Page 57 of Alien Guardian's Vow
I handed him water from our dwindling supply. "We need to get moving. Hammond's not going to wait while you recover your beauty sleep."
Varek drank deeply, then handed back the container. "Then we move."
Getting him on his feet took more effort than either of us wanted to admit. He leaned heavily against me, his considerable weight making my knees buckle before he found his balance. Still, he moved under his own power, which counted as a win in my book.
"Hammond's compound can't be more than half a day's journey," I said, orienting myself by the twin suns. "If we push."
"Then we push." His voice carried determination that his body couldn't quite match.
The terrain grew rockier as we moved west, the vegetation sparser. Signs of the destabilization Hammond had triggered appeared more frequently – fissures in the ground, dying plant life, unusual heat pockets. Each indicator only strengthened my resolve. If we didn't stop him, this destruction would spread across the entire region.
Varek stumbled on a loose rock, and I caught him, my hands steadying his waist. His lifelines pulsed against my fingers, and my own markings responded with a rush of silver light. The connection between us grew stronger each time we touched, no longer surprising but still thrilling.
"I can walk," he insisted, straightening.
"Sure you can." I kept my hand at his back anyway.
We crested a small ridge, and I froze. Below us, clear as day, lay a discarded energy cell casing, the angular insignia of Hammond's security unit stamped on its side.
"Hammond's people," I whispered, dropping into a crouch and pulling Varek down beside me.
He picked up the casing, examining it. "Recent. The oxidation pattern suggests no more than a day old."
My heart raced. "They're searching for us?"
"Or patrolling their perimeter." He scanned the horizon, all senses alert despite his weakened state. "Either way, we must proceed with caution."
I took the casing from him, turning it over in my hands. "This is military grade. Hammond's upgrading his equipment."
"Using technology from the ruins?"
"Possibly." I dropped the casing, disgusted. "He's playing with forces he doesn't understand."
We continued forward, moving from cover to cover. Each step felt exposed, dangerous. My eyes constantly scanned for movement, my ears strained for any sound that didn't belong to the wind or our careful footsteps.
Near a cluster of rock formations, Varek suddenly stiffened. He placed a hand on my shoulder, stopping me.
"What?" I whispered.
He pointed to a small stack of stones – three flat rocks balanced on each other at an unnatural angle.
"Trail marker," he explained. "Nyxari."
Hope surged through me. "Lazrin? His team?"
"Yes. This formation indicates allies moving west." His expression darkened. "Recently placed. But where are they now?"
The relief I felt immediately twisted into concern. "If they're heading toward Hammond's compound... they could be in trouble. Or maybe they never made it."
"We must try to make contact." Varek straightened, new urgency in his movements.
We followed the trail markers, finding them at irregular intervals – small stone formations, broken branches positioned in specific ways, subtle signs invisible to anyone who didn't know what to look for. Each marker increased my anxiety. Our allies were out there, somewhere, but their status was unknown.
"There." He pointed to a ridge overlooking a small valley. "That formation offers height advantage and potential shelter. If we can establish communication from there..."
I nodded. "Worth a try."
The climb taxed Varek more than he wanted to admit. By the time we reached the sheltered overhang, sweat beaded on his forehead, and his breathing came in controlled but labored breaths.
