“Now, Vani. Fifteen compressions.”
When the T’golwas done, Grace breathed twice into his mouth. She tasted sand and blood.
“Come on, Travis,” she said, her voice strict: a doctor’s command. “You’re strong. Stronger than anyone. I know you can do this.”
He didn’t move. As Vani continued compressions, Grace raised his eyelids. His pupils were fixed and dilated.
No, she refused to accept this. He couldn’t be dead, not after everything that had happened to them, not after everything they had survived together. She breathed into him two more times.
Vani performed another set of compressions, and again Grace breathed air into his lungs. Five times they repeated the pattern, ten. Grace grew dizzy; sweat streamed down Vani’s face. The others gathered around in the failing light, faces intent. Still Travis remained motionless.
It’s no use, Grace. He’s been down too long. CPR can stave o f brain death only for so long. It’s time to call it . . .
“No!” she shouted, furious at the doctor’s voice in her, at its dry, emotionless tone. This was not just another patient. This was Travis. Sweet, brave, foolish Travis whom she loved more than any other person on this or any world.
“Move,” she said, pushing Vani out of the way.
Grace straddled Travis. She raised a fist, then slammed it down against Travis’s chest. His body flopped with the force of her blow, then lay still. She checked, but there was still no pulse. She balled her fist and struck him again, in the center of the sternum. Again. And again.
Farr’s hand closed around her wrist as she raised her hand one more time. “Stop, Grace. It’s over. Let him go.”
A coldness came over Grace, as well as a steely certainty that could be forged only from purest rage. She looked up at Farr, and she saw her eyes reflected in his. They blazed with emerald sparks.
“Let go of my hand now, or I will kill you.”
Farr staggered back, his mouth open. Grace forgot him in an instant. She gazed down at Travis. It was almost as if his voice whispered again in her mind. I believe in you. . . .
She believed in him, too. And she would not let him go. Grace brought her fist down against his chest. Hard.
Travis’s eyes snapped open.
His back arched as he drew in a rasping breath. He clutched her arms–hard, hurting her–but she didn’t care. She pulled him into a sitting position, and he leaned against her, his body shaking as he coughed up sand. After a minute his breathing eased. She checked his pulse; it was rapid but steady. Then she probed with other senses. His life thread shone: a brilliant amalgam of blue silver and molten gold.
She opened her eyes and smiled at him. “Welcome back, Travis.”
He cupped her cheek in a hand, and despite the pain on his face, he grinned. “I knew you’d come to get me.”
“I would never leave you behind,” Grace said, tears evaporating from her cheeks. “Not for anything.”
She looked up, but Farr had already turned his back, walking away.
35.
They returned to their campsite at the dead oasis. Vani and Avhir offered to carry Travis, but he was able to walk on his own power with some help from Grace and Larad.
They found the camels dead, but they had expected that. The beasts lay sprawled on the ground, their corpses drained of blood. Already the wind scoured at them, and soon their bones would join the others that scattered the oasis. They rested for a time, drinking and eating a little, though Travis would take only water. Night fell, and while they made no fire, it seemed to Grace that Travis’s skin gleamed in the dimness.
“I believed you were dead, Travis, when you stepped into the slipsand,” Vani said, her golden eyes glinting like a cat’s in the darkness. “But you live. Truly it is Fate.”
“I think Fate had a little help in the matter,” Travis said, holding up Sinfathisar. The Stone of Twilight shimmered in the moonlight. He set it in the box with the other two Imsari and closed the lid. “Thank you, Larad.”
Larad said nothing, though it seemed the corners of his mouth twitched, curving upward.
Travis took Grace’s hand in his “Fate was right about one thing, Grace. I would never have gotten this far without you.”
Grace squeezed his hand. The joy she felt was too powerful to express in words.
The darkness unfolded, and Avhir stepped into their circle. He crouched. “I gathered what supplies remained in the packs on each of the camels. There was little enough. This is the last of the water.” He set a waterskin on the ground. It was less than half‑full.
Larad eyed the skin. “That will not last us long.”
“It will not have to,” Avhir said. “The dervish says we will reach Morindu tomorrow.” He gazed at a dark figure that stood on the other side of the dead oasis.
“Why wait for tomorrow?” Travis said, standing.
Surprise finally compelled Grace to speak. “You mean go tonight? What about the slipsand?”
“It’s no easier to see in daylight than moonlight,” Travis said. “And the Scirathi could already be on the other side with Nim.”
He was right, of course. They had to try. But Grace couldn’t help wondering who would retrieve them from the slipsand once all of them went under.
“I’ll get the dervish,” Avhir said.
Grace followed the tall man with her gaze, and a sigh escaped her. “He hasn’t so much as mentioned Kylees or Rafid.”
“Our kind do not speak of T’golwho are no more,” Vani said, the words quiet but hard.
Grace stared at her. “Why not?”
“Because a T’goldoes not think of death, or of others who have perished. When a T’goldies, it is as if he or she never was. Their name is never mentioned among our kind again. That way we can fight with abandon, without fearing our own ends.”
Grace thought she had never heard such sad words spoken in her life. She touched Vani’s hand. “I would still speak your name.”
“You are not T’gol,” Vani said, and looked away.
They were silent until Avhir and Farr stepped into their circle.
“It’s no use,” the former Seeker said. “We cannot pass through the slipsand. Not this night, not tomorrow, not ever.” He swayed on his feet.
Vani leaped up, steadying him. “You are bleeding.”
There was a fresh cut on his left arm. Hand shaking, he drew out a cloth and pressed it over the wound. “For the last hour, I’ve been trying to call the morndari, but they won’t come. Either I don’t have enough blood left to sacrifice, or magic has grown too weak.”
“Your magic, maybe,” Travis said. He stood. “Larad, give me Sinfathisar again.”
Travis took the Stone of Twilight, and it seemed to pulse in the moonlight. Grace couldn’t help letting out a sigh. Magic was failing, but the Imsari seemed to have lost none of their luster or beauty. Why were they untouched?
Travis bent his head, murmuring a word over Sinfathisar, then let go of the Stone. It did not fall to the ground, but instead hovered in midair.
“ Aro,” Travis said. “Go, seek out the way.”
The Stone began to drift through the air, southward, away from the camp, hovering five feet off the ground.
“Come on,” Travis said, walking after the floating Stone. The others exchanged looks, then followed.
“Are you strong enough to walk?” Grace said to Farr.