by Lori Holmes
It was not the presence of a Ninkuraa.
Nyri turned her head slowly to the side and saw what her higher sense had already told her.
The dark, skull-headed figure of a Wove was standing, waiting in the blackness.
35
Eyes Open
“Juaan!” Nyri called. “Where are you?”
Her senses had led her to the edges of the eshaara grove right to the foot of an abandoned tree. Juaan was above. She could just pick out his muted essence and scrambled up into the branches.
Inside the tree was dark. The walls were damp and decaying. She could see that no one had lived here for a long time. Why would Juaan come here? Her eyes roved around the unfamiliar space. The leaves and moss inside the one small bower had rotted away. The fire moss on the walls was long gone.
By and by her eyes lighted on different objects. Unfamiliar objects. The walls were covered in carvings. Never before had she seen such things; no other Ninkuraaja dwelling had them. No Ninkuraa would dare defile a tree so. Nyri frowned disapprovingly.
The most prominent carving was that of a mother and baby. She started forward to take a closer look but almost tripped as her feet became tangled in something hairy and coarse. She danced backwards to save herself and her stomach rolled when she saw what had hindered her. It was a skin. The fur of the dead animal was thick and reddish brown, though much of it had fallen out in patches. It had been fashioned into some sort of sling. Nyri reached out to touch it with flinching fingers. Poor thing.
A soft murmur from the far side of the tree drew her attention. Juaan was sitting propped against the rough wall. He was asleep, the tracks of tears drying upon his face. Nyri stepped around the skin sling but stopped short at the sight of what her friend clutched tightly to him in unconsciousness.
A spear, the weapon looked similar to those carried by the Woves. Nyri recoiled instinctively. The unnaturally shaped branch that formed the shaft was stout and long. She would not be able to get her hands around it. Near the top were bands of strange carvings. She took another step back. What was Juaan doing with such a thing?
At that moment he woke. His eyes widened when he saw her standing there and hastily tried to push the spear he held into a pile of leaves. He gave up just as quickly, shoulders slumping in defeat.
“What are you doing here, Nyriaana,” he growled, his tone sullen.
“I-I wanted to be with you.” She wrapped her arms around her small chest. “It hurts. I miss my mama so much.”
He looked up, anger warring with compassion as he took in her face. Finally he blew out a long breath, his ire draining away; evidently, she was forgiven for intruding. He beckoned to her. “Come here.”
She hesitated, afraid, eyeing the spear in his hand.
“It’s ok,” he soothed. “It won’t hurt you.”
Nyri scooted quickly to his other side, as far away from the weapon as she could get. Juaan put his arm around her shoulders and she leaned into him, letting his presence calm her. “What is this place?” she whispered.
“This was my mother’s home,” he murmured. “I come here sometimes.”
Nyri’s eyes widened as she took in the tree with fresh perspective. Rebaa was a complete mystery to her. Seeing the inside of where she had lived only deepened the intrigue. Questions flew through her mind, questions she would never dare ask him.
“Do you miss your mama, Juaan?” she asked instead. “Is that why you come here?”
He sighed into her hair. “Yes. I don’t think that will ever change.”
Her eyes welled with tears at his words, despair adding itself to the pain in her heart. She had hoped he would tell her this agony would stop. She wanted it to stop. They were silent for a long moment, both lost in their memories of loved ones lost.
“What of your papa? Do you remember him?”
Juaan stiffened. “No.”
“Who was he?” Again a forbidden subject but she could not help herself.
“My mother told me he was a tribal chief.”
“Oh!” Nyri was impressed. “Which tribe?”
He pressed his lips together and turned his eyes away. “Mother wouldn’t speak of it much,” he mumbled. “She said they called themselves the Cro.”
“The Cro? What are they?”
Juaan just shrugged evasively.
She studied him for a moment and she could tell by the set of his mouth that he would speak no more of it. She sighed, disappointed.
He shifted the spear in his other hand. Nyri stiffened. “Why have you got a Wove weapon?”
He pulled it nearer and Nyri flinched away. “It isn’t a Wove weapon,” he said. “There is no need to fear. It was made by a Thal.”
Curiosity made Nyri grow still and she dared to lean forward to study the weapon more closely. The Thals passed by the forests sometimes but did not bother her people.
“Where did you get it?”
“My mother gave it to me. It saved her life once. She seemed to think I may need it some day to save my own.”
Nyri eyed the weapon doubtfully. She couldn’t imagine what Juaan would need such a thing for.
Her friend rose to his feet, his face twisting as he fought to keep his emotions in check. “I need to leave here now.” He turned to bury the spear back into the pile of leaves. “I have to keep this hidden. The Elders must never find it. This is our secret, Nyri. Promise me you will tell no one.”
“I promise,” she vowed, as they left the cold and abandoned tree. She could see how much all of this meant to Juaan, it was somehow part of him. She would never betray it.
As they walked back to their own home, Nyri could barely concentrate on one thought before another burned through her mind. Juaan’s father was a tribal chief. And who on earth were the Cro?
“How did your mother get that spear?” she asked one final question. “Did a Thal give it to her? The Elders say all the other peoples are not to be trusted. That they are vicious, only put on this earth to kill.”
His voice when he answered was hard and bitter. “The Elders are wrong about a great many things, Nyriaana. Do not listen to all they say.”
* * *
It hadn’t seen her. Not yet. Its bony face was turned from her.
Nyri dropped down into the undergrowth and out of sight. Her fingers sank into the soft ground, tearing at it in her terror. A Wove was in the woods and she was out here with it.
Why hadn’t the sentries sounded the alarm? Adrenaline pumped through her veins bringing every thought into sharp focus. Earlier that day the Woves had broken their search pattern. They had sent only one of their number into the forest to search for Juaan. Nyri understood the reason for that now. That one had been a distraction, sent to keep the sentries distracted while the other invaded the forest unseen. And he had never left.
Trembling from head to foot, Nyri dared to lift her head and peer above the undergrowth.
The demon had vanished.
Nyri’s heart thudded. She had thought seeing the Wove was bad enough, now she found that not seeing him was worse. She did not know if he had left or if he was circling around behind her for the ambush. She was not going to wait on the ground to find out. Nyri latched on to the tree beside her and scrambled silently into the branches.
The height was natural, a comfort. Concealed in the boughs, Nyri made a search for her enemy. The darkness pressed in on her eyes as she strained to see. Tentatively, she stretched out with her senses, tasting the energies around her.
She found him in an instant, a muted presence against the vibrancy of the forest glowing around him. He was moving away from her. Moving towards the Pits.
No!
Once, she would have rejoiced in his direction and willed him to fall to his death in the hungry maws that awaited. Not now. She had to find a way to lead him off.
Screwing up her courage, she followed her quarry silently along the swaying boughs, invisible as a tree cat above his head.
The Wove was tall. Th
e typical dark furs covered him from head to foot. One dark-skinned hand was exposed as it clutched at his weapon. Nyri tried to make sense of it; sharpened prongs of a stag’s antlers burst in a curving array from either side of his powerful fist. He swung the strange weapon back and forth in a guarded motion as though he was expecting an enemy to spring at any moment.
Such wariness had puzzled Nyri when she and Kyaati had first seen the Woves on that fateful night when Juaan had fallen into the Pit. Nothing could be more dangerous than the Woves themselves. Her time with Juaan had taught her the answer. They feared the ‘elf magic’.
A tight smile curled across her face. If it was elf magic this demon feared, then she would give it to him. You are not getting anywhere near those Pits, monster!
She drew the power of the Great Spirit to her, the trees and the very essence of the earth readily lent her their strength. Drawing a breath, she prepared to do battle with the evil spirit dwelling inside Ninsiku’s creation. Here stood a true Wove, the very creature who had stolen Juaan’s memories and made him believe he was one of them.
She bared her teeth and unleashed her will.
And met nothing.
Startled, Nyri sat back on her haunches. She didn’t understand. She reached out again and again but there was nothing to feel. This creature before her felt no different to Juaan.
It was a trick, she hissed through her teeth. The power of Ninsiku was hidden somewhere, taunting her with its elusiveness. She gripped onto her branch, concentrating harder.
The cry that split the air shattered her focus. Nyri coiled back in shock as the Wove before her doubled up in obvious pain. Another shout joined his and Nyri’s eyes widened as a second, bigger Wove burst from concealment. He flew to his stricken companion’s side, there was no expression to be seen on his bony face but his energy was filled with fear, fear for his friend.
Nyri watched as the second figure pulled an object from the first man’s belly and her shock deepened. It was a thorn as long and thick as her own finger. There was only one plant that grew such thorns and they grew in this forest. The barbs of the carnivorous vaash plant. The barb that had pierced the Wove dripped red. Mortal red.
The second Wove flung the bloody barb down, grabbed his companion’s arm and stumbled off into the night away from the Pits. They disappeared into the blackness.
Nyri remained still, absorbing what had just unfolded before her, until a sudden movement in her periphery brought her eyes around and she froze, shielding herself hastily. Sitting low, half hidden in the trees, was Daajir. Nyri stared as his hands lowered a long narrow object from his mouth; a mouth twisted with a wicked smile of satisfaction.
“Where have you been, Nyri?”
Nyri flinched at the sound of Kyaati’s voice as it broke the stillness. It wasn’t yet light but to her dismay, Kyaati was lying awake, waiting in the shadows as she re-entered her home. Nyri guessed she must have been so exhausted when she woke, she hadn’t pushed Kyaati into a deep enough sleep. She couldn’t make that mistake again.
“I-I had to relieve myself,” she mumbled tersely as she threw herself down and buried herself in her bedding to hide the fact that she was still shaking. She was too overwhelmed by what she had witnessed to think of a better excuse. Kyaati didn’t reply and to Nyri’s relief her friend soon drifted back to sleep.
There would be no more sleep for her. Confusion smothered her brain like a cloying smoke. Daajir had been in the woods stalking the Woves and he had injured one. Injured a Wove! She rubbed her forehead, seeing again the second huge monster coming to the aid of his companion, same as any of her people would if a friend was in danger. Only… monsters should not have friends.
She pinched the bridge of her nose. She felt like the roots of all that she had been taught were being severed and every belief she had clung to was beginning to sicken and wither.
You must know Ninsiku…
I have never heard of Ninsiku. We do not do his bidding, nor do we worship him.
There was only one person she could talk to and once Ninmah had at last started to peek into the sky, Nyri rose and started for the healer’s tree. The only problem was Kyaati. Nyri could not ask the questions she needed answers to in Kyaati’s presence.
Baarias was already about his business as Nyri knew he would be. He was organising the remedies he would need for the day, drawing water for mixtures from the aquilem vines clinging to the walls of his home.
“Nyri,” he greeted without looking up as he finished crushing the last handful of herbs into a basin. “You’re early.” He turned then to regard her and frowned. “What’s wrong?”
Nyri could only imagine how pale and ragged she appeared but she brushed him off. “It’s nothing,” she said.
“How did you rest, Kyaati?” Baarias turned to her silent companion. “Is Nyri’s home to your liking?” He got a mere shrug in response. Her teacher pressed his lips together in disapproval. “Very well.” He turned back to Nyri. “Nyri, if you would be so kind, please fetch us some food. And, don’t worry, I told Imaani you would be coming.” His lips twitched but Nyri only grimaced at his words. Her almost capture at Imaani’s hands was not a laughing matter. “Once we have eaten, there are a few matters we need to attend to.”
Nyri toyed with her breakfast. She was restless, anxious about raising her thoughts with her teacher and impatient for the chance to arise. Kyaati picked at as much as would appease Baarias. While he scolded her, Nyri used the unguarded moment to stash half of her ration inside her coverings.
She couldn’t eat. She was too on edge but also admitted that part of her self-denial was to ease the guilt she lived with. Eating even less than everyone else somehow made her feel like she was making amends for the food she had stolen and had now hidden from her people. She should suffer for what she was doing.
The rest of the morning passed routinely but Nyri struggled to keep her mind on the tasks at hand. They were attending young Omaal, who was feeling unwell, when Nyri lapsed badly.
“Nyriaana!” Baarias had to snap his fingers at her. She jumped from her waking dream. He frowned, uncharacteristically sharp. “Go with Kyaati to fetch me some harif herbs, quickly!”
The day did not improve after that. Nyri ended it miserable and frustrated. She needed sleep and she needed clarity.
“What is wrong, Nyriaana?” Baarias asked her once they had returned to his dwelling, their duties complete.
It was now or never. Nyri glanced nervously at Kyaati, who had been busied with the task of tidying away Baarias’ remedies. She did not seem to be paying attention. She hadn’t truly been ‘with’ them all day. Nyri was concerned she was getting worse not better.
She swallowed, weighing her words. “I-I just wanted to ask you about…” Nyri hesitated then the rest came out in a rush, “about how it is you believe the Woves are not the demons the Elders convince us they are.”
His hands paused upon the gathering basket he was re-hanging. The healer raised an inquiring eyebrow. He was obviously assessing the risk of where this might lead. Nyri could not blame him. Their last exchange on this particular subject had not gone well.
“Why do you ask?”
Nyri ignored the question. “You truly believe that it is not the Woves unleashing the fury of Ninsiku upon us, don’t you? That the Elders are wrong.”
His smile was guarded. “I think I made my position quite clear, didn’t I.”
Nyri pressed her lips together and nodded. “How is it that you are so certain? What convinced you?” She had been so hell bent on convincing herself that Baarias was mistaken that she had never given this one possibility much thought. The possibility that he might be right.
The Woves in the woods ran through her mind, the nothingness she had felt, the bloody barb wounding the beast as it would any one of her people. Juaan had said that the Woves did not worship Ninsiku. Indeed, Juaan claimed they prayed to Ninmah herself, prayed for the end of the cold times, just as the Ninkuraaja did. She wre
stled with the concept.
Baarias did not appear to have such trouble. He had always doubted the Woves’ central involvement in their people’s downfall and he had become so strongly convicted by his belief, that he was willing to challenge the Elders themselves. Nyri could scarcely guess his reasons for this but she needed to know if what she had seen and heard last night was more than the trick of evil spirits.
Baarias’ hands closed briefly into fists, then relaxed. His eyes travelled to Kyaati before he took Nyri by the arm and pulled her into the adjacent chamber. He was agitated. “Why do want to know such things, Nyriaana? When I tried to tell you before, you closed your eyes. You did not want to hear.”
Nyri shifted her feet shamefully at her previous behaviour. As he had so rightly said, she had been too wrapped up in her hatred of the Woves to listen. She still hated them, very much, the misery they had brought to her people, demons or not, could never be forgiven. But her eyes were beginning to open on impossible new truths and no matter how much she might want to, she could not close them again. She had to know the truth.
“You told me to think,” she told her teacher. “And I have. I have always trusted you, Baarias. Our Elders say they are leading us back to strength but everything they do just brings us further death and misery. Look at what has befallen Kyaati. How much more must we suffer? Something is wrong and I am ready now to listen to what you have to say.”
He stared at her for long moment. She could still feel a reluctance, a secret he wasn’t quite ready to impart.
“I don’t know, Nyriaana,” he said slowly. “Maybe it is for the best that you keep your eyes shut, after all. You will only hate me for what I say and such knowledge will only bring you misery and put you at risk. Nothing will ever change. I’ve come to realise my outburst at the auscult was a mistake. You were right. If the Elders ever found out that I…”
“Please, Baarias,” Nyri begged. “I was the one who was wrong. You can’t lose courage now. How did you come to be so certain that the Woves do not have the power to manipulate Ninsiku? How do you know? I promise I will not hate you for it.”