Wilderness Untamed

by Butler, J. M.

  Worry, electric, painful, and bitter, coursed through him. Not for himself or his brothers, but for Amelia.

  He hated her for that almost as much as he loved her. Worry was a terrible waste of resources. Worry accomplished nothing. And yet a thousand possibilities assailed his mind, each one offering a worse situation than the last. He didn't need to calculate the odds to know that she had only the slimmest possibilities of success. Even the boiling of his rage wasn't enough to melt that chilling knowledge from his core.

  She wouldn't be foolish enough to be in the deep mindreading. Yet he could not help but check.

  He gave an exasperated growl as he realized that with the Neyeb betrothal necklaces gone, the bond was not strong enough on its own.

  He had taken two steps away from his brothers without noticing, but what he had concluded was that Amelia could be anywhere. AaQar was checking the opi bags while QueQoa kept a firm grip on Vorec and WroOth continued to test the air.

  "We split up," Naatos said. "And—"

  "It makes no difference," Vorec said, his voice more bleary than defiant. The captured elder commander wasn't even standing on his own two feet. More than half of his weight rested against QueQoa. "She's on the other side of the world. Perhaps another time entirely. Your whore is dead."

  Naatos seized him by the throat. "Whether she is alive or dead, you will die."

  Vorec gurgled, his consciousness slipping back and forth between the lack of airflow and the heavy blows from his earlier beating. His grey eyes rolled back in their sockets as he gaped for some response.

  Naatos could guess what Vorec might say, and it only enraged him further. AaQar grabbed his forearm. "He needs to be dealt with now. Otherwise he will slow us down."

  Naatos stepped back, releasing Vorec. "He does not die now. There isn't enough time to make him pay."

  "He can't stand," QueQoa said, pushing Vorec back up. Vorec slumped back almost at once as he gurgled more lewd obscenities. QueQoa was the largest of the four brothers and only seemed mildly annoyed at the human's inability to stand. His muscles didn't strain in the slightest. "What do you want done?"

  "I want him to live long enough to die horrifically and painfully, preferably with my wife's blessing on the act. So hold him."

  "Naatos, he's going to slow us down," AaQar said pointedly. He slid one of the bags over his arm and up to his shoulder. "And we need all speed." He sniffed the air, his expression darkening. "There's too much ilzinium in the air here. Do you smell it? This is going to be a problem."

  The options were obvious, at least to AaQar. Naatos resented them. Either they let Vorec go and allow him to suffer whatever fate the wilderness brought about or they killed him here. "He does not die here, and he will not die swiftly," Naatos said. "He has earned a far worse fate."

  "I don't deny that," AaQar responded. "But we have larger concerns."

  "QueQoa, bind him and carry him. WroOth, help him." Naatos tried to catch a scent in the air to provide some direction. Otherwise, they would have to start a grid search, which was certain to be time consuming and less certain to result in finding her. "That man does not die now, and he does not die swiftly."

  "Naatos," AaQar said, striding toward him. "This is a waste of time. Seconds count, and—"

  A loud snap crackled through the air.

  Naatos turned abruptly.

  WroOth held Vorec's head between his hands, which was now twisted at an awkward angle. "Oh dear," he said. "He fell." He picked up his own bag, slung it over his shoulder, and then grasped his club. "That's settled at least. A good painful break."

  Naatos glared at him. "A clean break," he snapped.

  WroOth rolled his eyes. "Yes, a clean break. I'm sorry it wasn't to your standards of execution. I suppose I am out of practice. But, unlike you, I don't have time to spend on that. You see, my sister—my only remaining living sister—is out here somewhere in this world, and she is probably hip-deep or throat-deep in all-consuming trouble."

  WroOth was making sense. All of his brothers were making sense. And he knew it. He shoved Vorec's corpse away. "Cover him in that salt pit over there."

  "You're planning on coming back for him?" AaQar gave him a look that was perplexed and disgusted. "The man is dead. You aren't planning on trying to bring him back just so you can kill him again properly."

  "We're splitting up now. We'll grid search." Naatos grabbed one of the opi bags and tore the top open. These were ones that he and his brothers had started stocking long ago with essential tools for survival and maintained regularly. Digging through the bandages, powdered bark, sewing packets, cleansing tablets, and picks, he found the whistles. He tossed the pack back to QueQoa and thrust a whistle into each of his brothers’ hands. "Cobalt formation. Four ways. Regular contact. Every fifteen minutes."

  WroOth tested the whistle. It gave a swift and sharp note, clear, distinctive, and capable of traveling for miles without losing its form. What made it effective was that the other predators couldn’t distinguish it from ambient wilderness noise. "I don't suppose Amelia can hear this?"

  Naatos scooped up the fallen items and shoved them back in. "No. It's not on the right frequency. I doubt that that little bit of Bealorn blood in her veins gives her the ability to hear everything they can."

  "Well, that's unfortunate," WroOth said. "But not entirely unexpected."

  "If we can't find her within three hours, we regroup and form another strategy," AaQar said.

  Naatos shot AaQar a sharp glare. As good as it was to see his brother being more assertive again, he resented his pragmatism at the moment. "There is no if. We will find her."

  "Of course we will." WroOth hung the whistle around his neck. "She knows that the odds of her surviving alone in Ecekom are incredibly slim, so she will stay alive just to prove she can."

  AaQar nodded, his expression somber but resolute. "Keep your senses open for a suphrite stream or pool. If anyone finds one, it should be marked, and then we can set our camp up near there. Regardless of when we find Amelia, we're going to be here for a while, and the ilzinium is going to make our own adaptation far more challenging. We need every advantage we can find."

  QueQoa dragged Vorec's body over to the ilthun salt pit and tossed it in.

  Naatos's breath remained tight within him. The unspoken truth was that they didn't have any way to know Amelia was even alive or whether they were even close enough to get to her in time. There was a good chance that they were within a few hours of her, but she could be miles away within this ageless wilderness.

  If not for the huanna and the relatively short period in which he and Amelia had been locked, he might have recognized from his own instincts whether she lived. But too much agitation, anger, and fear raged within him.

  If she was here though, he would find her.

  Without another word, the brothers scattered. QueQoa leaped into the sky, spiraling into his iron dragon form.

  WroOth took to the sky and transformed into the red fire dragon in midair before soaring off.

  AaQar grabbed Naatos by the arm. "I know what's happening with you," he said. "And I know you won't listen if I tell you not to go alone. So stay in contact. Do you understand? The first sign you see of her, you alert us."

  "I expect the same from all of you." He shook his brother's hand off. The fact that his strength had not yet returned enough for him to shift was both shameful and infuriating.

  It would return soon enough, and he would learn how to channel and balance all of his competing energies. He was almost as ferocious in human form as dragon, and he still had his spear. "No more delays."

  Spear in hand, he plunged into the dark forest before him.

  * * *

  Amelia kept her grip on the fan steady, her other hand wrapped around the gun. The mantis regarded her, angling its head to the side and then straight again like a curious bird.

  How long could that last though?

  She eased forward. The branch trembled slightly beneath her
weight. Slowly she turned.

  The mantis was much larger than the centipede, but it had longer and lighter limbs with thin points at each of the joints. Its silver-grey and leaf-green body blended in almost perfectly with the foliage. Its iridescent multifaceted eyes focused on her. Its triangular mouth worked slowly, the fine yellow teeth moving silently within its jaws. Its spear-like forelegs were still held and close to its chest rather than in the typical hunting position.

  "I'm guessing you're the reason Naatos said to stay out of the trees." She started to lift the gun, planning to shoot it in the narrow point at its throat. But as she lifted her arm, the mantis lifted and extended its forelegs. She lowered her arm again.

  It followed suit.

  Her heart thudded painfully in her chest.

  The mantis tilted its head.

  "I'll just move along then." She slid back.

  The mantis matched her movements once more, stopping when she stopped.

  Her mind spun, the adrenaline surging again. She took a deep breath as she maneuvered the gun from her lap without lifting it. She couldn't hit it precisely where she wanted, but from this angle, she might hit it in a narrowing point on the thorax. "Easy there," she said.

  The branches above her shuddered, the scissor-sound returning and intensifying. The leaves rustled. Silver-grey and leaf-green mantises appeared behind the first, breaking through the canopy of leaves.

  "Oh." She clenched the gun tighter. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. They all focused on her.

  One of the besreds bayed. Its low voice thrummed.

  Her breaths tightened. Ordinarily she'd have risked rolling off the branch, soft falling, and then running, all the while praying that these mantises couldn't snatch prey out of air like praying mantises did hummingbirds on Earth. But the besreds waited.

  Besreds below and mantises above.

  She set her jaw, annoyance rising through the fear. There weren't enough bullets for all of them. Not even a guarantee that any would work.

  The first mantis stepped closer. It hissed softly, its teeth chattering together now. Slowly it lifted his forelegs, its curiosity apparently satisfied.

  "Guess there isn't much of a choice here, is there?" She pulled the trigger

  * * *

  Naatos stopped short. A loud shot echoed through the air.

  Amelia's weapon. The gun.

  She was alive. For now.

  The bolt of sound had come from his right, approximately four and a half miles away.

  He gave a series of sharp blasts on the whistle. Two full, three half, one full.

  As he altered his course and plunged forward, the return blasts sounded. They had heard, and they would close in on his mark.

  3

  Besides and Mantises, Camels and Crabs

  The bullet struck the mantis at the narrowest point of its upper thorax. It staggered back and slipped, crashing down through the branches. Amelia rolled after it.

  The besreds attacked at once. The thick carapace cracked and shattered beneath their maws.

  She landed on the lead besred's back.

  Though the creature at once snarled and twisted to snap at her, she had already launched herself off. She narrowly dodged another besred's massive snout. But the trees above rattled, hissed, and chattered as mantises poured out of the tree.

  The besreds bayed and snarled, lunging forward, all attention focused on the enormous arthropods. The mantises lashed out as the besreds charged. Legs and wings flew everywhere as the besreds and mantises battled.

  She staggered back, regaining her balance. One of the mantises crouched, then lunged at her. The adrenaline now fired pain through her body. She gasped, her muscles tightening. But she wasn't dying today.

  Teeth gritted, she fired the gun again twice. The mantis dropped. One of the besreds spun, but another striped mantis dropped from the tree on its back.

  Limping, she fled the clearing. The roars and bellows resounded behind her. The thick scent of fresh blood and crushed insect nauseated her. She ran as fast as she could, gun in one hand and fan in the other. Veering to the left, she broke into another clearing. Tall grass. Long yellow bladed grass taller than her waist.

  Stopping short, she paused, then backed out. Her heart pounded as she gulped down more air. Her back throbbed. Her sides ached. Her feet burned.

  No.

  Only part of her left foot. She leaned against a smooth boulder and twisted around to see. A deep cut, whether from a mantis claw or a stone, sliced along the base of the heel. But there was no pain there. Only pain in the top of her foot and the base of her ankle. Then it stopped as if something had cut the pain off.

  Her medical training warned that this was a bad sign, but the more practical side of her was grateful to not have to deal with more. She removed some of the excess bandages from her waist and wrapped them around her foot to better cover the wound. The back pain soon faded too, but with it went her strength.

  She wiped her hand across her face, thirsty, tired, and hungry. She had to find a place to rest and water quickly. Food too, though she needed a way to determine what was safe and what wasn't. But everything she required demanded she moved forward—after a little more rest.

  Her body sagged against the blue-grey rock. It would be so easy to lose track of time out here. Sliding into the dark recesses of sleep would likely be the last thing she did. Thirst, at least, made it impossible to fall into sleep easily. Though pausing was only marginally safe, she could at least catch her breath.

  Time to move again.

  Avoiding the long grass, she moved on through the forest, her pace slow and calculated. She ducked beneath a low hanging branch. The draping moss grazed her shoulder, sending prickles of fear through her body. Before this, she would have been uneasy about dime-sized spiders crawling over her or ticks falling into her hair. Now she would have welcomed them as opposed to the monsters that lurked here.

  She almost laughed. All those years of pet tarantulas and continued exposure. Uncle Joe had tried so hard to get her to overcome her fear of spiders. Yet apparently the cure for fearing smaller spiders was exposing her to enormous human-eating ones. Spending time with Lovely, Angel, Goodly, and Perfect would have been a thousand times better than being out here.

  As she passed beyond the tree, something creaked and scratched.

  No.

  She slid to the side, crouching and turning in that direction.

  Beneath the deep arched roots, a cow-sized rock crab scuttled out. Splotches of mud covered its grey body. It waved its claws.

  "Don't worry. I'm just moving on." She slid away, praying it wasn't hungry.

  The crab's stalk eyes followed her until she passed over another log. It then slipped back into the darkness of its home. "Is there anything smaller than me in this whole place?" she seethed.

  As if on cue, a dinner-plate sized spider trailed down from a web in the trees.

  "Really?" She glared at it.

  The spider pattered back. It reared up, lifting its striped forelegs.

  She held the fan out, pointing the blade down as she aimed the gun. "Get away from me or I will shoot you in the face," she hissed. Her breaths came tighter. Images of the hook-fanged spider flashed up. She struggled to push them back, adjusting her grip on the gun. It wasn't a hook-fanged spider. It was just—just a—

  A large foot smashed onto the spider.

  Startled, she jumped back, nearly falling over the log.

  A large double-humped camel stood in front of her, chewing cud. The spider twitched beneath its black-tipped hooves, but the camel stared at her with sleepy brown eyes.

  Relieved, she sank back against the log. She shifted her weight off her injured foot. "You have no idea how happy I am to see an herbivore." She set her hands on her waist, holding her breath and then releasing it as another spasm of pain twisted over her. Her muscles trembled.

  The camel continued to chew its white cud. It blinked its long-lashed eyes. Bits of dust and moss cl
ung to those dark lashes as if it had been under one of the trees. But why? Why would it have been under any tree?

  Something felt off.

  The camel rumbled, extending its neck. It craned forward and blinked its sleepy eyes at her like a dog begging to be scratched. Then it turned its head up, pressing its forelegs forward. It whimpered faintly, its long string-like tail wagging.

  She hesitated. Something was definitely wrong. WroOth had said a camel tried to eat him.

  She pulled back.

  The camel whined. Its soft brown eyes widened.

  "I don't think so." She stepped back over the log, lifting the fan.

  The camel snarled. Its thick lips curled, then it spat the white cud at her. She lifted the fan just in time, blocking it. A horrid stench like festering muck filled the air. The camel roared then, its mouth unfolding to reveal multi-ringed teeth and a suction tongue.

  "Crespa!" She turned left and bolted. The white substance on the fan snagged on a bush. It jerked from her hand, sticking like a bug in a web. "Perfect!" Alarm spiked through her, but she didn't dare run back for it.

  The camel roared and then lunged after her. It tore through the underbrush with an uneven gait, but it gained fast.

  Spinning, she fired, shooting it in the knees.

  * * *

  More shots. In a different direction this time and much closer. Naatos stopped short just beyond the massive mangrove roots of a rock crab cluster. A blood scent trailed the wind. Neyeb blood most importantly. She was wounded.

  He didn't wait to send the signal before he started running again.

  * * *

  Amelia raced as fast as she could. The vines and branches lashed at her. Her feet pounded the ground. The pain in her back and lungs increased, begging her to stop. But the camel raging behind her pushed her faster.