for the string, was complete, bone clasp and all. She turned toward the opening and, when something shimmered off to her right, stepped to the object. “Oh, Finder,” she said in awe as she realized the shimmering artifact was made of ancient metal. Not the dull pounded type of her time, but a smooth, soothing metal of shimmering silver and gold. It was older than the people who had lived here, from another era, probably a find of a much earlier dig when such treasures were plentiful.

“What’ve you found? Bring it to me if you can.”

Cait didn’t have to be told. She already had her fingers on the object before the finder spoke. As she pulled the thing from its resting place, a leather sheath half-eaten with age, crumbled away to reveal a long, sharp knife. The handle had intricate gilded carvings of animals that she could only imagine, for they no longer existed in her world. She studied the ancient writing along the handle but the archaic words made no sense to her.

“Cait?”

“I’m coming, Finder.” She stepped to the woman, lamp in one hand and the precious knife in the other.

“This is beautiful.” The finder took the artifact and cradled it in her hands. “Should bring a profit at least half that of the Mask.”

At that moment, something stirred in Caitlanna, something she’d never experienced in all her young years as a striker. Her mind tried in desperation to recreate the owner of the ancient knife. Not just so she could locate other artifacts like it. But to know who these people were and what they’re lives had been like. Did they have families like now? What were their hardships? Could they possibly be Caitlanna’s direct ancestors? She would never know that for certain but the thought thrilled her. A desire to hold onto the find and study it welled up. She stroked the artifact in Jenellen’s hands and felt a pulse of excitement race through her veins. This was so old. Older than Cait could envision.

“Do we have to sell it?” she uttered, not taking her eyes from the gilded animals.

“Of course, we have to sell it. Don’t be ignorant, girl. How would everyone get their share of the profit if we kept it?”

She shrugged uncomfortably. All her days, she had excavated for profit but there was something about this place, these artifacts, something she couldn’t explain. And she didn’t dare try to rationalize her feelings to Jen and the others. They would never understand. I don’t even understand.

“Come out,” Jenellen ordered. “Leave the lamp. I want to take a look before we let the others in here.”

“Yes, Finder.” She reluctantly wriggled back through the opening. Quin helped her widen it enough for the others to get through and watched with interest as Jenellen surveyed the ancient room.

“Looks like they may have left much of their belongings. It’s just the way you said, Cait, everything’s in its place. Oh, this is a rich site, indeed.” One dusty arm made a sweeping motion. “Looks like the ratmice haven’t had a chance to eat away at anything yet. They must’ve just found this place, too, probably through our opening. Even if we don’t find the Mask here, we’ll each have enough profit to live well for quite a while. Quin, you’re next then Paul. Nat and the others can take turns after him.”

The finders exchanged places. Each person, including Marjordan and the other warriors in the camp took a turn, except for Samcoty. With his broken leg, he couldn’t maneuver the tunnel. He sulked on a stool outside the cave until Jenellen gave him the gilded knife to inspect.

Cait had observed that most finders tried to keep high morale among their strikers. Work proceeded quicker when everyone was in a decent mood.

“A fortunate warrior must have owned that,” Whit said as her black eyes focused on the artifact. She sat close to Paulucas but the two kept space between them.

The knife was so beautiful, so mysterious, a relic of a lost time, a time Cait couldn’t even imagine. She couldn’t help her reluctance about bartering the artifact and she frowned.

“Cait?” Marjordan stepped to her and placed a brief hand on her forehead.

“I’m not ill, P-Marj.”

The healer studied her a moment. “Well, I think we could all benefit from a good night’s sleep. Especially you. And I want to clean those scratches before you bed down.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She spoke with some distance in her voice. Marjordan studied her. She smiled and decided that a hearty nighmeal would divert her primary’s attention. Though her thoughts remained troubled over the treasures they’d found.

Chapter 12

Dagbeasts and Mutants

The next morning, Cait worked first shift with Jen. The group had heard dagbeasts sometime before dawn, so Paulucas was on warrior duty and wouldn’t resume finder shifts until that threat had abated. Cait hoped to take advantage of the available shift. As she worked, her mind raced with excuses she thought Marjordan would accept. She used her trowel and brush to unearth a metal box buried near one corner of the ancient room. It was dull and, by the dents and scratches that adorned it, had been well-used. When she pulled the box from the ancient resting place, the thing rattled, startling her, and she chuckled at her reaction.

Jenellen turned to her. “What have you got there?”

“A box. But there’s a lock on it.” When she looked closer, she saw that the lock wasn’t fastened and slipped off with little effort. “Got it.”

“Put it here.” The finder carried a lamp to a stool they had brought in.

Once she’d placed the weighty box on the stool, she looked to the woman for further instructions. It wasn’t a striker’s place to open anything on a dig. That was the finder’s job.

Jen smiled and nodded. “You found it. You can have the honor.”

“Really? Thank you, Finder.” She steadied her anxious hand, pulled the box flap up, lifted the lid, and gaped at the contents. “What are they?” She felt as though she’d unearthed something forbidden.

The finder reached in and took a handful of the flat, round objects. When she held them to the lamp light, some shimmered.

“Copper,” Cait said in answer to her own question.

“Yes. Ancient copper coins. These were old when whoever lived here had them. Perhaps even older than that knife you found.”

Cait had heard tales of ancient money but she’d never seen any, until now. They weren’t valuable in the same way they’d once been. No one traded items for money anymore. That was just foolish. People wanted useful things. Coins could be melted down to make tools, if there were enough. But there didn’t look to be enough here for any large profit.

“Can I?” She wanted to touch the coins for herself.

“Here.” Jenellen gave her several.

She turned them over in her fingers and held one close to the lamp. It seemed to be perfectly round, smooth along the edges, and she wondered what miraculous technology had created it. There was ancient writing in several places. The profile of a man with short hair and a beard was on one side. He must have been important. Some ancient building had been carved on the other side.

Suddenly, there was a commotion from outside the cave. The voices were muffled but Cait could tell something was wrong. She tossed her coins back into the box with Jenellen’s. The two scurried out of the room and through the tunnel to the cave entrance. Cait’s weapon lay next to Jen’s and both took them up. They headed out toward what were now screams and clangs of metal.

Three, sword-wielding, painted-face strangers were engaged in a fight with the three dig warriors. Marjordan had her own sword drawn and stood in a protective stance with Sam and Nat behind her.

“Stay with the healer,” Jenellen ordered.

“But—“

“Do as I say!” Jen pushed Cait toward her primary. She then stepped toward the fight and stood next to Quinpatrik.

Cait held her sword in the defensive stance that Ian had taught her as fear shook her body. She watched as Whit brought her weapon down, slicing into an invader’s chest. He cried out and lowered his sword tip to the ground. By the pain etched on his face, Cait thought he would drop the weapon, but his hand never let go. Then with an animal screech that sent chills down Cait’s spine, the man brought his sword toward Whithelen’s middle.

She gasped and clutched her own weapon tighter, then shifted her weight and prepared to charge into battle to help her friends.

“Stay!” Marjordan ordered, and Cait froze.

Whithelen was agile and jumped back from the man’s blade. The sword caught her tunic but no blood appeared. Her face contorted in anger and with one last swipe of her sword, the man writhed on the ground in a bloody heap. She had opened him down the middle.

Paulucas took a blade in the leg. Whit was quick to come to his aid and the two took the other man down.

A female stranger fought with Ianandy. She was quick and appeared a bit younger, though it was difficult to tell her exact age with the painted face. The two went back and forth, exchanging blows with their swords, dancing the way warriors did. Each crash of metal made Cait cringe with fear for Ian. He was bleeding from his left hand but didn’t seem to notice.

The stranger had a slice along one of her painted cheeks that bled freely down her neck and onto her dirty clothing. Her face twisted with hatred and, as she turned for another parry, Cait saw her eyes for the first time. Wild, like a dagbeast’s, untamed and fierce. The woman appeared to fight more with desperation than skill, though she certainly had training.

Whit and Paul stepped toward the feral woman, but Ian waved them back. He seemed determined to win against this formidable opponent.

Caitlanna’s muscles began to cramp but she didn’t dare relax. Behind her, Natjulie sobbed.

Suddenly, Ian lost his footing and went down. The stranger sneered with an insane expression and brought her sword up in a motion that would slice him in half. Cait held her breath. Ian was quick and rolled out of the blade’s reach. The woman found only grass and dirt with her weapon and screamed in frustration. By the time she could get the sword up again, Ian was on his feet. The strange woman suddenly went rigid and gasped, giving him a look of pure shock and disbelief as her sword fell to the ground. Confusion etched Ianandy’s face as he hesitated. The stranger fell to her knees before collapsing. Her corpse lay still on the ground with the feathered end of an arrow protruding from her back.

Cait followed Ian’s gaze to a nearby tree. A man, holding a bow and wearing a quiver of arrows on his back, nodded to the warrior. Ian nodded back and the stranger held up his hand in an offering of truce. His elbow bent the wrong way. A mutant. He gazed wide-eyed at Marjordan for an instant then turned and ran across a fallen tree that extended over a narrow section of the lake. He continued toward the forests in the distance and was soon out of sight.

Ian turned toward the others. “Everyone all right? Cait?”

Caitlanna nodded and suddenly her arms could no longer hold the weight of her sword. The weapon pulled at her body as it tipped to the ground in front of her.

“We’re fine.” Marjordan took Cait’s sword and laid in on the ground next to her own. She forced Cait to sit then made her way to Paulucas.

Jen was already inspecting his leg and moved out of the healer’s way. Cait watched the exchanges through a fog as she took in what had just happened.

“You need stitches,” Marjordan said to Paul. She turned to Ian. “Let me see your hand.”

He obediently held his arm out for her to inspect but his gaze lingered on the woman he had just fought.

“Most of this blood came from someone else,” the healer informed him. “You’re just scratched up a bit. I’ll clean you up after I’m through with Paul.” She took Paulucas by the arm and led him to the tent with Whit’s assistance.

Cait’s senses began to return but she felt numb.

“Who were they?” Natjulie said through tears, and Cait turned to her. The pale girl sat on the ground, leaning against Sam. His arm rested on her shoulders and he smoothed her hair. Both looked as shocked as Cait felt.

“I’m not sure,” Ian said, hesitantly. “Probably raiders.”

Though he didn’t offer anything else, Caitlanna suspected that he knew more and she studied him.

“I’m getting water for the healer,” Jenellen said to the warrior. “Why don’t you and Quin prepare a burial for them.” She nodded toward the bodies.

“Yes.” Ian motioned Quinpatrik to follow and the two dragged the bodies behind some boulders, out of sight from the camp.

Queasiness rose as Cait stared at the bloodied ground not far from where she sat. Tales of battles had always been told in her sub-sanction but she’d never witnessed one. Playful bantering, yes. But she’d never seen anyone killed before. Digs with her father had always taken place in their own mountains where warriors guarded, keeping intruders at bay. Though that was rarely necessary, since each sanction had plenty of their own sites to explore. Suddenly, she tasted bile. She scrambled to her feet and bolted into some nearby bushes just as her stomach lurched.

“Cait,” Jen said, as she made her way from the lake with a full bucket. “Go to the healer’s tent when you’re done.”

“Yes, Finder.” She vomited again and spit then stood after her stomach was empty.

After a moment, she headed toward her primary, careful not to look at the bloodied ground. She felt foolish, embarrassed that she’d gotten ill. Even Natjulie had her stomach under control. Cait kept her face from the other girl as she passed. When she reached the tent area, she sat on a stool just outside. Her primary was still sewing up Paul’s leg and she had no desire to watch.

Jen she stepped from the tent with herbs and a cup. “Marjordan asked me to fix you some gingertea.”

Cait nodded but kept her eyes on a tiny weed at her feet.

“I’ll be back.” The finder headed to the fire and soon returned with a cup of steaming liquid. “Here, drink this.” She gave the cup to Cait then stepped into the tent of blankets.

The hot cup felt soothing, despite the day’s heat, and she sipped. Soon she felt better but preferred to nudge the weed with the toe of one boot than look at anyone. Someone crouched beside her but she kept eyes on the weed.

“You weren’t injured, were you?” There was a hint of panic in Quin’s speech.

“No.” She glanced briefly at his face. “I’ll be fine.”

He squeezed her arm. “I’ll check on Sam and Nat.”

She watched him walk toward the fire. His sword bounced slightly against his back as he stepped. Part of her wanted to race after him and burrow her head into his shoulder and cry, like she’d done when they were children.

“Be careful with that leg, Warrior,” Marjordan said from behind the tent blankets. “I don’t want you to break those stitches.”

“Yes, Healer,” Paul answered. He winked at Cait as he stepped out. She forced a smile. Then, accompanied by Whit, he limped to the fire.

Marjordan pulled up a stool and sat. She brushed hairs from Cait’s sweaty face then gently pushed the cup up to her lips. “Drink some more.” She obeyed and sipped at the gingertea again. “Ian,” Marjordan said when the man returned from the nearby trees. “Let me clean that hand before it gets infected.”

“Yes, Healer.” The man followed her into the tent, and Cait listened to their conversation.

“Did you take care of the bodies?” Marjordan said in a low voice.

“All but one. I think you’ll want to take a look before we complete the burial.”

“What is it?” Marjordan sounded concerned.

“The woman wore this.”

There was silence for a moment and Cait strained her ears.

“Thank you, Ian.”

“Do you want me to bury it?”

“No.”

The two were silent for a while.

“You’re finished,” Marjordan finally said. “Try to keep that hand clean.”

“Yes, Healer.”

Ian stepped from the tent. Something in his eyes appeared sorrowful but he gave Cait a tiny smile.

Marjordan followed him out. “I’ll be right back, Cait.” She followed him toward the boulders where the bodies had been taken.

After a few moments, Ian walked to the fire. Marjordan returned to the tent and sat. Her eyes were slightly red from crying.

Cait knew better than to ask what Ian had found. Marjordan would tell her eventually. At least, she hoped. She forced that question from her mind and focused on a generic one. “Anything wrong, P-Marj?” She was concerned for her primary. Marjordan was a hard woman, a stoic healer like most, and Cait had known her for sixteen years. Something had upset her. Something important and tragic and it had to do with that warrior woman. What did Ianandy find?

“Don’t you worry about me.” Marjordan gave her a look that told her to dismiss the subject.

“Healer?” Jen trotted toward them. “I think you should check Nat. She’s very upset.”

“I’ll go to her.” She placed a brief hand on Cait’s shoulder. “I’ll be back to check on you. Stay with her, Finder.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Jenellen sat.

Cait looked toward the fire. Guilt flooded her for thinking that she needed to keep her face from Nat. The girl was obviously just as sickened by the battle. She watched as Marjordan helped the sobbing girl to her feet and guided her toward the tent.

“Jen?” the healer said as she passed. “Could I bother you for another cup of hot water?”

“Of course.” Jenellen leaned close to Caitlanna. “You going to be all right for a minute?”

“Yes. P-Marj needs you.”

The finder headed to the fire. Cait drank the rest of her gingertea and sat taking in the hot air of the day, while the two women cared for Nat. Jen came out first and crossed to the fire. Cait had no idea how much time had passed when Marjordan finally stepped from the tent again, but Natjulie had stopped crying. The healer stretched, rubbing at her back. She watched her primary a moment with concern.

Marjordan smiled wearily. “How’re you doing?”

“Better. Thanks.” She indicated to her now empty cup. “How’s Nat?”

“She’ll be fine. I gave her a sedative drink.”

She nodded as her primary sat. Her mind drifted back to the fight. “P-Marj, why did that mutant help us?”

“I don’t know the answer to that,” the woman said flatly.

Jenellen trotted to them. “Sam’s fine. The others are keeping him company but he wants to know how Nat is.”

Marjordan stood. “She’ll recover. She’ll sleep for a while, though.” The healer gazed briefly down at Cait. “Why don’t you sit by the fire?” Her eyes studied the sky for a moment. “It’s past time for noonmeal.”

“Paul and Quin are taking care of the food,” Jen told her. “Ian said he and Warrior Whit would scout the perimeter for the remainder of the day. Tonight we’ll have two people on watch.” She gave a troubled look to the tent.

The finder was probably thinking about the next shift. Cait felt stronger now and stood, placing her empty cup on the stool. “I want to take Nat’s shift.” The least she could do was to help keep the dig going. After all, that’s why they were here. And now they had more people disabled.

Marjordan started to protest.

“I could use her,” Jen said. “With Sam and Paul injured and now Nat’s condition, Quin and I can really use the help.”

Marjordan studied the finder a moment before turning to Caitlanna. “You feel strong enough?”

“Yes, P-Marj. I just had the queazies. I feel fine now and I want to work.” She glanced at the blood-stained ground for the first time since she’d been ill. “I think it’s important we keep digging.”

Her primary cocked her head slightly then nodded. “Everyone’s going to recover and, since you weren’t injured, I suppose you should keep busy.”

Caitlanna’s heart leapt. She’d convinced Marjordan to let her take extra shifts, something she knew to be extremely difficult. She grinned foolishly at her primary.

Marjordan chuckled. “Don’t get used working long hours, Striker,” she said in mock severity.

“Thank you, P-Marj.”

“You’re welcome, girl. Now get to the fire before I change my mind.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She sprinted away, stifling a giggle. Despite all that had happened, this day was taking a positive turn. Her next undertaking was to find out about the attackers and the mutant. Ianandy knew more than he revealed, she was certain of that.

Chapter 13

The Copper Sphere

The day was pleasant as winds kicked up in the east, bringing cooler breezes from the lake. Caitlanna had completed her sixth week on the dig the previous day, and her training with Ian went well. She used her father’s sword with more confidence and accuracy, yet she hoped never to need the weapon. Sam and Paul’s injuries had healed and both worked eagerly. Just a day or so after the tragic fight, Nat recovered. She was quiet sometimes and had occasional nightmares, but Marjordan kept a keen eye on her.

The cooler weather seemed to give the group energy but there were still dangers. Dagbeasts came near the camp recently so they were still handling watches in twos. No other raids had caused a work delay, but there’d been a minor setback when part of a wall dropped dirt and debris in the cave’s east side. Luckily, the ancient room was on the other side and was unaffected. Despite their luck, they had to be careful, taking extra precautions in the tunnel and dig areas.

Cait scratched at her dusty arm as she studied a new find. This box was made of wood, not metal like the coin container she’d discovered weeks ago, and part of it had decayed from moisture in the soil. The cave seemed to be dry now, but Jenellen suspected an ancient leak that had long sealed itself with numerous cave-ins. Quin and Paulucas had found evidence to support the other finder’s leak theory as they cleared out the treasures from the ancient room, and they hoped it hadn’t damaged too many artifacts.

“We’re nearly through here, Cait.” Quin was covered in dust, as he’d been digging in the wall, searching hideaways and niches the ancients were famous for creating. “I think we’ve extricated just about everything that’ll bring profit. You’ve done well.”

Cait beamed at the man’s praise and felt the heat rise in her face. “Thank you, Finder,” she managed, as she pushed back her intimate feelings for him. She carefully brushed the dirt from around the decaying box. With a cloth around the find, she lifted it from its long resting place. The box was much heavier than it looked, and her arm muscles tightened as she carried it close to her body and placed it on a nearby stool.

Quinpatrik brought a lamp to her and squatted to pick through the artifact. As he manipulated the metal latch, the entire front fell away, revealing a stack of clay tablets, each about the size of his hand. The finder carefully picked up the top one and studied it a moment before handing it over to Cait.

She took the tablet with gentle hands and felt engravings on both sides. It had obviously been fired or wouldn’t have lasted the years. “There’s writing on this,” she said as she studied the carvings. A few symbols were familiar and she could read them, but most looked archaic. She couldn’t help the grin that formed on her lips. What a find. They’d been so lucky with this cave.

“I think it’s from the Transitional Period. Let’s get these outside.”

They wrapped the tablets in ragcloth and placed them in a straw-lined box for transport. The finder took the artifacts and Cait brought out the lamps. Her hands trembled with excitement and she hoped they would be able to translate the tablets.

“Jen!  Paul!  Everyone!” Quin called as he arrived at the cave entrance.

Caitlanna felt just as thrilled as he sounded. The group gathered around the fire. Jen and Paul looked over the tablets then passed them carefully for each person to inspect. After a few moments, there was a murmur of excited voices, and Cait had trouble making out everyone’s words.

“Hold it. Hold it,” Jenellen said with upraised arms. “I think we can each tell these tablets were written during the Transitional Period. With all of us working to decipher them, we could be finished in a few weeks, but we need to stay organized. Quin, does your sub-sanction have a Transitional Alphabet Decoder? I’m afraid M25 never bought one. And the Elders probably didn’t think we’d find anything like this out here.”

“No. M3 can’t afford a TAD just yet.” Quin gave her an apologetic look.

“Paul?” The woman turned to Natjulie’s brother.

“Actually—“ Paulucas’s lips spread into a wide grin. He’d been in a festive mood lately, and Cait suspected it had something to do with Whithelen.

“M37 has one?”

“Better.”

“You brought one?” The woman’s eyes widened with surprise.

“I come prepared, Finder. You should know that by now. We’ve been working together nearly three months.”

Jenellen grinned and showed him a dirty fist. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“I’m sure,” Nat piped, “he promised our sub-sanction that he’d only reveal the TAD if we needed it.” While her brother now displayed playfulness, she had lost most of hers. She sat near Samcoty when not on shift and didn’t make small talk in the cave much. “I can read some of this.”

“Yes,” Jen told her. “But most of the words need a decoder.” She gazed expectantly at Paulucas.

“I guess that means you’d like me to bring my TAD to the fire.” He chuckled and made his way to his pack.

Whit followed him with her eyes until he returned. He touched her arm in passing and winked. She smiled briefly and nodded.

Cait wondered at their subtle gestures and quickly averted her eyes when Whithelen glanced at her. She stepped to Paul to observe the decoder. Her father had told her of such devices but they were very expensive. A sub-sanction needed an abundance of trade goods to buy one. And the Elders, who’d created them for locating more artifacts through rare tablet information, were very protective of the devices, keeping track of which sub-sanctions had made a purchase.

Paulucas opened a leather bag and pulled out a metal divided sphere with letters and symbols carved into it. The TAD glistened in the sunlight with the same copper coloring of the ancient coins they’d recovered a few weeks ago, and Cait knew the device had been made from melted artifacts. Paul looked over one of the tablets and studied the decoder in his hand. Then he twisted it, turning two of the separated parts to align the correct letter with its appropriate symbol. He repeated the same process on two other sections of the sphere.

“These are mostly written in younger transitional languages.” He indicated the tablets. “Shouldn’t take long to decipher the newer wordings. Some of the words are older, though, archaic. That’ll require more study.” He ran a finger along the carvings in one of the tablets. “Whoever wrote these wasn’t very skilled. Some of the letters are shaky. Done by a weak hand. Perhaps an ill or elderly person.” He glanced at his sister and the other strikers. “I think we should take turns when not digging.”

“I agree.” Jenellen gazed hungrily at the TAD. “Be good experience for all of us, especially our young strikers.”

Cait’s heart raced at their words. Despite earlier misgivings about such a chore, she wanted to take part in deciphering these tablets and was appreciative of the finders’ generous offer. Many full-growns would simply hide out in a tent somewhere and do the job themselves.

“Well,” Jen added. “Since you have the TAD, Paul, you should have first crack at the writing.”

He grinned. After a moment, he raised a brow at the others. His cropped hair had grown a bit and now reached just above his ears. Taut and well-defined muscles stood out beneath that tanned skin and Cait saw Whit eyeing him in appreciation. “I don’t plan to work with an audience. I’ll show you strikers how to use this before your shifts.”

Caitlanna wanted to stay and learn about the TAD now, despite his request, but her primary wouldn’t have it.

Marjordan pulled her firmly from the fire and pushed a dull metal pot into her hands. “Get some water for noonmeal. We’re already behind schedule today.”

She held the pot but her eyes stayed riveted on Paulucas. She hoped to be on next shift with the decoder after the finders had their turns. A sharp slap stung her arm and she jerked her head to Marjordan. She narrowed eyes on the woman momentarily before realizing what she was doing.

Marjordan pulled to her full height, which was more than a hand span taller than Cait, and offered a withering look. “Do you wish to be punished in front of your friends, girl?” she said in a dangerous voice.

“I’m sorry, P-Marj.” Cait lowered her eyes in obedience.

Her primary studied her in momentary silence before waving her toward the lake. She wasted no time and hurried away before Marjordan had a chance to change her mind. She had no desire to miss any shifts and knew well enough that would be her punishment for disobedience.

Her turn with the decoder seemed to take forever to arrive. She sat with Paulucas, watching carefully as he explained how to use the copper sphere. He’d deciphered enough of the tablet to believe that it was some sort of diary, but they still had no idea who carved it or exactly when.

“Do you understand?” he asked.

“Yes. This doesn’t look hard at all.” She held her hands out for the sphere.

“This part will be easy. The archaic letters will give us more trouble. The TAD will have to be adjusted three times for each letter in order to decipher those.” He grinned at her. “This isn’t as easy as it seems, Striker Caitlanna Mullen.”

She nodded and her mind drifted to the mutant with the bow and arrows. She’d had no opportunity to drill Ian about the incident. When she’d questioned her primary about the identity of the strange man, Marjordan had told her, in no uncertain terms, that it was none of her business. So, Caitlanna decided to try Paul. He might or might not know anything but she bet on the former. He conferred with Ianandy about warrior duties at least once a day. He had to know something.

“Finder?” she said. He was on finder duties now.

“Yes?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“You can ask. I won’t guarantee an answer.” He eyed her much the way he did his own sister at times, very parental.

“Well, then.” She swatted at an insect and shifted her weight on the stool. “I’ve been wondering about that mutant man. You know, the one who killed that warrior woman.” He stared expectantly at her but said nothing. “Who was he? And why did he help us? I thought the mutants’ only use of healthies like us was for sacrifice. And who was the woman?” She didn’t mention what she’d observed or overheard that day. “Was she a mutant, too?”

Paulucas folded his lips under briefly, until they all but disappeared. Then he cocked his head in thought. Brown eyes flecked with green gazed at Cait. “We think perhaps he was sending a message to someone here.”

She leaned toward him. “Who?” she uttered as she glanced around. “What kind of message?”

“Even if I know, girl, that’s full-grown business.”

His expression was one of finality and Cait prudently accepted his answer. What choice did she have? She knew there’d be other opportunities to learn more, if she remained patient. At times, Paulucas seemed more protective than her own primary, and she doused her frustration at being treated like a child.

Three more years. Only three more years.

She concentrated on the tablets and the TAD. Paul gave her a woodpen, a tin of berryink, and the strongcloth with the deciphered letters written on it. There were only a few completed words, mainly of one or two letters, and Cait realized what a tedious task this would be. But she didn’t mind in the least. In fact, she hoped to be the one to decipher many of the words. Perhaps she would translate some of the more important ones on her shift. The others would be impressed with her skills, and she would certainly come closer to finder status.

Paulucas grinned at Whit as he headed into the cave for his digging shift. Cait eyed the couple. They obviously had a secret they hadn’t shared with the group, yet. At least, not that she knew of. Perhaps they knew more about these tablets than they let on. Maybe Jenellen had told them something important that she hadn’t yet shared with her strikers.

Cait’s mind lingered on them briefly before beginning her task. She was to check each section of the tablets and compare the symbols with the ones on the sphere. She quickly discovered that each symbol had no less than three possible translations. Then they had to form words from those possible letters and hope they used the correct ones. Her hopes of deciphering very much on one shift dwindled enormously.

Chapter 14

Danger at Dawn

Caitlanna slept fitfully, dreaming about the ancients. She stood in Rotted City and watched the sky as several large balls of fire hurled through the air toward her. They were beautiful as sprays of orange flames streaked behind in great arcs. A small child ran crying for his mother. These balls were weapons and, as Cait looked around the city, there was massive destruction everywhere. Then only smoke and ruins met her eyes and her heart pounded with fear. She was alone except for the crackling sound of fire, and sweat crept down her temples as heat from the weapons overtook the sky. In the distance, she heard dagbeasts but couldn’t take her gaze from the fiery balls. Suddenly, several dagbeasts stood just feet from her, baring vicious teeth. She sweat profusely. A fireball smashed into the ground nearby just as one of the beasts lunged at her throat. She gasped and felt someone’s hands on her.

“Cait, wake up.” A woman’s voice sounded urgent. “Now, girl. Wake up.”

Someone shook her and she jolted awake. “P-Marj?” she said in breathy voice. Despite her rapid heartbeat, she still felt as though she were in a daze.

“We’ve got dagbeasts. Get your sword.”

That was all Marjordan needed to say to pull her from the sleep fog. She grabbed her sword and stumbled to her feet, searching the dawn for peril.

“Get in a circle around the fire,” Ian ordered.

She took a place between her primary and Quinpatrik, facing outward. The warmth of the fire at her back offered little comfort when a dagbeast howled nearby. Then she saw the beasts, four of them. She wondered if they were the same ones that had trapped the group on the hill all those weeks ago, but one of those shadowy creatures had been small. These four were large, probably as tall on hind legs as she was. She held her heavy sword with both hands in front of her body, legs apart and knees bent. A stance Ianandy had taught her.

The dagbeasts paced and growled, baring teeth. The sound set Cait’s neck hairs on end and she fought down a shiver. Then before she realized what was happening, one of the dagbeasts barked and the four attacked.

She heard Ianandy yell something but the rushing sound in her ears was too loud. As she turned toward the advancing shadows, intense pain shot through her right calf and she screamed. Shouts and vicious growls filled the dawn. Someone else cried out? Was it Marjordan? The beasts seemed to be everywhere. Cait’s leg burned. Where was Marjordan? She couldn’t see anything but a flurry of fur and teeth. Would the beasts kill her? Anger at the thought of dying replaced fear and her arms seemed to move on their own. As a dagbeast lunged for her, she swung the sword in a blind rage. She made contact with something and heard an agonizing yelp. Fire burned through her leg and she fought down bitter nausea. She brought her weapon down toward the beast again. This time she found only hard ground that rattled her body.

Again and again, she struck blindly, not knowing what she hit, until her strength began to leak away. The others around her now moved as though in a dream and her eyes found Whithelen. The warrior stood beside her, mouth moving. She couldn’t hear the words. Then darkness spun around her and she fell against the hard ground.

****

Cait’s right calf burned and she thought for a moment she was dreaming, but the pain grew worse as she pulled toward consciousness. She cried and reached down toward her leg, keeping her eyes shut against the bitter nausea.

“Hold her,” Marjordan’s voice ordered.

Several hands grasped her and forced her down onto her side. A stabbing pain pulsed through her calf and she cried out. Then another. What was happening? Why wasn’t Marjordan taking the pain away? She struggled, trying desperately to get away from the assaults on her leg but the hands held her fast. She groaned. Another stab. She kept her eyes closed through a series of attacks and cried out until she was hoarse.

Someone stroked her hair.

“Almost finished, Cait,” Marjordan said. “Keep her still.”

Another stabbing pain and Cait screamed. This time she wrenched her eyes open. Whit, Jenellen, and Sam leaned over her, restraining her. Natjulie sat at her head, stroking her hair. Blankets hung from branches above and around her. The healer’s tent. Ianandy paced nearby, sword in hand. The assaults finally stopped and she lifted her head slightly, but her side position made that awkward. Paul and Quin knelt at her feet, keeping her legs still, while Marjordan concentrated on something.

Then Cait felt a cool compress against her burning calf and she sighed. Her head lolled back onto Nat’s hands.

Marjordan said in a calming voice, the voice of a healer, “I’m just going to wrap your injury, Cait. Lie still.”

She closed her eyes again as tears trickled into her hair. Hands gently rolled her onto her back and released her. Her leg still burned but not like before and she opened her eyes again.

Marjordan stood and moved into her view. She gave a bowl and bloody rag to Jenellen. The finder offered Cait a quick wink then left the tent, followed by the others.

Afterwards, Marjordan knelt and wiped Cait’s face with a cool, damp cloth. “You’re going to be fine.” Dark eyes searched her face.

She swallowed hard. The nausea subsided and her mind cleared. She remembered the dagbeasts. “What happened?” she said, surprised at the hoarseness in her voice.

“You took a nasty bite.” Her primary smiled. “But you killed the dagbeast. It took several stitches to get your wounds sealed but the bleeding’s stopped.”

“Stitches,” she uttered to herself. The repetitive stabs. She never wanted to feel that kind of pain again. She tried to sit up but felt unusually weak. Marjordan assisted, keeping a firm hold, until she assured the woman she wouldn’t fall over in a faint. “Was anyone else injured?” She had seen everyone but she just wanted to be sure. There’d been so many cries during the attack.

“A few scratches and bruises but nothing serious.”

Ianandy entered and gave a brief smile.

“Did you check them?” Marjordan said in a grave voice.

“Yes. No sign of the Froth. I think they were just looking for food. Hunger would make them desperate enough to attack, even with a fire and armed humans.”

Marjordan let out a long breath. “Good.” Relief colored her voice but her eyes held concern.

Cait realized what the two meant and her heart pounded in her ears. “I’m not going to get ill, am I?”

The Froth was vicious and nearly everyone bitten by an animal with the disease experienced a painful, maddening death. It could be weeks before they’d know for sure. That’s how long an infected person took to show signs of the disease. She shivered.

“I don’t think so. But I want to keep you close, just to be sure.”

“You can’t heal the Froth, P-Marj.” Panic threatened her thoughts.

The woman placed a hand on her shoulder. “I know that. But there’s no sign of it in the dagbeasts. Even if you contracted it, not everyone dies from it. You’re a strong, healthy girl, Cait.”

She knew her primary was attempting to comfort her so she decided to go along. As much for her own sanity as anything else. “You’re right. If the dagbeasts don’t have the Froth then I’m going to be fine.” She forced a smile. “Were they all killed?” she said to Ian.

The warrior nodded. “Even a dagbeast is no match for a sword.”

Jen entered with a steaming cup.

“Thank you.” Marjordan took the cup and held it out to Caitlanna. “I want you to drink this sedative. You need to rest.”

She reluctantly took the drink and brought it to her lips. The three full-growns watched as she sipped the hot, slightly sweet liquid. “What about the tablets?” she said in between swallows. “I can still use a TAD.”

Marjordan chuckled. “Girl, you are going to be the death of me. Rest first. Then you can worry about those damn tablets.” She raised a humorous brow.

Cait giggled and glanced down at her wrapped leg. “Guess you’re right. I’ve got the Finder’s Fever pretty bad.” She was surprised at her own levity.

The three full-growns laughed, bringing the others to the tent. Marjordan told them what they found so funny and all joined in on the merriment. Soon, despite her throbbing leg, Cait felt drowsy.

Marjordan gently lowered her to the ground and tucked blankets around her. “Sleep now, my Cait.”

And Caitlanna slept.

Chapter 15

Close Quarters

Over the next two weeks, most of the clay tablets had been deciphered, leaving only a few of the archaic ones. Several of the words, they discovered, had been misspelled. Once they figured that out, the task went quicker.

Cait sat near the fire with the others to eat a nighmeal of roasted harerabbit and tubers. Nat and Sam sat near her on the ground and played a game of Stick and Rock. The girl had regained much of her playfulness and Cait was relieved, especially since the young couple had become good friends to her.

There were still no signs of the Froth in anyone. Even a scratch from an infected dagbeast could transmit the deadly disease. Quin, Sam and Nat all sustained minor wounds from the fight, so Marjordan kept a close eye on them as well. Cait’s leg healed nicely and her primary agreed to remove the stitches in a few days, provided she stopped scratching the area, but she couldn’t help herself. Her calf itched and the backs of her hands were tender from Marjordan’s numerous slaps.

Everyone seemed healthy and in good spirits despite everything that had happened, except for the constant squabbling between Nat and Sam. For some reason, the girl had become unusually competitive.

“I win!” Natjulie’s arms flew up in victory. She had a fierce look of determination on her face.

“You cheat, little sister,” Paulucas reprimanded. Then he smirked.

“I do not. Sam’s just not as good a player.”

“I would have won,” the boy protested, “if you hadn’t talked me into redoing that last play.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have knocked that stick with your foot.”

“It was an accident.”

“If you two don’t stop this bantering,” Marjordan said in a harsh voice. “I’ll find a few pisspots for you to scrub.” She flipped her long braid behind her back.

The two winced. Cait knew her primary had heard enough squabbling. The two strikers had been at odds with each other for three days. She suspected close working quarters and fighting their urges to mate had a great deal to do with the tension.

Jenellen stood. “That does it.” As usual, she was dusty from the caves. Cait watched her with interest. “Nat, you’ll take shifts with Cait again. Sam, you can dig with me or Quin.”

Despite their annoyance of each other the past few days, the two gave stunned looks to one another and inched closer together. Sam opened his mouth to protest.

Jen stopped him with an upraised hand. “That’s final, Strikers. I won’t have this dig disrupted with childish emotions.” She stormed toward the lake before either party could respond.

“Now you’ve done it,” Cait said to the pair.

“Be still, girl,” Marjordan ordered.

“Yes, ma’am.” She lowered her eyes until she was sure her primary had looked away then she peeked at Natjulie. The girl’s face had turned from shock to anger.

“Finish your meals,” Marjordan said in annoyance. “Now,” she added in a dangerous voice when no one immediately obeyed. She waited until all had taken a mouthful of food then she stood, stretched and rubbed at her neck.

There wasn’t much conversation the rest of the meal and by the time they bedded down, Cait was ready for sleep. Unfortunately, she was agitated by her itching calf and quietly scratched around the area, careful not to disturb the stitches. A sharp slap stung the back of her hand and she sucked in a breath. Marjordan had rolled over to face her. The two were only a couple of feet apart. Cait was so involved with relieving her itch that she hadn’t even heard the woman stir.

“If you continue to irritate that leg,” Marjordan threatened, “I’ll tie your hands behind your back.”

Cait started to snicker but the look on her primary’s face stopped her. “When will this infernal itching stop?”

“When you heal. Do I need to find a piece of rope?”

“No, ma’am,” she spouted quickly. She feared Marjordan would make good on her threat, so she turned onto her back and tucked her hands under her buttocks.

Her primary seemed satisfied and rolled away from her. Soon she heard steady breathing and knew Marjordan was asleep. She closed her eyes and forced her thoughts onto something besides her leg. Visions of Quinpatrik filled her head. That would never do, but every time she tried to force her thoughts to something, he popped into her head and her woman parts throbbed. Perhaps tied hands wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“Cait?” a barely audible voice said, and she twisted her head to look at Natjulie. “Cait, you awake?”

“Yes.” Her eyes darted to Marjordan but the woman slept.

“I need to talk.”

“Can’t it wait until morning?” She let out a vicious yawn.

Nat scooted to her side. “You have to help me.”

She waited, wondering at the urgency in the girl’s voice, and had a suspicion of what Nat wanted.

“I need to convince Jenellen to put me back on shift with Sam.”

She’d been right. “Good luck.” She glanced at the finder, who appeared to be sleeping.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.” She eyed Natjulie a moment. “You want me to talk her into it. That’s what you really mean. I have no desire to be punished along with you and Sam. Can’t you two work apart for a few days? Give Jen time to settle down?” After all, she’d done that herself, been very good about the whole Quinpatrik matter. At least, on the outside.

“No.” Nat’s voice was loud enough to get Ian’s attention even over the crackling fire.

“You two go to sleep,” he grumbled.

They waited quietly until he began to snore.

“Please, Cait. The only thing that keeps us from doing something stupid is closeness.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Maybe not. But when we’re apart, I think about mating even more than when he’s next to me.”

Cait sighed. “I’ll see what I can do. But I’m not promising anything. Jen probably won’t listen to me.”

“She always listens to you. You’re her favorite striker.” Nat patted Cait’s arm in approval and moved away.

“I’m not her favorite,” she protested. “She thinks we all do a pretty good job.”

“Keep trying to rationalize it.” Nat chuckled quietly. “You are her favorite. All the better for me. She’ll listen to you. I know she will.” The girl turned away and pulled blankets around her shoulders.

She shook her head, frustrated at times like this with Nat’s childish attitude. The girl was two years younger and Cait felt protective of her. Then, realizing that Sam, who was definitely asleep from the snoring he made, would probably confront her in the morning about this same subject, she stifled a groan and closed her eyes. Why did mating urges have to be so strong?

At least now she had something to take her mind from Quin. She glanced at Jenellen again and decided to confront the finder first thing in the morning. Her leg itched and she reached down to scratch.

Chapter 16

An Unexpected Discovery

The next morning when she awoke, the cool air felt invigorating and she pulled from her blankets. Normally she preferred to sleep until Marjordan forced her up, but the excitement of the nearly completed tablets nudged her mind awake. As she stood, Natjulie stirred nearby. Cait sighed to herself as she remembered the previous night’s conversation with the girl. She rolled her blankets up and went in search of Jenellen. Everyone but Nat and Sam was up and busy with one task or other.

Marjordan rummaged through the stack of cooking tools. “Morn,” she said as Cait approached.

“Morn, P-Marj. You seen Jenellen?”

“At the lake.”

She started that way.

“You can help with mornmeal,” Marjordan said quickly.

“I will. But I need to talk to Jen first.” She gave an urgent look to her primary.

The woman nodded. “See you get back here before it’s time to eat.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Jenellen, crouched by the water’s edge, dried her face with a large ragcloth. Cait squatted next to her and splashed the cold water on her own face. Her blood raced at the iciness and she sucked in a startled breath. The temperature seemed to change rapidly in this section of the mountains.

“Here,” the finder said. One hand pushed the ragcloth at Cait. “I suppose you want to talk to me about Nat and Sam.”

That statement took Cait off guard. “How’d you know?” She dried her face.

“Ian wasn’t the only one awake last night. But it’s no use trying to convince me to put those two on shift together, at least for a couple of days. I know they’re fighting urges but I have to stick to the punishment. Tell Nat that if she and Sam can get along civilly for the next two days, I’ll reduce the penalty.” She filled a pan with water.

Cait couldn’t help the smile that crept onto her lips. “I’ll tell her. I think she’ll survive a couple of days. Uh, do I get first shift with the TAD?” She hoped the woman would agree.

“Sorry, Striker. We’re too close to finishing. Finders have that privilege. But we’ll let you know as soon as we complete the last of the tablets.” She stood.

Cait sighed. When would she get promoted? “Yes, Finder.” She sank back on her heels.

“Don’t look so glum, girl. You’ve got first shift in the cave.”

“Well, I guess that’s something.”

“My, aren’t we the eager one.”

“I just hoped we would’ve found something by now. The Elders think the other Mask is here and they’re usually right.”

“Don’t be so sure it isn’t. There’s still one section of the ancient room we haven’t excavated, remember?”

“Yes.” Cait’s mind drifted to the dark corner where a mound of hardened dirt from years of cave-ins had settled. They discovered that area just recently. There didn’t seem to be much there, though. She had doubts about finding anything valuable.

“You and Paul can start there today.” Jen took the drying rag and headed toward the camp.

Cait followed, glad the woman had heard Nat’s plea the previous night. She helped with mornmeal then gave her friend the news. The other girl seemed relieved and promised that she and Sam could be strong for two days.

When mornmeal was over, Nat and Sam washed dishes while Cait donned her tools. She tied the belt around her waist, pulled on the tortoise shell hat, and followed Paulucas through the tunnel.

****

Natjulie scrambled into the ancient room. “The tablets are done!” she squealed with excitement. “Come on, you two. Jen wants you outside.”

The three scurried out to find the others gathered around the fire. Jen had an unreadable look on her face as she handed the strongcloth with the translations to Paulucas. Cait watched the man closely as he sat on a nearby stool.

“There are several misspelled words, as you know, so bear with me,” he said.

She gazed at the translations over his shoulder while he read part of the tablets that she hadn’t heard before:

Dada says we have to leeve this place and everthin but essentuls. I don’t want to go but the crazies hav found us and mama says they’ll harm us if we stay here. I hope we can come back sum day. I think I’ll mis Brenemily the most. She’s the last of my doll famly. The first one I had to leev in the cave near the beech. My second favrite stayd in the plains. I want to take Brenemily and I even cried to dada and mama. But they sed we hav no room.

Her face looks so sad to me. Mama says we can make a nuther doll when we get to a new home but that won’t be the same. No one has dolls like mine anymore. Gramama gave them to me befor she died. They wer her mama’s and she’d kep them secret all those years. Even while she hid from the killin rains. She sed the faces are made of sumthin called plasteecs. Whatever that means. She sed her granpapa told her nobody makes plasteecs anymore, not sins before The Great War.

I like my doll’s soft body the best. I miss my gramama and I’ll miss Brenemily. I can’t take you ether, diary. Dada has given me an old box to put you in. You’ll be safe there. We hav to leev now. The sun’s nearly up. Bye. Love forever, Tamirella Nelton, age nine years aproxmatly.

Cait’s heart raced as she realized just what this meant.

Ian gave a stunned look to Jen. “Tamirella’s a child?” he said, taking the strongcloth from the Paul. Then his brow furrowed in thought. “We’ve been searching all these years, fighting over The Mask of Tamirella, and the damn thing is a doll’s face.”

“Looks that way,” Jenellen said. Her emotions were unreadable on her features.

“What’re we going to tell the Elders? We’ve been promised a great profit for the thing, if we find it. They’re not going to pay for a damn doll part.”

“Calm down, Ian. The Elders promised payment and they’re not ones to go back on their word. We’ll figure something out.” Jen took the strongcloth from the indignant man. “Besides, we’ve found enough here to put each of our sub-sanctions in food and clothing for some time. And since this ‘plasteecs’ Tamirella wrote about is rare. The Mask must be worth something.”

Ian frowned. “Not unless somebody knows a way to use it.”

Cait’s heart fell as she listened to this conversation. She had made a promise to her father. All his life, he’d searched for the Mask. She’d risked her life, her primary’s life, put her entire sanction at jeopardy for what? A stupid doll? The Elders had promised her finder’s status if she found this Mask. They promised Marjordan supplies for M3. Would they keep their promises? Or would the dig be called off when they found out? “We have to keep looking,” she said in a near panic. “We must find the Mask.” The others stared at her. “The Elders have to keep their word. I’ll stay and find it myself if you don’t want to.”

“Hold it, Striker,” Jen said in a firm voice. “Nobody’s going anywhere just yet. We need to have a serious meeting. And we need to get word to the Elders. They funded this dig.”

Cait’s heart rammed against her ribs and she tried desperately to steady her shaky hands. “The Elders promised to pay us for the Mask, so we should make them keep that promise. We have to find it.” All her hopes turned to desperation.

“Calm down, Caitlanna,” Marjordan said softly.

“No!  I came here to become a finder and I’m not leaving without that Mask!” She bolted toward the lake before anyone could say another word to her. As she reached the water, tears clouded her eyes and she tripped over a rock, landing hard on the dirt.

Hands picked her up and she pulled away. Marjordan shook her. “Stop this nonsense!” The woman’s fierce eyes evaluated her.

She began to sob. “P-Marj, I have to become a finder. I have to.”

The woman pulled her to a large rock and forced her to sit. “You’re going to calm down or I’ll put a sedative drink in you. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she said through sobs.

“I mean it. Now breathe.”

Caitlanna obeyed and focused her thoughts on breathing to clear her mind. Soon her crying stopped but she was left with clouded eyes and a runny nose.

Marjordan pushed a ragcloth into her hands. “Blow.”

She blew but tears rolled down her cheeks again. She sniffed. “I can’t let Father’s entire life’s search be for nothing, P-Marj.”

The man had searched in vain for the Mask until his death. Frustration settled in her gut. Though she had already found one Mask, she wanted desperately to honor her father, and after putting her sub-sanction at risk, she owed them the promised supplies. She would even go after the third Mask if given the chance. Where was it? The plains?

Marjordan placed an arm around her shoulders and let out a long breath. “I should’ve known why you were so emotional about this.” The anger was gone from her voice. “Your father would be very proud of you. You don’t need to prove your love for him.”

She pulled away to look at her primary’s face and sniffed again. “Are you proud of me?” She felt like such a child seeking approval but she needed to hear the words.

Marjordan didn’t disappoint her. A smile warmed that strong yet motherly face. “I’m very proud of you, girl. You should know that without having to make a scene about it.” She chuckled.

She laid her head on her primary’s shoulder. “I know. I’m sorry. But glad you told me.” She lifted her head and blew her nose again. “I’m worried, P-Marj. This Mask was going to bring supplies to M3. Now that could be ruined and everything is my fault.”

“And just how is this plasteecs doll face your fault?” Marjordan held her at arm’s length and studied her eyes.

“I’m the one who brought us here, remember? Me and my stupid trip to the Shore Sanction. And all for a stupid-ass doll!” Oh, what was I thinking?

Marjordan studied her. “Yes, your indiscretions are the reason we came.” Her thumbs swiped at Cait’s tears. “But part of me looked forward to this adventure. This is the first time in a long while I’ve had an opportunity to travel.”

“Even with all that’s happened? What with the dagbeasts and mutants? The injuries?” She hardly believed the woman’s words.

Marjordan laughed. “Every part of life has difficulties, Cait. I’d be mending bodies no matter where we placed our blankets. I agreed to this, too. The Elders are fair. And like Jenellen said, we’ve found enough to keep our sub-sanctions in supplies for a while.”

Cait suddenly felt lighter. She reached out and took the woman into a great hug. “I love you, P-Marj.”

“And I love you, girl. But don’t embarrass us both with any more of these tantrums. Do you hear me?” She pushed Cait away and lightly swatted her leg.

“Yes, ma’am.” Cait chuckled.

“Now, I think you have some apologies to make.” Marjordan tilted her head toward the camp.

“Yes. I guess I should.”

Arm in arm, the two walked together back to the fire. The others sat quietly chatting and looking over the strongcloth. They all gazed up at Caitlanna.

She sucked in a breath of courage. “Sorry for my behavior.” She lowered her eyes in obedience and waited for acceptance.

Jenellen came to her. “You’re forgiven. And your shift hasn’t ended.”

That’s when she noticed that Paulucas stood near the cavern entrance with a foolish grin on his face.

She laughed in relief. “Yes, Finder.”

Chapter 17

Word from the Elders

Several days had passed since Paulucas took the tablets to the Elders, and everyone at camp was antsy because he hadn’t returned yet. Cait’s leg had finally stopped itching, much to her relief, but Marjordan still hadn’t removed the stitches. No one showed any signs of the Froth but spirits were dampened anyway. Marjordan sat near Cait, mending socks, while Jen and Quin inspected the cave and the warriors tended the horses.

“He should be back by now,” Natjulie whined. She sat by the fire. One hand gripped Samcoty’s while the other twirled the end of her braid. She’d said those words so many times.

Cait tried to ignore the girl and focused on cataloging artifacts from the previous day’s find.

“He’s fine,” Sam said with slight agitation. He blinked hard several times. “Look, your brother’s a talented warrior, Nat. He can take care of himself.”

“But not against a group attack. He can’t win if he were attacked like that.”

“Enough of this talk,” Marjordan said sharply. She took the girl by the arm and hauled her to her feet. “You and I are going to the lake and get some fishing done for nighmeal.”

Nat started to protest but Marjordan gave her a fierce look. “Don’t test me.”

The girl’s eyes widened. “Yes, ma’am.” She lowered her gaze.

“Come along.” Marjordan snatched up a basket and pulled the reluctant girl toward the lake.

Cait watched Sam’s face but he actually seemed relieved. “You all right?” She handed over another cataloged bead for him to store in the straw-lined box.

He smiled, gray eyes bright. “Of course. Nat was beginning to irritate me, too.”

She chuckled. Since they were alone, she took this opportunity to ask a burning question. “You know anything about that mutant who killed the painted-face woman?”

“No, but I think Ian does. I heard him talking to your primary about that day. They must’ve known her.”

“Yes, I’ve heard them talking. But no one is talking to me.”

“I know the feeling.” He pushed stray hairs from his face. A face that had grown pink from the sun. “I can’t wait to be a full-grown.” His gaze drifted toward the lake and he blinked habitually a couple of times.

“So I’ve heard.” She grinned.

“Oh.” He actually blushed. “I guess Nat’s told you about our little dilemma.”

“Understatement. How’s that going anyway?”

“Tough. But I’ll survive. I’ll be full-grown almost a year before she will. I think that’ll be harder on us both.”

Cait nodded in sympathy.

“What about you and Quin?” he said, turning those gray eyes on her.

“What’s Nat told you?” She let irritation come out in her voice.

“Nothing, really. But I’ve seen the way you look at him. I may be quiet about most things but I’m not unobservant.”

Now was Cait’s turn to blush and heat filled her cheeks. “I’ve had the Finder’s Fever lately so it’s been a lot easier. Besides, I wouldn’t want to get him in trouble.”

“I don’t think you could even if you tried. From what I know about Quin, he’s loyal to your sub-sanction and wouldn’t touch you until you’re at full-grown status.”

She knew the boy’s candor was one attraction for Nat. He was observant and reminded her a lot of Whithelen. Which led her to her next question. “What’s up with Paul and Whit?”

He grinned, and she noticed that his nose was peeling slightly. None wore their hats much since the weather had cooled. “Nat thinks they’ll announce their knot-tying soon. Probably when this dig is through.”

Caitlanna hadn’t thought much of that time. She would miss her new friends. There weren’t many her age in M3 and she trailed full-growns most of the time, which she didn’t mind, but she enjoyed having Nat and Sam around.

“You and Nat will invite us to your knot-tying, won’t you?”

The boy laughed. “Of course.”

Another thought tightened her stomach. If Whit and Paul got tied, they would probably live in his sub-sanction. Especially since he was still in charge of Nat and Sam.

“What is it?” Concern colored Samcoty’s gray eyes.

Cait realized she’d groaned aloud. “I’m going to miss Whit.”

“Well, our sub-sanctions aren’t that far apart, just a few days’ travel.”

“You’re right.” The sight of Whit and Ian coming toward them silenced her. The two had been pulling extra watches since Paulucas left. The woman looked ill.

“Ho, you two. Where’s Marjordan?” Whit said.

Cait pointed toward the lake. “Fishing for nighmeal. You sick?”

“I’m perfect.” The warrior grinned before making her way toward the water.

Ianandy sat on a stool, stretched his long legs out, and clasped his hands behind his head as he leaned against a tree.

“You look smug,” Sam said. “What’s going on?”

“None of your business, boy.” His voice held humor and he rubbed at his scalp. He grinned, causing his chin scar to stretch, then closed his eyes to let them know he wouldn’t discuss anything. He’d grown a short beard since they’d been here, unlike Paul, which made him look older. He still had the lean fierceness of a warrior, though.

Cait grew tired. The last artifact was a pottery shard. She wrote the details down on the strongcloth and gave both to Samcoty. Then she stretched out on the ground and dozed for a few moments, until voices awakened her. Just as her primary came toward camp with Whithelen, Cait pulled up to her elbows.

“Sit,” Marjordan ordered the warrior woman. “I’ll fix you some gingertea.” She made her way to the tent.

Cait gave Whithelen an inquiring look but the woman said nothing, just sat with a foolish grin on her face. Suddenly, she figured it out—Whit’s smiles, the slight look of illness on her face, and gingertea for the queazies. She’d seen the symptoms in women from her sub-sanction.

“You’re pregnant.” It came out louder than she intended. Whithelen eyed her. She swallowed hard and prepared to apologize for her outburst.

“That’s a secret,” Whit scolded. Those thick lips grinned and she nodded.

“That’s wonderful!” Cait jumped to her feet and grabbed the woman in a long hug.

“Congratulations,” Sam said. “You’d better tell Nat or she’ll be livid.”

“Of course.” Whithelen chuckled. “She’s still at the lake. Cait—“

“I’ll get her.” The girl was carrying three large fish in a straw basket when Caitlanna caught up with her. “Whit has some news.” She took the basket and nudged the girl toward camp. “Hurry!”

Natjulie sprinted to the fire. Cait heard the girl squeal and she smiled. Once she reached the camp, she put the basket on a stool and stood nearby to watch. Natjulie patted Whit’s shoulder in excitement. She looked very happy.

“Cait?” Marjordan gave Whit a cup of steaming liquid. “Find Quin, and the two of you clean those fish for nighmeal.”

“Sure,” Cait said without hesitation. She didn’t particularly like the task, but nothing would damper the merriment. Not today anyway. And she never minded any chore that involved Quinpatrik.

As soon as she located him, Paulucas called to them from the end of the lake. “Ho!”

They both waved and Cait ran back to camp. “Paul’s back!”

The man soon trotted up on his mare and dismounted. Quin took the horse to graze with the others.

“Sorry I’m late. Got held up,” Paulucas said as he walked toward the group. He didn’t get halfway before his sister ambushed him. There was a lot of hugging and kissing before Whithelen had a chance to tell her news. “Just as we suspected.” He plucked her from the ground and swung her around in a circle.

“Be careful with her,” Marjordan said. “She’s got the queazies.” She’d been the image of stoicism, and Cait couldn’t guess her emotions about the news. Not yet, anyway.

Paul set Whit down and apologized to her but she didn’t seem to mind. They kissed again.

“So, when’s the knot-tying?” Nat’s mouth split into an enormous grin. Cait noticed that the girl needed some lip salve.

“As soon as we get home.” Paulucas planted another kiss on Whit’s lips. “I have a bit of news myself.” One arm wrapped around the woman’s shoulders. “The Elders want us to continue searching for the Mask—the doll face. They knew.”

“Knew what?” Nat chimed. She looked truly happy for the first time in days.

Cait eyed the man. “The Mask? The Elders knew about the Mask?”

“They’ve known for a while. Those tablets they’ve been working on, well, evidently they deciphered them some time ago. One was left behind by our little Tamirella.”

“Then the face must be worth something to them.” Jenellen said. She screwed her features in thought.

“Yes. Though they wouldn’t reveal why.” He pulled Whithelen into an embrace and kissed her forehead.

“What about the Mask’s curse? They’re the ones who told of that legend,” Quin said.

Paulucas shook his head. “They made the whole thing up, hoping to keep curiosity down.”

“Those arrogant—“

“Watch it there, Quin,” Ianandy warned. His skin had become reddened, making his pale hair stand out all the more. “They’re our Elders and they had their reasons.”

“So, it looks like we still have jobs to do.” Paul beamed.

“You’ve done enough,” Marjordan stood with hands on her hips, glancing back and forth between him and Whit. “Couldn’t you two have waited until we were back in the sub-sanction?” Whithelen hid a grin as the healer stepped closer to her future mate. “If we’re stuck here for several more months, you’ll be going home as a threesome.” The man started to protest but Marjordan raised a hand to stop him. “Guess I should give my congratulations to the soon-to-be father.” She lifted a brow and smirked.

Paulucas gave her a sideways smile and the two embraced briefly. “You had me worried, Healer. I thought for sure we were in for an infamous Marjordan tongue lashing.”

“With an attitude like that, you may get one yet.” She turned to Whithelen. “You are going to take it easy for the next few weeks. This is your first child, and I want to make sure it comes into this world a healthy. I’ll examine you after nighmeal.”

“Yes, Healer,” Whit said, but there was disappointment in her eyes. The warrior had never been one for idleness.

Cait chuckled and Marjordan turned on her. “I thought I told you to clean those fish.” A long arm pointed to the basket. “And prepare them for stew.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She grabbed Quin’s arm and the two made a hasty retreat to the water. “I hate this job.” She slit the dead fish down its middle. Though she really liked being with Quin, she wouldn’t tell him that. Her fingers pulled out slimy innards. She grimaced and tossed them into a bowl.

“I never would’ve known that.” The task didn’t seem to bother him in the least.

“Oh, very humorous. Ooh, this guy reeks.” She turned her head from the strong fishy smell that permeated her nose.

“Stinkfish.” Quin pointed out the obvious. “Taste good. Smell bad.” He grinned. Cait raised her arm to throw a fistful of guts at him. “Don’t even think about it, girl.” He waggled a finger at her. “I’ll dunk you in that lake.”

“You’re too old and slow to catch me,” she taunted and lowered her arm. They’d grown up with this playful bantering and Cait enjoyed the moment. Especially now.

“Oh, really?” Quin said. “You’re not a full-grown yet. I’m sure Marjordan would assist me in your punishment.”

Cait winced at that. Though she knew he teased her, Quinpatrik was absolutely right about Marjordan. The man was a full-grown and had every right to punish her for disobedience. And Marjordan would punish her if she disobeyed him. Suddenly, this childish game wasn’t so much fun. She resented the man in front of her. They were once playmates and now he had authority over her. Her face fell.

“Cait? I am kidding, you know.”

“I know. But you’re a full-grown now, Quin, and P-Marj wouldn’t allow me to banter with you the way I used to. Not without consequences.”

His smile faded. “You’re right. Guess I hadn’t thought too much about that. Marjordan would be hard on you.” He cocked his head and evaluated her with bright blue eyes. “I’ll be more careful from now on.” Then he grinned. “Until you’re full-grown.” He gave her a thoughtful smile.

She wondered if there was something more in his eyes. Perhaps he was interested in her after all. She didn’t dare bring up that subject, though. He wouldn’t admit to anything now. It wasn’t proper. He wasn’t one to break sanction rules. And she didn’t want him to. Much.

“Thanks, Quin,” she said in the most benign voice she could muster.

“Sure.” He pointed to her hands. “Keep doing that and there’ll be nothing left of it to eat.”

She studied her hands and was horrified to see that she’d been absently pulling meat from the fragile bones of the stinkfish and tossing it in the gut bowl. She felt the heat rise in her face and quickly retrieved the edible pieces.

Quinpatrik grinned and concentrated on his own fish. Cait finished hers and tossed it into the basket. Then she drew out the last one. She delved into her work and soon all the fish were ready for stew.

By the time they got back to the others, Marjordan had a large pot of water and tubers heating over the fire. “Just drop the meat in,” the woman said as she busied herself with a small bag of herbs. She pinched some dried green shreds into the pot.

Cait poured the bowl of de-boned fish meat into the heating water as Marjordan passed her.

“Whew, girl,” her primary said. “You reek like a stinkfish.”

“Don’t like it?” she answered in a mock pout. “And I thought this was the popular scent.”

“I don’t. But you stray too far smelling like that and you’ll have every dagbeast in the area trailing you.” She raised a brow. “Go wash that stench off and let me check those stitches. Take Nat with you.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Whit!” Marjordan called. “Nat!”

The warrior woman reluctantly came to her. “Yes?”

“Accompany the girls to the lake please. This one is in desperate need of a bath.”

“I can tell. Good thing my queazies have subsided.”

“Oh, there’s just a lot of funny talk going on at my expense,” Cait announced. “Maybe I should just stay in the cave.”

“We’re all staying in there tonight,” Marjordan said. “There’s a storm headed this way.”

Cait scanned the still light sky but didn’t see anything threatening. She gave a questioning glance to her primary as Nat walked up to join them.

“Paul rode ahead of it,” the woman explained as she tossed ragcloths and soap to Whithelen. “Now, hurry up you three. Jen and I need a bath and so do the men. I won’t bed down in a close space with ripe bodies. Now, scoot.” She flicked a rag at them and they fled.

Cait couldn’t help her apprehension about the coming storm. She’d heard about the floods that occurred in this area of the mountains. As she bathed, she saw the darkness creeping up in the eastern sky. Darkness that had nothing to do with nightfall.

Chapter 18

Stormy Nights, Stormy Days

Cait lay in the cave with the covers pulled tightly around her neck to keep out the chill. Marjordan had removed her stitches after nighmeal and she flexed her foot to stretch the tight calf muscles. The rain pounded steadily outside. They’d managed to get everything into the cave just as the downpour began. The mounts had been secured under a substantial overhang that would protect them from the worst of the storm.

Unfortunately, a fire wasn’t a possibility inside the cave because of the smoke, and outside was just too wet. They tried to get one going near the entrance but the wind blew the rain inside several feet and kept putting it out. They had to move as far back as possible just to stay dry. Several lamps burned nearby but gave off little warmth against the cold dampness.

Cait pulled the blankets tighter, closed her eyes, and listened to the steady rain mixed with Ianandy’s snores. Sleep avoided her and she sat. No need for anyone on watch. Only a fool would venture out in this mess at the risk of mudslides and floodwaters. She pulled her legs up, wrapped a blanket around her body and rested her chin on her knees.

Between the darkness and the rain, she couldn’t see past the cave entrance. She glanced in the direction of the tunnel and felt the urge to search for the Mask. She liked that term better than doll’s face. It comforted her and reminded her of her father. Her mind drifted to the Elders and the value of the plasteecs face. No one in her time knew how to make plasteecs. That ancient practice had gone to dust with the ages.

Living among plasteecs and great metal beasts must have been magical. Cait wondered why her ancestors had destroyed such a wonderful place. She jumped when someone touched her shoulder and turned to see Whithelen crouched beside her in the flickering lamp light. The woman had been very quiet. Or had the rain been too noisy?

“What’re you doing up?” Whit said in a soft voice.

“Can’t sleep. You?”

“Thinking about this baby.” She sat and placed a dark hand on her still flat stomach.

“What does it feel like?”

“Not much yet. Except for the queazies. And I could do without those. But these seem to be getting larger.” She placed her hands briefly on her breasts and grinned. Her teeth stood out against her dark skin.

Cait chuckled softly. “I could use a bit of help in that department.”

“You’re still maturing. Besides, you’ll probably be pregnant one day and then—look out.”

“That better be a long time away,” Marjordan said. She lay on her side studying the two. “You both need sleep. Especially you, Whit. Get back to your blankets.”

The warrior leaned close to Caitlanna’s ear. “This is going to be a long pregnancy.”

Cait stifled a chuckle but smiled broadly.

“What was that?” Marjordan said.

“Nothing, Healer,” Whit said softly. “Just getting to my feet.” She stood and made her way to her blankets.

Marjordan didn’t say anything, but Cait could feel her primary’s gaze. When she looked over, the woman pointed a long finger to her sleeping area. She let out a quiet sigh, crawled under her blankets and let the steady pounding of rain lull her until she finally slept.

****

When she awoke again it was morning and still raining but at least the wind had subsided. The sun was up but numerous clouds made the wet day quite dreary and cold. Nat and Whit still slept. Sam sat and rubbed his neck. He looked tired. Near the entrance, Marjordan stood, while Jenellen squatted near her and rummaged through a bag of artifacts. The three men were absent.

Cait got to her feet, pulled a blanket around her shoulders, and stepped to her primary. She leaned against the woman’s shoulder and watched the rain. Marjordan placed an arm around her. Puddles of water had formed in various regions of the landscape, and the runoff from the short overhang of the cave made splashing noises on the muddy ground. Trees seemed to sag with the weight of the rain. The entire area looked gloomy. The two stood silently for several moments until the three men came trotting toward them. Their clothes were wet despite the blankets they held over their heads.

Marjordan pulled Cait to one side to let the men in. “Get out of those wet things,” she said. “Help me with mornmeal, Cait.”

“Yes, P-Marj.” The two walked arm in arm to the bag of tubers, salted meats, dried fruits, flatbread and cheeses that Paulucas had brought from the Elders.

The rain seemed to soothe tempers at first, but as the day wore on, the warriors became restless. They trekked back and forth between the cave and the mounts, feeding and checking ties. When they weren’t checking the horses, they were sparring or sharpening their weapons.

Caitlanna was relieved to be away from the incessant scraping and clashing for the duration of her dig shifts. The noise traveled through the tunnel but sounded much more distant, muffled, inside the ancient living area where Tamirella and her family once thrived.

When her shift was over, she followed Jenellen through the tunnel and back into the cave. Nat greeted her with enthusiasm and eagerly took the protective hat right from her head. The leather ties were still around Cait’s neck. “Ow. Take it easy.”

“Sorry,” Nat uttered.

Since there were still only two hats, they had to be shared. Sam took the other from Jenellen.

“Our turn,” Nat announced. “You get to stay with them.” She jerked her head to the three warriors, who sparred near the cave entrance. A triumphant grin crossed her lips and she pulled Samcoty toward the tunnel.

“Thanks,” Cait mumbled as she glanced at the three warriors. She looked back at Jenellen and the finder rolled her eyes. The two chuckled.

Quinpatrik made some excuse about checking artifacts and followed the two strikers into the tunnel.

“Going to be a long day,” Jen said. She grimaced at a particularly loud clash of metal. “That damn rain had better stop soon or someone’s going to get fatally injured.”

Cait followed her gaze to the warriors and she unloaded artifacts as she watched them.

After a few moments, Marjordan stepped purposely to the sparring trio. “You’re giving me a headache,” she said without humor. “You can do without practice for one day.”

“We have to keep our strength up, Healer,” Paulucas said. “Besides, this keeps us busy.”

The woman glared at them. “I’ll give you something to do. Whit, you can help me with noonmeal. I don’t want you fighting in your condition anyway. Not unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

The younger woman started to protest but Marjordan withered her with a look. “Yes, Healer,” Whit said, and she lowered her eyes in obedience.

“You two,” Marjordan continued, “get some water from the lake. Then you can wash noonmeal dishes after we eat.”

“We’ve plenty of water right here,” Paulucas said, gesturing to the rain. “All we need is a pot.”

Marjordan stepped to him. Though the man was taller, she seemed to tower over him. “I want lake water.”

Even from across the cave, Cait flinched at her primary’s tone. She knew the woman barely controlled her temper.

Ian must have caught the threat, too, because he sheathed his sword. “Yes, Healer,” he said. He scooped up a large pot from a nearby crate and gestured for Paul to follow. The two grabbed blankets and headed out into the rain.

Cait focused on artifacts as her primary pulled Whit toward the center of the cave, where they had everything set up for meals.

“I’m surprised at you, Whit,” the healer scolded. “I thought you wanted a healthy baby.”

“I do.”

“Obviously you don’t.”

“We were just sparring, Marjordan. Nothing dangerous about that,” she said curtly. “Besides, I’m a warrior, and warriors have fought through pregnancies for centuries.”

At that moment, Cait heard a loud slap. She jerked her head up to see Whit crouched on the ground at Marjordan’s feet, a position of deference to the healer.

The older woman stood over her. “I’m the healer on this dig and I’m responsible for keeping you and your child healthy. I do not intend to have another mutant child born into this world if I can prevent it. You will do as I say. And you’ll do it without protest. Is that clear? Or do I need to slap some sense into that hard head of yours?”

Whithelen drew herself upright, eyes lowered. “I’ll do as you say, Healer. I wish to have a healthy baby.”

Cait realized that the warrior was crying. She’d never seen the woman cry and couldn’t wrench her eyes from Whit’s wet face.

Marjordan let out a long breath. “I’m glad to hear that. Now, let’s figure out what we’re going to have for noonmeal.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Caitlanna,” Marjordan said.

She involuntarily jumped at her primary’s voice and the use of her entire first name. “Yes, P-Marj?” she said quickly. She didn’t intend to test the woman’s mood, so she scampered over.

“When you and Jen are finished cataloguing your finds, I could use help mending clothes.”

Cait smiled in relief. “Of course.” She crossed back to the finder.

Jenellen concentrated on the contents of her bag, and Cait didn’t think the woman even noticed that she’d left for a moment. She said the finder’s name twice before getting her attention from the artifacts.

“What? Oh, sorry, Cait. I just want to get these things taken care of before noonmeal.”

She smiled with understanding. “We will.” At that, she sat on the ground and searched through her own bag.

Chapter 19

Delays

That evening, the rain had lessened quite a bit and the group had hopes of sun the next day. It was still cold and they managed a small fire just inside the cave entrance. Caitlanna sat with her primary and the other women as they mended leggings, tunics and socks. The men washed nighmeal dishes and fed the mounts.

“Ow,” Cait said, when she absently pricked her finger with the needle. She put the bleeding finger in her mouth. Her mind was on the ancient room and she found it difficult to concentrate on much of anything else.

“Pay attention to your sewing, girl,” Marjordan said.

“Yes, ma’am.” She glanced at the tunnel before focusing on the socks in her lap.

Whit had been unusually quiet since the incident with Marjordan but she did everything the healer ordered without protest. Paulucas must have found out because he periodically checked about her needs and her health. Whit tolerated him, barely.

“I’m not an invalid, Paul,” the woman said, when he brought her yet another blanket. “I’m just having a baby.”

“You’re not just having any baby. You’re having my baby.” Natjulie groaned at her brother’s words. “You got a problem with something?” he said in a dangerous voice as he eyed his younger sister.

“As a matter of fact, I do,” Nat said with unusual confidence. “You’re annoying everyone, Lucas. We already have a healer. We don’t need your limited expertise.”

Cait tensed. The girl rarely took that tone with her primary. With anyone, for that matter. Paulucas pulled to his full height and stepped to his seated sister. She held his gaze. His jaw muscles rippled slightly as he studied her and she began to chew on her lower lip.

Suddenly, he let out a hearty laugh and slapped her back. “You’re right. I have been a little overprotective, haven’t I?”

Natjulie sat stunned for a moment then smiled up at her brother. “Yes, you have. And in my opinion, Lucas, you’d be a nightmare of a healer.”

That sent the man roaring with laughter. Soon everyone in the cave chortled along. Cait laughed so hard that tears formed in her eyes. She felt this was much needed merriment for such a tense day and relished the release.

Paul finally got some control of his emotions and turned to Marjordan. “Don’t you think I’d make a good healer?” There was a slight pout on his broad mouth, which gave him a comical look.

Marjordan laughed harder at his statement and popped his leg with the tunic she’d been sewing. “If the day comes that you gain healer status, I’ll retire and move to the Shore Sanction.” She waved the garment at him. “I don’t trust you to sew up a hole in one of these.”

He lowered his head. “I’ve been thoroughly insulted.”

“Go finish your chores.”

He let out an exaggerated sigh and sauntered back to the other men. They ribbed him for several minutes about mothering Whithelen, telling him that perhaps she should’ve knocked him up instead of the other way around. He took their jibes in good humor.

Cait was still chuckling when the ground suddenly shook. She bolted to her feet along with the others.

“What the hell was that?” Quin said.

“Damn,” Jenellen muttered, and she charged toward the tunnel. Her body was halfway through the entrance when Ian caught up with her. He hauled her out of the tunnel despite her protests. “Stop it, Ian. I have to check the site.”

“Not at the risk of getting caught in a cave-in, you won’t.” She jerked her arm out of his grasp and started into the tunnel again. Again, he pulled her out. “I’m a finder here. I’ll have you restrained for this.” Fire lit her eyes.

He met her gaze with an equally threatening one. “You can punish me later, Finder. But I know it’s dangerous in there right now. I won’t allow you to kill yourself over some stupid artifacts. The reward isn’t that important.”

For a moment, Jen looked as though she would punch the tall man, until a puff of dust pushed through the tunnel and filled a portion of the cave. The group stepped back from the dust but Cait sucked in enough to make her cough a few times.

Jen’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry, Ian,” she said a bit stunned. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

He smiled. “You’re forgiven. I’m just glad I could stop you.”

“Now what do we do?” Cait said. She had just as much invested in this dig as anyone. More, in fact. “Someone has to check out the site. I’ll be glad to volunteer once the dust settles.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Marjordan told her. “I don’t want anyone going in there until we’re sure the area is stable again.” She turned to Jen. “You’re lucky it was Ian who stopped you. I wouldn’t have been so gracious.”

The finder visibly winced and lowered her eyes.

“This cave may not be stable even in here,” Marjordan added, glancing around. “It’s still too wet to camp outside.” She sighed. “Ian, can you brace this area? At least enough to give us time to flee before a cave-in if we have to.”

Ian scanned the cave, his mouth crooked in thought. “I think we can stabilize it enough for that. What do you think?” He looked to Paul, Whit, Quin and Jen.

The four nodded.

“Most of the cave-ins,” Jenellen said, “have occurred in the deeper areas. If we stay near the entrance, we should be fairly safe.”

“That’s it then,” Ian said. “Quin, Paul and I will cut some wood. Whit, you help Jen figure out the best areas to brace. She’s studied the maps of this cave more than any of us. The rest of you can move everything near the entrance.”

They all agreed and got straight to their tasks. Cait, Marjordan, Sam and Nat moved stools, crates, lamps and the rest of the supplies. Once everything had been placed near the entrance, the three youngest set up eating and sleeping areas while Marjordan rummaged through the food bags for noonmeal. Cait gave anxious glances toward the tunnel ever few minutes. Weeks of work buried under possibly several feet of debris. No more dust had come from the tunnel and she wanted to check out the site, even with the risks involved. Her primary must have noticed because the woman studied her now and then.

They still hadn’t found the Mask and tears of loss filled her eyes as she put the last of the blankets out with Natjulie. She sat, wiped at her eyes, and watched as Whit and Jen surveyed the cavern walls, searching out weak spots. A hand landed on her shoulder and she jumped slightly. When she looked up, Marjordan stood over her.

“You’ve done well here,” the woman said a soft voice. “Our sub-sanction will have much to celebrate.” Her throat tightened and she nodded. Marjordan squeezed her shoulder and she smiled in an attempt to reassure the woman. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Cait. I’m thankful no one was in there.” Marjordan glanced at the tunnel.

Suddenly, guilt flooded her. She hadn’t even thought about someone being inside. They were lucky, all of them. Had the incident happened an hour earlier or later.... “You’re right, P-Marj. I’m thankful, too.”

Marjordan smiled warmly then patted her cheek. “Finish up here. You and Nat can help with noonmeal. I’m sure Jen will find another way into the ancient room. That one’s got too much determination, even for a finder.”

Cait and Nat chuckled. The other two women hadn’t heard any of what Marjordan said, or they hadn’t cared. Both seemed to be in total concentration of their task.

The men were back by noonmeal with nails and hastily cut planks, and the group ate before putting braces into place. That took up all of their time until nighmeal. The rain finally stopped and the evening sun peeked from between the gray clouds. They got a large fire going just outside the cave and ate a hot meal for the first time in two days.

Marjordan and Whithelen watched camp while the others took the horses out for a run before dark, careful to stay away from the flooded areas. The animals seemed grateful after being cooped up during the rains. Once they returned, Cait’s muscles were sore from all of the physical exertion. Marjordan had several pots of warm water ready for washing and the warmth felt soothing against Cait’s aching muscles.

She fretted over the cave-in and wondered what morning would bring. Would they be able to get back into the ancient room? Would they find Tamirella’s doll or would they have to abandon the search? These and other questions sat on her mind and she fought the urge to charge into the tunnel like some half-mad finder.

Chapter 20

Search for the Ancient Room

Footsteps woke her the next morning and she rolled onto her back. Her muscles screamed with the movement and she groaned. Another moan nearby caught her ears.

Natjulie had a pained look on her face. The girl sat and rubbed at her shoulders then glanced over and grimaced. “Every muscle in my body hurts,” she complained.

Cait grinned. “Same here. That’s what we get for letting the warriors exercise our horses while we dig.”

Jenellen stepped between them. “You two had better get moving. We have to start digging through to the site today.”

“Go away,” Nat said with a slight smirk.

Jen ignored the girl’s comment. “You’re on first shift with me, Cait.”

“We’re going through the tunnel?” She gave the area a wary look. She wanted to get to the artifacts but another cave-in made her nervous, despite her ambitious thoughts from last night.

“Of course not, girl. Where’s your brain?” Jen sounded irritable. “We have to come in from the outside.” She mumbled something but Cait couldn’t make it out.

“I’ll take care of them, Finder,” Marjordan said as she entered the cave with a wooden spoon in one hand. “You go and eat.”

Jen looked past the healer to the outside. “I’m not hungry. We’ve too much to do.” She started out but the older woman sidestepped into her path.

“You may be a finder, Jen, but I’m the healer on this dig.” She shook her spoon. “You want to work, you’ll eat.”

“Fine.” Jen threw up her hands in defeat. “Anything to get back to work.” She grunted as she passed Marjordan.

“Why’s she so upset?” Nat attempted to stand. Her legs were obviously sore and she kept her knees bent, torso forward, like an old woman. “Ooh. I didn’t think it’d been that long since I was in a saddle.” She fell back on her blankets and let out another groan.

Marjordan smiled. “You’re both going to be a bit uncomfortable I’m afraid.”

“Now you tell me,” Nat complained.

“Jenellen’s got Finder’s Fever, girls. I want you to keep an eye on her. She starts to do something stupid, you have my permission to interfere. If you can’t stop her, then send for Ian or me. Do you both understand?” They nodded. “I know you’ve had your own problems with the Fever, Cait, but I trust your father taught you to be careful.”

“Yes, ma’am. As a matter of fact, he did.” She grinned at her primary.

“Mmm. Just see that your smug attitude doesn’t get someone injured.” Cait let her smile fade. “Now both of you get your backsides up and help with chores.” Marjordan stepped to the entrance and waited a moment but neither girl moved. “Now. Unless you need some motivation.” She snapped the wooden spoon against her palm.

“I’m getting up,” Cait said quickly. Unfortunately, her legs protested and she ended up bent over, nursing her thigh muscles.

Natjulie laughed. “Hey, old woman.”

“If this is what it’s like to get old, I think I’ll pass.”

“You’re not going to see tomorrow if you don’t get your backsides to work.” Marjordan gave them a slight grin and stepped outside.

The cave was empty now except for the two girls.

“Everyone’s in such a hurry today,” Nat complained as she stood again with effort.

The two walked around for a moment, amid grumbles and groans, before rolling up their blankets.

“Think we have any chance getting into the ancient room?” Nat eyed the tunnel.

Cait shrugged. She didn’t want to think about losing that Mask. She hadn’t even known about it until she and Marjordan had arrived at this camp but she was determined to find it. She realized Nat was speaking to her again. “What?”

“I said I’m going out before your primary decides to motivate my sore backside with that spoon.” She already had her boots on.

Cait smiled. Marjordan would never do that but she would come up with some nasty chores to discourage future lateness. “Oh, sure. I’ll be right there.” Cait sat carefully and scratched at her itching feet. When she pulled off her sock the skin around her toes was red and peeling. “P-Marj!”

Marjordan stepped into the cave, spoon still in her hand, this time with something dripping from it. “What is it, Cait?”

She put her foot into the air. “Rot.”

Her primary stepped close for a better look. “Mmm. I’ll whip up some salve but you need to put your boots on. It’s too damp and cold for bare feet.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She pulled her sock back on then her boots. She didn’t bother tying them before she stepped outside by the fire.

After mornmeal, Cait rubbed salve between her toes and put on a clean pair of socks. She donned her equipment and followed Jen and Ian up the hill that housed the ancient cavern. Two stools sat crookedly on the uneven ground near a circle of painted marker rocks, two large picks and a shovel. Cait wondered when they’d been placed there.

“This area,” Jenellen explained, “is directly over the ancient room. At least, we hope. We plan to lower down on ropes and bring the rest of the artifacts out that way.” She tossed two ropes on the ground, and Ianandy dropped another two near hers.

“When did you do all this?” Cait said. They had all bedded down together the previous night.

“Some of us are up with the sun, girl.” Jen sounded irritated. “Let’s start digging. It’s stable right here but be careful. And stick to the marked area. We don’t want to trigger another cave-in. Put on one of those harnesses.” She pointed to the ropes. “Ian will secure us to that tree.”

The man helped them into the rope harnesses and secured the length of the ropes to a nearby tree with a very thick trunk. The thing looked ancient and twisted through a huge, cracked boulder.

Cait didn’t think even the heaviest rains would budge it, and she felt more secure wearing the harness. It chafed a bit between her thighs but she thought that was better than falling several feet to the cave floor.

With alternate teams, they spent the next couple of hours digging and picking through the wet, rocky ground. The task was tedious and the ground’s thickness surprised Caitlanna. She thought for sure they’d be through to the cavern by now. She was anxious to find the Mask and thought of little Tamirella as she pushed her shovel into the dirt for what seemed the millionth time.

The young girl had lived in this cave and others in ancient days. Cait wondered what her life had been like. The world had come a long way since then. She felt lucky to have been born after the establishment of the Sanctions. They had healers, warriors, finders, strikers, hunters, metalworkers, gardeners, cloth dyers, and many other luxuries. There were hostilities on occasion but no war in many years. The mutants were the most feared, and every child learned early on to stay away from the occupied forests.

From Tamirella’s diary, Cait knew that each family fended for themselves in the little girl’s time. They moved around in order to avoid robbers, murderers and rapists. A shiver ran up her back at the thought of living every day like that. Each day in fear for your life.

“We’re not on break, yet, girl,” Jen’s voice broke through her thoughts.

Cait realized she was leaning on her shovel. She gave the woman an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Finder.”

The woman grunted, wiped sweat from her face with her sleeve, and continued to heave her pick into the hard rock. Cait forced her thoughts on her task, and the two soon gave their tools over to Sam and Nat as Quin stood watch.

At the fire, Marjordan had a snack ready for the returning team and Cait ate gratefully. Jen didn’t have to be told to eat this time and that seemed to please the healer. Digging had eased some of Cait’s sore muscles but she began to stiffen as she sat. After her last bite of food, she moved her head and shoulders around in an attempt to ease some of the stress. Hands gently massaged her shoulders and she groaned with both pleasure and pain.

“You’re a knotted mess, girl,” Marjordan said as her deft hands probed the tight muscles. “I’ll mix up a rub for you and the others.”

She nodded and attempted to pull away from her primary’s irritating fingers.

Marjordan gripped her shoulders with gentle firmness. “Let me loosen the muscles. I know this hurts but you’ll thank me later.”

Soon, despite the pain, her muscles felt better. In fact, she found herself nodding off after a while.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” Ianandy said, pulling her from her light sleep.

She looked up at the warrior.  He had his sword drawn.

There was an apologetic grin on his wide lips. “I promise not to work you too long today.”

Marjordan patted Cait’s arms. “Go and practice. I’ll massage you afterwards.”

She stood and thanked her primary before she retrieved her sword and focused on sparring.

After noonmeal, she and Jenellen were on dig shift again. The hole was beginning to look like just that, a large hole in the ground. They were careful to stay on the ledge while slamming picks and shovels into the soil below. Cait’s short arms had to stretch in order to reach the pick that far down. She guessed the hole was at least three feet deep now, but they still hadn’t broken through to the cave. Her harness chafed with each swing of the tool, despite the cloth strips Marjordan had added for comfort.

Ian had gone down the hill to camp to retrieve more water, leaving the two women to their jobs.

“This isn’t working,” Jen said irritably. “We need to be closer.”

Before Cait realized what was happening, the woman jumped into the hole and plunged her shovel into the dirt. “What are you doing?” Cait said in a sudden panic. “Get out of there.”

The finder’s fierce eyes glared at her. “Mind yourself, Striker, or someone else can take your shift.”

She ignored the woman, remembering her primary’s orders about Finder’s Fever. “Come out of there. It’s not safe.” She reached down and grasped the woman’s arm.

Jenellen jerked away. “Stop that, Striker!”

“Please, Jen. The Fever’s got you.”

“Either help me or go back to camp.” She dug furiously.

Cait decided to take the last suggestion and wriggled out of her harness. She ran down the soggy hill and lost her footing halfway, falling onto her backside. Loose rock and wet dirt propelled her the rest of the way down. At the bottom, she rolled to her feet and bolted, ignoring her stinging knees, hands and elbows. She almost plowed into Ian as she rounded the hill to camp.

“Jen’s in the hole,” she frantically told the man. “She’s digging and I can’t get her out.”

“Get Marjordan,” he ordered and took off.

“P-Marj!  P-Marj!”

“What’s wrong?” The woman pushed her spoon into Whit’s hand and sprinted to her.

“It’s Jen. The Fever’s got her bad. She’s digging in the hole. It’s too dangerous. I couldn’t get her to come out.”

Marjordan grabbed Cait’s arm and the two ran around the hill and up the slippery path.

Ian was talking to the finder in an attempt to persuade her out. “Jenellen,” he said firmly. “This is nuts. Come out of there.”

“Let me.” Marjordan pulled the man back and took his place. “Finder, look at me.”

Jenellen kept digging. “I’m busy.”

“Finder!  You look at me now!” The two women’s eyes met and Marjordan continued. “You get your backside out of there right this minute. There are better ways to do this. I’ll not have stupidity create injuries on my dig.”

The finder shook her head and continued digging.

“I speak to you as a healer, woman.” Marjordan’s tone was threatening and Jen studied her. “You don’t want to challenge me.”

“Damn,” the finder said, and she tossed the shovel up. She began to climb out, reaching for Ianandy’s outstretched arm. Just as he pulled her up, the ground shook and she slipped. She screamed and clutched Ian’s arm with both hands, legs dangling into the hole. The dirt below gave way to create an opening into the cave and Jen’s body followed, but the warrior kept a grip on her, despite the harness she still wore.

Cait spread her feet apart to retain her balance and watched in horror as Ian struggled with Jen’s weight. The two looked as if they would topple into the darkness at any moment. When the shaking stopped, she and Marjordan joined Ian, gripping his waist to provide support. He groaned and pulled. All four ended up on the hilly ground, Jen on top of Ian.

The finder rolled off the man and scrambled to her feet. “That was close.” She gazed into the darkness of the hole.

The others got up. Marjordan stepped to the younger woman, yanked her back from the edge of the hole, and slapped her hard across the face. Jen lost her balance and nearly fell to the ground again.

“Get out of that harness,” Marjordan ordered. “You and I are going back to camp.” Jen gave the healer a look of pure astonishment. “You heard me, Finder.” Hard eyes penetrated the younger woman’s gaze.

“Yes, Healer.” She removed the harness. Her second leg was barely free when Marjordan hauled her down the slippery hill, stumbling and tripping the entire way, and back to camp. Ian and Cait followed closely behind the two women. This time Cait stayed on her feet. When they reached the fire, Marjordan continued behind some nearby trees and brush, taking the finder with her.

Ian joined Paulucas near the horses. Cait sat with Nat and Sam as Whithelen added logs to the fire. A slap echoed from the trees followed by Marjordan’s angry voice. Cait knew her primary had been pushed too far.

“Ow.” Nat winced. “What happened up there?”

“I would suggest,” Whit said in a low voice, “you not inquire about that.”

“Oh, right.” Nervous eyes glanced at the trees then back to the fire. Nat concentrated on cleaning her tools.

Paulucas made his way to them. “Cait, you take a break. Sam and I will check out the dig site.” The two left.

Marjordan soon made her way to the fire with Jen on her heels. The younger woman rubbed at her reddened cheek and kept her eyes down. She made a beeline for a nearby stool and sat.

“Paul and Sam are checking out the site, P-Marj,” Cait said in her best official voice. She had no intention of antagonizing the woman further.

“Thank you.” Marjordan inspected Cait’s arms and legs from her fall down the hill. “Just a few bruises. Nothing serious. You and Nat go with Ian to exercise the mounts. I’ll put a salve on you when you return.” Whithelen started to move with them but the healer glared at her. “You stay. You’re in no condition to ride.”

“Yes, Healer,” Whit said with disappointment.

The girls went out with Ian until the horses and pack mules had been exercised. When Cait dismounted, her legs felt like watery dough, her bruises were tender, and her feet itched like crazy. She looked forward to Marjordan’s rub and salve. As she unsaddled her mount, she wondered how Jen was coping. Her mind drifted to the hole and she hoped she’d get the chance to retrieve some of the remaining artifacts. Finder’s Fever pulled at her again and, as she headed toward the fire, she contemplated facing Marjordan’s wrath for a chance to find the Mask.

“What’s wrong, Cait?” Natjulie said. The girl must have sprinted to catch up with her.

“Just anxious to get back to work.” When she reached the fire, Jen was missing.

Paulucas and Sam sat on stools and nibbled on tubers, while Marjordan prepared water for a stew.

“When’s the next shift?” Cait said to Paul. “Nat and I are small enough to go down in the harnesses. We have plenty of daylight left. We should see if anything’s retrievable.” She knew her primary eyed her but she ignored the woman’s gaze.

Nat stared in disbelief and her mouth dropped. One hand went to twirling her hair.

“Well,” Paul said, glancing at Marjordan. “The site seems fairly stable now. Sam and I can spot the girls. What do you think, Healer?”

Marjordan narrowed eyes on Cait and her heart sprinted. Suddenly, her bravery waned and she swallowed quickly several times.

“I want to be there, just in case,” the healer said. “You two eat something first. Whit. You and Jen can prepare nighmeal.”

“Yes, Healer,” the warrior said.

It was Cait’s turn at amazement. She gaped at her primary then let a slow grin find her lips.

“If you want to work—” Marjordan pointed a long arm to a bowl of fresh tubers. There was a slight amused expression on her face.

“Yes, ma’am.” Cait scooped up a fistful of tubers. Chewing seemed such a waste of time since she wanted to get into the cave as soon as possible, but she forced herself not to swallow too much at once. Choking would definitely get her primary’s attention. The wrong kind.

“You too,” the healer prompted Natjulie.

The other girl followed Cait’s example and the two ate a hearty snack. All the while, Cait’s anxiety rose and she fought the urge to bolt to the top of the hill and jump feet first into the cave.

Chapter 21

The Buried Room

Paulucas and Sam lowered Cait slowly down into the hole. She kept one hand on the rope while gripping a lamp with the other. When the movement stopped, she glanced around.

Paul’s voice rang out from above. “What do you see?”

Disappointment met her eyes and she sighed. The entire area had been buried under rubble from the last cave-in and Jenellen’s latest indiscretion. Even the supports had disappeared under the massive mounds of debris. Suddenly, the rope shook, dropping dirt onto her face. The movement was brief but enough to rattle her nerves, and the lamp slipped from her hand into the darkness below. She tugged on the rope. There was no need because someone was already pulling her up. Her primary took hold of the harness and yanked her to solid ground. She fell into the woman’s arms before steadying herself.

“Out,” Marjordan said as she tugged the harness. She didn’t have to tell Nat, who stood nearby waiting a turn. The other girl shed her harness quickly and gave a worried glance at Cait. The healer’s deft hands probed Cait’s body.

“I’m not hurt, P-Marj.” She coughed and spit onto the ground. “Just got a little dirt in my face.”

Worried eyes studied her. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, ma’am.” She looked to the hole and frowned. “Everything’s buried. It’ll take weeks to get through all the rubble.”

“No, it won’t,” Marjordan said with finality.

Cait studied her primary’s face and her spirits fell. “Please—”

“I’m ending this dig. It’s too dangerous.” Marjordan was within her rights as a dig healer.

Cait opened her mouth to protest again but Paul stepped toward them. “I agree,” he said. “We already lost a healer on this dig and too many have been injured. We’ll lose someone else if we continue. This area is weak and unpredictable, especially since the rains.” He peered at the hole. “Though it appears stable, I now think this entire ceiling will collapse eventually.”

“We haven’t found the Mask, yet,” Cait pleaded. Panic rose. “Please, we have to find it. We could widen the hole, uncover the entire room, then nothing would be left to fall.” Even as she said the words, she knew it was over.

“No.” Marjordan held her firmly by the arms.

“But our payment?” Tears broke free from her eyes and her throat threatened to close up.

“We have enough.”

She tried to pull away from the woman’s grip but Marjordan held her fast. “There will be no more digging here.”

“Please, P-Marj.” Tears quickened down her hot cheeks. “The Mask.”

The woman simply shook her head and pulled Caitlanna close.

She could no longer keep her composure as she sank into her primary’s embrace and cried. “The Mask,” she managed between sobs.

“Be still,” Marjordan said gently, and she sat, pulling Cait to the ground.

Her primary’s rocking made her feel like an infant but she didn’t care. Comfort was what she wanted right now. By the time her eyes were dry, the two sat alone atop the hill. Marjordan silently looked out toward the late afternoon sun. Cait allowed her primary to continue rocking her. This woman was the only mother she’d ever known. Somewhere inside was a little child needing comfort and she burrowed into the warm lap.

Marjordan stroked her hair. “I never told you this,” she said longingly. “I had a sister. A twin.” Cait was silent but she listened with interest. “At first, no one suspected anything was wrong. But as we got a little older, Mother realized my sister had no hearing.” Her primary sighed and hugged Caitlanna closer. “She was given to the forest. I wondered if I would ever see her again. And every time I passed a mutant forest, I wondered what her life was like. Mother had made special necklaces for us, matching necklaces.”

Cait sat up and scooted off her primary’s lap to study the woman’s face. She wiped her wet cheeks on her sleeve.

Marjordan’s eyes moistened. “That’s what Ian found on the painted-face woman. My sister’s necklace.”

“That woman was your sister?” Gooseflesh ran up Cait’s spine and down her limbs and all her thoughts about the failed dig melted away as she studied her primary.

“Yes. Ian removed her paint before burial. I checked and, except for a few scars, she looked just like me.”

“I’m so sorry, P-Marj.”

“She was a mutant. Yet we shared a womb.”

“All mutants are someone’s sisters and brothers, someone’s sons and daughters.” Funny how she’d never dwelt on that before now.

“We can’t think that way, Cait. It’s too dangerous. We need to send them away to survive. We have to keep our people healthy. Didn’t you learn anything from your history lessons?”

“Yes. I know the ancient weapons caused mutations in future generations. But that was so long ago.”

“And yet, mutants are still born today.”

She nodded, then her stomach tightened as another thought hit her. “Did I have a sister or a brother?” she uttered, almost afraid to hear the answer.

Marjordan gave her a motherly smile and touched her cheek. “No, my Cait. You were the only one.” She cocked her head. “Are you feeling better?” There was gentleness in her voice, the voice of a mother.

“A little. But—” She looked to the hole.

“Don’t dwell on that which can’t be altered, Caitlanna Mullen. The Mask is gone now. You’ve done well.”

“The elders only promised the supplies if I found this Mask. And I want to be a finder, P-Marj.”

“You will be a finder. Someday. I have no doubt about that, my Cait.”

“But I want the title now.” Her voice was a bit more forceful than she anticipated. “That way I can provide more for us.”

Marjordan chuckled and Cait gave her a startled look. “Oh, girl,” her primary said. “You have so much patience with a trowel in your hand. I know you’re disappointed. You’ll have to learn patience in life, too. And sacrifice.” She patted Cait’s leg. “If we don’t get to the fire, the others will certainly eat without us.”

The smell of fish soup wafted their direction. Cait hadn’t eaten in several hours but she still wasn’t hungry. She pushed away her disappointment about the dig and allowed her primary to pull her to her feet and down the slippery hill to the lake. They washed their faces and arms in the cool water, getting the streaks of dirt off their tanned skin, then headed to camp.

Whithelen stirred nighmeal and gave them both an understanding smile.

“Sit here and rest.” Marjordan urged Cait onto a stool next to Samcoty then crossed to the pot and tasted the meal. “You’re getting better, Whit.”

“Why thank you, Marjordan. But what’s it missing?”

“You know me too well. I’ll get some herbs.”

“I thought you would.”

The two chuckled as Jenellen walked up from the direction of the horses. “Marjordan, may I speak with you?”

Cait’s mind flashed to the finder’s disobedience just hours ago.

“Of course.” Marjordan led the younger woman to a makeshift tent someone had resurrected after the rains stopped.

When they returned, Jen looked content, and Cait guessed the finder had apologized for her earlier behavior and had been forgiven.

“Sam, go get the men,” Marjordan told the boy.

He didn’t hesitate to follow her orders and soon everyone was gathered around the fire eating nighmeal.

Cait didn’t care whether her slight appetite displeased Marjordan. The dig was over and there was no need to impress the healer.

****

They’d decided that Paul and Jen would ride to the Elders with the sour news, but storms forced them into the cave for the past three days. They kept near the exit. This front area still seemed stable, though the rains caused another foot or so of the ancient room to collapse. The riders planned to set out to the Elders as soon as it was dry enough.

“Ha!” Cait cried. “I win again!” She tossed her last pebble onto Samcoty’s sticks.

“I think Nat taught you how to cheat,” the boy protested.

The girl crossed her arms and frowned at him. “I don’t cheat.”

“You just can’t stand that I’m a better player than either of you,” Cait said. She felt unusually competitive now that she had no dig to occupy her time.

“Caitlanna,” Marjordan said from her stool. “Don’t gloat.”

When she grinned up at her primary, she saw something in those eyes, something that told her to back down. “Well,” she said as she turned back to the game. “I’m lucky sometimes.”

Sam smirked as he gathered the sticks and pebbles into two piles. “Three out of four?”

Cait wanted to, but her primary’s eyes burned into her back. “No thanks. I’m sure my luck’s run out by now. You two go ahead.” She scooted toward the cave opening to watch the rain. She was tired anyway and could use a rest.

“Isn’t this incessant rain ever going to stop?” Jen complained. “There won’t be a dry road for miles if this keeps up.”

“We’ll have to wait a couple of days after it ceases. We can’t chance any mud slides,” Paulucas said.

“Don’t remind me.” She groaned and turned her head toward the tunnel. “Damn you,” she mumbled.

Jen seemed as upset about losing the Mask as Cait. Once again, she wondered what the Elders had promised the finders. Her mind drifted to the mysterious painted-face woman and she turned to study her primary. No one would’ve ever known by Marjordan’s demeanor what had happened that day. Cait would’ve never guessed what the woman confided to her. Part of her wished she hadn’t found out the terrible family secret.

Marjordan smiled warmly at her. She smiled back and turned to watch the rain. She took in a deep breath. The wet stuff didn’t bother her as much as before. In fact, she found the constant patter somewhat calming. With her back pressed against a rocky outcrop, she wrapped her arms around her legs and rested her head on her knees. When she opened her eyes, nighmeal was being prepared. She must have slept.

Again, they had no fire to cook large meals over, only a small one near the entrance to keep them somewhat warm, and the days were getting colder, especially with the frequent rains. There didn’t seem to be many seasons in this area of the mountains. Summer led to winter then back to summer, with very little temperate weather in-between. The rains were a welcome respite from the summer heat but always left risks of overflowing riverbanks and mudslides. Winter rains here brought colder weather and the seasons were shifting.

Cait’s sub-sanction was in the northern mountains, and she missed the bright colors of seasonal changes. Now that this dig had been canceled, she believed the trip home would come very soon and she longed for her warm bed.

She rolled her stiff neck around then tucked her hands under between her folded legs and rested her forehead on her knees. She felt exhausted, though she hadn’t done anything physical in three days, since Marjordan shut down the dig. She peered to her right and caught sight of Natjulie chewing on a tuber. The thought of food repulsed her just now and she closed her eyes, pulling her legs in tighter to ward off the chilled air. Her head felt heavy and she drifted off again.

Chapter 22

Fever

“Cait? Cait?”

“Mmm?” She pulled toward consciousness and the voice of her primary. “P-Marj?”

“Be still,” the woman said in her healer’s tone. “You’re sick.”

That’s when she realized she was lying down, wrapped in blankets. Someone’s cool hand rested on her forehead, and she opened her eyes to see Marjordan hovering over her. She tried to sit but the woman held her in place.

“Keep still, Cait. Jen, is that water warm, yet?”

“Almost, Healer.”

“What happened, P-Marj?” She felt as though someone had punched her, everywhere. “I hurt all over. The Froth?” Panic sent her heart racing.

“No, my Cait, not the Froth. Winter fever.”

Relief came at the woman’s reassurance. “But I was fine yesterday. And winter’s not here, yet.” She coughed and her head pounded.

“That’s how it comes. Quickly. Sometimes before the leaves finish changing colors. But you’re a hardy girl so this shouldn’t last more than a few days.”

“A few days?” She didn’t like the sound of that. And she certainly had no desire to stay in bed that long. Again, she attempted to sit.

“Stay put,” the healer said firmly. “Or I’ll tie you down.”

She studied her primary’s face and knew the woman would make good on that threat, so she relaxed back onto the blankets.

“Much better. I’ll help you drink some fever tea when it’s ready but you lie still until then. Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.” She sniffed and realized that her nose was a bit stuffy. Then she wondered about the others. “Is anyone else sick?”

“Not yet. I’m keeping you away from them.”

She shivered. “I’m cold.”

“That’s the fever. Quin, toss me another blanket, please.”

“Yes, Healer.”

A slight breeze touched Caitlanna’s face as Marjordan caught the blanket. Once it was wrapped around her, she felt better.

“Tea’s ready, Healer,” Jen said.

“Just leave it right there. I don’t want you too close.”

She couldn’t see Jenellen but she heard footsteps come closer then head outside. Marjordan stepped away briefly. “Has the rain stopped?” Cait asked, as the woman came into her view again and helped her sit.

“Yes.” Marjordan held a warm cup to her lips and urged her to drink.

She relaxed in her primary’s support and sipped the slightly bitter tea. She noticed a strong fire burning just outside the cave. Knowing it was there seemed to help warm her. The tea helped, too, and she drank all of it before Marjordan lowered her onto her blankets again.

“You sleep. There’s nothing to do anyway except fish and care for the mounts. Not with this wet ground.”

Cait smiled because her primary had just answered her next question. She didn’t like being a burden. Satisfied that she wasn’t holding the group up, she snuggled under the covers and closed her eyes.

****

When she awoke again, it was dark outside except for the fire.  The others slept on the opposite side of the cave but still close to the entrance. All except Marjordan, who lay nearby. Cait turned to her side to find a more comfortable position and her primary immediately awoke.

“How’re you feeling?” The woman scooted close and placed a hand on Cait’s forehead.

“Thirsty.”

“Your fever’s gone down. I’ll get you some water.” Then she paused and smiled down. The flickering light made her strong features appear to jump around her face.

“What?”

“Remember when you were little and you used to tell me you were thirsty just to stay up a few minutes longer?”

She reached back in her memories, plucked that one as the woman told of it, and smiled. “Yes.”

Marjordan brushed her cheek and stood, stepping from view.

“Healer?” Ian’s low voice carried.

“She’s fine. Go back to sleep.” In a matter of seconds, the man snored again. “Here.” Marjordan helped Cait sit and gave her a cup of cool water.

It tasted wonderful and she drank slowly to make it last. “Who’s on watch?” She looked toward the fire.

“Paulucas. He’s just outside.”

She finished her water but now her bladder needed emptying. “I have to leak, P-Marj.”

“Stay here. I’ll bring you a pisspot.”

“I’d rather go outside.” Even with her illness, she felt the need for privacy.

“You’ll use the pisspot. I’ll hold a blanket up in case someone wakes.”

She didn’t argue. Her need outweighed any embarrassment she might’ve felt about someone hearing her. Once her bladder was empty, she snuggled under her blankets again and drifted off to sleep.

****

When morning came, she was alone in the cave. The fire burned strong outside the entrance and the smell of cooking food made her hungry. She sat up and sneezed. Her nose was stopped up and she looked around for a rag to blow it.

“Ho, my Cait,” Marjordan said as she quickly entered the cave. “How’re you feeling?” Her hands felt Caitlanna’s cheeks and forehead and inspected her eyes.

“I’b a liddle ‘ungry.” She rolled her eyes at her pronunciation.

Marjordan chuckled. “Your fever’s gone. But you do have the stuffies.”

“Wha’ gabe you dat idea?” She had to breathe through her mouth so her speech was a bit slower than normal.

The woman smiled and produced a rag. “Blow. I’ll get you some broth.”

“Ho there,” Quinpatrik said from the entrance, after Marjordan stepped around him. “How’re you feeling?”

“Bedder.”

He smiled. “I’ll let Nat know. She’s been anxious ever since you got the fever. We’re all afraid she’ll twist that braid right out of her head.” He grinned.

Cait chuckled. “Dell ‘er I’ll be okay.”

“Will do,” he chimed and disappeared.

One thing about illness was it quelled any desire to mate. Cait felt no attraction to Quin just now, except that of friend. Marjordan returned with a cup of steaming fish broth for her and she drank it all. She felt stronger and requested another cup. Then, of course, she had to use the pisspot again.

The movements tired her and she was promptly forced to lie down afterwards. Sleep didn’t take her immediately this time and she listened to the conversations outside. She learned that Paulucas and Jenellen left that morning to see the Elders. Whit’s queazies had subsided. One of the horses got spooked during the last storm and broke free. They hadn’t been able to locate him. Cait lay wondering which horse had run off. She hoped it wasn’t Graypony and she dozed off to that thought.

****

The next time she woke was just before noonmeal and her stomach wanted more food. She ate broth again, along with some cheese and bread. Marjordan seemed pleased with her returning appetite. After noonmeal, the healer gently washed her with warm water, careful to keep her from drafts. The bath lifted her spirits and she talked her primary into letting her sit outside by the fire, wrapped in blankets of course.

Marjordan stayed within a few steps of her, checking for fever periodically, until she began to feel smothered. “P-Barj, I’b fide.” The stuffies began to irritate her and she blew her raw nose again.

The woman raised a dark brow. “You’re still sick, Cait. And I’m going to see that you recover. You’ll put up with my attentions or I’ll put you back to bed.” She tugged the blankets tighter around Caitlanna’s neck.

“Yes, ba’ab.” She knew better than to argue with a healer.

The others sat across the fire from her, and Sam gave her a huge grin. “That’s some dialogue you have there.”

Cait flicked her tongue at him. Suddenly, Natjulie let out a forceful sneeze that caused Cait and Sam both to laugh.

She sneezed again and Marjordan closed in on her, placing a hand on the girl’s forehead and checking her eyes. “Not you, too?” She clicked her tongue. “You have a fever, Nat. Come on. Let’s get you to bed.” She pulled the girl from her stool and led her into the cave.

A sense of relief that her primary had someone else to fuss over flooded Cait and she smirked. It felt good to be out of bed. She turned to chat with Sam.

“Caitlanna!” Marjordan called from the cave. “You come get some rest, too!”

“Aw,” she moaned, and Sam chuckled. She stuck her tongue at him again and made her way to her primary, keeping the blankets around her as she walked.

“I want the two of you where I can keep an eye on you,” Marjordan said, as Cait shuffled to her sleeping area and sat.

“Thanks a lot,” Nat said when Marjordan stepped outside.

“I didn’t bean to ged sick,” Cait shot back. Her pronunciation irritated her even more now.

The other girl sighed. “I know. I’m sorry. I just hate being sick, especially with the winter fever.”

“Yeah. You had id before?”

“A couple times. I always seem to keep it longer than most.” She coughed then sniffed. “I’m sorry about the Mask, Cait. I know how much you wanted to find it.” She smiled. “I’ll be a finder someday but I’ll never be as good as you.”

She felt uncomfortable with the girl’s praise and flicked a dismissive arm at her.

“You are good, Caitlanna Mullen.” Nat pulled to her elbows. “You have the determination. That’s important in a finder.”

Marjordan entered and Nat quickly lowered herself. The woman carried two steaming cups. She gave one to each and allowed them to sit long enough to drink then motioned them both under their respective covers.

Caitlanna grew tired and welcomed the nap. In her dreams, The Mask of Tamirella taunted her from beneath a mound of dirt, beckoning and laughing when she couldn’t reach it, until she began to cry.

Chapter 23

Headed Home

Two weeks later, with the girls well and no other illnesses to hinder them, they headed toward M3. Paulucas’s group decided to go with them so Whit could gather her things and say goodbye, since she would be moving into Paul’s home. They also wanted to make certain no one else attacked them and the larger number helped. Cait learned that Paul and Jen had taken the artifacts with them on their previous trip to the Elders. The group was promised handsome profit for what they’d found and would receive payment once they returned home. They were to send word to the Elders upon their arrival. Cait was anxious to know just how much she’d earned for her sub-sanction. But that was days away.

The morning seemed to drag and her heart skipped as they approached Rotted City. Uneasiness replaced her disappointment at losing the Mask. She remembered all too well the near tragedy she had caused Graypony the last time they trekked through this ancient place. The sight of the ruins made her stomach tighten. The horse that ran off during the storm saddened her, too, but she was grateful it wasn’t Graypony. Ian had spotted the runaway about a mile out of camp as the group traveled. Dagbeasts had gotten to him, and the image of the stripped skeleton burned in Cait’s mind. The horse had belonged to Paulucas and he had covered the bones out of respect to the animal. The man now rode the dead healer’s mare with added bridle chains in memory of the woman Cait never met.

Ian stuck close to Marjordan. The two chatted as they rode and every once in a while Cait heard light laughter from one or both. The two, who’d known each other since childhood, were involved in each other’s lives with frequency. Cait had always thought of them as merely friends, but watching them together now, she wondered if they could be more. Of course, Marjordan would never be anything but discreet with those types of feelings.

She chided herself for such thoughts. She was the one with those kinds of feelings. Putting them on others was unfair, especially to her primary.

As the remains of Rotted City closed in, she felt smaller. Her callused hands tightened on the reins and she focused her mind on the trail. She began to sweat despite the cool weather but didn’t dare remove her sheepskin overtunic.

Marjordan, who rode directly in front of her, turned. “Cait?”

“I’m fine,” she said in a strangled voice.

“Just relax and stay alert. We’ll get through this.”

“I know.” But she didn’t know. Doubts filled her head, and she desperately fought them down as she shifted her weight in the saddle and pulled her body straight.

Someone had cleared the Rotted City trail of any debris from the last rains, for which the group was grateful, especially Caitlanna. Ian appeared cautious, though. He studied the trail and surrounding ruins with obvious interest. Suddenly, Cait’s concerns grew as she worried how Nat would handle the trail. But she had to admit that the younger girl was a better rider and had more confidence in a saddle. Sam stayed close to his future mate and the two looked like they were up to the dangerous task. Better than Cait felt about it.

****

The trip through Rotted City took a little over two hours without any occurrences, yet Cait was dripping with sweat by the time they were free of the ruins. Ian stopped the group for a rest, and Marjordan had Cait change out of the damp clothes.

“I don’t want you ill again.” Her primary tossed fresh undergarments, a tunic, and leggings to her.

The dry clothes felt soothing against her skin. When she was dressed, she sat on a rock to eat a snack of tubers and cheese. They still had the mutant forest to get through and that brought Marjordan’s twin sister to mind. The woman hadn’t mentioned another thing about their talk and kept the necklace out of sight.

Despite the group’s failure in retrieving the Mask, spirits were high, and Cait found herself smiling a few times at Whit and Paul’s friendly banter. The woman was beginning to show and her mate had trouble keeping hands off the slightly swollen belly. Whit constantly batted him away and accused him of tickling her. She claimed tickling a warrior was against her sub-sanction rules and regs. Caitlanna wouldn’t see the rules and regs until she reached full-grown or finder status, whichever came first—she hoped for the latter—but from Ian’s expression, she doubted Whit’s objections.

“You’re full of dagbeast dung, Whit,” Paul said playfully. “All mountain sub-sanctions have the same rules and regs.” He pinched his chin in thought. “I don’t recall any such law about tickling warriors.” At that, he pounced and attacked her belly until she screamed with laughter.

“She’s definitely good for him.” Nat gave her brother a sly look. “He’s so happy. I haven’t seen him this way since before our parents were killed.”

“Babies change people,” Cait said, watching the couple.

She would miss Whithelen. She hadn’t thought much about people leaving her home until recently. Everyone she knew had been knot-tied within her own sub-sanction. Marjordan had explained that new bloodlines were healthy. Healers believed that mixing up the sanctions helped decrease some of the ancient diseases that caused mutants.

Quinpatrik sat nearby, observing the couple, too. Cait watched him for a moment. His blue eyes stood out against his tanned skin and he wore his sun-streaked hair, that had grown past his shoulders, pulled back in a ponytail. His gaze fell on Jenellen but the woman was focused on a loose bootlace. Now that Finder’s Fever had subsided, Cait’s thoughts often turned to Quin, but she’d noticed lately that he took opportunities to observe Jen. She liked the woman but couldn’t help her jealous feelings.

She peered from the corner of her eyes to see if Marjordan noticed her. The healer was busy checking medical supplies. No one else seemed to be paying any attention, either. Ian studied a map. Paul and Whit studied each other. And Sam had gone into the bushes to leak.

Natjulie nudged her. “Why don’t you see if Marjordan will let you visit our sub-sanction for a few days after we get home.” She was back to her talkative self. “I’d love for you to see my room. I dried some flowers last spring and decorated my walls with them. The colors sure brighten up everything. I can’t wait to get home.”

Cait thought a moment. She’d never been one for decorating. Her own room was pretty sparse, except for a few items that had once belonged to her father and mother. “She won’t let me travel alone. But she’ll probably want to deliver Whit’s baby.”

“Oh, that’d be perfect. You could stay with us. We have an extra room. At least, we do until the baby comes.” She grinned and twirled her braid with her fingers.

“I’ll bring it up with P-Marj. But not until we’re closer to home. She’s anxious to get back to her patients and that tends to distract her.” She glanced at her primary. The woman’s eyes searched the ground, and Cait knew she was looking for medicinal herbs.

****

Ian urged the group on until noonmeal, and by the time they stopped again, Cait was famished and her legs ached from all the riding. Stiffly, she dismounted and walked the soreness from her muscles. She led Graypony to graze with the other mounts at the tall grass near a pond. The group ate a quick meal and got back onto the trail.

By nighmeal, they’d reached the flat hilltop just before the last mutant forest. Evidence of their previous stay lay on the ground in the form of charred, fire rocks. The rest had been washed away by the recent rains.

Again, Cait walked off the stiffness in her legs. Her nerves frayed a bit as she gazed out at the nearby forest. She wondered about the little, one-armed mutant girl. Part of her hoped to see the child again. She had no desire to run into any dagbeasts, though. Her calf ached at the memory of the dagbeast bite and she stiffened. A hand on her shoulder made her jump.

“Calm down, Cait,” Marjordan said. “Help with nighmeal.”

She followed her primary to the remains of their last fire, where fresh logs had already been placed. There she rummaged through a large saddlebag for the stew pot. The men were out hunting harerabbit. Whithelen stayed behind to guard the campsite. By the look of pure dejection on her dark face as she paced the edge of the hill, staying behind was probably Marjordan’s idea. Nat and Sam brought water and filled the pot. Marjordan got a fire going and placed the pot on a makeshift rack over the flames.

In the distance, a dagbeast howled its presence and Cait shivered. An insect buzzed near her head and she swatted absently at it as her eyes scanned the surrounding areas for danger. She saw nothing, except a few birds. She realized her primary spoke to her.

“What?” she said, not looking at the woman.

“My bag,” Marjordan said impatiently. “We’re going to need herbs for this stew.”

“Oh, right.” She retrieved the woman’s bag and crossed to the fire. Another dagbeast howled in the distance and she dropped the herbs. “Sorry,” she mumbled, as she scooped up the bag and held it out for her primary, who squatted and poked at the fire.

“Sit,” Marjordan told her. “You won’t be good to anyone unless you get control of those jitteries.” When Cait stood staring at her, Marjordan reached up and pulled her to the ground. “I told you to sit, girl.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She flopped onto her bottom and pulled her knees close to her chest. Her mind was on dagbeasts, though.

Marjordan studied her a moment then pushed a bag of tubers into her hands. “Wash these.” One hand placed a bowl of water near Cait’s feet.

She did as she was told but her gaze often drifted to the surrounding area.

Her primary let out a sigh. “I’m going to give you some calm-tea before bed.”

Jitteries. Cait had them bad and she nodded.

The men returned and cleaned the harerabbits for stew. After nighmeal, the group bedded down, with Whithelen on first watch. Cait lay on her blankets near the fire and stared out into the darkness of the forest. She hadn’t heard any more dagbeasts and her primary’s tea settled her nerves a bit, but she still found it hard to sleep. She watched Whit as the warrior walked around the slumbering group toward her.

“Can’t sleep?”

Cait sat and shook her head. “All I can think about are those damn dagbeasts.”

Whit nodded and glanced out into the darkness. “Haven’t heard them in a while. I think they’ve gone the other direction.” She absently scratched at the old scar on her shoulder.

“I sure hope so. The fire didn’t deter them last time.”

The warrior laid a comforting hand on Cait’s shoulder. “I’ll watch over you, girl. Get some sleep.” She smiled the way Marjordan did sometimes, though her dark skin made her teeth stand out against the firelight.

Cait lay back, pulling her blankets close under her chin. She was glad to have someone else do the worrying. The day’s efforts had drained her and she soon fell asleep to the sound of the crackling fire.

****

Something woke her and she bolted upright. It was still dark. At first, she thought the dagbeasts had returned but things were still, except for the fire and some insects chirruping in the distance. A large shadow moved nearby and she sucked in a breath before realizing it was Ianandy. He made his way to her so quietly that she barely heard his footsteps.

“Ho, girl.” He squatted and leaned toward her. “Everything all right?” One hand rubbed at his cropped hair and glistening eyes studied her. The fire burned strong.

“Yeah. I must have been dreaming.”

“Well, morn will be here soon. You should finish sleeping.” His chin scar stood out in the dancing firelight.

“I’ll try.” She smiled to reassure the man.

He nodded and ruffled her hair. She started to protest his gesture but he pushed her firmly down onto her blankets and stood to finish his watch.

She must have fallen asleep again because when she opened her eyes the sun was up and the others were awake or stirring. She turned onto her side to watch the forest. It seemed much less threatening in the daylight. Someone slapped her lightly on the buttocks and she turned to see her primary.

The woman stood over her with a ragcloth in her hand. “Get up, lazy.” She smirked and she tossed the ragcloth onto Cait’s head. “There’s soap on one of the stools and a bucket of water.”

Cait snagged the towel from her face and stared up at her primary. Sleep haze clouded her mind and the woman’s words took a moment to register.

“The cold water will wake you.” Marjordan placed her hands on her hips. “Up, up, sleepy. We’ve a lot of traveling still to do.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She got stiffly to her feet. Her tight thigh muscles needed a rub. She stretched and yawned broadly then sauntered to the wash area. The cold water did help revive her and soon she was hungry.

The group ate mornmeal and packed their things, Cait’s thoughts on the upcoming mutant forest.

****

This time, the trip through the forest seemed less threatening than Cait expected, and she found herself searching for the one-armed child. A couple of times, she heard something, probably a small animal, scamper through the brush, but enough to make her heart jump. The large trees provided shade and chilled the air even more. So much so, that she kept her sheepskin overtunic on for warmth.

By noonmeal, they’d reached a small clearing. Afterwards, a satisfied stomach made Cait sleepy and she dozed against a small boulder. Nearby rustling startled her awake. The full-growns had their swords drawn. She reached behind her head, retrieved her own weapon, and was instantly on her feet.

“Ho,” a small voice said from behind a tree.

A boy, about four or five years old, stepped tentatively from the trees. He had an enthusiastic but awkward grin on his face, and his features were different from anyone Cait had ever seen. A squashed nose with puffy eyes. The boy ran awkwardly toward Natjulie, squat, chubby legs marching through the grass.

Ian moved to intervene but Marjordan stepped in. “Wait.” She spoke as a healer and the warrior froze.

The boy grabbed the startled Nat’s waist and kissed her arm repeatedly as he gazed up. She turned an astonished face to the others. When Marjordan sheathed her sword and stepped to the boy, he grabbed onto her and repeated his gestures. She knelt, taking the child’s face in her hands. He giggled and caressed her face with chubby fingers.

“What’s wrong with him?” Natjulie said.

“He’s a forever-child,” Marjordan said. “He’s harmless but I’m afraid he won’t understand much.”

“He’ll never grow up?” Nat said, squatting next to the healer. Chubby mutant fingers touched her face and she smiled.

“Physically, yes. But his mind will always be a child.”

“Oh.”

“P-Marj? Won’t someone be looking for him?” Cait sheathed her sword and stepped close for a better look at the odd boy.

“Probably.” Marjordan stood and turned to Ian. “We should get going before someone misses him.”

They walked toward their mounts and the child followed.

“Looks like we’ll have to secure him somewhere,” Ian said. “I don’t think he’ll stay behind when we leave.”

“He can’t keep up with horses,” Marjordan told the man. “There’s no need to frighten him.”

The warrior nodded.

Whithelen still had her sword in one hand, while the other touched her belly. She looked ill.

“P-Marj?” Cait nodded to Whit.

Marjordan immediately crossed to the younger woman and placed a hand on her forehead. “You having pains?”

“There’s a chance my baby could be like that boy, isn’t there?” Her bottom lip quivered.

Marjordan pulled her back straight and flipped her long braid behind her. “I’ll not have that kind of talk. I told you I’m going to do everything in my power to keep your child healthy.”

“I know. But—“

“Enough!” She waved an annoyed hand at the warrior woman. “Do you need me to slap you out of your worry?”

Whit took in a breath and gave Marjordan a stoic look. “No, Healer. I’m fine, now.”

“Good. Let’s get moving.”

Before anyone could mount, at least twenty full-growns stepped from the surrounding forest and encircled them. Most were obviously mutants and carried various weapons. Cait unsheathed her sword again and pointed it at the nearest one, a woman about her height. Her heart drummed against her chest and she heard a child giggle.

Chapter 24

Mutants

“You’re not going anywhere.” A mutant man stepped toward the group, brandishing a huge sword, much too large for Cait to handle. His muscular arms bulged with the weight in his hands. Two fingers on his left hand were missing but that didn’t seem to hinder his agility with the weapon. His dark hair was cut short against his scalp, except for a single thin braid in the back.

The little mutant boy ran to him and grabbed onto one of his legs. The man lifted the giggling child with one hand and gave him to a woman who stood nearby.

“Drop your weapons,” the mutant warrior ordered, staring straight at Ianandy. Then he raised a brow. “My warriors are well trained.”

Nat began to sob and Jenellen placed an arm around her.

“Quiet, girl.” The mutant warrior didn’t sound angry, just annoyed. “If you cooperate, you won’t be harmed.”

Ian kept his sword pointed at the man. “I know better than that, mutant.” There was pure hatred in his voice.

“You know nothing.” The man met Ian’s scorn. After a moment, his face softened. “Do you really want to risk these children’s lives?” He eyed Cait with curiosity before focusing on Ian again. “I have twenty-three warriors here, and more in the woods.” He focused on Marjordan and his eyes widened so briefly that Cait wasn’t sure she’d actually caught the motion. “You’re a healer?”

“Yes.” Marjordan kept her sword pointed at him.

Then he did something that startled Cait. He bowed his head to her primary. “I’m honored, Healer. My name is Bradalin. Please, have your group sheath their weapons and come with us. I give you my word as a warrior that you won’t be harmed.”

Suddenly, one of the other mutants grabbed Nat and she screamed. Bradalin pulled Nat from the man, pushing her back to Jen. He then knocked the man to the ground and stood fiercely over him, sword at the prone man’s throat.

“I just gave my word that these people wouldn’t be harmed,” he said. “You’ll be punished for that.”

“Yes, sir,” the man mumbled. He stayed in a prostrate position, until two others pulled him to his feet and dragged him away.

The mutant warrior looked at Marjordan again. She sheathed her sword.

“What’re you doing?” Ian protested.

“We can’t win against this many, Ian,” Marjordan said.

“They’ll kill us anyway, so we may as well fight.”

She narrowed eyes on the mutant warrior. “I don’t think so.”

For the first time, Cait saw a look of pure confusion on Ian’s face.

“Please, put your weapons away,” Bradalin said. There was a hint of a plea in his voice. At least, Cait wanted to believe so.

“Do as he says, Ian,” Marjordan said in a soft voice. “I believe him.”

Ianandy shook his head briefly then sheathed his sword with a curse. “I hope you’re right.” He nodded to the others and everyone put their weapons away.

Cait’s hands trembled as she slipped her heavy sword into its sheath. Nat cried softly and Jen held her close.

“Thank you, Healer,” the mutant warrior said. He led the way.

The mutants took the mounts and surrounded Cait’s group as they traveled further into the trees. They walked for at least half a mile before coming to a large clearing. As they got closer, mutant children scrambled into surrounding huts. The very young children stood watching, a little girl with a missing arm among them, until full-growns pulled them aside. A large fire-pit sat in the center of the clearing and several boulders and wooden benches had been placed around it. A strong fire gave off warmth.

Bradalin urged the group to sit then he entered one of the huts.

Cait stood close to her primary and the woman placed a comforting arm around her shoulders. Nat had calmed and sat between her brother and Whithelen.

“What do they want?” Cait said in a soft voice.

“I don’t know.” Marjordan pulled her down onto a bench. “We’ll have to wait and see.”

Soon Bradalin stepped from the structure, followed by a woman. The woman moved quickly for someone using a cane. Her brown skin was a bit darker than Whit’s, like a rich tea, and she wore her braided black hair wrapped around her head in wreath fashion. Her face was smooth and Cait wondered how old she was.

Can’t be much more than twenty. Barely into her full-grown years.

The mutant woman said something in a language Cait didn’t recognize and Bradalin nodded. Then she stepped to Marjordan. “I’m honored, Healer.” She gave a slight bow of her head. “My name’s Drewemily. I hope you’ve been treated fairly.”

“We haven’t been harmed,” Marjordan said.

The young mutant woman scanned the group and motioned Bradalin to her. “Have some food and drink brought to our guests.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He motioned a couple of women into a nearby hut.

Drewemily crossed to Nat and the girl leaned into her brother. “Are you hurt?” The mutant reached out a hand to the girl’s face. “You’ve been crying.”

“She’s fine,” Paulucas said disdainfully. He kept a protective arm around his sister. “Except your little beasts frightened her half to death.”

The woman glared at her warriors then turned a softened face back to Natjulie. “I’m sorry. They were supposed to be civil. I don’t like frightening children.”

Paulucas gave the woman an astonished look.

“Drewemily?” Marjordan slowly got to her feet, probably to keep from startling the mutant warriors. “Why have you brought us here?”

The young woman stepped to her. “I’m the only healer in this forest. And I’m afraid I lack training. My adoptive mother was killed by dagbeasts nearly a year ago. I was her apprentice.” She sat on a nearby boulder and urged Marjordan to do the same.

Marjordan sat next to Cait again.

“Some of my scouts saw you work on these two.” Drewemily pointed to Cait and Sam.

“You’ve been watching us?” Ian said in an alarmed voice.

The young healer smiled. “Yes. We watch all who travel through our forests. I sent some scouts to follow you. They observed you at the dig site for quite a while. Until the rains forced them back here.”

Ian gawked at the young healer. Quite out of character for him.

Drewemily looked amused. “You don’t think we’ve lived in the forests all these generations without learning discretion, do you?”

Marjordan chuckled at that. “I must say, Drewemily. You’re not at all what I expected.”

The young healer threw her head back in laughter, startling Cait for a second. Bradalin and a few others chortled along. Then she focused black eyes on Marjordan. “Call me Drew. Please. You mean the sacrifices? We started those stories, oh, several generations ago, to keep thieves and murderers from our forests. I’m surprised the tales survived this long.”

“Then you don’t kill healthies?” Cait said, trying to steady her nerves.

“Of course not, girl,” she said in an indignant tone. “Unless our lives are threatened. We can usually frighten trespassers away.” Her face softened and she smiled warmly, and Caitlanna found herself smiling back. “You’re young to carry a sword. A striker, right?” She turned back to Marjordan. “Do all your children learn to fight?”

“No. She was involved in special circumstances.”

“I see.” Drew eyed Cait again.

She held the young healer’s gaze but felt her face become hot. She had the sudden feeling that this woman told the truth and wasn’t about to harm them. That tales about mutants were grossly exaggerated.

A small gang of women and girls brought fruit and drink to the group, but Ian eyed the offerings with reserve.

“If I wanted you dead,” Drewemily said to him, “you wouldn’t be here now.” She pointed to the bowls. “Choose something,” she said to Cait.

Cait glanced at her primary and the woman nodded. She chose a bright red apple and gingerly held it in her fingers.

Drew took the apple from her and admired it before turning to Ian. “Poison is too slow for my taste. Even the strongest.” She bit into the fruit, letting juice dribble down her strong chin. One hand motioned Ian to the fruit.

The warrior tasted a berry and seemed pleasantly surprised. “Very good.”

Drew chuckled and shook her head. “It’s a wonder anyone trusts enough to breed these days.” At that, a little girl about three or four came prancing toward her and she scooped the child up.

“P-Drew,” the girl chimed, kissing the young healer on the cheek. Her skin was as dark as her primary’s. Her black hair had been put into two braids and tied together with a colorful strip of cloth.

“My little love.” Drew gave the apple to the child.

“I caught a fish today.” The little one had dirt on her tunic and leggings but she looked like any healthy child.

Cait searched but couldn’t see anything wrong with her. The child’s clothing must have been hiding her mutancy.

“That’s wonderful.” Drew placed the girl on the ground. “I need to talk to some full-growns. You go and play.”

“Yes, P-Drew.” The little girl skipped off to a group of children.

“Is she your blood daughter?” Marjordan said to the young healer.

“Yes.”

“And she’s a healthy?”

“Of course.” Drew studied Marjordan’s astonished face. “You didn’t know, did you?” Her voice held anger now. “You just keep throwing your children to the forests without a second look. We have healthies in all of our generations here.” She cursed. “My mother was right about you. You’re frightened of us. And not because of the sacrifice rumors. You think keeping us from your sanctions will stop the diseases, the deformities. Well, let me tell you that it won’t. We have many healthy children here and none will be given to you simply because they’re born healthy.” Her voice caught. “How can you throw away your children?” Those black eyes grew moist and she wiped angrily at them.

Cait studied her primary and the woman seemed at a rare loss for words.

“I knew your sister,” Drewemily said with sadness. Marjordan narrowed eyes on the young healer. “She was a good woman and a good warrior. But she couldn’t get over the fact that her parents had abandoned her, separating the two of you. She remembered that day and her need for revenge eventually drove her mad.” Her eyes studied Marjordan a moment. “I’m sorry we had to kill her, but she and those with her threatened all of us. They were just too unstable. You were twins, weren’t you?”

Marjordan nodded. “I remember the day she was taken from me.” Her voice grew soft and her eyes moistened.

Drew moved to Marjordan’s side and placed an arm around her. “I’m sorry. You were just a child. I shouldn’t blame you for this. We’re all at fault. Generations of us. You fear us, we fear you, and we fuel that fear to keep distance between our sanctions. That’s not the way things should be. Fear causes battles, wars. You’ve seen the devastated city of our ancestors.”

At her words, images of Rotted City filled Cait’s mind and she absently nodded.

“And were you afraid to venture through the destruction?” The young healer’s mouth crooked up on one side and her eyes were bright.

Cait cocked her head in astonishment. “There’s no ancient disease, is there?” Everyone’s eyes fell on her and she fought the urge to grab her tools and start digging just to avoid the attention. Instead, she focused intently on the young healer.

Drewemily smiled. “Oh, there used to be. Centuries ago. But I’m afraid we are guilty of keeping those rumors alive. We’ve found useful information from the ruins.”

“But nothing grows there,” Cait objected. Part of her was angry as she thought of the incident with Graypony and how upset she was to think that he might die. Ian nearly punished her for that, too.

“No, nothing does,” Drew said, thoughtfully, as she moved across from Marjordan and sat on the boulder again. “That’s still a mystery to us. We think all the nutrients were permanently burned out of the soil somehow. Our ancestors had powerful weapons, appalling weapons. But the ruins don’t carry the disease anymore. The city’s safe. Few creatures dwell there because there’s no food and that’s helped keep the ancient tales alive. Keeps many travelers from coming this way.”

“Why’re you telling us this now?” Marjordan said. She leaned toward the young healer. “When others find out, they will travel through here.”

Drewemily let out a sigh. “My mother long believed in combining our people. At the time, the Elders here would have none of it. With each generation, we have more healthy babies but life isn’t easy out here. We lose babies, mutant and healthy. Mothers die in childbirth. Our Elders are becoming younger and younger with each passing season. Bodies give out early from such a harsh life, especially the winters. We’ve survived by breeding young, and our healthy children give us hope, but we need tools and medicines.”

She motioned to the mutants who were going about their activities nearby. “As you can see, we have mainly young people here now. You have information from our ancestors that allows you to build sturdy houses and create potent medicines. We have only what we manage to steal from you, which isn’t much, and what we gather from the ruins and abandoned dig sites after most have been plundered.

“We have plenty of wood to build sturdy homes but not the necessary tools. Our dwellings are often damaged by storms and floods. We want to survive. And we believe healthies want us to survive, or else, we would’ve been killed, not abandoned to the forests.”

Marjordan studied her silently.

“There’s more,” Drew said. “We know about The Mask of Tamirella.”

Cait started to tell the woman that the Mask was really a doll’s face but Marjordan placed a restraining hand on her arm.

Drewemily must have seen because she chuckled. “We know about the dolls,” she said.

Ian pulled straight and eyed her with curiosity and anger.

“Tamirella,” the young healer continued, obviously ignoring the man, “lived in this forest most of her adult years.” She narrowed black eyes on Ian. “She was a mutant.”

At that, the warrior jumped to his feet. “You lie!”

“Sit down, Ianandy!” Marjordan stood and faced the man with a healer’s authority.

“She lies to us, Healer,” he said in a strangled voice.

“We have proof,” Drew said softly.

She had gotten to her feet and held her cane in front of her body. With a snap of her fingers, a young man trotted to her and handed her a leather pouch. She sat again and leaned her cane against the boulder. One hand fished into the bag and pulled out a copper sphere. The sphere was divided into three sections and had symbols and letters carved into it. It looked exactly like Paulucas’ TAD.

The group stared at the mutant healer with disbelief, and Ian slowly sat. Marjordan took her seat again. Paulucas narrowed eyes on the woman and the sphere.

“No, this isn’t your decoder,” Drew quickly told the man. “One of our warriors found this TAD on a dead man several years ago and took it before he buried the body. We also found tablets in a burial site in this forest.” She placed the TAD back into the pouch. “We know how to use this to decipher the ancient languages, just as you do.”

Caitlanna studied the pouch then the healer.

“Please,” Drew added with moist eyes. “I think this is important for all of us. I wouldn’t have brought you here, otherwise. Our children, your children, have a right to longer, productive lives. I know this will take time. But if we begin by at least exchanging knowledge, perhaps by the time my daughter is a full-grown, she and the others will be welcomed home.” Tears broke free from her eyes and trickled down dark cheeks. She didn’t wipe them away.

Marjordan studied the young healer. “Our Elders will take convincing. And you’ll need the proof you claim.”

Drewemily nodded then slapped her deformed leg. “This is what frightens you. But our ancestors had ways to rid their children of mutancies, didn’t they? At least, those are the stories we’ve heard. Are they not true?” She looked very much like a small child asking a question of a primary.

“I’ve heard them, too,” Marjordan said.

“Then perhaps we can one day discover their secrets. But we can’t do it alone.”

Caitlanna had heard all she needed to. “We have to help them,” she said as her eyes fell on several children who tried to keep hidden behind trees and huts but still listen to the conversation.

“That’s not your decision, girl,” Ianandy said.

She didn’t back down from his tone. Not this time. In less than three years, she would be a full-grown and she’d already been given duties no other child was allowed. Instead, she stood and faced him, hands planted on her hips. “These mutants are our blood, Ian. P-Marj’s own sister lived among them. If they can have healthy babies then the diseases don’t work the way we thought.”

Ian’s neck was deep red now and his jaw muscles pulsed. Cait’s heart raced but she kept his gaze. Barely. Perhaps she’d said too much. Perhaps the next thing she experienced would be a beating for her insolence but she believed Drewemily. Something in her gut said the woman spoke the truth. Ian took a step toward her but his attention was quickly averted.

“Healer Drewemily!” a man called. He and another were dragging a third from the forest. “This man needs your services.” The two dropped the third to the ground and he fell onto his hands and knees. His tunic had been removed and there were bloody stripes just below the slight hump on his shoulder.

“What happened?” The young healer retrieved her cane and stood.

Marjordan quickly got to her feet and made her way to the man. “He’s been whipped,” she said flatly. That’s when Cait recognized him as the one who had grabbed Nat.

“Brad ordered him punished for disobedience,” the mutant man said.

Drew nodded. “Take him to my hut.” The men obeyed. “Healer Marjordan, I could use some assistance.”

“Of course,” Marjordan said. “I’ll get my bag.” She glared at Ian. “Keep the young ones close.” He nodded and leaned against a tree. She turned to Cait. “You keep out of trouble. We’ll finish this discussion when I return.” Without waiting for an acknowledgment, she started toward the horses, but a mutant warrior stepped into her path with his hand on his sword.

“Let her pass,” Drewemily said in an agitated voice. “She’s our guest.”

The warrior nodded and stepped aside, allowing Marjordan a path to her horse. The two healers soon disappeared into a nearby hut.

Cait studied her silent group as her mind raced. This was wrong, making them live this way, even if they were mutants. “Ian?” she said after a long moment.

He narrowed hard eyes on her. “Don’t believe everything you hear, girl.” The scar on his chin was pink from the sun. She could see it even beneath his new beard, which was mostly white.

“I think Cait’s right,” Whithelen said. Her gaze rested on a nearby mutant warrior, who was as tall as any person Cait had ever seen. “If they wanted to hurt us, they would have.”

“I don’t trust them.”

“Well, Ian, you can’t expect to dispel generations of distrust in just a few moments. But we need to give them a chance.” She caressed her stomach.

“They forced us here at sword point.” Ianandy’s face and neck reddened.

“Would you have agreed to come if they’d simply asked?” Paulucas said, eyeing the older warrior. He no longer had an arm around his sister’s shoulders.

Ian shook his head. “Of course not. But that doesn’t excuse what they’ve done. The Elders will hear of this, I assure you.”

“Then the Elders should hear the entire story,” Cait said. “Don’t you think?”

The warrior didn’t answer. He simply watched the activities of nearby children and rubbed at his cropped hair. But his anger subsided, leaving a very pensive look on his face.

Chapter 25

A New Trust

The next morning, Marjordan chatted with Drewemily about all of the illnesses and mutancies that had afflicted the forest people in recent years. The two seemed to get along quite well.

Cait sat near her primary, holding one of the tablets that Drew’s people had found in a nearby cave. The language was that of Tamirella’s day, but an older Tamirella had carved the letters. They weren’t shaky like the other tablets, though a few words were still misspelled. Healthies took pride in schooling their children. Tamirella’s parents had obviously taught her the best they could, considering. Paulucas had deciphered a few of the words and agreed that they seemed to be from the ancient girl, but they would have to decipher more just to be certain.

Cait handed the tablet to Sam, who sat nearby with Nat and a couple of young mutants.

A woman with no legs showed Paul her diary translations but he insisted on checking for himself. “We thought you might,” the woman told him. She seemed amused at his distrust.

“Would you believe everything I tell you?” he offered calmly.

“No,” the woman admitted.

Someone patted Cait’s leg and she looked down to see the little girl with the missing arm. The child grinned up at her and blue eyes sparkled. “Ho there,” Cait said. The girl held a dirty arm up, and Cait looked to the woman whose cheek was the color of berries. The woman smiled and nodded so she lifted the child onto her lap. “What’s your name?” She kept her voice soft, so as not to startle the girl. When she got no response, she looked to the woman again.

“My daughter doesn’t hear.” The mutant woman stepped close and knelt in front of the two. Then she touched the little girl on her arm and waited. When the child focused on her mother, the woman made several gestures with her hands. The little girl gestured back with her single hand and looked expectantly at Caitlanna. The mother smiled. “She’s telling you her name is Ali.”

The girl gestured again and pointed to Cait’s chest.

“She wants to know your name.”

“How—“ Cait started, but she wasn’t sure just what she wanted to ask. She had so many questions pulsing in her head right now.

The woman smiled. “Alishara speaks with her fingers. Like all of our non-hearing.”

Marjordan moved closer. “Did my sister speak this finger language?”

“Yes,” Drewemily said. “That’s how we communicate with those who can’t hear.” She gestured something to the little girl. Her fingers moved so rapidly that Cait couldn’t get all the movements. “I told her your name, young Cait.”

Ali giggled and reached her dirty hand up to Caitlanna’s face.

“She likes you,” her mother said. “And she’s very choosy about her friends.” The woman was older than most of the others with small children, probably an adoptive parent.

Cait smiled warmly at the child on her lap. Suddenly, she wanted to speak to Alishara. “Can you teach me finger language?” she asked the woman.

“Of course. Anyone can learn.”

“I want to learn, too,” Nat blurted.

Cait glanced around and noticed that all of her group had gathered. They watched the exchange with interest. Even Ianandy, who still showed his blatant distrust of these mutants, seemed to have mellowed slightly. Drew and the others had treated Cait’s group very well. They’d even given up one of their huts. The young healer had apologized for not having more room but Marjordan assured her that one hut was enough.

The young healer had also given the group the option of leaving but had begged them to stay for a few days. Ian and Marjordan had squabbled back and forth until she convinced the warrior to stay. He reluctantly agreed when she pulled out the beaded necklace that had once belonged to her twin sister. He’d grunted something about unfair tactics but agreed to remain for a few days. Though Drew had assured him of her own warriors’ abilities to defend the area, he still kept the group on night watches.

Whit had compared her pregnancy with two mutants who had growing bellies. Nat listened with interest to their conversations, and Cait guessed she was thinking of her own future children. Quin and Jenellen spent most of their time with several scouts who raided abandoned sites. Cait still felt jealous of the two but pushed her feelings down and concentrated on the tablets and other artifacts from Tamirella’s burial site. Sam seemed just as interested in the artifacts, and the two had spent most of the previous evening looking them over.

Each and every one of her group now stood nearby, watching, waiting.

“I’ll teach any of you who wish to learn,” Alishara’s mother said, bringing Cait’s thoughts back to the little girl. “Finger language isn’t that difficult but you’ll have to practice.”

Cait glanced down at Ali, who was now snuggled against her. She wondered what the little one would tell her once she learned the special language.

“I wish to learn, too,” Marjordan said. Her eyes grew moist.

Cait placed a brief hand on her primary’s arm and smiled.

Drewemily seemed genuinely pleased and a broad grin spread across her full lips. “I wish my mother could’ve seen this,” she said softly. Suddenly, the young healer burst into tears and headed for her hut.

Marjordan followed.

Ali scooted off Cait’s lap to hug her mother then skipped off to a group of children.

The little girl’s mother sat on a bench. “My name’s Sagebecca. People call me Becca most of the time. We can start right now, if you wish.”

“Yes,” Cait told her.

Nat and Sam joined them and by noonmeal, they’d learned many things in finger language, including how to form their names and ages. Marjordan had returned after an hour or so and quickly caught up.

Alishara jumped up and down, giggling, when Cait said her name in finger language. The little girl went into a frenzy of gestures until her mother informed her that the others were still learning and couldn’t understand her just yet. Ali was unusually patient for a child of her young age and slowed her fingers to form simple words. After the meal, she took Cait’s hand and pulled her around the area, pointing out the various items. She waited patiently until Cait’s clumsy fingers made the correct gesture for each. This small child was teaching a striker and Cait smiled with amusement.

When they finally made it back to the fire pit, the others were already busy with tasks. A now dry-eyed Drew had joined Marjordan and the two searched through their respective medicine bags, comparing contents.

“Well,” Marjordan said as Cait took a seat nearby. “I hope you’re behaving yourself with your new teacher.” She grinned.

“Very funny, P-Marj. But Ali is a good teacher.” She pulled the tired little girl onto her lap and caressed her braids.

“She ought to be,” Drew said. “Her mother’s been teaching in our forests for many years, and her mother before her.”

Cait found herself rocking the child the way her own primary had done for her many times. She’d watched over young children in her own sub-sanction from time to time but she had special feelings for this little one.

“How’s the finger language coming?” Drew asked. “You making progress?” Her hand paused inside her bag.

“I’m learning more but I still can’t carry on a conversation with her.” She glanced down at Ali and smiled because the little one had fallen asleep.

“You’re an impatient one,” Drew chided gently.

Marjordan smiled. “That she is.”

Cait started to protest but she didn’t want to wake Ali.

“I’ll take her,” Becca said. Cait hadn’t even heard the woman approach. “Looks like you wore her out.” She lifted her daughter and cradled her.

“I’m sorry,” Cait apologized immediately.

“I’m not angry, girl. Believe me, I cherish every moment that my very active daughter decides to nap.” She smiled warmly.

Cait smiled back. “Oh. Then, you’re welcome.”

“Don’t get smart, Caitlanna,” Marjordan warned, but there was a slight smirk on her lips.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Becca chuckled as she carried her daughter to their hut.

“Where’s Becca’s mate?” Cait said without thinking.

“Caitlanna!” Marjordan immediately reprimanded. “You know better than to ask such private questions. You’re not a full-grown, yet.”

“It’s all right, Healer,” Drew said. “Her mate died of winter fever two years ago. His lungs became infected. My mother couldn’t save him.” She focused on Marjordan. “What do you use for lung infections?”

Cait didn’t listen to the women. Instead, she went to find Sam and Nat. They were behind the supply hut, looking over artifacts with two of Drewemily’s young raiders.

“Ho, Cait,” Nat chimed.

“Ho. Need some help?”

“Sure.”

She joined them and the three helped the raiders catalogue their finds. They worked until nighmeal, when Marjordan forced them to stop and eat.

“I won’t have disobedience just because you’ve found new friends,” she told them. “Now get to the fire. All of you.”

The two raiders scurried to the pit, followed by Nat and Sam.

Cait still had two pieces to put down on the smooth bark she was using to catalogue. “I’ll be there in a minute, P-Marj,” she said, not looking up. She felt a light smack on her arm.

“You’ll come now. You can finish here after you eat.”

She put down her tools then sighed and stood. “Yes, ma’am.”

Her primary guided her to the fire pit where the others had already gathered for nighmeal. She sat and glanced around. Everyone was engaged in conversation, mutants and healthies. Even Ianandy talked softly with a mutant warrior, Bradalin. Suddenly, Cait realized that what was happening here was more important than any dig find, including The Mask of Tamirella. She smiled and wondered if the Elders would be as easily swayed.

Marjordan handed her a bowl of steaming harerabbit stew and sat next to her.

“I love you, P-Marj,” Cait said in a low voice. She kissed her primary on the cheek.

“I love you, too, my Cait.”

Chapter 26

Home

Cait sat outside her front door and enjoyed the autumn air and the vibrant colors nature provided this time of year, as she washed tubers for noonmeal stew. Nearly a year had passed since they’d returned from the mutant forest. Because she hadn’t located the Mask, the Elders didn’t grant her finder’s status. But with what they did bring back, her sub-sanction got two thirds of the promised supplies.

The Elders created a new title for Caitlanna, that of junior-finder. Though she didn’t have all the rewards of full finder status, she was allowed to participate in finder meetings and vote on site locations. She also received a larger profit than she had as a striker. All in all, junior-finder was a decent promotion, and she was proud to have something to make up for her actions in the Shore Sanction. Without her mistakes, they might not have met Drewemily and the other mutants. And Drew’s people might not have gotten a renewed chance at survival. That took some of the sting out of her transgressions, too.

The Elders never explained why the doll faces had been so important to them, but Marjordan guessed that they were trying to acquire anything that would link Tamirella to the mutants. The Elders certainly didn’t seem surprised to find out that the famous girl had belonged to the forests, and they couldn’t deny the artifacts Drewemily presented, along with the diary tablets. They had also announced that The Mask of Tamirella no longer held value, so naturally, any archaeologists looking for one abandoned the search. Cait suspected the Elders had created tales of a Mask curse in an attempt to deter undocumented searches and keep Tamirella’s mutant past a secret. Drew had been right about fear causing people to create such desperate rumors.

Cait didn’t fear the mutants, not anymore. She looked to the forests with new hope. The Elders’ knowledge intrigued her, too, and she thought that she might actually apply for Eldership someday. There were things she wanted to change, especially where the mutants were concerned, and Elders had that power. She hummed to herself as she worked.

Ian had gone inside for a private conversation with Marjordan, and Cait wondered what they were discussing. The man had come to dinner every night for the past several months. It was all she could do to keep from sneaking around to the side window to listen. She pulled the most recent letter from Whit out of her tunic pocket and read it again.

To Healer Marjordan and Junior-Finder Caitlanna Mullen,

Sub-Sanction M3:

Little Brenlaura is doing just fine. Into everything. I thought warrior lessons had prepared me for anything but motherhood is quite a challenge. Paul says to tell you, ho, and we wish we could go on this next dig with you. But I’m afraid Laura’s just too young, yet.

I think she might be a finder someday, Cait. She loves to dig things up. Just last week, she burrowed into an old pisspot latrine. The smell was pungent, to say the least, and it was pure luck we got to her quickly. Gave us quite a scare. Don’t worry, Marjordan, she’s fine. Our healer says she didn’t ingest anything.

Nat and Sam are doing wonderfully and haven’t spoken much about their future knot-tying lately. I think having the baby around has curbed their urges to mate. At least, for a while. Nat doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to experience birthing pains or loss of sleep. You delivered quite a bundle of mischief here, Marjordan. Be sure and stop by our sub-sanction on your way to the new site. Can’t wait to see you both. I’m sending letters to Ian, Quin and Jen, also. I certainly hope they’re coming with you.

Love and prosperity,

Warrior Whithelen, Warrior-Finder Paulucas, and Brenlaura Tompkins

Sub-Sanction M37

Cait smiled, folded the strongcloth, and put it back in her pocket. The chance to see Whit and the others again excited her. She and Marjordan had signed up for another dig to start the end of next week, and she didn’t think next week could get here fast enough.

“Ho, girl,” Quin said as he trotted up to her. “You seen Ian?”

“Inside. Private talk.”

“Oh.” He gave her a slight smile. “Well, I’ll wait.” He pulled up a stool and took up some tubers. “These look clean, Cait. How many times have you washed them?”

She gave him a guilty smile. “Three. I’m afraid to leave this spot, in case—” She raised her brows at him and cocked her head.

“Ah. In case they come out with some news.”

“P-Marj has been alone for a long time.”

The man nodded.

“There you are.” Jen strode up and placed her hands on her hips much the way Marjordan always did.

“Ho, love.” Quin squinted up. He stood and gave the woman a quick kiss on the lips then caressed her slightly swollen belly.

“I can’t seem to get you to wash tubers for our supper. Ho, Cait. Where’s Josh?”

She smiled up at the couple. “Fishing with his father.”

Cait’s feelings for Quin had changed over the last year when a new family joined her sub-sanction. They had a son, Joshalex, who was only a month older than she was, a handsome boy with penetrating eyes and a warm smile, to whom she took an immediately liking. He returned her feelings and, after three months, confessed them to Marjordan one evening. The two planned to be knot-tied when they reached full-grown, less than two years now. Both of Josh’s parents were healers and had been assigned to this sub-sanction now that Marjordan chose to go on numerous digs. The three worked well together. And Cait was grateful to go on so many new digs. In the past, she had to stay close to home, since Marjordan didn’t like to leave patients. Now her primary enjoyed getting away just as much as she did.

Quinpatrik hadn’t felt for Cait the way she had for him. She never told him and saw him more like a sibling now, which is exactly how he’d always viewed their relationship. She was glad he’d taken an interest in Jen. The couple had been knot-tied for nearly six months and were expecting their first baby in another five.

“Did you tell her?” Jen said to her mate.

“I’m waiting for Marjordan. She and Ian are having a private talk.”

“Not as private as we thought,” the healer said, eyeing Cait as she stepped from her front door with Ian. “What’d you want to tell me?”

“We received word from Healer Drewemily,” Jen told her. “The negotiations are slow going but she says the Sanction Elders have finally granted a trade agreement. All mutant tribes are involved now. Even those in Shore Sanction. The Elders also agreed to study Drew’s findings and fund healers to check on the forest healthies.”

“That’s wonderful news.” Marjordan grinned. “That young woman has a stubbornness even I admire.”

The group chuckled. Cait’s heart soared at all of the good things she’d heard lately and she gave her primary an expectant gaze.

“I suppose you want my news?” the woman said.

“You have some?”

Marjordan gave a quick glance at Ian and back to Cait. “Ian has asked for my hand in knot-tying.” Her face gave nothing away.

“And?” Cait said, impatiently. “Out with it, P-Marj. You accepted, right?”

“Of course.” She smiled warmly, and Cait jumped into her arms, kissing her with congratulations. Then she did the same to Ian.

A few younger children had slipped up on the group and they ran through the sub-sanction, calling out the news to everyone there.

“About time!” Jilpatsy called from her garden across the street. The old woman had hands on her hips and a large straw hat on her head.

Marjordan blushed and Cait thought the color suited her. She would never tell her primary that. At least, not until she became full-grown, so she simply grinned.

After all the hugging and back-slapping, Marjordan studied her. “There are more tubers in the kitchen, girl,” she said, raising a brow. Her lips curled into a grin that lighted her dark eyes.

Caitlanna gave a hearty laugh. “Yes, ma’am.” She headed inside, humming to herself.

The ancients definitely smiled down on them today.

About the Author

Dana Davis is an award-winning author of fantasy and science fiction, with an entertainment background in stage and television. When she’s not writing, she loves to read, travel, peruse graveyards, investigate haunted locations, or hang out at the beach. Dana lives in the west with her husband, where she is writing another book.

Table of Contents

The Mask of TamirellaDana Davis

Copyright 2006 by Dana Davis

For my husband, Darryl,

Acknowledgments

Chapter 1The Getaway

Chapter 2The Elders’ Ruling

Chapter 3Lost River

Chapter 4

Chapter 5Rotted City

Chapter 6Urges

Chapter 7The Dig Site

Chapter 8

Chapter 9Dig Days

Chapter 10A Great Find

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13The Copper Sphere

Chapter 14

Chapter 15Close Quarters

Chapter 16An Unexpected Discovery

Chapter 17

Chapter 18Stormy Nights, Stormy Days

Chapter 19Delays

Chapter 20

Chapter 21The Buried Room

Chapter 22Fever“Cait? Cait?”

Chapter 23Headed Home

Chapter 24Mutants

Chapter 25A New Trust

Chapter 26Home

About the Author