Wilderness Untamed

by Butler, J. M.

  Would she dream of it though?

  Neyeb didn't dream like Vawtrians. Hopefully pain and discomfort didn't enter the dreams with her.

  As he submerged her up to her neck, she started twitching. Her face twisted, her brow furrowing. But she did not wake.

  Good.

  He scooped up a palmful of water and washed her face. The dirt and blood washed away as the cuts slowly mended. Because of the suphrite's chemical components, it dried on the skin within seconds. He'd have to reapply the waters several times to complete the healing unless he wanted to submerge her, but for face wounds that was rarely a good plan. Even if the person was unconscious.

  Compared to what Vawtrians could do, the suphrite was intolerably slow. If they'd had the Salvation of the Third Nalenth, this wouldn't even have been an issue. Perhaps it would heal the black veins as well as the wound in her heel.

  He pinched his brow. That had been another crucial mistake. It wasn't that Naatos hadn't had plans to compensate or a purpose, but everything had gone so wrong, it was almost as if someone was actively changing what happened. The fact that they were here without any of their resources or connections or anything but the barest of essentials was both improbable and terrifying.

  He cast a wary glance into the sky as if half-expecting to see Elonumato watching as in some Awdawm depiction, complete with heavy beard and piercing eyes. "Your chosen one is not faring particularly well. Had it not been for our intervention, you realize she would be dead, don't you?"

  Another wave of fatigue washed over him. He covered his eyes as the itching intensified along his spine and through his arms. She barely weighed anything in this water, and even with her twitching, he could hold onto her with just one arm. By this time tomorrow, she would be awake again, fully energized and ready to fight, squabble, and fix things. It wouldn't come a moment too soon.

  He washed more of the grime from her cheek, his lips pressed in a tight line. Of course then they'd have to determine their plans for living on this world. He doubted the truth had fully dawned on his brothers, but, with the Para bands scattered to who knew where in Ecekom's time and vastness, they were stuck here in a hostile wilderness with too much ilzinium in the air and an almost certain Grey Season rapidly approaching. Naatos was right. The elder commander had deserved to suffer a lot more.

  * * *

  Naatos forced himself to focus on the task at hand: setting up the camp. WroOth and QueQoa spoke of little aimless things, none of it important, serving only to fill the space as they built the firepit and broke down the carcass over the gorge so that the blood dropped down into the river and washed away.

  The fire soon blazed. Over it they set up the collapsible spit and brought out a black iron skillet.

  He was hungry. Or should have been. He didn't feel it beyond a general weakness. Not unless it was in the general mass of rage and turmoil surging within him. Fatigue, hunger, and thirst were all likely in there, and yet the thunder of it all overwhelmed every desire except to make this end.

  WroOth nudged him with his elbow. "You should eat this." He held a large chunk of dark-seared meat in a waxy leaf. "Even if you don't feel like it."

  He pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head as if it could clear out the heavy sensation. Somehow he'd lost track of time. His eyes burned, and his head throbbed. "Where's QueQoa?"

  "He took food to AaQar." WroOth set his arms akimbo. "If you don't eat, I'm going to follow your example and put your head in a pot of soup."

  He offered his brother a wan smile. "There is no soup."

  "That could easily change. I think there's one of those collapsible pots in the packs. But for you, I'd make one."

  "I'm sure you would." He glanced at his brother cautiously. "How would you fix things with Amelia?"

  WroOth's eyebrow lifted. "You mean as her favorite older brother or if I were her veskare?"

  "If you were in my place." Naatos sighed as he stepped back. He sat on one of the logs QueQoa had dragged to the firepit. "I have failed her in every way except fidelity. I swore to protect her, and in the mere span of days, I have—I've been unable to even heal her from something as simple as a flogging." In his mind's eye, he saw himself crushing those healing orbs to make his brilliant point of how she could rely on him. They foamed in his hands and burned his nostrils.

  One of many crucial mistakes. It was hard to imagine that even with her being at her worst that she could have done something more foolish than he in that regard.

  WroOth sat beside him. He rested his elbows on his knees, his posture crooked. "So far as ideal situations go, this certainly hasn't been it. She's probably going to be resting until at least tomorrow. The suphrite will heal her. More or less."

  He set his jaw. Every fiber of his body throbbed with discomfort and exhaustion, but his mind roared too loudly for any rest to come. "Because I am not strong enough to heal her. I was not enough. I am not enough. Not in the dungeon. Not here."

  WroOth chuckled weakly as he rubbed his neck. "I suppose that is one way to look at it."

  "What other way is there?" he demanded.

  He lifted his shoulders. "I don't know. I don't know how to look at this with everything else on top of it."

  He sighed. "Creativity is usually one of your stronger suits."

  WroOth glanced at him, a little more mischief dancing in his eyes. "If this were any other point, I would have stabbed you in the kidneys and asked you if that was enough creativity."

  He shot him an annoyed glare, but he wasn't sure if he was more bothered that his brother had noticed his weakness and was obviously worried or that he wasn't addressing the core issue. "That is not creative."

  "You'd rather I sever your spine?" WroOth tried to laugh, but the sound faded, its timbre uneasy. He kept his hand against his neck. "So far as what I would do if I were in your place… I think I would apologize to her."

  "She doesn't want my words."

  "No. I suppose she doesn't. And actions take time, and well, time is the one thing that is trickier for you to give her, I suppose. But I'm afraid it may be the thing that matters most. Time and space for her to sort through how she feels and to prepare for you."

  "I sound like a plague," Naatos muttered. He felt like one too. It had been part of the reason he made the black plague lion his core battle form as a youth.

  "Plague. Cataclysm." WroOth grinned. He nudged his shoulder. "You're a force of nature, brother. But words are where you start. You know this. You helped me with Mara. You've matched more couples in our cadre than any of us. You're the reason Khanaan and Lynne connected. Igrold and Hatet as well. What did you tell them?"

  "I pretended to be a monster so Khanaan could rescue Lynne, and I sent Igrold and Hatet into a thorn-spike nest. The others are not any better."

  WroOth's eyebrows lifted. "You mean you knew Hatet and Igrold were going to be trapped there?"

  "I spoke with Igrold in advance. He agreed to it."

  "Does Hatet know?"

  "No. And she doesn't need to."

  WroOth opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. He shook his head. "I suppose I could try being something terrifying and hope Amelia doesn't recognize me."

  "She'd recognize you no matter what you were. Same with AaQar and QueQoa."

  "As much as you keep secrets and lie, I don't know why you wanted a Neyeb wife."

  Most days Naatos didn't want to admit why he had been so set on that either. This was not one of the exceptions.

  "Not all of your advice could have been about how to trick one's spouses. You had good counsel for me."

  "It is always easier to give good advice than it is to take it," he countered. "That's why I am asking you."

  "Well… I am witty, charming, brilliant, and more. I'm just not a miracle worker. But my previous advice stands. Apologize to her. Woo her in the way she wants to be wooed. Which may very well mean that you do nothing but give her space and respond when she initiates."

  Naatos scoffed as
he set the roasted meat aside. He resumed pacing. "It has been almost a week since we locked. She wants the full eight."

  "Then she should have it."

  "I'm about to go out of my mind as it is after this long," Naatos snapped. Everything was brimming, taut and tense. He hated it. Hated how he felt. Hated how he thought. Hated everything.

  WroOth tilted his head as if weighing something, then glanced over his shoulder and stood. "I don't know if you'll find this encouraging. I probably shouldn't even be saying it. Mara wanted me to keep it private, but I think she'd forgive my sharing it now." He worked his hands together, his movements reminiscent of his playing with the puzzle box. "Our relationship was intensely passionate, which you know of course. Not just in the physical sense, but emotionally as well. I never even dreamed it could be like that."

  Naatos cast an annoyed glance in his brother's direction. It wasn't the sort of thing he wanted to hear at the moment. But if his brother needed to reminisce about how wonderful his veskaro had been, he couldn't deny him that. It just stung to know that his was never going to be so simple or easy. He crouched by the fire, adding logs and turning the coals. Sparks rose.

  "It was the most perfect thing that could have ever existed. But Mara and I didn't consummate our relationship the first night after the locking or the second."

  Naatos snapped his head up. He stared at WroOth. "What? You—"

  WroOth lifted his hand to cut him off. "I know what I told you. I know what she said, or I suppose, simply implied. By the time we were all in the same household again though, it was true. But she wasn't ready when we first locked. She'd just given birth after a horrible season in her life. Marvels of miraculous healing medicine or not, she wasn't ready to be vestoving. Kalimatting was almost too much. It surprised me you and AaQar didn't press the issue more because it seemed so obvious."

  Perhaps because it was almost unheard of to deceive anyone regarding such a thing. "Why lie?" And what was he to do with this knowledge.

  "She was afraid you and AaQar would think her insufficient as a veskaro. She cared a great deal about what you thought of her, and she knew you were both protective of me. But it was my idea ultimately."

  Naatos blinked. This was not where he had expected the conversation to go.

  WroOth stood. He had folded his arms and walked with a slow stride, no longer looking at him. "She'd been through so many dreadful things, Naatos. I didn't know them all then. It was just a sense I had until she confirmed it. Deep down I knew she needed time. Not that she would have asked for it. She isn't like Amelia in that way. She adored me. She would have said yes to anything I wanted her to do. No matter how demeaning or humiliating. She had no concept of her worth. She didn't even know how to look to her own needs. The only reason she tried to trap me at the start was for Nkiato. Otherwise—" He drew his hand over his face and closed his eyes briefly. "Yes, I needed to vestov. I had never wanted anything in my life so much as I wanted her, except I needed for her to be in a better place. I needed her to be healthy and whole. Even though that meant my needs weren't going to be met for a time."

  He continued to pace. "I support you being with Amelia, Naatos. I do. She is my sister, and she is part of this family and has been from the beginning so far as I am concerned. But I haven't been a good brother to her. I let my own amusement outweigh her distress. She was terrified at the ceremony. I truly thought that she was going to be all right. That the mindreading was going to soften things and make matters easier… smoother. But it didn't. And I hurt her. It's so easy to do sometimes. The mindreading isn't working the way any of us thought it would. And she—there's nothing else to do than to give her exactly what she wants because in this case what she wants is what she needs."

  The words sunk into Naatos, heavy and somber. This pain, this ache, it was only the beginning. She might very well need longer. "How long before you and Mara vestoved?"

  WroOth shrugged a little, a pleased smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Three weeks."

  "Three weeks." He scowled at his brother. "You waited for three weeks and said nothing? You've raved for years about the one time she cut you off for nine days."

  WroOth made an odd hissing groan as he shook his head. "That woman got me hooked on the supply for decades and then cut me off. Believe it or not, the fact that you and Amelia haven't completed even basic explorations actually makes this easier for you."

  "I doubt that."

  "Trust me. It is far worse after you know what you're missing."

  That was far from encouraging. "I have to do something though. There has to be a way to convince her."

  "Well you can try to charm her or woo her. You can do all that you can. I just doubt it's going to work without time. And in truth, I would have given Mara anything. If she had asked me for eight weeks, I would have given them to her and more. I wanted to be wonderful for her and to her. I would have given her whatever she asked."

  So he said. Yet Naatos knew WroOth had kept more and more things from Mara in the final years. It had torn WroOth up inside, becoming a frequent topic of conversation when she was away and he was with his brothers. WroOth had only wrapped his conscience and will around going against his beloved's wishes because he believed it was for her own good. Her good and the children's.

  But that odd note in WroOth's voice as well as the tightening of his shoulders and the glassiness in his eyes warned him that he'd spent enough time in self-pity. His brother was about to slide into a dangerous territory of his own. One that could be devastating. It was enough to pull him from his own morass. "I know you gave everything for Mara and the children. You did well."

  WroOth dropped his head. His jaw worked, the muscles along his neck tightening and bulging. He pressed his hands against one another and twisted his fingers. "Sometimes everything isn't enough. And sometimes, when you look back, you don't know what you could have or should have done that would keep that from happening. You can still give everything, and it might make a difference."

  He put his hand on his brother's shoulder. "Do you need to kuvaste?"

  "Hah." WroOth drew his hand over his face, his voice hoarse. He blinked rapidly. "Not when you're in this state. You overextended yourself making all those creatures to unleash on Telhetum. And if this ilzinium turns out to be as hard to adjust to as AaQar says, none of us will be kuvasteing for a while. A couple weeks maybe."

  "It will get better. Even if we cannot prepare the antidote, we'll survive it as we have in the past. We'll find a way through this. We haven't come this far to be defeated."

  "You believe we'll find the Para bands, restore the Tue-Rah, and take the timeline back? Get our army back. I don't even know if it's possible." WroOth's voice shook. A wild energy sparked in his turquoise eyes. "Our cadre—"

  "They are not lost to us." But even as he said it, a heavy weight descended upon him.

  WroOth looked at him. For a moment, he saw his brother as he had been when they had first struck out in the wilderness, a child who didn't even know how to shift, let alone fly. He'd lied to him then. Promised him that he knew where they were going. That things would get better. That there was enough food and he and AaQar would just eat later. That their mother was watching over them with Nki. That they only had another mile to go. A thousand lies woven into a pair of boots meant to keep his little brother walking instead of collapsing into despair and death.

  Life was brutal, cruel, and twisted. He did not know how to navigate it without lies.

  "How do you know?" WroOth asked. His voice was strained, thick with emotion, his fingers still working against his palms.

  "I just do. Deep down. We will find them again. And we will return stronger than ever. Either they are somewhere here and now, or we will find the Para bands, restore the Tue-Rah, and fix the timeline. Those are the only options we will permit."

  WroOth scoffed. He drew his hand over his mouth, but the hint of a smile returned, reaching his eyes and smoothing the worry lines at the edges of
his eyes. "Can you imagine the stories we'll share?"

  "They will be unbelievable. Now." He set his arms akimbo, his tone brisker. "Tell me how you kept your sanity while you navigated the three weeks of waiting for Mara."

  "Ah." WroOth released a long breath. The tension receded. "It wasn't particularly complicated. I just stayed as distracted as possible."

  "Those packages you sent us." Naatos shook his head. He really should have questioned him a lot more at the time. He'd wondered how his brother had managed to accomplish so much while learning how to vestov and please his veskaro. But WroOth had rarely lacked energy for anything that held his interest.

  WroOth grinned, his manner softer now as the nostalgia rolled over him. "I made the itching powder myself."

  "I always wondered how you found the time to do all that and steal our weapons. For the longest time, I thought Hatet was in on it with you."

  He laughed, the sound more natural now. It was a good sound. "All me, brother."

  Naatos raised an eyebrow. "Mara wasn't involved even a little?"

  WroOth shook his head, his lips pressed in a tight line as if he now suppressed the smile. But his eyes sparked with life. "Not at all."

  Almost assuredly a lie. Naatos smiled though. He then jerked his head toward the meat hanging in the tree. "What do you think? Just eat the besred tonight or fish."

  "Besred for now. But I wasn't joking. If you don't eat, I'll put your head in the soup. Which means I should start making soup. We may need a second firepit."

  "I'll eat," Naatos grumbled. He kept his tone surly though he didn't mean it. "After I sleep. If you can manage the camp, I'll take an hour or so." He needed to sort through all this anyway, but he couldn't risk letting WroOth know the fullness of the despair now closing over him. He had to get himself under control. Then he'd see about mending matters with his wife.