Wilderness Untamed

by Butler, J. M.

  "Is my not…vestoving Naatos putting everyone in danger?"

  AaQar smiled a little. "It would make things easier perhaps, but the truth is that at this point it wouldn't make much of a difference. The ilzinium here is too high. It has been ages since it was purged from the air. And we were already weakened from the huanna. It works within me still. So… while it might help Naatos some and would put him in a better mood, it does not undo the risk of you vestoving within the eight weeks. Nor would it allow him to withstand the ilzinium adjustment."

  "And you believe that the eight weeks does matter too?"

  "I believe most importantly that it matters to you. And for that alone, it is sufficient. It is acceptable even if you require longer. This is why Vawtrians do not lock with those who are not ready. That said, I cannot pretend that there is no value in the Machat prophecies and warnings. I do not agree with them on certain things, and I am not entirely certain that they have your best interests at heart. But in this…" He nodded slowly. "Kepsalon used to be as family to us. At times I suspect that he still cares. His duty to Elonumato comes before anything else, and WroOth will never forgive him for what happened with Mara and the children. Even though it was not his fault."

  "I like Kepsalon. I like almost all the Machat I've met." She shrugged. Rising, she picked up one of the knives and crossed over to the chiron oak to resume breaking down one of the carcasses from the day before. "And Chialao and those who followed her hated me for good reason."

  He studied her as he continued working with the long wood handle. "Good reason?" He placed the stone on the top of the wooden rod. Once more his muscles tightened as the light flowed from his hand, slower and duller this time. "If the sarsqueches come, you'll want these. We'll set up barricades and traps to keep them at bay. Hopefully that with the rels will be enough."

  "And if it isn't, do they have any weak points?"

  "The eyes if you can get beyond the third lid. You'll want to aim for the center of the pupil and a little above. Sometimes the underbelly at the seams of the scales can have weaknesses. Pray that they do not get through."

  "There is going to be a lot of praying and hoping," she said.

  "You can try shooting them through the mouth, but the angle has to be precise. It isn't like battling a casket weaver."

  "How do you mean?" She frowned.

  "Casket weavers are weak only through the mouth. Not that you would want to pull a stunt with them like you did the sarsqueches. Their tongues are spined and venomous. Think of a cat's but each of those papillae are filled with a paralyzing toxin."

  "Charming."

  "Their bites can paralyze even us, and I hope you do not have to face one down. In light of your feelings regarding dolmaths, I truly fear what one of these might do to you."

  "Spiders, I presume." Somehow she wasn't surprised. She suppressed a shudder. The images returned to her mind, unbidden. They were harder to thrust down this time, and her eyes burned all the more as she tried to blink them away.

  He nodded. "Twice the size of hook-fanged spiders. Their face is like a hyena's and a spider's. Quite disturbing to behold. But they have this cackle that they make before they attack. That is a good moment to attack yourself. It will give you a straight shot through the mouth. Angle up a bit, and you'll kill them dead."

  Another shudder coursed through her. "Is there anything just beautiful in this world?"

  "Oh, many things. The mammoth jaguarundi is a sight to behold. And if we are fortunate enough to see a clutch of dragon hatchlings, I doubt you'll be able to contain yourself."

  A loud thud resounded from the trees a short distance from the clearing. Her shoulders tightened. That familiar pulse of awareness, more like a wave really, alerted her that Naatos had returned, and he was not in a good mood. Even so a faint sensation of relief pulsed in her chest and expanded throughout her.

  AaQar glanced from her to the dense thicket and trees.

  Naatos emerged, swiping away from of the low-hanging branches with the long silver-green leaves. "There was nothing." He flung the opi sack into the pile with the others. "They destroyed everything."

  AaQar continued working on the javelin handle, his movements slow and deliberate. That "I told you it would be so" sentiment reached her, almost as clearly as if he had spoken it. Yet he said nothing.

  Naatos seized one of the canteens and drained it. His broad shoulders were tight, and every fiber of his body appeared on edge. "They didn't even leave the feet. All the blessings are turned to curses. Even the foundations ripped away." He cast his gaze around the camp. "We need more salt."

  "You should rest an hour or two." AaQar set the javelin handle aside.

  "Later."

  "Naatos—"

  "Do not waste my time with meaningless arguments," Naatos snarled. "We'll rest when it's finished."

  AaQar shook his head, his lips pressed in a tight line.

  Naatos disappeared into the trees once more, his pace hard and his steps driving down as if the earth itself had offended him. But underneath it was grief.

  Amelia continued to chop the meat, slower this time. The shards and plumes of the storm he left lingered in her own mind. More than the usual loudness of his presence. Her own heart ached, much to her surprise. "WroOth said you're going to try to fix the timeline, to go back. Does this change that? Or is your cadre…" She let her voice trail off. She recalled them well from those hours at the Festival of the Veskaro.

  AaQar turned the rough stone over in his hand before placing it on the end of the shaft. "It was possible they could have survived this long. Challenging but possible. And, well, our cadre always did better than most at surviving the impossible. But, if our cities have fallen and been destroyed so thoroughly, our people would not have been permitted to exist either. Our cadre either perished in the battle that surely came, or they were destroyed before it happened. I do not know which or even how long ago this occurred. Whether we can find our way back and fix this, I don't know that that is possible. Precisely controlling the Tue-Rah to reach a different point in time is challenging for anyone, even us. I fear we will never see them again." He stared at the ground in silence, his shoulders heavy. "Do not speak of this to WroOth or QueQoa."

  "They don't know?" Amelia asked, surprised.

  "They won't admit to its truth. Denial has its benefits though. For now, it is best not to think of what has happened to our people and this world or whether we will see them again." AaQar closed his eyes. That sheen of sweat shone brighter on his forehead and neck as he strained. "Survival is hard enough as it is." He sighed. The energy and light had not flowed much at all from his hand. "But survive we will."

  "I don't suppose there's any way that we can keep the dolmaths from coming to the camp?"

  "No. Building any structure that is dolmath proof is exceptionally challenging with the supplies we currently have. And the time is better spent elsewhere." AaQar's brow knit. "I am sorry for this, little sister."

  "I'll find a way."

  "Yes. You will."

  She cleaned the knife off. His words carried not simply a belief in her ability but more a need because he had to. Blind faith had its uses as well.

  Her throat and chest tightened as she considered what it would take to get past her terror of the dolmaths. Joseph worked with her for weeks before she was able to handle Goodly, Lovely, Angel, and Perfect. Some days had been spent just crying. But perhaps the foundation he had taught her remained underneath the fear and trauma. As a little girl, those tarantulas had been enormous. And unlike the dolmaths, they weren't velvet-soft. Nor were their eyes so glistening, bright, and wide.

  She shuddered. There was something unnerving about spider eyes in general, and in that, the dolmaths were distinct. Already she could slip a blade of distinction into that fact and start to pry her fear apart.

  AaQar set the javelin aside. He shook out his right hand and then gripped it in a fist before coming to join Amelia. "We will not be able to eat much wh
en we are ill. The soup you are planning will be sufficient. Just don't let WroOth stir it or add to it if you can. But once we begin to resume consciousness, that is when you should begin pressing both food and water. Water first. Don't travel outside the rels to gather vegetables or bulbs or anything. They won't add enough benefits to justify it. We need to ensure that everything you need is inside the rels."

  "I'll have to go along the perimeter to reapply them though."

  "That you will. But you'll do it before they are used up in full. It is vital you don't forget that. No one will survive if you do."

  There were many vital things she had to remember. Amelia glanced back over her shoulder as QueQoa returned. He walked oddly, and that flush of red had moved up his shoulder and along his neck. The infection still hadn't left. It was not so unusual to see AaQar weakened, but QueQoa, with all of his golden-brown strength and vitality, shook her more.

  "You are far more comfortable butchering this creature than I would have anticipated," AaQar observed.

  "Uncle Joe took me hunting. More than once. It was a rite of passage, I suppose you could call it. One of the few times he actually allowed me to use weapons." Amelia set the cuts of meat on the broad leaves. "It was challenging for both of us. He was trying to see whether I would snap I suppose. Give in to the blood curse."

  AaQar offered a sympathetic smile as he sharpened his knife on the broad blue stone. "I doubt that went well."

  "It did not. I cried a lot." Amelia's cheeks burned at the memory, but there was also a pleasant warmth. Uncle Joe had been patient with her. Hadn't judged her or condemned her. He hadn't even made her do the kill shot. She was the one who had insisted she try and that she participate in the butchering.

  "Neyeb don't get blood lust." Naatos's voice boomed over the carcass, dripping with annoyance. "He should have known."

  Amelia peered out at him. "And who was to tell him? All he had was that letter and me insisting I was going to kill all of you and every other bad person out there."

  Naatos grumbled something indiscernible as he picked up the ax AaQar had fashioned. Scowling, he put his hand over it. The silver-blue light that flowed out of his hand coursed down the length of the shaft and over the blade, strengthening and hardening it at once. He dropped it and picked up the next javelin. "He shouldn't have been pushing you at all. What did he intend to do if the blood curse was triggered? Did he plan to kill you?"

  "Yes. That's what family does."

  "Family kills one another?" The way he asked that question suggested her answer was not what he expected.

  "If they think you're going to commit an unspeakable evil, yes. Family doesn't let family do that sort of thing. He tried to help me as much as he could. He helped me be a better person."

  Naatos met her gaze, his jaw tight and his eyes hard. "If he believed that you were capable of evil, then he cannot be trusted."

  "He knew that evil can grow in the heart of even the smallest and frailest. And you shouldn't be harsh about him. He actually tried to convince me not to hate you." She wiped the spatters of blood from her cheek.

  "I find that difficult to believe. Especially from an Awdawm."

  "He didn't like what the hatred was doing to me. He tried to teach me to hate actions rather than people. And to not live focused on those whom I despised. But… that's hard to do when it's your destiny to destroy someone." She offered him a thin smile.

  "What might he have said if he knew about our marital status?" he asked dryly.

  "Even the kindest of hearts has its limitations though. He probably wouldn't have shot you between the eyes had he known."

  "And he would have been even less effective." Naatos scowled as QueQoa began coughing again. "You, get back in the suphrite. That infection is returning."

  "There is work to be done," QueQoa said. He gave his shoulder a casual rub. "This is nothing—" He winced. "I spent most of the morning there already."

  "Suphrite. Don't make me fight you."

  AaQar waved QueQoa in that direction. "It's for the best. You need to cleanse as much of the infection out as possible. Whatever needs to be done, we'll mana—" A wracking cough shook him as well. Blood spattered onto the elbow he coughed into.

  "You go too," Naatos said.

  AaQar sighed. He pressed his lips into a tight line. "The rash is on your neck again, and it is worse. Your countdown has started as well."

  "Then recover."

  "I'll make a deal with you. I'll go. But then you sleep for an hour or three. That's all."

  Naatos's scowl deepened. Then he turned away. "Fine. Go."

  Amelia watched as AaQar followed QueQoa to the suphrite stream. WroOth would probably need to go there as well. She set the knife down. "Why don't we move the camp down to there so that they can stay in the suphrite until they're all better?"

  "Vawtrians can't be in suphrite too long. It's much too easy for us to drown in it. We aren't as buoyant as some. Besides, the hill is at a steep angle. A number of needs would have to be tended uphill. And the sky is too open. An aerial predator might risk an attack."

  "Will it help you all heal though?"

  "It helps to offset infections and other problems. It alone will not help with the ilzinium. It just encourages the healing of some of its side effects. And to a point, it does help. But only to a point. Deep rest is what is most needed. Suphrite does not permit that. It becomes painful. Also your guardian was a fool."

  She eyed him, aware of the disparate reality in what he said and how he felt. The words carried a harsh authority and obvious judgment, but beneath them was a choppy sea of fear and unease, unrelated to this.

  Had this been the case before? He was so intense and his words carried such punch that she wasn't certain. That sea of emotion was interesting. And telling. Today's harsh mood though was in such heavy contrast to who he had been the day before, which was also a change.

  "Uncle Joe was a good man," she said. "He did the best he could with what he had."

  "For an Awdawm, that is not saying much. They have nothing," he muttered. He picked up the other javelin AaQar had made and fixed it, setting it down beside the log when he had finished.

  A sharp realization struck her, rippling down her spine. That was what had changed. AaQar had only said that she shouldn't speak of the matter to WroOth and QueQoa. Denial helped them cope, but Naatos—he wasn't able to maintain that shell. He missed his cadre. Feared for his family. She moved the knife to a safe spot and removed the crude apron. "Naatos…"

  He looked at her, his brow deeply furrowed.

  "I'm going to do something, but I don't want you to read into it the wrong way."

  He scowled even more. "What could you possibly be planning that would require such a dis—"

  Before she could lose her nerve, she crossed over and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tight.

  He stiffened at once, starting to pull away. Then he stopped, his arms slowly lowering. "Ah."

  Amelia kept her head pressed to his chest, her own heart thundering. "I'm sorry about your friends and your cadre and your people."

  "They may yet be out there," he answered. He wrapped his arms around her as well then, the warmth engulfing her. "It would be foolish to count them among the dead when there are so many strange things in Ecekom. So many mysteries. It doesn't matter anyway though. We will be leaving anyway and finding a way to repair the timeline so that this does not happen."

  He spoke with more confidence, his voice deep and smooth. But the uncertainty that undergirded those words left a painfully sour taste in the back of Amelia's mouth. She nodded anyway.

  "Besides, there is much we don't yet know. There are even pockets where time does not move as it does in others. And the Tue-Rah may have intervened. It is—" He sighed. "It is hard to say." He rested his chin on the top of her head. His body relaxed against hers as he hugged her closer.

  "And your brothers are going to be all right."

  "Of course they are."


  "So will you."

  "I have no doubt."

  "And if you ever say anything harsh about Uncle Joe again, I will rip out a fistful of your hair from the roots." She tilted her head up so she could see him. "Just because you're feeling… upset doesn't mean you get to take it out on me or anyone else. Especially not people I love. Also someone might want to check on WroOth. He was coughing blood earlier."

  Naatos's arm tightened around her. "They all are."

  "What about you? You're not immune."

  "I am immune enough." He sighed. "If you become injured or ill, I will not forgive you."

  She pressed her hands to his chest and stepped back. "Well, we both have a list."

  "Amelia, I am serious. You must not—"

  "I'm not going to get myself hurt or injured or sick, all right?" She returned his scowl. "I know you're worried, but don't put it on me or your brothers. You're a giant thundercloud, and I won't be your lightning rod." She patted his chest and stepped back. "Now. I have to get back to work."

  23

  Needed

  Preparing the camp to sustain the five of them did not take as much as it might have. Even with QueQoa fading and AaQar not far behind. WroOth did his best to hide the effects of the ilzinium, but his increasing weakness did not escape Naatos's notice when his brother returned from hunting. Nor had the uncomfortable rash which now bristled along the back of his own neck and a deep ache that ran the length of his spine and legs.

  His body battled the ilzinium, churning against it, expelling it. But it assaulted him constantly, a perpetual burn now in his nostrils and a rawness in his throat. At the moment, he could see it as a dead heat between his immune system and the ilzinium's ravages. He could subdue it. He would. QueQoa worried him—AaQar as well—but especially QueQoa.

  The time between the infection's return was shortening. He had just spent over an hour in the water, and already he was breathing faster, his steps uneven and his strength irregular even though now he was only moving wood.